This trip was funny because I saw a number of people that I haven’t seen for years. And I mean 11, 12 and 19 years, at least for the three I’m thinking of. There were others that I’m not sure about, timing-wise. The most recent of those was Swayhoover, whose (maiden) name is quite entertaining enough without coming up with a nickname, thank you. With her staying close to the airport, I picked a place right between, and that was the Riverwinds Golf Course in Deptford. I had, ahem, a few minutes to wait for her arrival due to a scheduling mixup, and spent some of it walking by the river. It’s not a particularly lovely river, and all you can see on the other side is industrial Philadelphia stuff – some bridges, factories, the airport, and maybe the refineries and Navy Yard if you squint.
Riverwinds is not particularly lovely either, but it’s an OK example of what happens these days in America when you have a big piece of land and plenty of will to turn it into a money-maker. Isn’t it sort of big and bland? Like they built a barn, painted it white, and slapped some boats on it for color? But hey, the web site says it’s Fine Dining, and who am I to agree?
This is almost too dark to bother showing you, but I liked the way I could frame the flag in the window. The dining room is set back and off the big central lobby with, it hardly needs saying, a large bar, a fieldstone water-wall, and several bored hostesses in, I swear, prom-dress rejects. I got a booth and a bloody mary to finish out the waiting period contemplating the menu and view. If you went, you might well be interested in the large selection of wines – a whole page, with lots of glass selections.
I think it’s unlikely that you would be too interested in the menu though. It was more or less an amalgamation of standard ideas from different things that are common to America. Have you noticed this? It can’t just be onion soup, it has to be blackened cajun popcorn onion soup with an Asian twist. I’m exaggerating in this case, but a bowl of soup did seem like a good idea in the rain and damp. This onion soup was artificial and cheesy. Look, I just wanted a place with decent atmosphere, OK? I didn’t think Swayhoover would be quite so excited about driving to New Jersey for slices of re-heated pizza.
Resoundingly reminding me that I was back in America, the Cobb salad was neither prepared in the classical tradition (I like to see rows of ingredients on top before mixing, don’t you? Although I’d bet that the Brown Derby version didn’t look like that), nor of a size suitable for eating by one person. I took half of it home for an afternoon snack. It wasn’t much good either, which reminds me of an old Borscht Belt joke that won’t make sense to most of you and won’t be funny in any case.
Ah well. You could maybe go here for a drink after playing golf, but I think you should be more picky about where you eat.
Ah well.
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