O h, The Gris, the dear old Gris, a comfort and a treasure and a time machine that whisks us back to the days of sail and steam on Connecticut's greatest river. The most recent changing of the guard occurred in 1995, when the inn was sold to Gregory, Douglas and Geoffrey Paul, three brothers who grew up in Essex and vowed to keep everything the same, a pronouncement at once welcome and worrisome. F ine and dandy, the answer seems to be.
Every night's a party and everybody joins in and eats up a storm.
W e sat in an alcove between the taproom and the library. She looked thrilled. Specials were fancier and more complex. The soup of the day was cream of asparagus, thick enough to stand a spoon in. C lams casino were tiny, tender and sweet, topped with wisps of bacon.