But for Chef Jeanine Slagle such urban effects just might symbolize the passage from past to present. Shortly off the bridge on St. George Island, a right turn on West Pine Avenue leads to a beachy, putty-gray structure whose quiet sign proclaims it The Captain's Table. A step or two from the frontside parking lot, the long front porch is livened by pots and tubs of scarce greenery. Off to the right, in a shady verandah, a dozen deserted picnic tables wait for cooler days and evenings. Beyond the double doors, a dim, cool dining room is framed with pecky cypress paneling and rose-nosegayed wallpaper.
Paddle fans circle lazily in the quiet.
It's a room all dressed up and ready for the evening's onset. It's early, shortly before six. Seated by a lace-curtained window, the two of us share the room with a party of seven. Three generations of one vacationing family, we guess. The towheaded, shortest group members still are wet-headed from their showers.