The turn into Rondout Creek from the Hudson River is marked by this impressive lighthouse; the creek itself, is lined with boats (of all types)
The museum is very well-done and much more extensive than the size of Kingston would suggest. The complex also includes a wooden boat building school that also runs local rowing and sailing programs (along with boat building of course).
We both really liked Kingston. We were definitely not in Norfolk any more, with its slightly southern, colonial feel. This was upstate New York, where everything is built into steep green valleys covered in thick trees covered by trails of vines. The buildings were either wood or brick and many of the older ones were leaning alarmingly as if their walls were weary from supporting all the weight over the decades. It felt like being on the set of every Mark Wahlberg movie ever made. Everyone we met, even the shady-looking characters, was exceedingly friendly.
Kingston is a small, walkable town with several trails and plenty of places to eat!
Since we should be able to step off the boat every morning for at least the next month or so, we both added morning walk/runs to our routine of walking all over the place anyway. This allowed us to see even more pretty valleys and exchange friendly greetings with even more locals.
We more than offset this with the local fare. Kingston, at least the area around Roundout Creek, has quite a few nice-looking restaurants. The first one we found was a Mexican on a back road called Armadillo. We met the owner as he was sweeping up and we promised to return later when they opened. I thought our custom would be doing them a favor, since they were off the beaten path, but when we arrived, they were already rearranging things to make space for the constant stream of patrons filing in.
We samlpled the museum(s) and the many fares
The food was indeed very good. I made the mistake of ordering something called a Oaxacan Margarita. That was not so good. I’m sure it was well made by the bartender, but it turned out to be out of stuff that I would soon realize I didn’t really like (not the fault of the bar tender, I just don't like the taste). I don’t remember them all, but the main ingredient was mezcal instead of tequila. The resulting concoction tasted exactly to me (Maryanne tasted it and agreed) like what you would get if you took a Coleman camping stove, untwisted the filler cap, put the thing to your face and started gulping down the white gas fuel. I guess I should have had a Corona.
They even have an active Trolly Museum (and a Mexican restaurant which kept Kyle happy)
Armadillo had some nice-looking desserts, but we had seen a pirogi place that had something on their menu they were calling their version of Death by Chocolate, so we decided to walk off some of our meal in pursuit of that. They were closed, so we ended up somewhere else.
We continued in that vein for the rest of our twenty-eight hour stay at the Maritime Museum dock. Just before we left, Maryanne informed me that we had charges from five different restaurants on our card since yesterday. Okay, that’s probably a bit much. We should think of toning it down a bit. First, I made one last run to the pirogi place for my umpteenth try at catching them when they are open. Maryanne stayed at home to figure out if we had any money left.
They were open! Then the guy told me they don’t serve the Death by Chocolate on Mondays. Mondays are prep days for the rest of the week. He then took me into the kitchen to show me how they make them; chocolate dough folded into ravioli shapes around a filling of ricotta and chocolate chips. Oh, Man!
When I told him I was leaving today, he reached into the freezer and handed me the last bag of frozen ones from the week before. “Seven minutes in a skillet on medium heat. Flip ‘em over, turn the heat to low for four more minutes, then cover ‘em in chocolate sauce. You gotta start with ‘em frozen or they won’t cook properly.”
When I asked him how much, he waved his hand at me. “Foggettaboutit! Have a nice Day!”
That bag probably was meant to serve eight, but we don’t have a freezer, so I had to cook the whole lot right away. They also apparently don’t keep, so there’s an early, if indulgent, lunch sorted. We did get lucky enough to have visitors drop in right as I was finishing up, so we were able to hand out about a third of them as welcome snacks, as if we had known they were coming.
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