In these parts, it is always said that the most disappointing aspect of Palm Beach life is… well, the beach itself. Yes, it has sand, sea, minimal surf (and, as often as not, “dangerous marine life,” as the deep purple flags flown at the lifeguard stations indicate).
But that is all. There is nothing like what you get, for example, in the north shore of the Mediterranean where, from Gibraltar in the west to Bodrum in Turkey, thousands of miles to the east, every few hundred yards you have a chic café or a ritzy restaurant, or boutiques selling everything from bikes to bikinis. No, the beaches of Palm Beach are socially inept, empty of entertainment, where the most exciting thing I have seen (twice) is a seven-foot shark caught on a line, which is a touch off putting for bathers.
So exclusive was the joint that, as one local put it, ‘You could only get a season ticket if someone died’
It is a relief, therefore, to report that things are looking up on the other side of the island (PB is 12 miles long but only half a mile wide). The Intracoastal Waterway runs along much of North America’s east coast, separating a string of offshore islands from the mainland by stretches of water just a few hundred yards wide. This creates a busy water-traffic scene, but here in PB we now have two new installations that do have a distinctly sophisticated European feel at last – a restaurant and a bar that sit at the water’s edge, with extensive views of mainland West Palm Beach, which is especially beautiful at night.
One is a new restaurant, Tutto Mare, which might be mischievously translated as “all at sea,” and the other is a bar with a theater attached, known as Glazer Hall. The Hall (let’s call it the Hall) is in fact a renewal of an old, distinguished Palm Beach institution, the Royal Poinciana Playhouse, which closed in the 1950s. Everybody from Rose Kennedy to Humphrey Bogart to Veronica Lake to Helen Hayes to Charlton Heston to Zsa Zsa Gabor to Joan Fontaine and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor were regulars. Next to it was the “celebrity room,” a glass-walled dining room overlooking the Intracoastal. It was billed as “the most fabulous place under the sun” – a phrase that might have been coined by Donald Trump himself, late one night, in a tweet – and advertised “continuous dancing.” Admission was by season ticket, and only season ticket holders and their guests could get in – and even then only if they were dressed in black tie (Frank Sinatra himself was once turned away on this account). So exclusive was the joint that, as one local put it, “You could only get a season ticket if someone died.”
Overlooking all this, above a trompe- l’oeil Venetian Romeo and Juliet-style balcony, was an enormous 45-foot mural on the domed ceiling with portraits of, I am told, 125 society, sports and showbusiness celebrities including Clark Gable, Joan Crawford, John F. Kennedy and Lilly Pulitzer. Those of a nostalgic persuasion will be pleased to know that the mural has been restored in Glazer Hall.
But the Hall is more than a theater with a bar and a spectacular view, important as that is, given our unfortunate beaches. It also offers an interesting alternative to Palm Beach’s intellectual and cultural life. Until now that has been in the hands of the Society of the Four Arts (SOFA for short). SOFA is a kind of cultural/intellectual club. It offers weekly lectures (recently such figures as David Petraeus, Ken Burns, Barry Diller, Boris Johnson, Sir Niall Ferguson, Walter Isaacson have spoken); it takes operas from the Met in New York and plays from the National Theatre in London; it holds exhibitions (works on paper by Edgar Degas this season); it has a garden club, a library and offers masterclasses in such things as the Bible or Shakespearean tragedies. It is solid, somewhat stolid, sensible, serious.
The inaugural Glazer Hall program is interestingly different, to an extent overlapping but also extending into a more popular cultural level: Fran Lebowitz; Renée Fleming; American Ballet Theatre; a Bodytraffic masterclass (whatever that is); science movie Mondays; and a one-woman play called The Life and Trials of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. But in addition, we have: Direct from Sweden: The Music of Abba; Splish Splash! The Music of Bobby Darin; Emmylou Harris; a Tribute to Queen; the Four Lives of Jackie O with historian René Silvin; and a talk on watch-collecting. Does this mean that we are to have our very own culture wars in the Palm Beaches? Watch this space.
I suspect one dish that will not be on the menu of Tutto Mare is something dreamed up by one Frankie Cecere, who owns Bucks Coal Fired on Northlake Boulevard. His innovation? Iguana pizza. The idea occurred to him during the recent cold spell (by our standards) which caused many iguanas to become temporarily paralyzed when temperatures dipped below 50 degrees and prompted them to fall from the trees, their normal habitat.
But Cecere became something of a celebrity when he posted on social media an image of himself making pizza with a green “scaly reptile topping,” paired with venison, bacon and “a ranch dressing drizzle.” He gave this concoction the sobriquet “Everglades Pie.” Apparently, his post on the pie had more than five million views; those who have sampled the dish say it tastes of frogs’ legs (very popular down here), or chicken. The niceties of Cecere’s cuisine have not been revealed, but he has already been investigated for animal cruelty after reports – which he strongly denies – that he has been keeping live iguanas on the premises prior to their immolation in his oven.
So, yes, Palm life continues to have its idiosyncratic moments. Here is another, which is new to me: coleslaw wrestling. During one of the biker festivals here, it has become the tradition for female bikers (for some reason never the men) to put on their bathing costumes and get down and dirty, squirming around in shredded cabbage and oil at Sopotnick’s Cabbage Patch Bar. Full marks to them for coming up with coleslaw wrestling – “coleslaw” originally being a Dutch word. It certainly sounds more stylish than what might otherwise be dismissed as a cabbage catfight.
Comments