My unerring sense of direction suggests that locating Tom Moore’s Tavern in Hamilton Parish is right, but given how long it took last night to get into the city of Hamilton, I suspect the Parish and the City are related but not co-terminus – sort of like one can dine in New York, but actually be in Hastings-on-Hudson, no matter that some of the recent colonists look and sound like Park Slopeans. Tom Moore was an Irish poet of some reputation (see the entry for Nea Tucker in Wikipedia for additional illumination) who arrived here in 1804 as a servant of the Crown. He wrote to, and about, the calabash tree located on the property of Walsingham House which became a tavern, and as Tom Moore’s Tavern is reputed to be the oldest eating establishment on the island. Lucky for us, practice makes perfect.

We arrived after a short (and inexpensive) cab ride from our hotel ready for a casually elegant dinner even if no celebrities were expected. The house was a private residence before becoming the Tavern and is divided into several pleasantly intimate dining rooms. Neither so small as to require friendship with fellow diners, nor so large as to require outsized staffing, these rooms are just right. The staff can properly attend to each table, even when the dinner crowd is at its peak – and they do, with just the right mixture of British reserve and Bermuda warmth.

Presented with the wine list, we found one of Milady’s favorite vintners represented – the Joseph Drouhin Santenay (a Burgundy, more specifically from Beaune) was listed as a 2007, but the proffered bottle was the 2006 vintage, which was reputedly a better year. The wine was refreshing, delicate with the taste of rhubarb and a lingering finish which I believe was tobacco and anise – but Milady believes that my palate suffered damage during my fire-breathing years from which it has yet to recover, and that I am wrong (again). Milady began her repast with Tom Moore’s rendition of fish chowder in order to have a standard of comparison with last night’s offering. This was a somewhat richer flavor, with a noticeably more subdued pepper quotient, and the presence of carrots in addition to celery, onions, and perhaps a touch of smokey-sweet paprika. It was finished at tableside with dark rum and sherry vinegar, the aromas and contrasting tastes filling our nostrils with wonderful little pheromes. This version is a bit sweeter and a touch more rummy than the Barracuda Grill’s. We really need to arrange a head-to-head tasting so that we can further refine our ability to discern the relative merits. True to form, I chose the three preparations of scallops to begin my feast. The first was a panko-crusted, perfectly cooked morsel; soft meat surrounding by a shell of tasty crispness. The second expertly seared and featuring the scallops deliciousness without unnecessary elaboration. The final preparation was as a ceviche – the tequila and lime juice marinade highlighting the fresh ocean-ness of it all.
Main courses were extraordinarily fresh grilled rockfish (Milady takes advantage of every opportunity to indulge her taste for local seafood) and the beef tenderloin. The tenderloin was flavorful and presented with three perfect spears of asparagus wrapped around the middle with a girdle of toasted parmesan cheese, and a bacon crusted cheddar and potato wedge. It was reminiscent of Potatoes Anna, with mandolin-thin sliced layers of potato, spices and butter, but the crust took it to another level. {Slurp.}
One of the house specialties is a whiskey pecan tart with homemade vanilla ice cream – an irresistible temptation which I didn’t even try to sublimate into something healthy. It was, fortunately, lighter than its Georgia cousin, but clearly shared a common anscestry. Dessert for Milady was a perfectly prepared and presented vanilla souffle with strawberry sauce. The vanilla perfumed the air and the strawberry coated the palate with just the right amount of syrupy sweetness, making it a wonderful finish to a wonderful meal.