Thank god for Skipper.
Just when I thought good seafood was a fantasy in these parts–finally, a seafood restaurant that knows the meaning of “fresh!”
In all the years I’ve lived in this part of the country, and with its proximity to an oceanfront area where fresh seafood is caught, I’ve never understood why it was nearly impossible to find fresh, well-prepared, reasonably-priced seafood. The last and only resort for years has been the Seafood market at the NC Farmer’s Market. Good food, plenty of it, prepared well (both broiled and fried), and for a reasonable price. A winner all around.
But, baby, that was IT. A few spots briefly showed promise. Some closed, some changed hands, but inevitably, each took a dive. I had high hopes after the move–out in the country someone surely would put up a seafood joint and roll in the dough. One particular business intrigued me. Covered in faux dockside paraphenalia, staffed by old ladies and strapping young men, and reeking of deep fried, it seemed like a winner. That is, until I actually ordered the food. Briny metallic-tasting shrimp (certainly frozen). Massacred scallops–the re-formed kind, made of scallop and…other stuff. And a broiled platter that was less broiled and more immolated. Dry, salty, nasty crap. And not cheap, either.
After that experience, I hesitated to try again. After all, the gross seafood emporium had a parking lot full of cars and seemed to do bustling business. Perhaps these piedmont-dwellers didn’t understand what they were missing.
But every time I drove down to the Home Improvement Warehouse (and, believe me, I drive that way a LOT), I passed a barely-renovated fast-food joint–Skipper’s Fish Fry and Seafood Market The simplicity of the place intrigued me; the crowds made me wary. Finally, in a funk induced by a total lack of tasty fishies, I called them up and asked about takeout. A happy-voiced lady took my order, then asked how far away I was so they could make sure to plate it just before I arrived. That sounded promising.
I stopped in to pick up my plate. It was ready immediately, I paid the lady a crazy low sum, and sped towards home. When I settled in to eat, I found my dinner wrapped neatly in heat-saving paper. The breathable enclosure kept the warmth in but let the steam out, so everything was crisp.
I’d gotten a mixed plate of fried shrimp, scallops, and clam strips, plus a cup of the highly-recommended Lobster Bisque. Every last bite, including the coleslaw (which I hate), was delicious. I can’t wait for the next Tuesday to roll around. Tuesday is the only day Skipper’s steams seafood. I bet the lines are out the door. But it’ll be worth it.
In cat news
Tonight is AllCats last night as the only cat. I don’t think she realizes her reign is coming to an end; if she did I’m sure there’d be trouble. As it is, I’m giving her extra lovins, since tomorrow her whole world will change.
It’s one night earlier than planned, as the foster had a conflict on Friday evening. I’m excited to bring the new guy home, but since I recall kittenhood with the little Miss, I’m anxious to see how he–and she–adjusts. It ought to be an adventure.
Especially since I’ve got ladies coming over on Saturday to look at candles. I hope there’s no kittens clinging to fan blades by the end of this fiasco, but we shall just have to wait and see.