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Feels like Friday.

The OptimistFreak, giggling in front of le Barking Crab. Those red and yellow stripes always put me in a good mood—means summer is here.

My roommates are both beautiful, right? (And clearly they have a thing for cute shoes.) Hope everyone is enjoying the beautiful day. Go Celtics!



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Coolidge Corner My Soul

Tomorrow is my roommate OptimistFreak’s twenty-fifth birthday. As this is an important milestone for her, and because she is a huge ham, we have turned the entire week into a her-themed celebration, which has been really nice, actually. (I feel like I have a very full calendar for the next few days, as opposed to my usual plans of: go home, eat Annie’s with some peas added to avoid contracting scurvy, pretend to read new non-ficition book about Iraq War, pass out.) And to get things rolling before the floats parade through the city this weekend, I took OF out to for an early birthday lunch yesterday, at The Regal Beagle, in Brookline.

This place has been around for over a year now, but I just heard about it recently from my boss and friend (is that allowed?) Sheila, who gave it a glowing recommendation and told me that their grilled cheese and soup combo was the best she’d ever had, and that the place was really cute, too. (It was a pretty easy sell. I was practically running down Beacon Street the moment she whispered, “huge grilled cheese” at me.) Also, Sheila reminds me of an Iranian Sophia Loren, dresses in a palette of dusty pinks and greys, and generally makes me sort of ga-ga with her amazing hair and ballet flat/boyfriend-jean collection, so I pretty much would do anything she told me to.

Sure enough, the Beags did not disappoint. IT WAS HA-MAZING, and the kind of place I wish Boston had more of: really, really good food, great atmosphere, wonderful service, and a not terribly expensive menu. For example, the appetizer that we split—bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with gorgonzola cheese—was only five dollars. (FIVE DOLLAHS!) I mean, sure, it wasn’t huge, but it had, like, seven levels of THIS IS GOOD enjoyment, and did I mention that the dates were wrapped in bacon and then stuffed with gorgonzola cheese? Worth the trip alone right there. The decor was also very charming, I thought, if not a little too much in-your-face hipsterish, though hipster gastro-pub is simply how the cookie crumbles these days, and I not-so secretly like all that stuff. If the food is as good as it is here, give me all the dark-wood accents and interesting wallpaper and ironic touches that a girl can get!

But back to the food: for our meal, OptimistFreak and I really branched out: we both got the grilled cheese and tomato soup combo. The grilled cheese was giant as promised, and made with carmalized onions and grainy fancy mustard; the soup was creamy and full of flavor. Sadly, I forgot to take a picture of our meal until it was all over—clearly I was not meant to write a food blog…

So, yeah, the Beags rocked. I can’t wait to go back for dinner in a bit and try something new. And not to sound like a cheerleader on speed or anything, but I totally love Coolidge Corner!!!! I mean, SIGN ME UP!!! I want to be in that hood one day: you got a huge Trader Joe’s that sells wine (boo the one on Boylston), the Coolidge Corner Cinema, the Brookline Booksmith (top ten greatest places on earth), and now this place? All adds up to a very wonderful part of our city, indeed.

Happy Birthday to my roommate, who is beautiful inside and out!


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Le Back Bay Social Club.

I met my good friend Maria Sharapova for lunch yesterday. (No, not that one. Maria Sharapova is my friend’s blog code name; I call her this because she is a) sick at tennis and b) super hot.) Maria and I decided to check out The Back Bay Social Club, on Boylston, for food. I’m not sure if this place is cool or not, or the best decision for my first entry on Beantown food spots; essentially, my decision to try it out was based on it looking vaguely French inside, and the fact that there wasn’t grey ice-slush piled up by the booths. In February, those are pretty much my standards. For anything.


I’ve known Maria Sharapova since I was fifteen, so lunch was going to be enjoyable no matter what; lots of old stories to re-hash and stupid stuff to gossip about. And despite the raging head cold I’ve got going on—it sort of feels like that creepy monkey from Toy Story 3 is playing the cymbals in my nasal passages 24/7—we had a great time. Back Bay Social Club has a wonderful vibe to it: it’s huge and well-lit, and if you’re into the brassiere eco-food rustic thing, which I am an admitted sucker for, it’s pretty much heaven. Unfortunately, my food wasn’t that great. Fortunately, for anyone that likes this place and/or wants to try it out, this was probably my fault.

You see, I love BLT’s. I LOVE THEM. They’re my go-to order choice in any dining situation, whether fancy or low-key, and I often have erotic dreams about them. But for some reason when I ordered at BBSC, I decided to betray myself. I by-passed what looked like their very delicious version of the American classic, and instead went with their slow-cooked pork sandwich, and the soup of the day. The soup of the day was very yummy (split pea), though not hot enough if we’re going to be super honest—whaaaat I can’t like my soup hot??? Sorrrrry—but the sandwich….um….I’m sure it was a great slow-cooked pork sandwich, but turns out, I don’t really like slow-cooked pork. At all. I hate it. Somehow in my deranged state I must have thought for a second I was at a BBQ joint in Memphis and ordering a pulled-pork sandwich in BBQ sauce (which I LURVE), but, alas, this was not the case, and my taste buds suffered. The pork in my sandwich reminded me of the steak in philly cheese steak sandwiches, and that ‘ish grosses me out. I freakin’ love steak, but that kind of “steak” is so smelly and greasy and odd-looking…I mean, no wonder Flyers fans are so mean. Wah wah wah; I’m an bad-ordering idiot, and I was totally lusting over Maria’s Ham melt the whole time. (Which she thoroughly enjoyed, I will add.) That being said, the bread my sandwich came on was de-lish, as were the adorable and scrumptious FRIES IN A BOX that it came with. Good fries in ketchup solve all the world’s problems.

So even though my food was sub-par and smelly, I would totally go back again. It seems like the perfect place to wear black tights and maybe shoes that hurt your feet a little, and order a cocktail, or a beer and their burger and pretend their isn’t a Dunkin Donuts right near-by. I’m such a sucker for red leather booths and black and white floors and big mirrors with specials written on them. Chocolate Raspberry Martini, YES PLEASE!

Hugs and kisses,


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