I'm Afraid I'm Going to Be Terribly Boring...

My blog posts these days have been either very short or very impersonal (e.g. restaurant reviews).  I'm trying out using paper and pen (a traditional journal--something I haven't done since college) as an outlet for my every thought and emotion, as tempting as it may be to release every wave, pang, and ache of feeling onto this blog at 75 wpm*, where I know it will be seen and by whom.  Until I can achieve some type of post-catharsis equilibrium, I'm afraid I'll be taking a break from blogging anything less than generic.

Hope to be back soon.



*Thank you, Mavis Beacon.

Confounding Variables

Something feels weird.  It's a melancholy feeling, but I don't feel that it's sadness*.  And I cannot empirically say why I feel like this.  There's too much going on.  If it were just the one thing, no matter which one thing, I could say, I feel sad(-ish) because of ______.  But there are at least three, probably four things, and I can't figure out which one is tugging at me the most.  It's weird.  I don't like feeling weird.

I wish I had another week, but at the same time, I wish that it was next week already.  Or two weeks from now.  Or July.  Yes, in fact, I wish it was July.

*Should it be?

In Lieu of Emo Song Lyric Facebook Statuses

I share with you the following two music videos:

"Goodbye to You" (Michelle Branch)

"Brave" (Idina Menzel)

I think that's the extent of what I'm going to force upon the internet.

Restaurant Review: The Gallows

I promise this blog has not turned into a restaurant review blog!  I will write other things shortly, as soon as I can figure out how.  After my previous post about a contender for the Worst Burger in Boston, I must review about one extremely good burger, eaten a day later.

Dave and I went to The Gallows, located at 1395 Washington Street in the South End, on Wednesday evening to try the Burger, which had been highly recommended by strangers on the internet.  The recommendations did not disappoint.  The decor of the place was quite charming, a mix of antiquity and DIY industrialism (in lieu of purchasing a $20K chandelier, the owners constructed light fixtures out of iron rebar and concrete reinforcement, with blossoming branches reaching out into the space*).  The crow/raven pictured on the sign above is a recurring theme in the restaurant--one is even perched in the ladies' restroom next to an antique lace wedding dress.

Our server was excellent--he took great care to explain to us the process by which their burgers were made and how "medium-well" is actually the best option given the natural inherent juiciness of the meat.  We ordered the burger "Our Way" with lettuce, tomato, pickles, and (actually) caramelized onions** ($10).  Our food was served to us extremely quickly, and by golly, was it delicious!  The burger was dripping with juice--not blood and grease (well, there was a little fat, but it wasn't overwhelming)--and tasted amazing.  It was served with fries which were a bit too salty, but crisp and tasty nonetheless, and homemade ketchup which was essentially tomato jam with hints of cloves, cinnamon, and allspice.  The homemade ketchup was interesting, but I prefer Heinz with my fries...call me a traditionalist.  Thankfully, it was present at the table as well.

We declined dessert, as the only option was some type of fancy Fluffernutter (peanut butter, bananas, marshmallow, and chocolate ganache), but as we paid our bill, our server presented us with tiny soft-serve ice cream cones!  I almost wanted to ask for six more, but it was the perfect little amount of sweetness to top off a great meal.

The most remarkable thing about The Gallows (aside from the delicious burger, of course) was the service.  Our server was extremely attentive and friendly and succeeded in creating two happy guests.  The manager conversed with us about the decor, and a server who wasn't even our server stopped to clear some glasses for us upon passing.  Five stars.  Everyone should go here.

*We knew this because the manager, upon noticing us noticing the light fixtures, came to our table and told us about the whole process.

**You all know what a big caramelized onion kick I'm on lately.

Updated Restaurant Review: The Grasshopper Cafe

I reviewed this place a while ago, however, as I dined here today, I must make an amendment.  The Grasshopper Cafe in Charlestown might be up for an award in my book:

"The Worst Burger in Boston"

Beau and I both got the Angus burger here on the waitress's recommendation:  "It's really good," she said.  "Okay," we said, and ordered them medium-well.

First of all, our "medium-well" burger patties came out looking like charred meatballs.  I know they're supposedly "hand crafted," but is it too much to ask that a burger be flat?  They were served on a toasted bun with two leaves of lettuce and one 1/2" thick slice of Roma* tomato, but not the pickles and onions promised on the menu, and no condiments!  It was very awkward to eat, as you had to get through a few bites of bun and lettuce before actually biting into the oddly-shaped patty.  This wouldn't have been a huge problem had the burger tasted great, however, it had an unidentifiable "additional" bad taste (i.e. it tasted like a not-great burger with a hint of something else unpleasant).  

The burger was served with a side dish.  Beau got fries which were fine, and I got "onion strings" which seemed to be nothing more than onion rings that fell apart when they were being overcooked in the deep-fryer along with something else similarly unpleasant tasting.  

For a place that had treated me well in the past, I felt a little betrayed.  Did the waitress lie when she said the burger was really good?  Or does she legitimately think that the burger actually is good?  In the latter case, that poor girl, and if I were going to be around Boston a little longer, I would take her out to a few other burger places in the area (Flat Patties, UBurger, Boston Burger Company...).

At any rate, if you decide to visit the Grasshopper Cafe, do it for Breakfast, and if you go for lunch, steer clear of the burger.  

*For those not well-versed in tomatoes, a Roma (or plum) tomato is less than 2" in diameter, in other words, not the right size for a hamburger, but then again, the hamburger was not the right size for a hamburger, so I guess it fit.  Or didn't. 

Roma tomatoes:  Good for salads, sauces, basically everything except being sliced on a sandwich.

Musings from the Office: The Final Chapter

My first attempt at the whole webcam picture thing.  Also, for you all to see how much effort I put into my appearance when I go to work (sarcastic face).

It's finally arrived:  my last day at the office!  I can only hope that I will never have to make other people's coffee or take other people's phone calls ever again.  Nor will I have to deal with the lady who's always asking me to fill up the paper trays (as if I'm some negligent oaf who never keeps track of them) or asked me, "you do know how to fill out a check, right?" (no...I've been paying my rent in gold doubloons for the past seven years) and assuming because I'm the receptionist that I have no other skills.  Well, guess what everyone, this grown-up with a Master's Degree in Forensic Anthropology is moving on to a well-paying job in her field in---wait for it---Hawaii!

People at work never believe me when I tell them I'm moving to Hawaii.  Does nobody actually live there?  Is it just a vacation land or a commonly-held fantasy of office drones ("one of these days, Sam, I tell you, I'm just gonna up and move to Honolulu")?  Is it so inconceivable that the barely-visible girl at the front desk who makes the coffee and transfers the calls could actually be getting paid to live there?

Per tradition, here are my final office musings:

• I make it a point to learn something from every job I have, no matter how much the job sucks.  At this job I learned how to talk on the phone without mumbling, stammering, or wanting desperately to hang up and put myself out of the misery of talking to a piece of plastic in my hand.
• Being the "barely visible" receptionist has its perks:  I can be privy to all of the gossip/office chatter that nobody assumes I can hear because it's not the sound of a ringing phone or a fax signal.
• No other receptionist is ever going to be as awesome as I am, whether it be at fixing stuff, hunting down paper clips, or making sure all of the candy in the dish is neatly organized.  Sorry [name of company], I'm the best receptionist you'll never have again.  

I had a dream that they threw a going-away party for me with a cake filled with bacon and topped with sweet and sour sauce.  I'm glad that such a thing did not actually happen, though I did get a $50 Amazon gift card from the office manager, which I'm determined to spend 80% on something useful and probably 20% on music.

Restaurant Review: The Crêperie on Newbury

I'm really thankful for Groupons, because otherwise, I would have never gone to this delicious, delicious place.  I had a $20 for $40 worth of food deal (with a $5 discount, so it was actually $15!), so I took the beau here on a date.  I mentioned before that I would hate to be a guy and the one traditionally in charge of planning the dinner dates, but I pretty much knocked this one out of the park (thanks Groupon!).  We snazzed ourselves up and took the Green Line to Copley Square and walked over to 259 Newbury Street, where this crêperie sits snugly between ritzy shops and restaurants catering to stylish (cough...rich) Bostonians.

The place doesn't take reservations for under six people, but the girl on the phone said they were so busy with the Groupon deal that they'd hold a table for us.  When we walked in at 7:00 on a Wednesday, however, we literally doubled the in-house population.  The restaurant is very clean and simply decorated, with dance music (Disco, Michael Jackson, etc) playing on a Pandora station loudly enough to be lip-synched and silently danced to, but not loud enough to drown out the other two women diners' conversation about just how much alcohol one can actually drink while pregnant anyway* and whether or not the other lady is "putting herself out there" enough.

Now to the food!  I ordered the chicken and goat cheese crêpe ($12--pictured below) and Beau ordered the braised short ribs ($14).  Covered with a roasted tomato sauce, that chicken and goat cheese concoction was perhaps one of the best things I've ever put in my mouth--at first bite.  It was so delicious, but it lacked dimension, something that could possibly be remedied with some more fresh herbs (and possibly by actually caramelizing the "caramelized" onions**).  The braised short ribs crêpe was good, and had a kind of a sweetness to it that I didn't get to explore very much because I only took a small bite because I'm weird about sharing food sometimes.

For dessert we shared the Bananas Foster ($8--pictured below).  Served with ice cream and caramel sauce, it was delicious and just rich and sweet enough.  Dessert sharing often poses Zeno's paradox:  no matter how small of an amount there is left on the plate, you'll only eat half of it.

The service was good:  everything happened quickly and our waiter was polite and attentive (though there were only two tables at the time, so who knows what it's like when they're busy).  I highly, highly recommend this place.  Even without the Groupon or any other discount, it's not unbearably expensive, especially for Newbury Street.  I'm just sad that I probably won't be able to go again before I leave.  I wonder if there are crêperies in Hawaii...

Check out the full menu for The Crêperie on Newbury here.

*Apparently, according to her OB, it's two drinks per day.  Thanks for the fetal alcohol syndrome, doc.

**Caramelization means brown, people!