Thursday, July 19, 2007
Life, Travel

07/22/07 LIFE, TRAVEL: Coasting by

Coasting By A Nantucket escape evokes quiet repose in any season By Suzanne Wright Euphemistically, you could call the plane “petite.” Counting the one next to the pilot, Cape Air’s flight fro...

Coasting By
A Nantucket escape evokes quiet repose in any season
By Suzanne Wright

Euphemistically, you could call the plane “petite.” Counting the one next to the pilot, Cape Air’s flight from Boston to Nantucket has nine seats. At check-in, I am asked to weigh my purse (7 lbs) and provide my own weight. (I hope the agents know everyone fudges and add 20 percent to the aggregate total.) It’s an absolutely gorgeous fall day when we take off, heading straight for the skyline and then rising over the red brick buildings that shape the skyline. The plane is mostly windows, so the view of the coastline is superb. When we land, 35 minutes later, the small airport reminds me of the one on the TV show “Wings.”

Nantucket is 30 miles and a world away from Massachusetts; author Nathaniel Philbrick has written, “It is defiantly off the coast.” The island, first sighted by Norsemen in the 11th century, was originally inhabited by the Wampanoag Indians, then the English. Although it has a year-round population of more than 10,000, it swells to 60,000 during the popular summer season. The entire island has been declared a National Historic District by the National Park Service and boasts one of the highest concentrations of pre-Civil War structures in the United States; the largest landowner is the Nantucket Land Bank. In the early fall after the crowds have gone home, it’s an idyllic, captivating, crowd-free destination.

Pulling up to The Wauwinet inn, the intoxicating scent of Concord grapes hits my nostrils; September is graping season. A number of huge pumpkins—one weighing more than 700 pounds—greets guests at the entrance. Part of the prestigious Relais & Châteaux family, the inn is a restorative seaside retreat nine miles from town, flanked by the Atlantic Ocean and Nantucket Bay, and ringed by a select few private homes. The inn dates from 1876, but underwent a complete renovation in 1988.

There are 34 rooms, a velvety lawn where white wicker chaises point toward the water and an award-winning restaurant, Topper’s. Splurge on a larger room, where the scale of the furniture is more appropriate, and be sure to request a water view. The décor is comfy, with country pine antiques, fresh flowers and a big, fluffy bed dressed with Pratesi sheets that ensure sweet dreams. Although the flat-panel TV seems a bit incongruous, the needlepoint “Go Away” door hanger is a perfect touch.

During shoulder seasons (fall and spring), the inn runs Taste of Nantucket, a promotion that includes complimentary soft-adventure activities such as cooking demonstrations, surfcasting, island touring and a lobstering cruise. Five of us board the Wauwinet Lady, a 26-foot open launch, under a bright cobalt sky. Capt. Ed has knuckles like knots and straw-like, sun-bleached hair. He’s a man of few words, but his knowledge of the island is deep; he’s a multigenerational native.

We motor out a ways, he sets the lobster cages and in no time, we are pulling out one- to two-pound specimens and banding their claws to keep them from nipping us. Newlyweds Whitney and Will from Boston loan me their camera to snap the action when my battery dies. When we return to the inn, the chef meets us to inspect the catch and describe the crustacean-based dishes, including a decadent lobster frittata served at breakfast.

We’re just in time for the daily cheese, port and sherry service. I chat with Nancy, who has been coming to the inn for 12 years. “I’m really spoiled,” she says, looking up with a satisfied smile from her novel; the inn has many repeat guests, including a couple from Germany who stay for a month at time, twice a year. I take the complimentary “jitney” (van, for you mainlanders) to town for dinner at Òran Mór. In Celtic, Òran Mór means “great song,” and there is certainly a lyrical quality to Freeman’s cuisine (he was with the Wauwinet before opening his own place). In a pleasant room with yellow walls and roof-line views, I sample his tasting menu, which features clean, regional cooking.

The courses include nicely saline Glidden Point oysters in the half shell atop an apple-and-fennel mignonette topped with American caviar; yellowfin tuna tartare with roasted tomato puree and coriander crisp; luscious roasted black bass (delivered to Freeman’s door by a friend that morning) served with the last of summer’s sweet corn and spinach, and tender lobster meat; spice-rubbed roasted Peking duck atop a risotto made with a creamy Long Island cheese pumpkin; and an elegant chocolate pot de crème with a bright citrus salad. The spectacular meal is complimented by deft wine pairings, including a spectacular French white burgundy and California pinot noir.

The following day I again join Ed for a tour of the village of Siasconset, an almost medieval English settlement, in a 1946 Ford Woody. The small cottages—some of which date back to the 1600s—feature names such as High Tide and Ensconced, and are picture-perfect with weathered gray shingles, pocket gardens, manicured hedges and white picket fences. It looks like a meticulous movie set. We also visit a cranberry bog and the Sankaty lighthouse, which still guides sailors today.

In the cobbled streets of downtown Nantucket, I am delighted to find no chain stores (unless you count Ralph Lauren, who owns a home here and opened his shop despite local disapproval)—just lots of independent shops such as Sweet Inspirations, a confectionary where I sample the tart cranberry bark. The Whaling Museum, which reopened in late 2005, offers an excellent overview of the island’s history and boasts an eye-popping 46-foot sperm whale skeleton, along with the only surviving whale-oil beam press (used in candle making) in the world and an impressive collection of scrimshaw. Waning sunlight illuminates piles of fallen leaves as the shops shutter for the evening.

Back at the Wauwinet, it’s a real treat to order room service from acclaimed Chef David Daniels and tuck into the meal in my robe as I watch the sun set over the bay. The truffled rigatoni comes under a snowy blanket of tangy cave-aged cheeses; the maple-glazed foie gras with butternut squash emulsion has an autumnal richness; the venison sirloin with cocoa caraway glaze and sweet potatoes is full-bodied and buttery; and the warm valrona cake with caramelized bananas. The food—like the island—makes for sweet dreams.