Live like a whaler (but do it in luxury) at the Cottages & Lofts at the Boat Basin
A porch on the water at the Cottages & Lofts at the Boat Basin
“What! You’ve never been to Nantucket?” exclaims my aghast friend, the editor Natasha Wolff, as we check into the Cottages & Lofts at the Boat Basin, a collection of 29 mini houses built on docks. Summer for me was Southampton and we rarely crossed the town line, only venturing to East Hampton for the movies or a tennis match. I had never set foot on Nantucket, or Martha’s Vineyard for that matter. And now I was calling the cutest cottage I had ever seen on a slip in the Nantucket Boat Basin home for a few nights. I felt like Ishmael the night before setting sail with Captain Ahab, but instead of seeking vengeance on Moby Dick, I was hunting for stellar shopping and tasty food.
“Lower Mermansion” at The Cottages & Lofts at the Boat Basin
Nantucket is a time capsule—walking around the wharf is like being on a movie set circa 1800. Local designer Audrey Sterk drew on the town’s rich seafaring past (whale harpoon, anyone?) and shingled Quaker-style homes when redoing the Cottages. Part of White Elephant Resorts, the Cottages (which took six months and millions of bucks to renovate) are named after whaling ships of the 1700s—“Sea Syren,” “Rambler,” “Sooty”—back when oil casks lined Swain’s Wharf, where my two-bedroom cottage, “End of Rope,” stands.
Sterk’s revamp is clean and maritime-cool: woodblock end tables, deep ocean-blue-and-white sailing-stripe pillows, wicker chandeliers, brass barometers. There is a small kitchen under the vaulted ceiling beams, so it feels more like renting a house than a hotel (one to three bedrooms are available, plus 12 “Woof Cottages” for guests with pets). Feeling Melville, I dream about sitting on the deck in the salty air and (finally) writing my Great American Novel overlooking the sound. That night, I drift to sleep under a wall mural Sterk hand painted of the original settlers on the island with large-masted sailboats, lighthouses, and a distant hamlet. Nantucket loves to riff on its historical and storied past: in the 1800s it was de rigueur for owners of whaling ships to commission enormous murals for their houses.
A bedroom at the Cottages & Lofts at the Boat Basin
The next morning, I stroll over to the nearby White Elephant, the uber-stylish hotel on the water that makes you want to get married or remarried just to have the reception there. Owned by the Karp family (parent company New England Development is headed up by Stephen and Douglass Karp), the hotel runs like a mom-and-pop at the highest level of luxury. The Karps are the hospitality kings of the island and have the Wauwinet and the Jared Coffin House (and Tap Room restaurant) in town. In November 2020, White Elephant Palm Beach opened and has already snagged numerous awards.
I eat breakfast at the Brant Point Grill overlooking the bay and a huge lawn sculpture of—what else—a white elephant. (There are white elephants everywhere—pillows, door knockers, stuffed toys.) Chef Tom Pearson is famed for his lobster roll with Boston Bibb lettuce, but I go for the short-rib hash, pumped up with shishito peppers, Spanish onions, queso fresco, and chipotle crema. I explore the extensive and sweeping property, writing my own White Lotus script in my head, cast with preppy people who are cute and blonde, but unstable and dangerous. Cue the show’s theme song.
A short walk from the White Elephant, my first stop is Murray’s Toggery Shop, birthplace of the iconic preppy Nantucket Reds pants which I discovered in boarding school and have ordered ever since (they are best super-faded into a washed-out pink patina). Murray’s is seriously old school, down to the older grumpy guy behind the counter who couldn’t care less when I mention that I’ve worn Nantucket Reds for decades. There is a whole room dedicated to said Reds—shorts, shirts, hats, belts, and the Stubbs & Wootton collab in pink with blue piping with, you guessed it, an embroidered whale and fishing ship.
I should have bought a huge lightship basket to carry all the fudge I buy at Aunt Leah’s, a small shop tucked in an alley.
Another only-in-Nantucket score: the lightship baskets from Sylvia Antiques, which sells both vintage and new ones. Developed for storage on whaling ships and to lug stuff around the island in the 1800s, real lightship baskets have rattan staves, cane weavers, and a solid wood base. I should have bought a huge lightship basket to carry all the fudge I buy at Aunt Leah’s, a small shop tucked in an alley. One bite of the strawberry fudge and I need zero convincing that Leah Bayer, who was a schoolteacher for 35 years, makes “the best fudge in the world.” Like a piece of salted caramel, Leah is a little salty and a little sweet. I vote that Leah be put on a stamp in Massachusetts ASAP. Naturally, I end up visiting Aunt Leah every day I am in Nantucket.
Aunt Leah’s which has “the best fudge in the world”
The hardest table to book is Topper’s at the Wauwinet on Nantucket Bay. Clusters of white loungers with dark-green cushions face the water. It’s that perfectly preppy type of place where you can imagine JFK and Jackie smoking cigs in Shetland sweaters while staring out to sea. The food is the real star at Topper’s. Chef Kyle Zachary is known for clever, oft-surprising creations using fresh local seafood. For lunch I order the smoked bluefish pâté which comes with crudité, pickled onions, and curry lavash crackers followed by the halibut katsu sandwich with egg salad, Napa cabbage slaw, and a jalapeño-y uzu tartar sauce. Zachary likes to experiment, and grilled pound cake sounds weird, but it is beyond delicious with roasted strawberries and elderflower Chantilly cream.
Harpoons, nets, and life preservers are displayed on the wall, making me recall the terrifying final scene of Mark Wahlberg floating in the sea in The Perfect Storm.
To burn off those Topper’s calories, I go for a beach run, starting at the photogenic Brant Point Lighthouse through Steps Beach to Jetties Beach and then up the 43-step staircase from the sand dunes to the road back to town. Exhausted but hungry, we stay local for dinner, which means not leaving the slips my cottage sits on. Bar Yoshi, a teensy shingled cottage on Old South Wharf has a white-washed interior, oversize wicker lights hanging from the ceiling, and incredible sushi. The Nantucket salmon roll is fresh and tasty with avocado and scallion. All the sushi is top shelf, as are the ceviches (tuna and shrimp) and the Hawaiian poke bowl with add-ons like shrimp tempura and chicken teriyaki. For those who don’t like seafood, there is a Wagyu beef burger, “piggy rice” (aka pork fried rice with vegetables and black garlic soy), and Hong Kong calamari which are flash-fried with an Asian chili glaze.
The outdoor area at bar Yoshi
I fall asleep fast, pretending my “End of Rope” cottage is a ship slowly rocking in the sea. It’s my last day in Nantucket. I swing by Aune Leah’s for a morning fudge fix (Rocky Road wakes me up faster than a skinny latte). I sneak my significant mound of fudge into the Whaling Museum where I learn just how dangerous catching whales was. In the galleries, I encounter the skeleton of a 46-foot sperm whale and a restored candle factory from 1847. The museum tells the history of the island over four centuries. Harpoons, nets, and life preservers are displayed on the wall, making me recall the terrifying final scene of Mark Wahlberg floating in the sea in The Perfect Storm. I leave feeling anxious, so I beeline straight back to Leah who hooks me up with another mound of Rocky Road fudge.
Brant Point Lighthouse in Nantucket
My farewell dinner is at Brant Point Grill which sets up an endless feast (seafood, steak, cheese, and more) on a long table at the White Elephant. After stuffing myself as one always does when there is a buffet, I poke around the hotel shop and can’t resist a string bracelet with a tiny white elephant charm. I get back to my cottage and plop face down in bed. I don’t snuggle the stuffed white elephant guarding my pillow. Instead, as I drift to sleep, I cuddle with the cutest thing on the island—a big box of Aunt Leah’s famous fudge. I am guaranteed to have the sweetest dreams. – PETER DAVIS
