The almost good: Mermaid Inn in the neighborhood, where we booked early-bird dinner with other oldsters who like to hear each other talk at the table but where the Tuesday special was no bargain even at a cut rate with booze option. Maybe it’s because we’ve been eating too many perfect Luke’s lobster rolls, but this one had only the skimpy fries to recommend it: The bun was burned and the meat had zero flavor even though I had to keep chewing because it was like a mouthful of rubber wine corks. The waiter was nice enough to offer to replace the beer that came with it for $22 with wine for $2 more. And he was even nicer to inform us we had arrived just in time for happy-hour prices on wines. The kitchen also worked wonders with my consort’s trout, adding enough accessories to mask its farmed nature. But our shared shisito peppers were greasy, yet again. I didn’t try our friends’ food, but no one objected to the free chocolate pudding. WIGB? Absolutely. There are many reasons the place is always packed.