The Art Cliff Diner - Vineyard Haven, MA

 June 1, 1883

My Dearest Denise,

It’s perfect, by fuddy! I’ve procured a dining cart off of an old coot and his noisome hound.  Soon, I plan on moving the cozy nook to a convenient lot by the Edgartown docks. By gum and spittlewhippets what a fine affair! I plan on calling it Captain Brown’s. Don’t you think that droll? I trust you will keep the photograph I’ve included in a dear place despite the fact that my eyes do appear cross’d.

All my love,

Brown

 

June 4, 1883

My Dearest Denise,

I’ve transported the dining car to its lot by the docks and jim-junipers is it fine. Of course, there was one small nugget of a detail I couldn’t have foreseen. Nothing to worry about of course, but something I will have to deal with before the patrons start flooding our welcoming doors: an elephant. He’s quite small at the moment, but something has to be done about him. I found him in the back room, sitting and not causing any trouble. Of course I’ll have it sorted before the grand opening, tomorrow. I trust the chickdaws have quieted for the spring and allowed you some, if any, slumber.

All my love,

Brown

 

"A plafe what woos ye palette of men and weomen bothe." - Elmer Horseman, The New Tisbury Old Tymes

Picture c/o Hungry Native


June 7, 1883

My Dearest Denise

Boy-dippy, what a fine yester. Patrons came from all over the island. A rousing success for a burgeoning eatery. What a feeling! To satiate your fellow man and have them shake your hand and give you their hard-earned cash in thanks for the sup! Willickers and baldergrump I feel fine! Not concerned at all am I that this pachyderm issue hasn’t been sorted just yet. Oh indeed, I’m a bit cross that I couldn’t shoo the little beast successfully (what a stubborn one, just lazing in the corner). I resorted, in a fit of panic, to throwing a table cloth over him and sticking a “Reservée” sign on top. Can’t have people eating off the back of a wild grey-snooter! It’s a problem that will have to wait until I’ve a full sleep upon which to contemplate it! Then I know I’ll sort it with a clear head and open eye. Fig-and-nut-butters that I will! Hope you are well.

All my love,

Brown

 

July 15, 1883

My Dearest Denise,

My very own Captain Brown’s was recently written up in the Vineyard Gazette! Here I note a particularly poignant passage: “How indeed our strain-ed belly’s yearn for another wrestle with the thick vittles apportioned by Messier Brown.” Vack-wattle, a rousing review! Of the celestial nomenclature with which they rate, Captain Brown’s was given a hearty four and one half of five. Though, somewhat distressing, is the half-star that went un-awarded. This they chalked up to, and I quote, “… some unknown quality in the environs of the cafeteria which burdened us [the reviewer and his charge] with undue pause. In reverence to decorum, this humble reviewer will spare you the particulars of the matter. Suffice it to say: there is an undeniably large, be-trunk’d obstacle, haranguing a space that we found otherwise to be, in a word, outstanding.” That elephant! It must be dealt with! I hope your feet are less swollen this week.

All my love,

Brown

 

July 18, 1883

My Dearest Denise,

He’s not budging. And he has grown too massive for one simple cloth to cover. I’m talking about this elephant of course. Though, as you suggested, I’ve tried every manner of ruse to drive him from the place. Like clockwork, I shoo him from the cart; I beat him about the head and neck with a long-handle broom. Surely he trumpets and expresses his blowsy discontent, but out he goes. Then, upon my return, there he looms, snooting and flapping his ears withal! Shippy, our negro cook, resigned himself to the elephant’s presence, leaving the situation entirely up to me. Most disappointing behavior from such an, otherwise, stalwart partner. A solution must be found! A solution will be found! I hope the rhododendrons you spoke of survived the recent plague of stink-bugs.

All my love,

Brown

 

"On the melding of cornèd-meat and potahto -- its moniker being "Hash" -- a single taste did elicit a tightness in my breeches." - P.F. Shemp, The Edgartown Soapbox 

Picture C/O Cooking With Books


July 22, 1883

My Dearest Denise,

Hum-boge! The past fortnight has been upsetting.  Though I have done all in my power to shew this silent monstrosity the outside of our establishment, he does not budge.  Indeed, in a further downward turn, a child unraveled my most recent ruse; the little rug-sniffer pulled the flowers we had adhered to the elephant’s feet (in imitation of a grand flower arrangement) at the height of morning-rush. Thus was the non-literal buzzard of my worry revealed for good and all. Though naught can be done about it now! Stack-piggle and hooch! Surely, the only answer is to humanely end the animal’s life as you have suggested from the beginning. I realize now the truth of your steely wisdom. Upon that, I will call the authorities in the morning. I trust the symptoms of your rheumy nostril have been cured by the chemist’s potions.

All my love,

Brown 

 

 August 27, 1883

My Dearest Denise,

The crowds continue to grow! It seems our repast has piqued the interest of those from as far as Gay Head: the opposite side of the isle! Unfortunately, as the clientele grows, indeed so does the bane of our location: the elephant! Attempts at his life were thwarted at every turn. After the authorities came and went (carrying a large, clothed cadaver), assuring me the animal had been assisted, gently, in his ascent to heaven, I returned inside to find him snuffling merrily about the kitchen. Indeed I took a knife myself and slashed the beast until his pulse was no more! By fuddly, I chopped his massive limbs to pieces, laboriously transported them to the sea by skiff, at which time I dumped them into the brine and saw to it that marine-life did indeed feast upon his depart’d flesh! I thought – upon my blood! – that mother nature would brook no more skullduggery by that fleshy brute. But on my return to the diner, there he sat! Silent and peaceful, bashfully batting his long lashes at me. Oh how he galls me! But! BUT! His presence seems not to deter our many diners from their gormandizing of our vittles. A conundrum, indeed! I am sorry that the moist air has not helped your grippe.

All my love,

Brown

 

December 18, 1883

My Dearest Denise,

The elephant cannot be moved. As Captain Brown’s grows in popularity, so does he! And as he does, my despondence grows commensurate. Surely, an ulcer is brewing within my nethers. I am sorry, I can write no more until he is gone. And I fear that he can only be truly gone when Brown’s Diner is gone as well. Wish me luck. No, do not wish me luck; wish me courage.

All my love,

Brown


"'The Bayou Bundle,' proves that what these Americans lack in (natural) sexual freedom, they compensate for in their quaint cuisine." - Jacques Louis-Cromes, The Menemsha Erudite

Picture C/O Cooking With Books



December 20, 1883

My Dearest Denise,

I almost burnt it to the ground. Punting cricklesticks, the shame! There I crouched in the dark of night, cap pulled low over my eyes like a lackaday crook, nearly setting flint and tinder to the source of my life and livelihood! Surely, if my beloved Captain Brown’s were reduced to ashes, I surmised, so would be the elephant inside! Without a Brown’s to occupy, would he not go back to the demonic jungle of his nascence? Against the dark of my heart the flame flickered. Yet as a match to strong wind, so my wherewithal did flag. In the end I allowed the flame in my hand to extinguish itself and chucked the vile tinder into the gorse. My love for my diner trumped my hatred of the beast. Perhaps, I, like Shippy, will learn to ignore this elephant (maybe even care for him?). Anguish of this kind can only be dissolved by the inexorable therapy of time. I appreciate your concern.

All my love,

Brown

 

June 6, 1884

My Dearest Denise,

Two years and hum-dogle what success! I’ll be the first one to say, the fact that this elephant now occupies one third of our space has ceased to alarm me. The patrons, though the new ones certainly comment, seem not to be deterred by him. He sits lazily in the corner, sometimes nosing around the salt shakers of the tables nearest him, but often satiated and quiet, his eyes scanning the assembled masses in paternal approval. He is a necessary evil, like the chill of rain or the itch of the thistle. Without him, my little Captain Brown’s would be… well, not Captain Brown’s. We are an establishment dedicated to the enjoyment of foodstuffs and potent brew. We are not attempting to cater to everyone all of the time. Those who dislike humongous, exotic creatures may not be enticed by what we have on offer. But certainly, those who do not mind a certain, unavoidable, grey inconvenience will find their repast no less satisfying! Surely, Denise, it might even become a badge of honor for my beloved diner. Captain Brown’s: home to world-class treats, thick camaraderie, and an unthinkably cumbrous house-pet. Indeed, it’s a possibility, only time may tell. But, if it’s any indication, we have done naught but fine business these first two years. I hope the heat wave we’ve been experiencing has not disrupted your vapors.

All my love,

Brown

 

"A treat this fine is scarce below the heavens and therefore is an affront to G-d." - Samuel Boothbutton, The Gay-Head Goode-Christian Snooper

Picture C/O Serious Eats

 

June 6, 1943

My Dearest Denise,

Sixty years ago today, as a young man, I opened Captain Brown’s. Now I am old and the wind stirs nothing as it passes over my head. Indeed, looking back upon it, I’d dare say that Brown’s started as a part of my life and ended as my life entire. And, as it so happened, so did the elephant within its walls. Never changing, never aging, only a mild inconvenience from start to end. Oddly enough, I find his consistency to be one of the only comforts afforded me in this terrifying new century. In happier news, I’ve found two young men who seek to appropriate my shop and take it from its longstanding spot by the harbor. Indeed the messieurs Art and Cliff plan to move it up near Tisbury to a fine lot on Beach Road. Though I am sad, I know that eventually we must pass everything along, especially that which is most dear to us. For if not – if we hold on too tight – it would be lost forever. Though oddly enough, they bought my little dining cart on spec, taking a look at the outside and deeming it fit. By squittly, I think it’s something more than coincidence that they too will have the surprise of finding the elephant inside. I hope they find it in themselves to treat the little snooter well. Alas, they are young and bold and are bound to find their haste and ambition leading, often, to folly. I will not begrudge them that. But I will implore them, above all, to preserve one tenet I found always to keep Captain Brown’s on even tack:  No inconvenience can negate a well-prepared meal.

All my love,

Brown

 

 

FOOD: 

4.6 Stars

Art Cliff opened in 1943 and changed owners in 2000. What has not changed is the quality of fare; If anything, it’s been raised to obscenely toothsome levels.

PRICE:

Split the check

The price fits the fare. Plus, the portions allow for hearty leftovers.

AMBIENCE:

Packed

Simply one room with tables and a bar. Herein lies the rub of Art Cliff: it’s small. Whereas the demand for Art Cliff? Quite large. Unless you show up before the cock’s crow, or on some deadly off-season day, you will find Art Cliff packed to the veritable gills. Wait-times during the summer are consistently at the ~1 hour mark. But rest assured, it is worth it. Oh dear is it.

SERVICE:

Well-Trained

These waitresses know how to turn a table without making you feel rushed. A fine balancing act to be sure.

EAT OR SKIP: 

Eat

On Martha’s Vineyard (and dare I say in the greater New England area), Art Cliff looms large.