Day Drinking @152 Dot Ave

A couple days ago, David and I stopped in at Franklin Southie for an afternoon aperitif.  The sun was coming through the windows just right, making the space look bright and new.  I especially loved the shadows we cast on the brick bar and the way my Aperol looked like embers in a dying fire. 

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David and I sold all the furniture we put on Craigslist and are currently living in the worst kind of limbo.  Our dressers went to a skeevy guy who tried, but did not succeed in low-balling us, so our clothes are in piles on the floor.  A nice Spanish man took our kitchen chairs and we've since been enjoying all our meals in bed, and our books are stacked in tidy (and not-so-tidy) piles along the walls because our bookcases went to a sweet Australian woman.  Slum Castle is an absolute mess and I'm looking forward to the day when moving boxes arrive so we can start organizing our lives into nicely labeled cardboard homes. 

@ 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...

Hotel Bar

Before moving to Slum Castle, I lived directly across the street from Franklin Southie.  Having a bar across the street- especially such a fantastic bar- is a wonderful thing, but it can also lead to a lot of hefty bar tabs, french fry dinners, and very late nights (they close at 2:00 AM).  After joining forces, David and I became a fixture at the Franklin, and we came to meet a lot of our dearest friends sitting on those bar stools.  In fact, we were there so often that our group of friends dubbed it the Hotel Bar; come 10:00 PM on any given night, a large group of us would crawl over for a 'nightcap', which was really an excuse to get out of our tiny condos and hang out with friends (new and old alike- we were constantly meeting new people at the Franklin).  It was just like living in a hotel- a hotel with a bar where the residents held court but also maintained a stream of visitors just looking for a drink and conversation to get them through the night before catching the first flight out of town in the morning.
 
Though we've moved away and only visit a couple times a month, David and I are still close with the staff and are always given a warm welcome when we visit.  We stopped in the other night for a quiet drink and light dinner and lo and behold many of our neighborhood friends were there!  It wasn't until that moment, when a group of neighbors who I used to see daily came over to chat, that I realized how starved I am for that community engagement now that I live in Somerville.  Though I've found my new home base  this side of the Charles, it's not frequented by the people who live directly around me (though, I don't know if I'd want to hang out with the people who live directly around me...) and I miss knowing my community as intimately as I used to.

When I move to London, location is going to be huge for where we settle.  I again need that feeling of community that I had in Broadway Village and I want to live close to a great restaurant with a solid bar that I can easily walk to.  The Franklin spoiled us with their close proximity and delicious fare.  I highly recommend you visit if you're looking to for a nice dinner at the bar and good conversation.  I'm sure you'll meet a character or two!