Summer Stay-cation ’11 – The Fennville Adventure Part 2: Fennville Station Restaurant

Read Part 1: Summer Stay-cation ’11 – The Fennville Adventure Part 1: Children’s Museum

As we were leaving the Fennville Children’s Museum to go eat the ladies working at the Children’s Museum recommended The Fennville Station for lunch. I planned to take the boys somewhere else, but when the women told me Fennville Station is housed in an old railroad building, and part of the restaurant is an old dining car I changed my mind. David is fascinated with trains.

I assumed that people working at the children’s museum would suggest a restaurant that was kid-friendly.

We walked across the parking lot to the restaurant. From the outside the restaurant looked casual.

We walked up the steps, and past the menu posted outside. I assumed it was one of those family friendly bar & grill type of places that are so trendy in the little towns along the Lake Michigan shoreline.

You know what they say about making assumptions.

We walked in the door to the sight of a very elegant, plush bar area. I thought, “This is too classy for these kids. We can’t eat here.”  I was about to turn and make a run for it when a distinguished older gentleman greeted us. He didn’t seem phased by my motley crew, and made us feel welcome. So then I thought, “Well, if he isn’t shocked by the site of us, maybe it is family restaurant. A really nice family restaurant.” The gentleman seated us in the dining car room, much to David’s delight.

When we walked up to the table I cringed. It was covered with a white, starched linen tablecloth. There were also white linen napkins folded ever so carefully at eat place setting. The table was topped off with gleaming water goblets.

I breathed a silent prayer, “Oh, Lord. Please let us get out of here without breaking anything. I don’t have enough cash to pay for one of those glasses. May they have a lot of bleach in back. That tablecloth will never be the same.”

When the waiter, clad in a tux, came to take our drink order I died a little on the inside. When I asked for milk for Wade I think he choked a bit like I was the first person to ever order milk there.

Then I started reading the lunch menu. There was nothing on it, but sandwiches, soups and salads. Not grilled cheese. They were really nice sandwiches, soups and salads. The kind my kids don’t eat.

We were in too deep now, so I tried to make the best of it.

I ordered salami and mozzarella sandwiches for all three of us. I thought maybe the boys would pick the meat and cheese out and eat it.

The food came quickly, and it was good. To my amazement David ate some of the sandwich sans the onion and tomato. Wade deconstructed his, and ate parts of it. Wade also really liked the pasta salad that came as a side.

The torture finally ended. We paid our bill, and left. Nothing was broken, but I’m pretty sure the tablecloth is in their rag bin now.

I let the boys walk around outside, and look at the train car.

We had three take-away containers full of the food the boys didn’t eat. I couldn’t carry those, my purse, the diaper bag and Wade. So I let David help me. He managed to spill them. Twice. Our leftovers landed in their flowerbed. It will probably attract rabid raccoons. The raccoons will probably attack some poor unsuspecting patron. This is the kind of disaster we leave in our wake.

I don’t have any complaints about Fennville Station. The food was great. The service was great. They were very kind to us even though I don’t think we were in their target demographic. The prices were even reasonable. They serve a traditional Italian menu for dinner, and I will definitely go back. With adults.

To make up for lunch I took the boys to our original lunch destination for dessert…

(To be continued…)