@ Hungry Mother

 I don't know if you've caught on yet, but I love going out for drinks and/or dinner.  When I lived in Minnesota, where there is a rich coffee shop culture, I would park myself at one of my favorite cafes and do homework all evening long.  I'd usually arrange for a constant stream of friends to stop in and interrupt me, but when none were available I'd make new friends.  In 2006, I moved to Boston for school and was devastated by the small selection of coffee shops and cafes that catered to late-night (or all-night, in some cases) coffee drinkers such as myself, so instead of planting myself at coffee shops, I'd make myself at home on a bar stool.  I read books, edited papers, and wrote short stories at bars around the city and made a handful of new friends along the way.

After graduation, my habit of stopping in at a bar had become ritual.  Instead of going straight home to a tiny apartment after work, I'd stop at a bar for a drink or two and chat with whoever was around.  That's how I met David, and together we've become fixtures at a number of local restaurants/bars, but none more-so than Franklin Southie.  I've always been drawn to the idea of a Third Place and believe that having a hub- whether it be an athletic club, cafe, pool hall, whatever- where you can unwind and casually meet people is integral to creating a robust social life.  Without the Franklin, David and I wouldn't have nearly as many friends, but because we clocked in some serious time and have gotten to know the staff and patrons, we've made a number of lasting friendships with people we would never have met otherwise.  Doctors, painters, teachers, lawyers- until we started talking, we thought we'd have little in common with these people, but over a cocktail (or a couple) we've come to be great friends.   

Last night we went to Hungry Mother with a couple we met through a FF (Franklin Friend) and had a lovely time indulging in boiled peanuts, pimento cheese, and homemade pie (amongst other delicacies, naturally).   Through our conversation, I learned that families in the south will pass cast iron skillets down from mother to daughter and that some of these skillets haven't been washed in decades (fascinating!).  I also learned that having a filthy skillet is actually quite good and made a mental note to stop putting ours in the dishwasher every time David leaves it oiled on the stove top.  Through our conversation I learned about authentic Cape Cod Dennis Bracelets  and how difficult it is to get one.  Together, we ate slowly, laughed loudly, and happily got to know each other better.  

Being a social animal can sometimes be exhausting, but going out and meeting new friends (especially at Hungry Mother, which is YUM to the EXTREME) sure as hell beats sitting in bed watching TV- even if it is a really good rerun of Downton Abbey...

@ Saloon

In case you couldn't tell by my last post, I was starting to go a little stir-crazy in my apartment yesterday and was in desperate need of a walk by the end of the afternoon.  After a little coaxing, David and pulled ourselves together, walked down the front steps and turned left, which is something we never do.  The air was humid and warm last night and we walked down streets we'd never been down before.  It was like a mini-vacation in our own back yard.

Eventually, we made our way to Davis Square and accidentally stopped in the speak-easy style Saloon.  We both fell hard for the atmosphere and the snacks and cocktails didn't disappoint, either.  I'm already looking forward to going back. 

After a drink and sit, we made our way down Highland Avenue toward home.  Along the way David stole some balloons from a sandwich board which brought much joy to my heart even though stealing is wrong (tisk tisk).  Seeing him clutch those balloons as they tugged in the wind allowed me to see him exactly as he was at the age of three.  The sparkle in his eyes as he gazed up at the balloons, the happy grin on his face and the lightness of his walk, as if the balloons themselves were putting more of a bounce in his step.  It was adorable to watch him with his balloons, and when he let them go we both took a deep breath and felt as if something important had happened.  We watched them float away until they disappeared into the darkness, and then we walked to another bar and had a drink. 

@ Catalyst

Since moving to Slum Castle in September, David and I have enjoyed exploring all the glorious splendors that the Cambridge restaurant scene has to offer.  Last night, we stopped in Catalyst for a bite to eat and a couple drinks with our friends Coco and Tobi.  I was really pleased with the ambiance of a space, which seemed an effortless marriage between comfortable industrialism and environmental chic.  The food was delicious and the drinks were well-balanced and thoughtfully crafted. 

I started the evening with a drink from the cocktail list, which is something I rarely do, because the Toronto (rye whiskey, fernet, house bitters) caught my eye.  Though I thoroughly enjoyed it, I found it a little too sweet for my savory taste, so I ordered my staple: a Manhattan.  The drinks are a nice, manageable size (they refrain from filling the cocktail to the brim so you don't slosh it all over your dry-clean only sweater on its trip to your mouth- thank goodness!) and I ordered my first Manhattan with Old Overholt and the second with Rowan's Creek, after which I decided to drink my whiskey properly, i.e. straight.  Now, my go-to whiskey is usually Jameson or Blanton's, but the Jameson well had run dry and the bartender suggested I try something different- namely High West Silver Whiskey, an unaged whiskey that, as the name suggests, is silver rather than amber in color.  The initial impact of the High West was more forward than your typical aged whiskey and the taste was brighter and more refreshing (though the color may have impacted my brain to perceive it as such).  Overall I found it to be an interesting change for my palate and am looking forward to trying it again. 

I'm also quite pleased to count High West Silver Whiskey among my whiskey acquaintances because I've always dreamed of having a white party but have been perplexed as to what to serve my dark spirited friends.  Now I can still serve the whiskey drinkers whiskey (Silver Manhattans- yum yum!), while the tequila lovers and vodka sippers have their drinks, too!  And for all you wine drinkers, you will have to drink Grappa or Champagne at my white party.  Sorry, but rules are rules and last I heard, there is no such thing as white Pinot Noir.