With all due respect to Burt Lancaster in Atlantic City, and to whomever coined “America’s Playground” as a nickname, I’m spending the weekend off the Boardwalk in Atlantic City. It’s an eating safari, a hat trick of taste treats, both ends of the spectrum and some things in between. Looking forward to checking out the Atlantic City version of Il Mulino: Mulberry Street moved to the Taj Mahal. I tend to like Big Apple institutions that have been tossed into the Garden State (Carmines and Old Homestead Steak House) because they show up on this side of the Hudson with less attitude, price and hassle, so confidences are high for Saturday’s dinner.
Sunday’s rough agenda for 12 hours of food (the equivalent to 24 hours of LeMans): some number of holes at the Links at Brigantine, Brunch at White House Subs (I’m thinking eggs and capicola), biscotti at Formica Brothers, dinner at that place. If you have no idea what or where it is, then you can’t or haven’t eaten there; if you know then you know the routine. Yeah, A Certain Rating Book decided to publish the address and phone number, but getting a reservation is still a cross between getting through the velvet ropes and an FBI background check.
Details on Monday; right now I’m in training.
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