An Evening of Pine Dining
“I haven’t been everywhere, but it is on my list.” — Susan Sontag
On a recent driving trip from Phoenixville, Pennsylvania, to Minneapolis, Minnesota, Evie and I decided to end our day at the Hampton Inn in Portage, Indiana, about a mile north of the Indiana Turnpike. Since we had never been there, I asked the woman at the front desk for restaurant suggestions. “We don’t really have anything special in this immediate area but about eight miles east there is a nice place with good Italian food,” she answered.
After many hours of highway driving that day, we didn’t prefer more miles on the road but because of our limited dining options, we headed east on Route 12. After driving about 10 miles, we knew we must have somehow missed our destination. With no restaurant in sight, we stopped at a gas station for directions.
As I got out of the car and was about to go inside, a car pulled up next to me and the woman inside rolled down her window and said, “Are you lost?” I have no idea how she knew that but she was exactly right. We are still amazed that this total stranger would see us and go out of her way to help total strangers. It was like she was an angel from heaven.
I mentioned the restaurant we were looking for and though she had heard of it, she said there was a good place just a short distance from where we were and that place would be easier to find. She told us that the sign out front had a moose head on it. We profusely thanked her and five minutes later we pulled into the full parking lot of Bartlett’s Gourmet Grill and Tavern. We had no idea what a wonderful experience we were about to have.
The host seated us a table not far from the front door where we had a good view of everyone and everything inside. It was a Monday night yet the place was filled with the chatter of happy families sitting around filled tables. Pine wood was the primary décor.
A mother of three came in wearing a sweatshirt with the words, “Smitten with the Mitten” on the front with the silhouette of the state of Michigan which is shaped like a mitten (excluding the Upper Peninsula). People from Michigan use that hand sign to help identify where on the “mitten” they are from. One of her daughters wore a red and white shirt with the large words “Hoosier Hysteria.” We knew we were not in Pennsylvania.
Only after we placed our order with the delightful waitress, Monica, did we notice on the wall the framed article from Midwest Living Magazine identifying Bartlett’s as a preferred eating establishment in Beverly Shores at the Indiana Dunes. The food was delicious. Evie had the roasted chicken with honey glaze; I had the buffalo marinated chicken flatbread.
According to their words, “At Bartlett’s guests can expect a culinary perfection and high quality service without the white linen. We’re a neighborhood hangout with tasteful design and thoughtful food in a casual environment.”
As we sat there enjoying our meal after a long day driving, we noticed the sign on the wall: “Pine Dining.” Both of us could not help laughing because we knew we were having a special moment in a special place or, in their words, “It’s a bit of the northwoods.”
Yes, we drove a mile or so to the Indiana Dunes where there are more than 350 species of birds and more than 10 miles of hiking trails. Yes, we parked our car and walked across the dunes to the edge of the water of Lake Michigan. Yes, we took pictures as the sun was setting in the west.
But, without a doubt, the highlight of that day was our evening of “pine dining.”
Think about it.