When one enjoys an excellent entree, the hopes for a dessert of similar merit must always be in question. It is in this vein that I begin a new review section devoted to the bathrooms of the theres we have wanted to go to and gone. Of course, I never have need of one of these rooms, but I venture into them as a matter of curiosity.
Northern Spy's bathroom was actually a washroom, or so the door told me. And it was perfectly suited to the spartan, minimalist country store aura of the actual restaurant. Tile floors, walls a Martha Stewart green, freezing cold, and with Mrs. Myers lavander soap by the sink. It was a nice room, and reminded me of the pantry my parents used to have in their kitchen before they remodeled it--the one that came with the house in 1896. It was quiet, and cold, perhaps most importantly, it had good lighting.