The plan today was to have lunch in Boston, at the inimitable No. 9 Park, Barbara Lynch’s precious establishment overlooking the Boston Common. We were there several weeks ago when I went to preview a Skinner auction of American paintings, with a particular eye on an oil by William Burpee, a fine Maine artist from early 1900s.

The painting was disappointing but lunch was not. I can still taste the lingering flavors of the pumpkin soup served that day, with chestnuts and cream and the other magical thrills that make her cooking so special. It’s a rich first course, though the portion is a mere dollop. It was followed by an intricate dish of seared scallops served with pancetta and squash. Wonderful.

A meal at No. 9 Park is not meant to be an banquet for the hearty. But, rather, one strives to be gently soothed and finessed by subtle and ethereal flavors, as though off on a culinary cloud nine. Oh, I suppose it’s cooking to the highest level, a festival for the aesthete -- a nightmare for the churlish bounder.

We started for Boston today by mid-morning, which was later than planned. By the time we crossed the Portsmouth Bridge, I said, “I don’t feel like going.”

Suddenly the trip seemed overwhelming, as I imagined the hours that were ahead -- too many errands and scrambling, then onto a serious lunch followed by a heady, hurried drive back. We had just stopped at the New Hampshire liquor store so I could see what wines they had. I found what I wanted to serve at Thanksgiving dinner (Chateau Meyney, 1999) and drove off in a screeching reversal of direction, heading straight into Portsmouth. I don’t’ know Portsmouth very well; in fact, I wasn’t quite sure how to get into the middle of town. I knew enough to go toward the water.

I wanted to eat somewhere on the waterfront. I figured that most of the sea shacks would be closed. A cup of chowder and a lobster roll, though, sounded perfect to me. When I stopped for gas I asked someone how to get to the waterfront and if he could recommend a nice restaurant.

I know I took a chance in this, but the fellow-- middle aged, respectable looking and driving a nice car -- seemed like a reasonable person who could offer a few safe suggestions. He said if we wanted something fancy go over the bridge (which bridge, I thought?) and eat at Warren’s.

We found the bridge. Or at least, this novice, this aimless Maine tourist found the bridge that went back to Maine. And right over the bridge we went, prematurely over the state line, in front of Warren’s Lobster House on Route 1 in Kittery.

We went in, just sensing that we’d find nothing better than a knotty pine-paneled joint so common amongst typical New England tourist haunts.

We got a table by the water. The view was very pretty, overlooking the harbor and the working waterfront beyond. Our placemat said "The Seacoast’s Finest Salad Bar."

This was a very popular spot, enjoyed mainly by very ancient retirees -- I know we’ll all be there sometime -- and I think we were one of the few vertical diners there.

We went to the Salad Bar and selected from a staggering assortment. It had everything from cold baked beans to pickled watermelon rind, to lettuces and greens of every variety and other blue, black, green, yellow, red and gray ingredients too numerous to mention.

Everything was cloyingly sweet. But I have to admit it hit the spot, if not every inch of my waistline.

I ordered the Corn and Lobster Chowder for my main course and my companion had the Crab Melt, which came with French fries.

The chowder actually was interesting, though I was totally turned off by the uniform little potato cubes in the soup that the chef forgot to cook, as though they fell like marbles straight from the dicer into the soup bowl.

The tasty crab was served on a croissant of some sort. It was cold with a gelatinous slab of mystery cheese that had been warm once.

Lunch was $30 for two, but given that I was filled with holiday spirit I felt very forgiving about the meal. Lunch at 9 Park would have been 5 times the amount, and suddenly I felt quite flush.

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