Hungry Ghost's Daily Diet (TM)

In which I remind myself of some to-do items

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In which we, the taxpayer, have finally stopped paying for the house arrest of Mr. Saxena...

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In which I agree that thingy, what's his name, Jeffrey does have a point about Thursdays...

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In which I watch someone and his back-up singers say a little prayer, after all it is Sunday...

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The title refers to an old, old, old, joke which I've forgotten; the punch line, however, is "...that was the Boston Bar Bitch You Ate". Anyone know the setup?

Thursday: Wandered around Boston town, stopped by Ted Baker's for a cuppa and then over to Beacon Hill to check out the cobblestones. Our feet started hurting so we went for a pick-me-up coffee (4 shots of espress) at the Buttery before repacking and going to BOS. There, was dragged around ALL the terminals save for C via the walkways - not the best airport around, that's for sure. The flight left for Montreal at 5pm on AC, and I watched the Alaska Airlines plane leaving for Portland with some regret as that would have been a faster flight home. Maybe. No comments, thank you very much.

And that's it for Beantown.

One more trip and I call it quits for 2009.

Wednesday Evening: Dragged to Aquitaine, a little Parisian-inspired bistro on Shawmut Avenue in the South End. Delicious smell of burnt butter, sauteed garlic and browned shallots greeted us when we walked in. Heaven. The bread was authentically French with a crisp crust, but doughy soft chewy inside. Warm beet salad with blue cheese dressing, pan-fried steak with a black truffle oil vinaigrette reduction. Buttery haricots vertes as a side dish. For desert, a apple tarte tatin with creme fraiche. Best meal I've had in a long time.

The others had: 1) Mussels in a cream-garlic sauce, steak au poivre with scalloped potatoes. For desert, ice-cream with espresso poured over; 2) Crispy pork terrine on legumes, Tagliatelle in a truffle-butter sauce, followed by chocolate souffle cake.

We rolled out of the restaurant after hailing AIM, AL et al.

Wednesday Afternoon: More sessions. Dr. Worms quite unexpectedly uninspiring. Ah well. What to do, what to do, one can't be fascinating all the time one supposes. Then dragged around the Charles river after the end of the sessions, and before I had a chance for a warm cuppa tea and fig-almond cake. The view was very scenic if dark, and the cobblestones uneven.

Wednesday Morning: Dragged to breakfast at the South End Buttery. They use real lemon curd in their tarts. Very tart they are. Tarts. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Later on Tuesday Evening: Doom. I've discovered Bejewelled and Tetris online. Dooooooom. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tuesday evening: Dragged to dinner at Dbar in Dorchester by PJB. There was brought up to date on the travails, the absolute horror of his last month. It was truly very sad, and allz we can sayz is this: "To hell, in the fastest possible way, that is to say via a fire while tied to a stake, for all sociopathic, pathological sex addicts. No leniency - just a can of kerosene and a match"

Poor PJB. I feel for him and will wave joss-sticks on his behalf.

Tuesday afternoon: More of the same. Feeling sluggish in the afternoon despite several coffees. Dr. W very dry - when did he get into fireflies? Really! Tsk.

Tuesday morning: Again, failed to get up in time for breaky. So Another quick trot over to the sessions - disappointing this time, Dr. T does speak so very quickly, and Dr. M speaks so very slowly. Most irritating. However, be that as it may, knowledge is knowledge even if hard-earned. Lunch, not v. inspiring I'm afraid. Chicken kebabs, microwaved, I'm afraid, and dumped onto faux Greek salad that consisted of iceberg lettuce and pickles. Honestly! If only Gordon Ramsay would come by and give them a piece of his considerably foul mind.

Monday evening Another dinner, but this time we're more aware of the size of the portions here so are more circumspect in our ordering. Good thing too as we still had more than enough food. Then since the Brasserie Jo was booked up on Wed night, headed there for quick tea and Alsace Brioche Bread Pudding - warm with caramel sauce and whipped cream. Wonderful comfort food, and in these cold dark days, we all need, some more than others, comfort food. Some - should be deprived of said comfort food because they're getting fat and their deep-set wrinkles are set to disappear. However, one supposes that it's better than botox treatments.

Comfort food. So useful, but so easily perverted into a tool of the satan.

Watched Stewie on a massive flat screen telly falling into radioactive mud, and becoming an octopus of sorts.

Monday Morning: No time for breakfast, just a quick march over to the great hall where we're plunged into more educational sessions featuring massive antibodies and even more massive LCD Plasma screens that very scarily show the big, big, big face of the speaker - every single detail, every single ravine. I know of some faces which I would absolutely hate to see up on that screen, but I won't say which ones...La, la, la.

But so fortunate there was the equivalent of a basket-weaving session in the mid-morning so a brisk constitutional around the city, across the bridge and into Cambridge because the sun came out and it was brilliant blue skies all around. Quick lunch, then back to more sessions. On the way back to the nest, came across a store - Truffles, quelle coincidence! - which sold fruit dipped in chocolate. Total luxury, bonus and utter, utter, utter bliss.

Forgot to mention too that earlier in the weekend, had come across my favourite Boston deli (mind you, I only know of one, but why quibble over details), the South End Formaggio. Lovely pressed Fig and Almond cake. Incredible cheeses. So many little delicious tidbits. I shall have to return for a quick look-see again before I head home.


Sunday Evening: I was dragged to the South End Buttery - meatloaf with the best fries I've ever eaten and truffle oil aioli dip. Oh. My. Talk about taste sensation. Truffles. So lovely and musty. Lovely smoky taste. I like them. Had forgotten what a great taste a little bit imparts to your food. Very luxe-tasting.

Then...but oh well, what sometimes happens in a conference, stays in the conference. La, la, la....

Sunday Afternoon
2) Coffee ingested, I lumber over to the Educational sessions. Ooooh. Dr. LC is there. Lovely, lovely. Then after being well-educated, I'm DRAGGED to the shops. OOOOOOH. NO sales tax in MA! Lesseee...ASICS are on sale. Ooooh!

3) Splurge (can items purchased out of NEED be considered a SPLURGE?) over, dinner - at the South End Buttery; more truffles. Eggs with truffles in the morning, pommes frites with truffle aioli in the evening. See below.

Sunday
1)FIVE: glasses of wine later...tsk tsk tsk. Deep slumbers result, from which he's reluctantly being awoken. This is what happens when you drag me downstairs for a drink. I drag you out the next morning from the arms of Bachus and force you to march through wet streets looking for freshly made croissants...with baked beans. Brunch at Gaslight in the South End.

Now for some Freddie Kreuger Coffee. Yucky. Never again.

In which one does not disobey summons from certain members of elite society...

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In which I answer myself!

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In which all the crowd gets uppity...

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In which pots come a tumbling down...

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In which officially working at home (OWaH) is put to the test...

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