This morning’s news shows a large mass of rain moving east across the Maritime Provinces, forecast to hit Charlottetown late this morning.  We opt to stay in and watch the rain through the tall windows in what is, in this century, the TV room.

It is 3 pm, and the sun is playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. Blue skies, although spotted, are a welcome sight — we haven’t seen them in many days. Michael comes into the room where I am reading and announces he is going for a walk.  I grab a pair of sandals and join him. 

A Walk in Charlottetown’s Park

As we cross the street and walk into the park, I turn around and look at the house.  It is the first time I have seen its entire height — three stories; the tree that grows in front of it is twice as tall as the old mansion. I can’t help but wonder if it has a basement.

I have always wanted to live in an old house, and now, for at least a minute, I get to do just that! Unfortunately, the windows do not open, but the home remains exceptionally cool, even when the sun shines.

Michael tells me that when he sat on the porch this afternoon while watching the rain, people in tour busses waved to him.

“Did you wave back?”

“Of course.”

Another Governor’s Mansion

On our path to the water, we pass by the current home of the Lt. Governor of PEI — large and white as opposed to ours, which is much smaller and brick red. This one is home to the eighth Lt. Governor of Prince Edward Island. They both have sea views — on a small island, in a harbor town, I guess that is to be expected.

The park facing our house is bordered by a road on one side and the bay on the other. The bay is edged with a boardwalk that, in turn, is dotted with park benches.  We take advantage of both the easy walking path and a few benches, breathing in the day. Finally, we head west to the park’s curve that will take us back to our current dwelling.  Surprisingly to us, we stumble on a lighthouse — they are everywhere, thirty-three on the entire island — at the end of the long block that is our street.

Crossing the street, we wind our way back home through a forest of trees rather than the civilized sidewalk that winds through Charlottetown’s tony neighborhood.

Lot 30 in Charlottetown

Lot 30 — sleek and sophisticated, yet a tad noisy, with a menu that changes daily based on the freshest ingredients available — doesn’t disappoint.  Nor does it blow us away.  Sometimes too much hype is not a good thing.  No person and no entity seldom lives up to the glowing reviews that precede it; they can be a curse. A restaurant touted to be one of the best in Canada, a true PEI experience not to be missed, had my expectations as high as the moon. 

First Course

The service is attentive.  My baked oysters, sprinkled with crispy crumbs, Parmesan cheese, and studded with specks of pancetta, are delicious.  Michael dubs his combination carrot and cauliflower soup, “Not that good.”

Entree

Our entrees, both having seared scallops as the main event, are sweet and tender. However, the sear is not the crispy sear that I love and should be here — I am a true fan of texture.  My plate is a creative take on surf and turf and also contains a glazed and tender square of pork belly, a potato puree, and an entire miniature plant of some type of greens — tiny root included.  I have no idea what I am eating, but the perfect bite is a combination of the greens, potato, and scallop (if only it had that crispy sear) — or the pork belly, potato, and greens. The whole, being greater than the individual parts. The plating — not the chef’s fault, but the servers — is sloppily presented, with the sauce sliding everywhere.

Michael says he can’t tell by looking at his plate, which are gnocchi and which are the scallops. The texture is also similar — it is a seemingly strange combination.

Dessert

The desserts, which I didn’t really want and didn’t really need, do blow us both away.  They are delicious. Mine is a warm Grand Marnier sabayon with cold macerated berries served with a dollop of chantilly cream.  Hot and cold, tastes and textures a perfect foil for each other.  Michael is served three small, perfectly rounded scoops of creamy banana ice cream, topped with an Irish cream sauce and a whisper of tasty crumbles scattered on the plate.  The coffee is deep and rich, and the wine, reasonably priced.  I am happy — even with a $200 price tag — just not totally blown away.

Michael tells me I have gone to the dark side — that I am a food snob.  Not true!  

I am reminded of a friend’s story about her husband asking a business associate to dinner one night, explaining to her, “I told him you are a really good cook.”

Her reply was an exasperated, “Roger, don’t’ ever tell anyone that!  They will expect the food to be great.  What if it doesn’t turn out? It’s better if they are surprised.”

Expectations! I need to lower mine.

Update

Lot 30 closed its doors on November 4, 2014, after the chef-owner and his wife decided to head to western Canada. We were just in time.

9/5/2014 8:42:25 AM