Last week we journeyed to New England. My birthplace. It was wonderful to see family and friends, relax and explore, and of course EAT! I like to visit my favorite spots (Kelly’s Roast Beef at Revere Beach and the Boston Chipyard in Faneuil Hall) but I added some new ones on this trip. The first place was serendipitous. We were traveling north on Rt. 16 toward North Conway, NH and saw the parking lot of The Pizza Barn packed. We knew it had to be good and we were mighty hungry. What a pleasant surprise that Italian style pizza served in a barn could be so good. The crust was perfect and the pepperoni piled high, five and six slices high to be exact– no lie! The atmosphere was just that of a barn, lofty, open beamed, and filled with picnic tables and benches.
The next was an adorable café in North Conway, appropriately named, Peaches. Although is was raining we chose to sit outside in the tented courtyard. This called for a round of hot chocolate. We were told that the Peaches and Cream coffeecake was to die for and died we did. I picked at it and prodded it until I think I figured out how it was made. There was a familiar, secret flavor in there that I just couldn’t put my tongue on… is it anise? Basil?...Ach! I will post a recipe when I have it perfected so stay tuned. Dan and I savored the Eggs Benedicts which were perfect. The kids gobbled down kiddy-sized French Toast and Pancakes. The crowds never ceased as I spied other patrons plates and envied their choices as well.
One highlight of the trip was heading into Eastie (Boston that is) and eating at the famous Santarpio’s Pizza. (Please do not pronounce the “R” as you will sound stupid! SAN-TAH-PEEYOS!) The skewered lamb appetizer served with cherry peppers and bread was simplicity and excellency on a plate. Their pizza, again a perfect crust and just the right amount of cheese to sauce ratio, was classic. The place was a hole in the wall and the old Italian gold-chain-laced waiter was probably an original, but my Auntie shared her memories of the place as she and my mom grew up just around the corner on Bremen Street. The room in which we sat used to be the bread bakery that sold piping hot bread right from their ovens for 25¢ a huge loaf. Auntie said the bread has not changed and I had to agree it was heaven with its crusty exterior and feathery light interior.
With the smoky scent of Santarpio’s on my fingers, a few extra pounds on me bum, and some great new memories, we headed on south for home.