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Rich and I had lunch at one of our favorite local restaurants the other day. It’s a cozy spot tucked back from the road just off Route 6A in Yarmouthport, MA called Jack’s Outback. We’ve eaten there so often over the years that we’ve gotten to know the waitresses, the proprietor, and some of the other regulars. We’ve commiserated with them when life has dealt a nasty blow, shared funny stories, and gradually become part of the Jack’s Outback family.

We often convene the “Breakfast Club” on a winter’s morning, sharing a table with fellow innkeepers and trading stories of life before and, eventually, after innkeeping.
But this day we snuck off by ourselves for a serving of quiet and calm that Jack’s so easily delivers. It was cold outside, wintery and windswept from a storm that was whipping up the east coast. Inside it was warm and toasty, with the fragrance of all things yummy emanating from the kitchen. We waved to friendly faces and slid into a booth. Most days we just order our “usuals” – a burger for Rich and a BLT for me. But on this wondrous day one of us was in for a treat. There among the “specials” were two words that brought a twinkle to Rich’s eyes:  Clam plate. Read the rest of this entry »