September 9, 2014--Midcoast: Post-Season

The Tuesday evening after Labor Day with friends we went for dinner to our favorite waterside restaurant--Coveside.

As we pulled up the parking lot was unusually empty. Always, one is fortunate to find a spot near the place, often having to settle to park precariously half-on, half-off the narrow road.

"Not really surprising," Rona said, "The day after holidays it's often quiet at restaurants."

"But this looks more than quiet," one of our friends said. "It looks to me as if there's no one here. Let's check to see what the sign on the door says."

We were close enough so I could read it--

New Hours 

Open Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Dinner Only.

Thank you for helping us have such a good season!

"Didn't they switch to limited hours last year the first of October?"

"That's what I recall," I said. "I wonder what's going on."

"Let's try the Contented Sole," Rona said. "I can go for one of their duck-fat pizzas." Immediately, in anticipation, my mouth began to water as I turned around to get us there as quickly as possible.

 But we found that it too was closed, also with a new post-season schedule on the door.

"It looks as if all our places are in a race to close," our friend said, "What's the rush? It's only September 2nd. Still technically summer."

So Rona called the Anchor Inn, our third choice--though a fine place--to see if they too were closed. They were happily open and Rona asked if we could get a table for four in about 20, 25 minutes. "No problem," they said.

So we took off for Round Pond. "We can still catch the sunset," I said, thinking about their London broil with caramelized onions.

But when we got there there were at least 30 people waiting for tables. "What happened to 'no problem?'" Rona asked the hostess.

"Well," she said with unusual attitude, "I didn't speak with you and since you don't have a reservation it will be about 45 minutes before we can accommodate you. Wait in the bar and I'll come for you when there's a table available."

"What's going on?" our friend asked, attempting to calm Rona down. She was upset to have gotten a double message.

"I think," the hostess said, "everybody else is closed and so we have everyone--including you--who couldn't get into Coveside or Contented Sole." She rushed away to help clear a table.

Dinner eventually was fine. I did have my London broil and was not disappointed; helped, I suspected, by the two gin and tonics I had at the bar while waiting.

The next morning, as usual, we headed out for breakfast at the Bristol Diner. As we approached, we again noticed there were no cars parked out front and the Open flag wasn't flying.

"What's going on?" Rona asked, sounding immediately almost as frustrated as the night before. "There's a sign on the door, but without reading it I think I know what it says."

And indeed it too said they would now be closed two days a week. "I guess the summer's officially over," I sighed as we turned back home where we had a sweet breakfast on our back deck at Cafe Rona.

In the days following we asked our restaurant friends if it was true that this year they were scaling back their hours earlier than usual.

"Yes," we heard. "We had such a good season that we pretty much already made our money for the year."

But to one restaurant owner who we know very well, I asked, "But if you follow your usual schedule, since you've done so well so far, why not stay open more--at least through leaf-peeping season--and really have a good financial year?"

"We made enough already," we heard. "You have to know when enough's enough. "It's all about living, isn't it?"

"Ture enough," Rona said. "That's one reason we like being here. People like you have the right values. You know what's important. Having more and more isn't necessarily the meaning of life."

"I suspect you'll hear different," our friend tweaked us, "once you get back to New York."

"Indeed we will," Rona said, sounding a bit blue about that time approaching.