Aside from a little trip coming up to New Jersey (read: I will cram all the thin crust pizza, bagels and real honest-to-goodness sandwiches in my mouth in a 48 hour time span and relive my youth spent in the Garden State), I've wrapped up my traveling for a while. I've missed my own bed, my DC friends, my favorite restaurant haunts and bars in the District. So we've gotten the travel bug out of my system for the time being and now it's time to throw in a beach weekend here or there and save up for trips to Charleston, Savannah and Paris someday soon, but not too soon.
Anyway, the last leg of all this traveling was Boston. I had less than 48 hours to see the city that I hadn't been to since I was 16. Quite a tall order, right? Along the way there were some tasty treats. Below are the highlights with some shots of the city in between. Note: I discovered the powers of Instagram that weekend and became fiendishly addicted to filters that a) make anything bland look better and b) played on the emotions of my 17-year-old photography nerd that used to skip lunch to spend an hour in the darkroom in high school. Forgive me, for I have filtered. Hopefully all of you won't think that undermines any of my previous photographic work.
Mike's Pastry
Cash only, a tin ceiling and glimmering glass cases chock full of Italian pastries--my kind of place. Leave the Boston creme puffs, but definitely take the cannolis.
Boston was a bit of a temperature shock. In other words, it was cold and damp when I arrived and I had just come from a balmy 80 degrees in Washington. But hot chunks of lobster slathered in butter on a divinely pillowy roll were more than I could have asked for. And the oyster selection here was top notch. Something about the black and white tiles, the marble table tops and warm glow of the orb-like lights made this the most comforting place I visited during my stay. If I lived in Boston, I'd make it a habit to spend a few hours at the counter, downing oyster after oyster and preferably watching a New York sports team kick the ass of any Boston sports team on the television in the corner of the restaurant.
Nebo
Rated by Boston Magazine as one of the best places in 2011 and a winner of a Bobby Flay throwdown, I figured this was a good bet. The atmosphere felt a little cold and empty, though maybe it's because it was cinco de mayo and you know, that's usually a day people go out for margaritas and tacos rather than Italian food. Their goat cheese panna cotta was smooth and creamy, and the slight zing from the cheese went so well with the sweet dates and honey. Crispy calamari and a flavorful bolognese atop pappardelle were also highlights. The zucchini lasagna, which was the dish that won in the Bobby Flay Throwdown, had thick slabs of zucchini nestled in between layers of ricotta and copious amounts of sauce. Though for some reason, I enjoyed the zucchini lasagna even more the next morning, cold and straight out of the fridge.
Eastern Standard
So I should have heeded the advice of everyone and just gone to Eastern Standard for the drinks. However, the bloody mary I had was just alright, and frankly, I was hoping there would be some variety in my go-to brunch beverage (choice of vodka? a pickle or maybe a slice of cooked bacon? No? Nothing? Alright, Eastern Standard. Your bloody marys are indeed quite standard). Brunch was lackluster, even if DC has spoiled me when it comes to dining on a Saturday or Sunday between 10 AM and 4 PM. My eggs benedict were alright; the hollandaise was forgettable though the biscuit it was served on was flakey and buttery.
Thanks for a quick trip and some good eats, Beantown. Hopefully I'll be able to squeeze in a few more meals the next time I'm there.
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