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Location: 32195 State Rte 20, Oak Harbor, WA 98277

Fare: Large Margaritas, large screen tvs, Mexican insundries

Correspondent: Glenn Debolt

Basic self Identification: Funny, Dumb, [Expiative deleted]

My Great Great Great grand father was an entrepreneur, ( the last member of my family to work at all by the pelebian definition of the word ) with the start up capital his father got from selling infant coffins and false cures during the bubonic plaque he was able to raise an economic empire over Hapsburg hungry, not above it just all throughout it, that set my family up for the foreseeable future. Despite his eternal entrepreneurial enterprises my progenitor could have learned a thing or two from today’s subject.

El Cazador, the hunter in a less romantic tongue, which is ironic as it hardly does any hunting so much as trapping, luring a customer base in with impressive self promotion, and a precisely perfect prime real estate location and appealingly authentic atmosphere, it is a fine site to behold or be seated in. 

Now in my forebears defense, chattel labor hardly needed advertisement, as they are somewhat capable of selling themselves along with their other uses, still to think what he could have done (see atrocities against human dignity) with a drop the barckers acumen of the proprietors of “El Caz” as the locals slovenly refer to it, possesses.

I recommend the location for large gatherings. They have plenty of seating readily available, or if you intend to be in a large gathering for major sporting events as they often air any spectacle that can draw a crowd.

You may notice dear reader I haven’t mentioned the food.

Location: 418 Commercial Ave, Anacortes, WA 98221

Fare: Up scale and diverse comfort food with a dash of hipster pretention

Correspondent: Lorien edelweiss Frey (pronounced Fry)

Brief personal description: Goofy, Slightly Autistic ( her words not mine)

A’Town Bistro and I got off on the wrong foot, no not my goutfoot thankfully, I’m speaking metaphorically not of any particular cankled heel. Upon entering we were asked if we had a reservation, a perturbing personal pet peeve, primarily punctuated by an obvious quantity of available space, now I understand that I require a four top table at a minimum and am far better suited to a six top, but this should not require prior warning, and even if it did no restaurant can claim that I do not apply ample announcement of approach in the form of shaking floorboards prior to my arrival, and outside of this the idea of any eatery turning me away when amongst the many cows I have been compared to, a cash cow is the second most common (I bare a striking resemblance to a Chianina bull), space will be made for me and I will take up every square inch of it.

Were this the only social concord broken by the Bistro, it would have been forgiven as small calves under the belt, a triflyl really, but they followed it up with a dreadful act of barbarism not soon forgot by any properly civilized man, they advertised scallops on they’re menu, and upon ordering them revealed their vile deception, they were out of scallops. I know, I know, dear readers truly horrid to conjure the image of Neptune’s tantamount textured treasure, and then rip the fantasy form within my cushioned grasp, I would have stormed out, or quaked out as it were (my heated gate is a two on any seismic scale), but the deceptive rapscallions had an ace up their sleeve as duplicitous types often do, a scotch egg, I can never hold a grudge when scotch eggs are on the line, to trade oceanic ivory delight for soft boiled gold is not small feat, but the strongest will prevail, and the egg was very fine, as was the plate of duck confit that followed it to oblivion. though my heart will ache evermore for what could have been, I can not deny the quality of the fare served, a delightful consolation in my time of mourning.

The atmosphere is that upscale masquerading as casual that has become harder to spot since lens less glasses and curled mustaches fell out of style in the early 2010s, that shouldn’t be seen as a criticism however, the soft lighting and well manufacture atmosphere marks this as a prime date location for those with lesser carnal desires than my own, the food will impress and the price though above baseline won’t pauperize anyone even if they’re not quite as fiscally voluptuous as your truly. I will not critique the service as I may be biased by their skullduggerus actions, but I recall it being prompt aside from its faults in presentation.

Location: 670 SE Pioneer Way, Oak Harbor, WA 98277

Fare: Irish food, beer, corn beef, bangers, and the like

Correspondent: Jaycob Parnell Ferguson
basic self identification: Big Dumb Ginger (temporary pending inputs)

I don’t want to decive you my dear, darling delightful readers, this isn’t the first eatery I have sampled of, supped on or subsumed my self in on my contuing culinary crusade, but I felt is was best to get the this out of the way and have my intentions out in the open early, to avoid further events of “The Troubles”. In the past I have a habit of being banded from all site of Gaelic gastronomic expression I dent the doorstep of, usually some utter nonsense about being a walking potato famine, or taking more from the plates of Irishmen than Cromwell could ever dream of.

This is of coarse slander, though I do have to admit I do have a bit of a tinkers hand when it comes to my dinner dates plates, but I can hardly be held accountable for all of these Digestive diasporations, if the Ka Mon Irish Pub (Pl. Katechaki 13, Chania) did not intend to serve the cat it should not have arrived at the table with the horderves, they should think of that and avoid getting the authorities involved in any cases involving the replacement cat. But truly these conflicts are behind me I propose a reunification of my self and the cuisine of Erins Ile.

I was originally invited here by the above picture Jaycob Ferguson, some kind of ghostly pale Scottish giant, with the promise of finest burgers in the county, an unverified claim, slightly complicated by the burger in question being made of lamb at the time and my choice to have the corned beef and cabbage, as I am a dark reflection of my starving peasant ancestors I can hardly say no to the simple foods of my peoples past and consume them in quantities their simple minds and shriveled stomachs could not comprehend or contain, I do this for them, as they never could. I believe this ceremonial sacrifice would please them, but if it is not, that’s no love off my handles as the beef is exceptional, tender and juicy in all the right ways, and though all corned beef is beautiful, all cabbage is not, but this collection of leaves has been thoroughly drowned in the oils and stews of it plated partner to remove all but the memory of its status a healthy leafy green.

Barrington’s atmosphere is relatively standard, dark wood and relaxed setting found in an Irish establishment, the staff is friendly and the prices reasonable(saying that is cliché rot but it has to be included to avoid insult by omission), and though this is only here say, I have been told its a fine place for company after the sun goes down in a town with few night life options.