Newport, RI: Franklin Spa

Unsurprisingly, after our long, drawn out dinners inNewport, we were pretty slow-going in the mornings.  But there were things to do, cliffs to walk, mansions to tour, and we needed to be refueled.  Given the duration and relative fanciness of the previous night’sdinner, we wanted something casual, but (of course) not at the expense of deliciousness.  Franklin Spa showed up on nearly every best-of breakfast / brunch list we came across, so we figured it must be a reliable spot.  So we headed on over and found a bustling breakfast scene.  After a wait of just a few minutes spent ogling the food being ushered past us, we settled into our corner booth, ready to enjoy some straight-up comfort food.

Franklin Spa is the epitome of a greasy spoon - not exactly what I had in mind when I heard the name of the joint.  From the swiveling stools at a counter in front of an open kitchen to the vinyl booths and the no-nonsense yet affable hey darlin’ sort of service you’d expect from a local joint, you just know you're in for an enjoyable meal. 

Most of the time, when I eat out, I am looking to experience new tastes and experiences and discover combinations I’d never have dreamed up on my own.  That’s not always the case for brunch.  Sometimes I am looking to be wowed, but sometimes I just want some comforting food prepared by someone else, someone who has their shit together at the ungodly hour of one p.m. on a weekend day. 

Smoked Salmon Benedict

For me, comfort food at brunch time is found in the form of smoked salmon and poached eggs.  It’s a go-to of mine because it’s relatively healthy (though hello, sodium!), straightforward and simple.  Despite this simplicity, it’s surprising how frequently the dish falls short of its potential.  I suppose I can’t expect busy kitchens to present me with perfectly poached eggs every time, but at the very least I expect to be met with runny yolks.  Diners tend to be well-seasoned egg-slingers, so I put my faith in the short-order cooks behind the counter and ordered a smoked salmon benedict – hollandaise on the side (so sue me, I’m not immune to the threats of butterfat, and it’s impossible to tell just how heavy-handed a kitchen will be with the hollandaise, so I figure it’s best to just apply it, or dunk it, realistically, myself).  The fellas at Franklin Spa did not let me down.  My eggs were perfect – perfectly runny, not a hard bit of yolk to be found, with thoroughly cooked whites.  The hollandaise was lemony and bright, though a bit clunky.  A simple dish very well executed, and served with some well-spiced home fries.

Corned Beef Hash

Robbie opted for the corned beef hash with poached eggs and hollandaise.  What can I say, we were a little sodium-hungry, I suppose.  His plate came teeming with fatty corned beef and browned potatoes. A hangover helper if there ever were one.

Stuffed French Toast with Bananas and Pecans

CF went with the stuffed french toast, which was topped at her request with bananas and pecans.  A solid move.  The battered slices of bread were barely able to contain the mounds of maple-spiked cream cheese within.  This was unabashedly decadent; not as sweet as you'd expect but very difficult to tackle alone.  I was glad I wasn't the one faced with the task, but happy to be able to sneak a taste. 

I didn't photograph CH's dish, but it was a chili and cheese omelet.  CH is to chili as Rob is to hot wings.  If it's on a menu, it's tough for him to look past it and order something else. When he saw it combined with breakfast food, he knew immediately it'd be his.  Bad move.  Learn from his mistake.  Not only did he not enjoy it much, but it repeated on him all afternoon, as if to remind him of his failing.  

That one misstep aside (and I'll put that one on CH, as opposed to Franklin Spa), this was a very solid meal.  It was unpretentious, relaxed and really quite good.  Recommended.

Franklin Spa

229 Spring St.

Newport, RI

(401) 847-3540

Newport, RI: Brick Alley Pub & Restaurant

About, oh, a month ago (wow, am I behind on these posts), Rob and I took a little weekend jaunt over to Newport, Rhode Island with our friends C&C.  We'd never been before, and we were able to snag a pretty good deal on a vacation home since apparently not many people favor New England beach town destinations in the dead of winter. 

We went armed with a bunch of dining options from my friend Sheera, a trusty source of food recommendations.  We arrived in Newport in time for a late-ish dinner thanks to the trusty I-95 traffic, and wanted someplace casual and good.  Sheera had high praise for Brick Alley pub, and a quick Google search turned up a number of encouraging articles, including the fact that Bon Appetit named Brick Alley’s lobster roll one of the best in America.   

We were pretty voracious by the time we sat down around 9:30, obviously past prime dinnertime, as most of the tables were wrapping up and we were the last to be seated.  We studied the immense menu (and ridiculous drink / beer list) and proceeded to over-order.  

Not even close to actually being a slider, but no less delicious for it

First up, some Ahi Tuna Sliders.  The waitress beamed when we ordered these, and they were good, not life changing by any means, but perfectly tasty and great for sharing  And certainly one of the lighter options on the pub-fare-heavy menu. 

Apparently the progeny of one of the 13 best recipes published by Bon Appetit
in its first 50 years

Next, the Portugese Clams, another dish that Bon Appetit apparently loves, going so far as to name it in its 50^th anniversary issues as one of the 13 best recipes in the history of the magazine (per the note on the menu).  For a little touristy spot with a giant, pages long menu listing among its edibles nachos and spinach artichoke dip, Brick Alley has sure received its fair share of legit accolades.  The clams were delicious – meaty but not chewy, salty but not thirst-inducing, and that broth was utterly chugable.  Reading the menu quickly, we expected chorizo in the dish, but instead found chouriço, a Portuguege sausage that seemed more closely related to kielbasa than chorizo.   One of the 13 best recipes I imagine Bon Appetit published in its first 50 years?  Not sure, but it hit the spot. 

Habanero on the left; normalcy on the right

Robbie has a bit of a wing problem.  He might claim it an affinity rather than a problem, but whenever wings are on the menu, it’s like he has blinders on and can see nothing else.  Typically, the hotter the wings the better for the Robster.  So once I saw habanero wings on the menu, with a disclaimer (“may not be returned due to ‘too hot’”) no less, I knew they’d be appearing on our table.  The waitress, bless her heart, managed to talk Mr. WingFace into going halfsies with the habanero and filling the rest of the order up with the Rhode Island Red Hot Chicken Wings.  

As an attorney, I can vouch for the legally binding nature of this  document.

This turned out to be very sage advice.  If the disclaimer on the menu weren’t ominous enough, the release that Robbie had to sign seemed to seal the deal – he was in for some heat. He made it through a couple of those habanero wings, taming the fire in his mouth with his boozy mudslide; our friend Chris took one for the team as well, also requiring the solace of Rob's cold, creamy beverage.  I’m not a chicken wing fan at all, but I couldn’t resist trying a bite. They were, indeed, hot as shit.  Not wanting to totally kill my taste buds, I kept it at that; Rob admitted that his were useless after those wings. 

Lobstery, New Englandy goodness

But really, I was in it for the lobster roll.  I have a weird thing with lobster rolls.  I love them in theory, but I very rarely order them because I know there’s only so much mayo-slathered seafood I can handle.  When I do order them, I am typically skeeved out by them after the third bite.  And three bites of a lobster roll is hardly a good investment.  But I expected a lot from one named among six of the best in America – I doubt just any mayo-bomb would make that cut.  And in any event, was in the mood for it.  And it was good. Really good.  Big, juicy chunks of lobster, tossed but not drowned in mayo, with a deliciously awesome, buttery split-top bun.  It was utterly enjoyable, even the next day.  But all those apps (and the bingeing in which I’d drunkenly, embarrassingly indulged the night before) did me in; despite my best intentions, I had room for jut a few bites.  Not even enough to make it to the point where hoisting the roll up off of the plate was a viable option.  Thankfully, we were staying in a rental home with plenty of fridge space, so into a doggy bag it went. 

This plate was hubcap-sized

Rob had the generously portioned short rib, which could’ve tasted like hot flaming ass and it wouldn’t have made a difference after those wings.  The bite I stole was salty, but good; the accompanying creamed spinach a fine version of the form.  The majority of this came home with us as well.   I’d be loath not to mention that the short rib came with access to the unlimited salad bar (including bread and soup), which was hardly necessary given the amount of food we’d ordered. 

C&C went splitsies ordered a Buffalo Chicken Salad and Fish Tacos,.  Since both dishes were handily demolished, I’d have to imagine they were well-received. 

  

Far from fine dining, Brick Alley seems perfectly suited to its surroundings. Tasty, plentiful food right in the heart of Newport's tourist drag.  Though we’d long been the only table dining, there was a solid bar scene going, and we didn’t feel rushed out of the place at all.  Then a crowd, bedecked in green and black, some with fuzzy pints of Guiness atop their heads, entered and invited us to join them in the Great Guiness Toast.  Not the types to turn down the chance to take part in setting a world record (or free beer), we accepted; the perfect capper to our admittedly gluttonous meal.  Hey, we’d turned down dessert*, a little beer wouldn’t hurt. 

* I suppose one could argue we’d eaten dessert throughout the meal through the stolen sips from Rob’s many mudslides. I say, irrelevant. 

Brick Alley Pub

140 Thames St.
Newport, RI
(401) 859-6334