Boring Data

I worked in my town's public library for some years during high school. I can attest to a certain snarky brand of humor that characterizes the Librarian, but this example really tickled me.

A colleague of mine is working on her Master's in Library Science. She recently stumbled upon a library record for an urban renewal plan of Charlestown, penned in 1963:

Brief description of buildings, topography, etc.; detailed discussion of condition of streets and improvements to be made; includes data and recommendations on parking, public transportation, traffic signals, police and fire alarm boxes, water supply, steet and park lighting; also includes 29 pages of boring data.

Good to know.

Restaurant Review: The Independent

While I've rubbed up against hipsters many a time on the pub side of The Independent, Friday night marked my first foray into the restaurant area. Seven of us sat at a large high-top table, conveniently located by the front window, which was open to the lovely end-of-summer air and the Union Square showing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (1971) in smell-o-vision. Our waitress was also bartending, so we had to do some fighting for her attentions.

A few of us split the Korean-style calamari, which was fried ever-so lightly and came accompanied by a tiny silver pot of delicious dipping sauce. The calamari was tender and stopped my friend from gnawing off my arm in hunger (she threatened several times to do so), but I could have done with fewer scallions. While the scallions were cut prettily -- extra fine and on a deep bias -- they got tangled up in the calamari and it was impossible to avoid them in bites. The same scallions returned on my croque monsieur and I was throuroughly over the slender green onions by that point.

The ham of the croque monsieur was delicious, but I lost a lot of the flavor in the slather of bechamel and pilings of gruyere. The sandwich was served in two open-faced halfs, which was probably wise in terms of construction, but resulted in toasty bread on only the bottom of each bite; this was not enough to cut the richness of the bechamel/gruyere combo. The croque monseiur is one sandwich that does not come with a side of fries and a pickle, so it was just RICH AND CREAMY ALL THE TIME. Conceptually, rich and creamy all the time appeals to me, but in reality, this sandwich quickly became too much to handle.

I had a Six Point Apollo Wheat with my meal, that was quite nice: light and citrusy. I will come back to try a more robust entree, rather than a sammy, but at the moment my only recommendation of the croque monsieur at The Indo is that it's cheap ($7.00).

The Independent
75 Union Square
Somerville, MA

Trader Joe's Bananas Make Me Sad

I eat a banana every day.

My former apartment was within walking distance of a Shaw's (Star Market? Shaw's?) and thus within walking distance of beautiful Dole bananas. I know that bananas are not local and therefore heathen, but if I ever decided to live off of only locally grown and produced foods for a year I would have to make an exception for bananas. Barbara Kingsolver made some exceptions (coffee and olive oil were on her list, I believe) and if she can, I would too. For bananas. Bananas!

My new apartment is just steps from Trader Joe's (and a few more steps from Whole Foods) and while this makes me generally happy, the organically grown bananas found there do not. They are consistently and perpetually bruised! There are some fruits that I can handle eating bruised, but the banana is not one of them. A bruised banana reaches a whole new level of mush that is completely unpalatable. Are the organics more delicate than non-organic? Or does Trader Joe's toss those puppies around like they're bales of hay?

Some interesting books that come to mind, that I recommend, and that I think I need to re-read passages of in light of this post:

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver
Banana: The Fate of the Fruit That Changed the World by Dan Koeppel

Restaurant Review: Tupelo

Tupelo in Inman Square used to be Magnolia's, and still retains some of the decor. The water glasses are new though - large Ball jars - and, as far as know, the artwork on the bathroom doors is fresh. We both agreed that the red walls are nice, the sconces are out-of-place Art Deco and the painted mirrors look kinda crap. Oh, but the food. It's lovely.

We arrived close to 8:00pm on Friday night and were told it would be about a 45 minute wait for the two of us. A fella waiting in line just ahead of us said it was worth the wait and that folks gather round the small bar to kill the time. Only two beers on tap, but one was Brooklyn Lager, so I was set. Our friendly bartender served us straight away, and the host swung by once before we were seated, just to confirm our place on the waiting list. We were led to our table in what felt like no time at all.

We started with a deviled crab salad on garlic toasts: flavorful and with a nice afterburn that I doused with my frosty brew. Pete ordered one of the specials for dinner - jambalaya - which full of warm, "slow and low" flavors and crammed with big shrimp and hunks of andouille sausage. I had the brisket for my main:

Daube of Beef: Beef braised in red wine with hominy mashed potatoes with charred peppers, roasted corn salsa & Creole horseradish cream. 15

The meat had a crispy edge but was still fork-tender. The three items on the plate meshed well together, and I admit that more than one forkful contained meat, potato and corn together. We stalled for a while, but then gave in and ordered dessert. Pete had the blueberry pie with vanilla icecream; I had the brown butter pecan pie with bourbon icecream. BROWN BUTTER. My newest love. Nom. A free beer from the waiter for me (just me? awkward?) and then we paid our modest bill.

I like the wave of southern-inspired cuisine that is making its way through Cambridge. Tupeolo uses big, bold flavors on its gently priced plates and I look forward to a return trip.

Tupelo
1193 Cambridge Street
Cambridge, MA 02139
617-868-0004
http://www.tupelo02139.com/

Review: The Sweet & Low Down

Miss Tess and The Sweet & Low Down
at The Beehive
30 June 2009

Rachael Price is sexy. Her voice is smooth and supple, she's a scatting virtuoso and her decollétage is nothing if not alluring. She shimmies and undulates at the mic and, in a move that put me over the edge, the woman slipped on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses at the end of the last set. I was entirely prepared to ditch my boyfriend and kidnap Ms. Price so that she might personally serenade me until the end of days.

Price and Miss Tess fronted The Sweet & Low Down at The Beehive last night. The quintet (of keyboard, stand-up bass, drums and Miss Tess on rhythm guitar) played four hours of old-timey standards as well as some modern tunes. I heard Tom Waits ("Jesus Gonna Be Here," playfully introduced with the declaration we had reached thepoint in the evening for Jesus), Elvis Presley ("You're A Heartbreaker"), Morphine ("You Look Like Rain"), Blue Moon, the Tennessee Waltz, and many other numbers that I couldn't identify but loved nonetheless. The group's dress and sound was vintage and they transported the listener to another time. All around me, audience members tapped their toes and fingers to the beat, shook their heads to the lovely sounds and clapped enthusiastically after each solo improvisation.

Had I watched Miss Tess perform as the sole vocalist, I'm sure I would have been highly impressed. Her voice is compact like her frame; slightly reedy and a bit smoky, she smacks of Karen Dalton and Jolie Holland. Miss Tess happily strummed the (vinyl stringed?!) guitar that dwarfed her and clearly enjoyed performing last night. But she was out shined by the magnificent Rachael Price, whose effortless skill and smoldering glances demanded all attention. The timbre of her alto is of such quality that no one else stood a chance.

The Beehive's stage was richly swathed in silks, lace and velvet. The dark wood and dim lights lent a cozy feeling to the venue and the patrons were comfortable enough to interact with the performers -- as well as dance lively jitterbugs and intimate tangos in the corners. The inconspicuous waitstaff promptly appeared when glasses were empty and then kindly disappeared again. My friends and I stayed until the end of the show, much longer than we had anticipated. We walked back to the T, singing our own versions of the songs performed and declared The Sweet & Low Down "pretty fucking awesome, if you like good music."

Restaurant Review: The Helmand

The Helmand has two seating areas: the large main room into which the customer enters from the front door, and the small back room crammed too tightly with tables for the riff-raff. Last night, Pete and I were seated in the back room.

Pete had already been seated and was sipping an Anchor Steam from a bottle by the time I arrived. Though I was seated by a staff member, at least five minutes passed before our waiter arrived to take my drink order. I asked for a beer, which was not listed on the menu, as far as I could tell. Ten or fifteen more minutes passed before our meal order was taken and finally a basket of bread and a plate of sauces were delivered to the table.

Despite the less than stellar service, the food was flavorful, well-portioned and satisfying. My ivory rice, green spinach and red lamb were laid out on the plate in even thirds and the aroma drifting upwards to my nose was deeply warm and spicy. My first forkful was of the sauteed spinach and I was immediately addicted. What was I tasting? Was it only the onion and garlic in which the spinach had wilted? Tumeric? Nutmeg? I couldn't be sure. Next, a bite of the lamb, which had been simmered in a tomato base long enough that I could easily cut the meat with the side of my fork. The meat mixture was dotted with whole cardamom that bloomed in my mouth, bright and lemony. Pete and I did not speak. We ate. I swept up every last grain of rice and every swipe of spinach on my plate with a piece of bread.

When he cleared our plates, our busboy asked if we would like to see the dessert menu. We answered no, but our waiter dropped a set off anyway. We declined a second time. I was often jostled while seated at the center table in the back room and felt the waitstaff was attentive only at the wrong times. But the food was a delight and really, that is why I go to restaurants. I'll forgive the jostling for another plate of that lamb.

Lamb Lawand: Leg of Lamb sauteed with onion, tomatoes, garlic, mushrooms, fresh cilantro, yogurt and spices served with sauteed spinach and challow rice 18.95

Dwopiaza: Seasoned tenderloin of lamb cooked with onions, sauteed with yellow split-peas and tossed with onions lightly marinated in vinegar. Served with pallow rice. 18.95

The Helmand
143 1st St
Cambridge, MA 02142-1205
(617) 492-4646
www.helmandrestaurantcambridge.com

Sweet Quote

“I must go home periodically to renew my sense of horror.”
Carson McCullers

McCullers on Wikipedia