Spain

Published Sept. 30, 2009 at 8:39 p.m.
Iberia via Narragansett
...It's not even 6 pm and the parking lot is packed...

It's not even 6 pm and the parking lot is packed. We're on a remote road in Narragansett way past Labor Day, so hungry passing vacationers aren't a factor. Before we even walk in and I look around, noticing that a vast upstairs dining area is as well occupied as the one on the ground floor, we can see that Spain is quite the popular restaurant.

The sea air seclusion, unlike at the equally popular original Cranston location, is appropriate. After all, they do want to whisk you away to the balmy Mediterranean. The many tables on the patio, surrounding a fountain, attest to that. Although it was a crisp autumn evening when we arrived, there were couples in the courtyard settling for basking in the glow of a woodfired corner fireplace. There's even a sunset peach glow to the stucco, in contrast to the beige up north.

Within, they continue the illusion. An arboretum-worth of palms, fichus, and such make certain that greenery is always in view. Tiered mini-shrubs on a travertine column here, white hydrangea in a corner there, even a carpet pattern of leafy vines. I expected to hear the snip-snip of garden shears.

Led to a downstairs table, bracketed by arched colonnades and gilt-framed photographs of Spanish postcard sights, the elegance continued. After being seated by our hostess, we were attended by no fewer than three others, black bowties cuing expectations. Our assigned "captain" all but clicked his heels with formal politeness and took our orders. I got into it, and eventually was hoping for someone to dab the corners of my mouth with my napkin.

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