Connections: At the Ram's Head

Shelter Islanders seem to somehow carry with them a sense of place that sets them apart. Have you noticed that? It’s like they have something that we don’t have, but they don’t want to admit it. 

For my family, Shelter Island is an excursion, taking us to a nook between the South and North Forks that has not been truly Hamptonized — and therefore is like taking a vacation to a more far-flung destination.

There is so much about Shelter Island that still feels very rural. In addition to the wonderful and historic Sylvester Manor Educational Farm, and in addition to the huge preserved chunk of land called Mashomack Preserve, which hangs off to the south and west, almost reaching Cedar Point on the mainland, there is a thinner appendage, Ram Island, that lies in Gardiner’s Bay and is as bucolic a place as can be found in these parts.

Regardless of how often we’ve driven down the long and winding road to the Ram’s Head Inn on Shelter Island, the lovely views come as a surprise. This year, the astonishment was magnified by an extraordinary number of osprey sitting on, and flying about, nests on still-leafless trees punctuating the roadside or on electric poles. 

In recent years we have made it a family tradition to go to the Ram’s Head Inn for brunch on Easter Day. It is the perfect spot for an all-ages get-together, with a wide lawn down which younger kids can run and an absolutely delicious brunch menu that has never let us down. 

This year, although it was wonderful to be together as the sun came out and we enjoyed our meal on the inn’s elegant porch, we unfortunately didn’t have any small children among our Easter party. However, we were seated near another group of diners who helped correct the mood: There was an infant and a toddler at their table. (It isn’t really an Easter celebration without little children, is it?) We always feel privileged when we eat at the Ram’s Head, which is so quiet and charming, a very special place.

When I married and came to live in East Hampton, back in the 1960s, the South Fork over all was a quiet place. I quickly learned that trips to other quiet places — much less to resorts — were considered rather unnecessary. No one needed to travel as an escape; what was there to escape?

In summer there was fishing, swimming, sailing, and big kettles of bouillabaisse to be made. In spring and fall, there were berries to be picked and strained and put up in jelly jars. In winter, there were two iceboats to be dragged out of the barn and hauled to one of the bays, where the ice always seemed to be thick enough for skating and racing.

East End year-rounders still do have lots of home-grown activities to choose from, of course, but they rarely are of the tranquil variety. Perhaps this is why we like the Ram’s Head so much: It feels as much like a time-travel trip to a quieter era as it does a geographical day trip to a quieter island.