West Coast Wins: Take Out the Papers & the Trash

Yakety Yak, don't talk back. 

Today is trash day. 

So, here, that doesn't mean put it in the trash bin.

It means put it on the street. 

This is an adjustment for me, as I'm used to trash being contained in, well, containers. I guess it works to just put it on the street. But what about on a day like today? When it's a little bit blustery? A little bit breezy? What then, Bostonians?  

Sadly, this. This is what happens. A lone trash bag. In the middle of the street. Just chillin'. Poor guy. He won't be joining the rest of his kind in the great trash heaven. 

Happy Trash Day, y'all. 

xo, 

eb

Nom: Island Creek Oyster Bar

I made a friend the first day of work. She's great. Mostly because she's sweet, friendly and outgoing.

And of course, because she insisted on introducing me to Island Creek Oyster Bar. Her main squeeze is one of the main men there and at Island Creek Oysters, which is the farm of all those famous and delicious little oysters. I'm all about meeting people who love food as much as I do.

ICOB (we'll call it as the locals do) is fantastic. ICOB, as you can guess, is a seafood lover's - aka my - dream. Not only that, but the design of the place kills it. Big and airy, it's grounded in the sea. It uses crushed oyster shells as glorified wallpaper, lighting fixtures that suggest oyster cages and reclaimed wood slats as window decor. Concrete, shells, glass, beach wood - sleek, smooth, rough, expected, unexpected! All in one. Love.

Loved the design of the menus.

Enough about the fluffy (err... my favorite) part, let's get down to business. We started with rosé and oysters. Three local (including their own) and one West Coast. I really enjoyed the Sunken Meadow from Eastham, Mass (not Eastoyster? Anyone? Is this thing on?) Amazing. Great. Fresh. Good. I don't know much about the words you use to describe oyster, I just know I like 'em. 

Next came the Oyster Slider (not to be confused with an oyster shooter). Here's what you should know: it's fried crispy and served with a chile lime aioli. Ok, you only kind of need to know that. What you really need to know is that they make their own bread. So that unsuspecting brioche bun? Yea. That thing? That's where the goodness is. Makes me want to go back tomorrow and try that Lobster Roll served on the same type of bread. Gawd, I love a brioche. 

We kept the rest of the meal simple with cauliflower, beets and their buttermilk biscuits (those babies are drizzled with honey and rosemary - done). A local New England cheese and some Pinot Noir to top off the meal and I was a happy girl (and it wasn't just the oysters talking). 

A fun fact about ICOB? The owner is Garrett Harker (the owner of ICOB neighbor and Balthazar-ish Eastern Standard and the "G" in yet-to-be-reviewed South End prize and my neighbor, B & G Oysters). And he is a San Francisco fan. We got to talking and he said that ICOB is based off this little place off Polk Street - know it? That's right, this winner of a restaurant was created to bring a little bit of Swan Oyster Depot magic to the streets of Boston. 

We're gonna get along just fine, ICOB, just fine...

xo, 

eb

P.S. March is Munch Madness in Boston. Read: the best of the city's restaurants get bracketed out and voted on till there is one champion. Fun, right? But oh! the drama! ICOB and Eastern Standard are "playing" against each other right now in the Sweet Sixteen. Who will make it to the Final Four? Eeks!

Check out the bracket here.

West Coast Wins: Going Green

Well, folks. No surprise here: the Boston sucks when it comes to being smart about the environment. 

Bold statement, yes I know. But look what I've encountered in one week in Boston. 

These are the salad containers at Shaw's market. Recognize that? 

Yea... That's plastic. And a lot of it. 

I can't tell you how many plastic bags I've refused at bodegas, stores and cafes in just twelve days. A lot. There's almost always a moment of pause from the cashier when I (politely, I hope) decline to place one bottle of wine or sandwich into a giant plastic bag. 

I know that the places I've lived, some East Coasters might think are a bit hippie (San Francisco, Boulder, Oregon... OK, I get it), but to me, it's just a way of living. Being smart and conscious about what you need and what you don't need. And how long that plastic fork will be around for. Is it worth it? It's breaking my heart to not have another container option to throw my greens in at the salad bar. I think I wouldn't be welcomed back if I just started eating spinach straight from the bin.

All this increased sensitive might be in large part due to the documentary I helped create last year about single use plastic. One Beach, a film about inspiring people doing creative things to reuse, repurpose and educate people about single use plastic has made it so that eating a salad with a plastic fork from a plastic container has got me wanting to jump off the side of a building. It sucks, people, to not have better options to better the world around you.  

So, I trekked to Whole Foods in hopes of finding strength in numbers, (hippie-minded) people like me AND compostable utensils. When... gasp! what's a girl to find?

Straight up plastic utensils individually wrapped in plastic bags. Heart. Sunk. 

Lame, Whole Foods, lame. I had hoped that you would be fighting the good fight out here. 

Well, here's to me fighting my own fight against my use of plastic. Let's go, Boston! Join me! I'm not just some crazy from SF (I kinda promise), it feels good to help the planet. Keep on recycling from your home. Carry that tote with you to the market. Put that spork in ya purse and carry it around! 

If Lilly Pulitzer designed a spork would ya use it? I'll call her tomorrow...

xo, 

eb

Yikes! Stripes! Remember to turn off your stoves everyone!

There's a fire in the South End.

On my street!

YIKES!

It's a little scary when the person who hired you comes looking for you to ask where exactly on Union Park did you move? 'Cause there are pillars of smoke piling out of it right now...

Hope the neighbors are ok. Sad.

Only in Boston: The Longchamp Lives On

Okay. Before my haterade rant gets out of control, let's establish one thing:

I own a Longchamp. 

Now that we've got that down, let's really chat about the issue:

Boston women love their Longchamps.  

And I'm not talking love. I'm talking madly in love with, take everywhere, wear with anything, constant companion type of love. 

A Longchamp is a great bag. Perfect to throw in the car for a long weekend. And it serves even better folded up in your suitcase, waiting to stash all your vacation purchases and get them home. It really is a very versatile (read: basic) bag. 

But, woman of Boston, I urge you, let's not get too carried away with (or by) this little magical collection of nylon and leather. It has its time and its place. 

The next time you're out shopping for your everyday bag, try something with a little bit of personality, something that says, "I am me! and this is my bag!" I believe in you! You can do it!

(Your little Longchamp will thank you years down the road. Cause let's be honest, it's only nylon. And nylon doesn't usually pass the test of time, or style.)

xo, 

eb

(women of Boston - put down the Longchamp!)

Hudson: The South End's Home Store

This weekend, I poked my head into my neighbor's place. Only this wasn't any neighbor. It was Hudson, Union Park's fantastic, magical, patterned mania home interiors shop.

(how good is everything?! all of it!!)

It was a plethora of goodness in every direction. There were antique (reclaimed, repurposed, rebuffed, reshined) accessories and signs at every turn. Painted striped ceilings. Textured textiles splayed across the floors. Warm lighting from lamps galore filled the space. It was pure goodness.

I'm thinking it'll be a good refugee for the days I'll need a break from the heavy brick and traditional interiors of New England. This store would fit right in on SF's Fillmore Street. West Coast living perfectly captured in the South End. Sigh...

(OUI! zou bisou bisou anyone??)

The back wall is exposed brick, and decorated with hundreds of colorful books piled on top of each other. A tough look to pull off, but in this hodgepodge wonderfulness, it's perfect. The entire store is filled with really unique furniture pieces that make you wish that the shop was really your home. My top two favorites were a sofa that sucked you in and swallowed you whole, and a reclaimed wood and wrought iron work table/desk that I'm still pining for. A girl can dream, right?

(hopefully you don't want to read that volume on the bottom of the pile)

In whole, Hudson gets it right. It's warm and welcoming, everything I'd want my home to be. Well done.

xo,
eb

(P.S. Hudson is home to Boston interior designer superstar Jill Goldberg. Make your home a Hudson Home!)

Only in Boston - Look What's Trending

I think it's funny that the Hard Rock Cafe is a place that is often trending on Foursquare.

Sunny, springy Boston

My normal fashion routine is San Francisco is basic: never leave the house without a scarf.

One week in, and I'm already changing my ways.

But ya know what? I'll take no scarf for 84 degrees. Done and done.

Thanks for the sunny welcome present, New England.

xo, eb

Nom: Buena sera alla Coppa

Tonight, after my first day at work, I wanted a good meal. A stick to the ribs meal. Something I would feel a little bad about, but that would be outweighed by how good I felt about it.

After pit stopping to (sigh...) join Equinox gym, I walked home to the South End and headed straight to Shawmut Avenue's Coppa.

I must be a tad bit homesick and in need of a tad bit of comforting, because the only thing I had on my mind was pasta bolognese.

Read: the all-time comfort food, pasta, red sauce and meat.

Well... To my initial disappointment, there was no such thing on the menu. But, I surely didn't let that get in my way.

Taking a seat on the cute patio (very Paris cafe with its painted blue iron tables for two. Cute), I started with a glass of Prungolo Sentile. Much needed.

A sip of that, and I was fully, 100% over my disappointment.

I opted for the Garganelli con Anello, aka homemade delicious faro garganelli with tender lamb, pine nuts and black olives. Nom... The black olives added just enough salt (a touch more and it'd be too much). It was a really beautiful dish, thanks, I think in most part to the pasta.


Nice weather, nice pasta.

A small selection of Italian cheeses on the menu was where I went for my last bite. Though the cheeses are curated from the (across the street neighbor) Formaggio Kitchen (which I can't wait to visit), I thought the choices lacked pizazz. Nothing jumped out at me, (I was craving something sweet, creamy, soft) so I opted for the Roblola due Latte, a pasteurized sheep and cow's cheese from Piedmont.

Cheese. Please. 

Let's be honest. Cheese is cheese and good cheese is good cheese. It was good. The waitstaff even drizzled some honey on it at my request.

All in all, Coppa is a neighborhood win.

I can't wait to come back to try everything on the menu. Specifically. The raabe, asparagus, the pizzas ad the meatballs.

Buena sera everyone.

xo,
eb

To the Mattresses.... Errr... Box Springs

My movers arrived this morning.

Nine hours later, most of the things are in the process of being put away. It feels good to allllmost be settled. Bedtime cannot come soon enough tonight.

My bed and I had a little trauma today when we discovered that the 19th century Bostonians who built my apartment failed to make the stairways large enough for modern day box springs.

Sigh... My California box spring shall be mine no longer. It's off to box spring heaven. Replaced in a mad panic to ensure I'd have my wonderful, comfortable, 10 pillow bed to rest my head on tonight.

#RIPboxspring
#longlivepillows

Zzzzzzz...

(tomorrow is my first day at work. exciting)

Only in Boston: The City of Jaywalkers

Well, my first weekend in Boston has come and almost gone. I can say I sent maybe half of it walking the city. And one thing I've learned about Bostonians and they're walking?

Everyone in Boston jaywalks.

And they don't just jaywalk. They seem to walk straight into traffic. Its like watching a constant game of Frogger.

Today, I watched a dressed-for-church elderly couple cross the street against the walk sign, and as a car speed toward them through their green light, the man (spunky old guy I guess), yelled obscenities at the zooming car. I'm all for yielding to pedestrians, but it seems to me that some Bostonians are lucky they've crossed the road and reached other side.

It was a good first weekend. Filled with lots of Irish pride, high temperatures and sunshine. Some pics from my various strolls:

Hello, sunshine.

May the road always rise up to meet you...

The Lone Stranger.

The movers get here tomorrow to delivery my boxes and furniture, and then it's time to switch into full gear decorating the new apartment. My old apartment in San Francisco was great. Lots of white wainscoting, natural light and space. This one is very East Coast (in my West Coast mind). Exposed brick, older (read: historical, it was built in 1858) and a great new challenge in decor. FUN! Pics to come.

In the meantime... left, right, left, everyone.

xo,
eb

Nom: The Franklin Cafe

Right around the corner from me is The Franklin Cafe. 
This was the destination for my first Friday night dinner.

The Franklin Cafe

Easy, lowly lit, this place is a go-to. The interior is soft and welcoming, with great globe light fixtures, large comfortable booths, high-backed barstools at the bar and plenty of room for standing and socializing between the two. The crowd last night was laid back and casual, most likely prepping for today's big festivities of St. Patrick's Day (as soon as I get organized around here, I'm headed out to see what that's all about. Expect a post tomorrow). Although, a note on fashion, I did see a grown man in a full grey sweatsuit. No one gave it a second thought... Hmmm...

Annnnways.

The food is simple and good. This place is definitely a bar, too. But the good news is, I can't tell if it's a bar first and restaurant second, or vice versa. Both the drinks and food are on equal playing fields. We opted to split a few plates. Garlic grilled calamari served with basil and baby white beans, skillet roasted mussels served simply with melted butter and homemade pumpkin ravioli served with browned sage butter. The seafood did not disappoint, the calamari had a really great grilled flavor and texture and was really refreshed by the basil. The mussels were mussels. Simple with the butter. Good. The density of the homemade ravioli was fantastic. It could have used a little more spunk in the flavor, an extra kick. But overall, the sage and roasted pine nuts served it well.

Nom...

I had a glass of Prosecco to start and followed with a Maple Manhattan. The cocktail was less sweeter than I had expected, which was great. I'll go back for that drink on a fall afternoon.

It was a long dinner, so I finished the evening with a nightcap of Markers and ginger. And a word to the less wise, the pours in Boston are bigger than they are in San Francisco. I'm used to a cocktail coming in lowball glass. A short one. Here, they come in tall ones. Highballs. When I questioned the bartender about the size of the glass, whether this was mistakenly a double, he answered, simply, that "No, Bostonians just like to get drunk."

Ok, then. Good to know.

And now, I'm off to see those Bostonians do just that on my first Boston St. Patty's Day.

Erin go bragh, all! and Ireland Forever!

xo,

eb

Park the car in the Harvard Yard

What does that even mean??

I was born in Colorado, lived in Oregon, moved back to Colorado, then out to San Francisco.

I don't think I have an accent.

But people here, definitely do.

The South End

I live on a tidal marsh. It's true, under the hub of Boston food Mecca, bars, cafes and brownstones, was built on top a lot of water. Sounds kind of familiar to that place in SF? Remember that one? The Marina?

Well, hopefully, unlike (knock on wood) that other floating neighborhood, the South End is unlikely to go down in the next natural disaster. Hopefully.

Annnnyways. The South End is not to be confused with South Boston. I am not a Southie. I am South Ender. Maybe. I think. Or something of that regard. I'll get back to you on that one. (And let's be honest, at this point, I'm a San Franciscan that lives in Boston). 

Young and fashionable people started to move to the 'hood around 1870, where they were greeted by a planned community with brick townhouses (brownstones), iron railings and tiny parks. Pretty much the same thing I was greeted by a mere 140-ish years later.

These are my neighbors. Stoop livin'!!!!

Then, of course, for various reasons, the young and fashionable made a run for the hills, and in the next 100 years, the area found itself face to face with crime and poverty.

But! Alas! Leave it to the gays, jazz musicians and artist to save the day. Around 1950, they rolled in and began the slow gentrification of the South End (not without some hiccups, of course. In 1960, the South End was one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city).

So, in short, from my observations and chats with the locales so far, the neighborhood is not quite the flaming and Bohemia (wait, do they even do Bohemia in Boston?) area that it once was. It's now a historical and beautiful neighborhood, filled with young folks (that make it fun), gays (that make it pretty and clean), amazing chefs (that make it delicious) along with art galleries, a formaggio (!!!!!!!), local shops, a weekly farmers market/indie fair and more.

Better get exploring.

xo from the South End,
eb

Nom: A South End Sammy

I woke up starving at 1:30pm.

Mostly due to my body not having any idea which time zone I'm in. Three days ago, I was in New Zealand. Yesterday I was in San Francisco. Today I'm in Boston. Hence my being wide awake from 3am to 9am today. Ei yi yi.

Anyways, I woke up starving. Yea, at 1:30pm.

My new hood is Boston's South End. I live on Union Park (more on that later), which seems to be the hub of foodie Boston. So I'm a happy girl.

Lunch (errr... It's 3:55pm) today is at The Wholy Grain, a small sandwich and bakery joint. It has a patio in the front and back, perfect, I'd imagine for a sunny day. Which let's be clear, is not today. Drizzly and overcast, I've opted for a small comfy table inside.

A wasabi tuna melt on whole wheat with red peppers and cukes, it's simple but good. Chai late is good. Service is... fairly poor. Too bad. I was looking forward to finding a great casual neighbor place with great service.

Onwards with the search.

xo,

eb

Ok. Poor service or not, I might be back for one of these goodies. How hard is it to mess up putting a muffin in a to go bag?

Wasabi tuna melt. Trusty Filson bag in the background.

Adios SF

Since I am sitting on the plane (one way from SFO to BOS), I'll keep this short.

I'm moving from San Francisco to Boston. For a new job. For a new adventure.

It'll be a cultural experience. I'm a West Coast gal. Born and breed.

This blog will be my observations of my reverse Manifest Destiny.

Food, fashion, cheese, bikes, art and design, let's see what Boston has to offer.

Adios SF, you're pure goodness.

xo,

eb