Time Truly Doesn't Stand Still

When Barb and I spent a week on the Outer Banks of North Carolina I was anxious to show her a restaurant I had discovered on my very first trip to the Outer Banks, when I was 19 or 20-years-old.

I had been visiting with Rhea and Muk along the Eastern Shore of Virginia one summer. Scouring maps of the area I noticed a small strip of islands along the North Carolina coast and planned a day trip.

I landed in South Nags Head and spent the day on the beach. I had found my home. The Outer Banks was unspoiled, dunes still intact, wide open spaces, areas of beach where you're virtually alone. This visit spurred annual pilgrimages back to the Outer Banks for years to come.

After a great day on the beach, salty, sunbaked, and starving I looked for a place for a good meal before heading back north. It was a pretty good drive, a little more than 3 hours.

Just across the one main road that splits South Nags Head I saw a restaurant called "Penquin Isle." It looked pretty nice. I drove across the main road, parked and walked toward the restaurant. The closer I got the more I was worried that this was a nice place, a really nice place - and I was not exactly dressed for this establishment.

Through the front door it was obvious that I was not dressed appropriately. A hostess approached me immediately in high heels and a pretty fancy dress. I asked to see a menu, wanting to know more about what I was getting myself into. The restaurant had a great menu, a little expensive. But it wasn't outrageous and everything looked great.

The hostess came back and asked me "Have you decided?"

I pointed to my clothing and made a face. I was wearing my infamous cut-off denim shorts, still very wet from a day of swimming, covered in cartoons I drew on them in various colors of Sharpie marker. I combined this with a new t-shirt I had bought earlier from Bert's Surf Shop. And I finished off with indoor soccer sneakers with no socks and the shoelaces untied.

She waived her hand and said, "Oh you're fine. This is the beach."

I was incredibly impressed. Dorothy we're not in Pennsylvania.

Penquin Isle sits on the soundfront and every night shows off an incredible sunset. The grill is powered by real mesquite wood chips that tower in a pile outside the restaurant discreetly along one side. Linen tablecloths, many utensils, candlelight, it's all there.

I had Beef Oscar. At that time it was one of the most incredible meals I've ever eaten. The mesquite taste in the filet was nicely evident. Jumbo lump crab meat tumbled over the top of the filet. Asparagus spears dotted the perimeter of the plate. And the masterpiece was finished with a teasing amount of hollandaise sauce. I don't even remember if there was a dessert.

When I got up to leave I was as content as content could be. I turned around to push my chair into the table and to my horror I noticed a wet spot on the upholstered chair from my wet shorts. Blushing I pushed my chair in and jumped in the Volkswagen Rabbit to head back to Rhea and Muk's in Virginia.

Twenty years later I wanted Barb to experience Penquin Isle. On the Outer Banks for a week I called and made reservations for sunset.

When I pulled into the parking lot I noticed that the mesquite pile was gone. Approaching the restaurant everything looked a little run down and in need of a coat of paint.

Entering Penquin Isle everything looked just like I remembered it. Everything was exactly as it was 20-years ago, and everything looked 20-years-old, worn out and dusty.

The food was average at best. I left disappointed.

I had really built the place up to Barb. She was very understanding though.

I learned that you can't hold time still, that even your favorite things continue to change and evolve.