Nantucket 2012—7 (Whatever Lola Wants, Lola Gets)
It’s 6:48 am and we had a huge storm overnight, fears of hurricanes, tornadoes, water funnels, and the Kardashians. It was simply a heavy rain, the surf is pounding this morning and I can see the horizon. I’m just about finished with Summerland, a novel about Nantucket by Elin Hilderbrand, which takes place on Nantucket (she lives here). I saved it for the trip. I highly recommend it.
Last night I lived out a Seinfeld episode. Over 17 years we’ve dined repeatedly at the best restaurants on the island, and there are a lot of them. But we’ve never made it to Lola 41, which has very good reviews. Do you remember the “Soup Nazi” on Seinfeld? (In Honolulu, we actually ate at a Japanese restaurant where the owner was called (never to his face) the “Sushi Nazi.”)
I called Lola only to hear on a recoding that reservations are only accepted on the same day for dinner starting at 4 pm (the restaurant opens for dinner at 5 pm). I called at 4, received a busy signal a dozen times, and then got through, only to have a man slam me on hold before I could say a thing. When he returned he told me he could take two people at 5:30 or 9:30. I chose 5:30 and he apprised me that we would be seated at the sushi bar, not at a table, but we would be given “the complete menu.”
I learned later that the wealthy people who live and visit here actually take the time to begin calling at 3:30 or so, and simply allow the phone to continually ring until it’s picked up at 4. That’s why, at 4:03, all the prime seating was gone. Somehow I don’t think they’re enjoying the beach!
It was Friday night, the place is a few blocks from the docks, the car ferry departs at 5:45 and loads at 5:15, so there were spaces everywhere to park. (Contrary to inept travel writers who buzz over here for a day or so on a weekend and pretend they know the place, it’s easy to drive and park in town and environs. The cobblestone streets are what slow you up, but I used to drive the Ferraris on them, so let’s not be overly dramatic.) It had begun raining, but that didn’t slow business.
I was greeted at the door immediately, but then two managers started to debate where a four-top should be set up and we were left standing there before we were seated. For the first time in my recent memory, we were escorted to the two worst seats in the house—all the way at the end of the huge sushi bar, against a wall, and with an air conditioner aimed directly at the back of my neck. There were perhaps a dozen tables or so, and I recognized the priority about early reservations. The bar wrapped around most of the restaurant.
We had a great server who immediately shut down the air conditioning and commenced bringing absolutely wonderful food. My wife had a duck leg that was so impressive the sushi chefs paused to appreciate it (they were two feet away, at eye level, this was not a traditional sushi bar, more of a drinking bar—and I watched them prepare fish with bare hands, which I thought was now against 12 food laws). I had extremely fresh uni and toro, which many restaurants don’t even bother stocking. All of the fish was magnificent, and our server was astonishingly deft at handling people whose backs were turned to him at the bar! They also have a highly acclaimed burger on the bistro menu. No one rushed us, we left at about 7, and the place was jammed. A hurricane threat in Nantucket is insufficient to keep people away from good food.
If you get the chance, go to Lola. Even the worst seat is terrific.
© Alan Weiss 2012. All rights reserved.
