I had brunch over the weekend in Inman Square. I’ve never been there before. I’m lame. But that’s about to change! I totally loved the faded, funky looking buildings and basic nineties-ness of the area— very straight out of Reality Bites (and this song.)
Anyhoo, I was in this foreign land to grab brunch with some now-old friends, who I met two years ago when I got to be in this great show at Improv Boston called Atreus, Inc. My friend Matt, who wrote and directed that show, was back in town visiting from New York City, so we had a little reunion. (Matt’s now getting his Masters at NYU in being wicked smat. (Literature.)) My other friends, Ben and Michelle and Jess, who were also in the show and are fantabulous IB regulars, came too. (Ben and Michelle are like Brad and Angelina, cause they met and fell in lurve during the production of Atreus, though Michelle has yet to bear and adopt nineteen children.) Back in the day when Improv Boston used to be in Inman Square, Matt and Michelle and their dark and mysterious improv cronies used to frequent the East Coast Grill a lot, which is where we went for brunch. Again, I’m very slow on the Boston-uptake, because how did I not know about this place? Do you know about this place? It’s (in french accent) incredible!
Michelle and Ben are pretty much VIPs at the restaurant, so they were experts at helping the table order, and also kept creepily winking at all the waiters for “ketchup” the whole time. (Hmm…) We had smoked pork-stuffed bananas to start (always the first thing I’m craving in the morning, uh…but super spicy and delish), followed by queso so fresh and good it’s basically indescribable, and you probably should have had some five minutes ago. My only experience with queso prior to ECG had been that flourescent yellow-orange sludge Tostito’s makes (hey, it gets the job done at 2 a.m., am I right?) so I was pretty much shoveling the warm cheese and home-made chips into my mouth like a Chilean mining disaster survivor. Blah, blah, everything on their menu looks amazing, tastes better, my french toast was orange-y and special, and the drinks were grand too—imagine, sangria that actually tastes like red wine and fruit mixed together and not forty-seven packets of Equal!! Add in nice service, decent prices, and some sort of make your own bloody mary station situation that I didn’t get to and I’ll be going back very, very soon, probably followed by checking out the ice cream place next door.
The only real scary point of the meal happened when Matt started talking about his Joyce class at NYU and reading Ulysses and then he was throwing down words like “epistemology” and then something something about a “cacophony of sounds,” and then a cities’ “collected consciousness through the history of intergalactic moments” and I was full off that spicy banana pork situation and staring at my sangria glass like, “um, would now be a good time to tell him that when I go two days without looking at People.com it’s a personal victory?” Also, I’d like to go back and read hard books in college again and have guidance because now it seems like it would be a lot more fun.
But I love how smart Matt is. His passion was genuine and inspiring and un-Twitter-esque and it’s that kind of stuff that allowed him to write an awesome and fun play that made me meet all these wonderful people. I hope he does it again and again.
(Half of Matt’s head, duck tacos, and the glowing ghost of Joyce seen below.)