Restaurant Review: The Rusty Hammer

I guess this is going to be some sort of hybrid-Trip Review/Restaurant Review. On Monday I went with some of my favorite friends on a road trip to Northern Massachusetts and Southern New Hampshire. First, we went to Plum Island which is a place full of sand dunes* and bird-watching. We saw a snowy owl and some type of hawk. The rest of the birds were presumably south for the winter.

We then drove northward to New Hampshire, which, from what I can gather, is a state full of thrift stores, tattoo parlors, fireworks emporia, and classy establishments such as Casket Royale (I don't remember the slogan for this place, but I believe when I need to be interred, I'll be taking my business elsewhere). I kid, of course. New Hampshire is lovely.

In the evening, when we had reached our destination/turn-around point in Portsmouth, we sought out a place to obtain food. And so, The Rusty Hammer entered into our lives. This place advertised an award-winning burger (or "wimpy," as they're called at The Hammer†), so we went in.

We all ordered burgers of various varieties. Mine had pepper-jack cheese on it. The burger was well above average, but probably not the best I'd ever eaten (hey, UBurger!). I had onion rings on the side, which were very tasty. My friends who ordered the sweet potato and waffle fries were quite happy with their choices, as well. Prices were very, very reasonable for this type of place.

Hands down, the best thing about this restaurant was the service. It is my second greatest regret that I did not learn the name of our waitress that night. I mean, we were there at 5pm on a Monday night, so maybe service is less wonderful when it's crowded, but still, our waitress was spectacular. She was probably in her mid-to-late forties and had a magical New England accent. She was very attentive and provided excellent positive reinforcement with our menu choices. Here is one particular interaction between this waitress and my friend Dave that might have been the favorite of the evening:

Dave: "Can I get bacon and guacamole on my burger?"

Flo‡: "You sure can, you crazy devil!"

These are the kind of moments you never thought happened in real life. Great waitress. Really spectacular. The only complaint I have about The Rusty Hammer was that the bathroom was freakishly cold. Like as cold as it was outside.

After dinner, we walked around the town square and went into this specialty food store called The Stonewall Kitchen. They had all sorts of jams and jellies and syrups and cute little kitchen gadgets. The men actually bought things while the other girl and I tried all of the samples. My biggest regret of the night is not buying the Blueberry-Pomegranate jam. It was spectacular. So good. I realize the error in my rationale that $3.50 was too much to pay for a tiny little jar of jam. If I ever go back there, I will rectify this.

At any rate, this trip was fantastic, despite the fact that it kicked off a week of every Taylor Swift song ever written being stuck in my head... but that's another story altogether.

The Rusty Hammer is located at 49 Pleasant Street in Portsmouth, NH.

[UPDATE:  I found my receipt. Our waitress's name was Susan!]

*Whenever I think of sand dunes I think of Sarah, Plain and Tall when Sarah talks about the dunes in Maine and then the family makes her a dune out of hay in the barn. We couldn't go near the dunes on Plum Island, and it was 30 degrees outside, so I did not slide down any dunes. I'm adding that to my "to-do" list, though.

†Shortening the name of a thing always means that one is an expert in familiarity with that thing.

‡I don't know if Flo was her real name, but whenever I encounter a spunky lady from New England, I assume she should be called Flo.