We took our family out to dinner last night at a restaurant on the Newburgh waterfront. I wanted to be able to see the Hudson River but sit in the cool air conditioning so Captain Jake's was the perfect family-friendly solution.
A pair of grandparents, two adult couples, and three littles ranging in age from 3 months - 3 years, we were seated at a large round table in a corner of the dining room. An ideal location for our group.
The service was friendly and well-paced. The kid meals came out quickly and the adult dinners were all delicious (everyone practically cleaned their plates except me but I wanted to take some of the seafood risotto home).
But, the moment I want to share has nothing to do with reviewing a local restaurant.
I ordered a cup of New England clam chowder. Not exactly the stuff of toddler delight. The creamy broth is a bit thick, without being like paste, making it easy for little hands to spoon into their own mouth or to feed their grandparents. The clam itself was mild in flavor, not salty or too briny and the potatoes were spoon-sized cubes cooked to a soft al dente. The standard plastic baggie of oyster crackers sat on the saucer.
After enjoying a few spoonfuls I noticed my granddaughter was watching me very closely and she asked if my soup was hot. She reminded me I could blow on it if it was too hot. I smiled and asked if she wanted to try something.
Head bobbing enthusiastically up and down, I fed her the first bit and after she determined she liked it, she pushed my hand away and told me, "I do it."
Alrighty then.
Papa told our granddaughter that he preferred crackers in his soup. She immediately dunked one in, plunged the spoon to the bottom of the cup, and hoisted it up before bringing it sideways to his mouth. "Here, Papa."
She coached him along by opening her own mouth, instructing the way she was taught, and showing her strong desire to nurture.
"Oh, thank you," he said and swallowed.
Pleased--no, thrilled with delight, she continued to share the soup with her Papa.
I watched and thought of the first time I met him. He was 19. Never on that night did either of us even for a moment imagine we would be grandparents together and that it would quite possibly be the best chapter. These are the moments I want to slow down, sit in, and marinade, making me softer, gentler, and full of the best well-seasoned memories.
If you are of a certain age, enjoy dinner with your grandkids. You will be Fed Well.
