Ever have one of those days (weeks, months, whatever) where you can't get motivated to do anything? Sadly, I have lots of things to do and very little drive to actually do any of them. For instance: it's taken me three days just to write up to this sentence.
Anyways, I'm still working through the bucket list while simultaneously trying to savor what's left of my time in Boston.
Sure, it's fun to go to the Fenway or ride on the Duck tour boats but it's the little things, the ones that come with living in a place for a while, that I'll miss the most--like a moment of unexpected beauty during an afternoon walk to the T stop:
Anyways, I'm still working through the bucket list while simultaneously trying to savor what's left of my time in Boston.
Sure, it's fun to go to the Fenway or ride on the Duck tour boats but it's the little things, the ones that come with living in a place for a while, that I'll miss the most--like a moment of unexpected beauty during an afternoon walk to the T stop:
I'll also miss hanging out at a bar where everybody knows my name. Well, most of them. Ok, maybe just a couple of the bartenders. And maybe they don't actually remember my name. But, they know I've been there before. And that's what counts.
Where was I going with this? Oh, Grendel's brunch. Right.
I've written about Grendel's Den in Harvard Square several times before. I mean, it should really have it's own label at this point. When I lived in Cambridge I'd go in at least weekly with my friend Elizabeth. But once I moved across the river and she moved to NYC my visits became fewer and far between. When I found out Elizabeth was coming to town last weekend we decided we had to go to Grendel's and we had to go for brunch. I'm proud to say that we accomplished both those goals with flying colors.
Note: If you're going to spend a Saturday night at a bar and then go back there for brunch the next morning, make sure you don't sit on the same stool the whole time. Try a booth or a chair. Mix it up a bit. Your back will thank you.
As you can see above, I got eggs Florentine. I was told the hollandaise was 'banging' and indeed it was. Also 'banging'? This epic side of bacon for $2:
James ended up joining us for brunch but he forbade me from posting the photo of him enjoying a Reuben. He did allow me to say that it is 'James Approved.'
Later that day, after emerging from the dark confines of Grendel's, we got wind of a Greek festival being held in Central Square. I had missed Hartford's Greek festival while I was in NYC and had been jonesing for a gyro ever since (yes, that can happen.) Luckily these guys were on hand to help me get my fix:
'Hello young lady. You want gyro?'
Just give James a tray of gyros and hang the Greek flag in his eye line and he is one happy camper:
Me on the other hand? A bowl of warm loukoumades, please:
The next day we stopped by Cutty's, a little sandwich shop in Brookline.
I got the eggplant spukie topped with hand-pulled mozzarella and their olive-carrot salad.
While James got a turkey sandwich. Boooring.
Come on. If you'd rather text than eat your food, you've ordered the wrong thing. James.
Where was I going with this? Oh, Grendel's brunch. Right.
I've written about Grendel's Den in Harvard Square several times before. I mean, it should really have it's own label at this point. When I lived in Cambridge I'd go in at least weekly with my friend Elizabeth. But once I moved across the river and she moved to NYC my visits became fewer and far between. When I found out Elizabeth was coming to town last weekend we decided we had to go to Grendel's and we had to go for brunch. I'm proud to say that we accomplished both those goals with flying colors.
Note: If you're going to spend a Saturday night at a bar and then go back there for brunch the next morning, make sure you don't sit on the same stool the whole time. Try a booth or a chair. Mix it up a bit. Your back will thank you.
As you can see above, I got eggs Florentine. I was told the hollandaise was 'banging' and indeed it was. Also 'banging'? This epic side of bacon for $2:
James ended up joining us for brunch but he forbade me from posting the photo of him enjoying a Reuben. He did allow me to say that it is 'James Approved.'Later that day, after emerging from the dark confines of Grendel's, we got wind of a Greek festival being held in Central Square. I had missed Hartford's Greek festival while I was in NYC and had been jonesing for a gyro ever since (yes, that can happen.) Luckily these guys were on hand to help me get my fix:
'Hello young lady. You want gyro?'Just give James a tray of gyros and hang the Greek flag in his eye line and he is one happy camper:
Me on the other hand? A bowl of warm loukoumades, please:
The next day we stopped by Cutty's, a little sandwich shop in Brookline.
I got the eggplant spukie topped with hand-pulled mozzarella and their olive-carrot salad.
While James got a turkey sandwich. Boooring.
Come on. If you'd rather text than eat your food, you've ordered the wrong thing. James.
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