This isn’t a review. Would you write a review of your dear aunt’s home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner? Would you review a breakfast in bed served by someone you love? Review a picnic lunch on a glorious day with someone you care about?
Some dining is about much more than the food and the service and the ambiance.
Dinner at Freda’s Café in Cape May is like that for Jane and me.
That’s where we’ll be having dinner tonight.
A long, long time ago in a galaxy . . .
It wasn’t in another galaxy, but it was a long time ago—31 years to be close to precise. Jane and I traveled to Cape May for a brief honeymoon. We stayed at the Queen Victoria, a king-sized B&B on Ocean Street, about two blocks from the pedestrian mall.
The innkeeper/owner of the Queen Vic at the time, Dane Wells, recommended a new restaurant just up the street. It had opened recently. It was good, he said.
We sat at the two-person table in the front, farthest from the door. It was a cozy corner. The menu was interesting. The bread was exceptional. A litter of kittens resided nearby and were playing in front of the window. Dinner was delicious. All in all, a fine meal.
So we went back again. Sat at the same table, which we learned was Table No. 3. We had another delicious dinner, and a tradition was born.
Twenty-Nine Dinners in Thirty-One Years
Okay, so we missed one year during the pandemic when everything was closed in March. There was another year when I was starting a new job and was sent off to a convention in Las Vegas. And during the second year of the pandemic, we sat at a table outside. And shivered.
Still—it’s a pretty good track record. Twenty-nine anniversary dinners at Freda’s and twenty-eight of them at Table No. 3.
We have a cordial relationship with Steve Howard, chef and owner. We’ve communicated and shared a bit of music. But mostly, we’re just regular customers. And that works fine.
Adventure or Reliable Comfort
I’ve read articles discussing the difference between people who, when dining out, are looking for something new and special. They’re the ones who are first at the trough when an eatery gets a splash review. They want to explore and have an adventure.
In a world filled with either hedgehogs or foxes, Jane and I have always referred to ourselves as hedgehogs. In the face of things new and strange, we tend to curl up into a little ball and prickle.
When we arrive at Freda’s, and sit at our table, we are wrapped in warm reassurance. The inexpensive red wine we bring (chicken wine (maybe I’ll tell that story sometime)) will be good. Diner will be delicious. Our hosts will treat us kindly. And all will be right with the world.
Anon.
Ridge