For the second Friday in a row, Earl and I have dined at the local country club. Or, I should say, one of the local country clubs. It’s been an interesting experience.
Long before Earl and I arrived in St. Joseph, Michigan, the Berrien Hills Country Club had an illustrious history, as attested by a couple of my neighbors who remember it in its heyday. Today, however, it is struggling, trying to entice new members to join the golf set and opening its dining facilities to the general public. It’s all about survival.
As members of the general public, we like it there. The bartender, Chuck, knows how to mix a mean and generous drink. The view from the dining room is spectacular in summer; and the food is good, although not as spectacular as the view.
At the same time, the club has a long way to go to reach its former glory. For instance, the dinners are all served buffet style. Tonight the buffet’s theme was “Thanksgiving in July”; and — you guessed it — turkey, mashed potatoes, dressing, and cranberry sauce comprised the only entrйe. I assume buffet service cuts down on kitchen costs, but it also suggests a paucity of funds with which to operate.
Besides Chuck’s bartender skills, the other thing that really keeps us coming back is the sense of camaraderie. Neither Earl nor I golf, but both Friday nights that we’ve gone there, we were surrounded by league golfers who come for the buffet after they’ve been out on the course. They are a social bunch, not only among themselves but also extending to us. Every time we’ve gone, someone different has come to our table of two to inquire who we are or if we’re golf enthusiasts or possibly considering joining a league.
In some situations, I would find the intrusion offensive, but here it’s very pleasant. It makes us feel welcome. Not only to the club but also to the community. So we’ll continue to return on Friday nights, in spite of the fact that we could dine at a buffet for a lot less at the Big Boy.
Although, we’d have to forego Chuck’s great cocktails.
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