August 9, 2007

I woke up in Massachusetts, with no idea what state I’d be in later that day. Literally, that is. Perhaps I would head to a different part of Massachusetts. Or I could drive west, into New York. Or head south. There were a few options in that direction, as well.

Afternoon found me sliding into Connecticut, with a set destination in mind: Essex, CT. I’d caught a last minute vacancy at The Griswold Inn.

Known by many simply as “The Gris,” this historic inn first opened its doors in 1776, making it one of the oldest continuously operating inns in the country. It sits proudly on Main Street, a stunning example of historical preservation and colonial hospitality. Within walking distance to shops and galleries, it couldn’t be more perfectly situated for visitors to the Connecticut River Valley.

I checked in during the late afternoon, picking up a key to a cozy room up a flight of stairs. Though the inn offers rooms and suites of varying sizes, this room was absolutely perfect for me – comfortable, secluded, quiet and charmingly decorated to reflect the colonial period.

I’d heard about Essex over the years, often referred to as “The Best Small Town in America.” The town of Essex is actually formed of three villages: Essex, Ivoryton and Centerbrook, each with its own zip code. It was known by the Native American name of Potapaug until the early 1800s. While I still had adequate light for exploring, I headed out to see what there was to see.

A short stroll down to the Connecticut River and Steamboat Dock turned up a picture perfect scene. Against the filtered backdrop of the afternoon sun, two boys worked together with buckets and ropes, catching blue crab with pieces of chicken as bait. One was clearly the teacher; the other, slightly younger, eagerly learning. In spying a bucket half filled already with crab, I was amazed to find out this was the bounty from just one half hour’s efforts. I was even more impressed when the older boy told me he had caught seventy-five the night before. They happily posed for a photo and then set back to work.

Just beyond, I came to The Connecticut River Museum, which offers numerous exhibits, including many detailing the maritime history of the area. My visit was too late in the day to see the inside of the museum, but the building itself – a warehouse dating to 1878 – was both quaint and stately and only added to the idyllic riverside landscape.

Peaceful as the scene presented itself to me, it was anything but that on April 8, 1814, when British ships landed at Essex, destroying twenty-eight ships and occupying the premises of The Griswold Inn, at that time called The Bushnell Tavern.

Being late in the day, shops and galleries were closing up. I returned to the inn and found a seat at a small wooden table in the Tap Room Tavern. This section of the inn is even older than the rest, having been built in the early 1700s as the area’s first schoolhouse and later moved to its current location and reincarnation. With an antique popcorn machine to one side of me and a piano player to the other, there was no shortage of atmosphere in this cozy, dark room. I could almost imagine the scene to be the same 200 years ago.

The Griswold Inn has a fascinating assortment of dining rooms, all heavily laden with artwork and meandering from one into the other. The Steamboat Room, The Library, The Covered Bridge, The Gun Room and The Essex Room all showcase paintings and prints portraying scenes of early village and seaport life.

Amidst these museum quality displays, I enjoyed a dinner of Pork Shank Braised in BBQ Spices, served with sautéed sweet corn and mashed potatoes. Satisfied from both food and atmosphere, I retired to my room, read until my eyes began to feel heavy, and turned in for a good night’s sleep.

A continental breakfast was included with lodging, so I started the next morning off with coffee, juice, and a muffin. Served in the main dining area, it gave me a chance to admire the artwork again before checking out.

I drove west from Essex, stopping briefly in Old Saybrook, approximately five miles down the road, where the Connecticut River meets the Sound. Here, as if I hadn’t already been on enough of a culinary adventure during the last twenty-four hours, I just had to try a “Lobster Dog” at Jack’s at Harbor One, located in the marina. His own creation, Jack creates his lobster dogs with a lobster and butter mixture, packed in a casing.

Faced with several exotic options, I chose a “Coyote Ugly” dog, which came loaded down with corn, tomatoes, cilantro, avocado and jalapenos. It was excellent, though a little pricey at 14. Still, it was lobster, not just an ordinary hot dog. And it was an adventure. Not a bad way to end a visit to this intriguing area.