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Although she notes a few very minor lapses, Richman concludes that “one is hard pressed to remember such flaws in a meal that wends its way from homemade breads with herbed butter through aspic-glazed mousse of duck liver to impeccable softshell crabs and pastries so stunning that you order them all.”
The town of Washington comes in for its share of praise too. From the “deceptively charming” Lake
Motel on its ^Jawn of weeping willows to the carved wooden sign that reads ‘‘Bank Customer Parking Only,” Richman doesn’t miss a thing.
Washington, she says, is a town with ‘‘charm that survives a day of investigation....a town of white picket fences and plastic geraniums, antique shops and a recycling center.” Richman mentions furniture maker Peter Kramer, Nels Parson’s Christmas tree farm, and the Rush River Company where one can buy “ice cold cider, peanuts and pretzels among the split oak baskets, patchwork skirts and banners, pottery and ironwork and woodwork.”
Richman encourages her readers to call Ruby Jenkins for a tour through her First Washington Museum or Flossie Williamson for an appointment to see her herb gardens in Woodville—and gives the telephone numbers of both ladies.
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