Eat Through the Pain

It's a sad, sad day when I come home to a stack of bills and an already skimpy checking account. It's been a sad day for a while. But enough complaining because, where there's a proverbial will there's a tangible way.

And the way to go is Shakers Cafe. In the heart of what used to be Worcester's French hill, is the best home cooked meal you never had at home. Lebanese, lightly fried and mind-blowing. I already asked once, but Ms. Pavlina (Owner), please please take me home.

The trick here is that they only serve dinner on Fridays. It's BYOB, so there goes the self-consciousness that comes with trying to pick a wine that goes with fish while a snooty waiter scoffs at your choice of the cheapest sheet on the menu.

No one looked twice as I unscrewed my own bottle, or even blinked when I practically licked out the remains two hours later. At Shakers, your business is your business, your booze your booze. A nice place with a "leave me alone as I enjoy this epiphanic calamari" attitude...and no, I don't think that's a real work, but it is certainly a real attitude.

While I have yet to experience the famous Shakers breakfasts,I am told that on any given weekday, local workers patiently line up and wait for the place to open. Like dinner, the breakfast prices miraculously hover around $6.00. I can't wait to try the Lebanese Omelet and Mexican Homefries.

I've put off the blogging for a while, but look at that...it wasn't so hard. (That's what she said. I know, I know). But now I'm back in the throws of school and while my studies consist of writing until carpal tunnel sets in, there's nothing like a little blogging to clear the mind.

It reminds me to not take myself too seriously. The simpler way to accomplish this would just be to laugh every once and a while, but I wouldn't want to take away from the killer frown lines I'm working on.

While we're on the subject of lightening up,there are a few drinks I'd like to bring back that help with my efforts. Lately it's the Old Fashioned, or a lemonade shandy for the faint of heart.

Cheers!

I think I've lost my Edge

Last night's masterpiece: Baked sourdough with basil, mozzarella and grilled zucchini; chili shrimp with blue cheese, lemon shrimp salad (from my garden!); perfectly grilled tuna steak; lemon, shrimp and cherry tomato kebabs with oregano.

Maybe a little overboard for two but a delicious way to really get the summer going. The presentation needs a little work so a HomeGoods trip might be in order.

Living off the Land

French breakfast in the woods...don't overlook the snooty New Yorker


Marshmallow roasting skills!

The Starving Scholar

It's over, I've done it and life can begin again. The only excuse I can make for my noticeable absence in the blog world is an all-consuming, soul-crushing senior semester that is finally and successfully completed. My mind has been fed by everyone from Hamlet and Heaney to Braddon and Bronte but alas...the rest of me has been starved. So in the months before my loan payments begin I hope to make up for my neglect with as much food as my deserted taste buds and abandoned Visa can handle. But first, here are the past few months...

Over the course of the semester, the staples of my diet have totaled:

1. Two pounds of Everlasting Gobstoppers, mostly chewed and not savored, resulting in one small cavity.
2. No less than 400 cups coffee (this math took a very long time), an addiction fueled by Dunkin Doughnut's 'free turbo shot' offer.
3. Two BJ's twelve packs of Annie's Mac & Cheese...which, in my defense, offers unusually small serving sizes.
4. A now-confidential amount of wine, gin, etc...

Okay, so I'm not starving starving, but the quality of food in my life has definitely taken a turn. On the plus side, I plan to promote this as a weight loss diet which will work in just a few simple steps.

Lose the freshmen fifteen! Reclaim your high school jeans! And find the inner strength to get that diploma! We at Getyourbachelor'sorwe'lldisownyou Industries have found the secret ingredients that will unlock the skinny scholar in you. With a diet built on trimethylphenol, caffeine, dextrose, corn syrup, Yellow 6, Blue 2, and ethanol, you are mere weeks away from the 'you' you were before UMass. As a special offer, we will include an exercise regime guaranteed to burn fat!(As well as the candle at both ends) For no charge to you we will assign essays, novels, more novels, short stories, poetry, literary theory, response essays, exams, group projects and more! Don't miss out on this offer and your chance for the pale, worn, and malnourished look that is all the rage with incoming Grad students.

Side effects may include migraines, heartburn, low to non-existent social activity, spontaneous outbursts in rage/tears/happiness, and a significant increase in alcohol consumption.

It's good to be back.

Just the (twenty) Two of Us

Dining at Dali for my birthday dinner recently, I couldn't help but think that this experience was much like what I imagined sleeping with Grover Washington Jr. (everyone has their thing) to be--edgy but delicious, unpredictable but exciting. I was not disappointed. Much like Grover, I was immediately struck by Dali's charm and welcoming atmosphere. Floor to ceiling memorabilia of the Spanish old country that makes you feel like you've jumped into the vacation home of Baz Luhrmann and Paula Dean: just the right amount of "home cooked" feeling, and a huge helping of intoxicating visuals. But enough obscure 80's references and stretched similes--clearly winter break has left me a puddle of pop-culture.

Just like Mr Washington Jr. however (last one I promise), the (forty-five minute) wait was worth it, and may have even been the tantalizing flirtation necessary to build my excitement for the meals to come. I feel the need to preface this by explaining that my culinary companion and I are freaks...freaks who will eat everything and anything that is put in front of us. It's become a challenge to see who can eat the weirdest thing on the menu, so far I'm ahead. It's a lot like Andrew Zimmern, but only slightly sexier than watching a large bald man eating some poor animal's testicles.

With that said, I can only express my great enthusiasm for Dali's delicious Queso de Cabra Montañes, Chipirones Rellenos, Conejo Escabechado, and wild boar which was on the specials menu, and I can't remember the Spanish name. The baked goat cheese was an easy choice, and a last splurge since "the one I now shun" has forgone dairy. The first tapas came just in time too, since I had finished off all the homemade hummus and was left with fistfuls of bread that needed to be eaten, or they were going in my purse. Next came the Chipirones Rellenos...squid stuffed in its own ink. Zimmern would be impressed, but alas, the inky stains and jaw-locking chewiness was just something I couldn't get over. Who was I squidding? (terrible...just terrible)

For me the boar was truly the highlight of the evening (right after the third Kir Royale), with a savory smokiness that made me consider taking up hunting (do boars roam Western Mass?) We topped off the evening with Conejo Escabechado, don't visualize it, but I could not get over the tenderness of that rabbit--I mean fall off the bone tender. Maybe hunting is my calling, and could get me an employee discount...the braising and juniper/garlic glaze is so worth fair-weather ethics. Add onto that mouthwatering Churros and one or two backwater Absinthe's, and you'd think my paycheck actually resembled Zimmern's (I just can't get over him today)...but even my party and I could afford Dali's reasonable rates. With the Tapas Caliente averaging between $5 and $9, it's the perfect place to stay for the long haul, and try a variety of selections off the perfectly priced menu.

And if you're snickering at my celebration of 22 because you've past that number long ago, do not despair. The inoffensive Sangria pitcher is for you, and there is plenty going on inside these dimly lit rooms that you won't even notice the 22, 45, or 70 year olds all having Feliz Cumpleanos sung to them. Dali has a chair for everyone, as long as you can handle the wait.

So muchas gracias to Jose for this exquisite recommendation! Dali was a deliciously quirky experience and allowed 22 to start off the same way.

The Slaying of the Dragon

Anyone living in the Shrewsbury, Worcester, Northboro etc... area knows "The Dragon." Dragon 88 (alias: Dragon Shady-Eight) on Shrewsbury Street, Boylston is where I have some of my fondest childhood memories, as well as my most regrettable/forgettable 18+ experiences (let's face it, they didn't start carding until just recently). And while I know that the Dragon will always be there, the part of me with better judgement (though small) knows that a quiet petition to shut down the Dragon would probably better the community, and seriously lower the DUI count in the area. I know this is not a laughing matter, but just take a peek through the Christmas light-lined doors, to the right of the golden Buddha cat, and five paces past the yin-yang, and try to tell me you're not laughing.

Or crying...And it is with the following events in mind that I solemnly swear never to cross their Mai-Tai soaked rugs again, here's why:

1. New Years Eve, 2007-2008: Do not judge by my New Years activities alone. Yes, it was pathetic but to the Dragon's credit...it was cheap. This particular New Years involved:
One: Delicious, but probably below health-code standards flaming PuPu Platter
One: Cauldron-sized Scorpion Bowl
Two: Half finished Mai-Tais (No one seemed to notice that I dumped them in the bathroom sink).
Surrounded by the dollar bills that customers seem all too willing to autograph and display on the walls, it seemed perfectly ironic that I was stuck footing the bill for my "too drunk to remember his wallet" Ex. And let's review, the Mai-Tais are dirt cheap and strong as hell, I can't get through one, but the challenge is not so great for someone I will fondly remember as a keg with legs. So this New Years will count doubly, this year's celebration as well as last years to make up for the year I dropped the ball at the Dragon.

2. Spring 2008: This incident actually happened to a good friend whose last stop was the Dragon before a nasty spill that involved stairs and respiratory assistance.

3. November 2008: My culinary companion's birthday, which for some yet to be explained reason, resulted in a stop at the Dragon. It has been a few months and I'd almost forgotten why I hated the place so much, how quickly my memory returned. The visit itself wasn't particularly memorable, just some laughs as we watched a young man flee from the claws of a stalking cougar, a regular night. This normal night involved: ONE: Mai Tai... And the next think I knew I was half asleep mumbling about elephants while the rest of his poor family was trying to watch a movie. An instance like this makes me seriously question what's in that giant Mai Tai pitcher, and think that maybe there's a pitcher for girls, and another for the guys. I will forever stand by my belief that there was something extra in that drink. Elephants?

4. Later November 2008: This one was not my fault, and didn't even really result in anything too traumatic. The hometown "thing" is to gather at the Dragon the night before Thanksgiving to see everyone you graduated with and hoped you'd never see again. To be fair, this was an event I wasn't even aware of until this year, and was something I graciously agreed to, in exchange for a week's worth of servitude and three back rubs. Ten minutes into the bar wait, and at least 75 people over fire code, I found myself shoulder to shoulder with : the jocks, nerds, drama queens, sluts, bullys, someones ex-girlfriend, one night stand, two ex boyfriends, and a few too-old-to-be-there teachers. On this particular night the Dragon taught me: You can no longer come here just for the amazing crab-Rangoon's, and if you are here next year...you're already on a seriously steep downhill rum-run.

As we've seen, nothing good ever comes out of the Dragon, Kublai freaking Khan could not walk out of there with any pride, so let's just cut our losses and make a break for PF Changs, $15 for a Mai Tai, roofies are extra.

The Need to Feed...The Unimpeded Mind

It is a curious fact that novelists have a way of making us believe that luncheon parties are invariably memorable for something very witty that was said, or something very wise that was done. But they seldom spare a word for that was eaten.
Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

Today's title is a shout out to a certain English Department that I'm growing increasingly fond of as graduation looms. If I had my way, the next Symposium would take place here...A Great Place to Hang with English Professors and also...

Best Bar if you want to seem like a really cool girl/
Best Bar to take and test your girlfriend

The hands-down winner is Victory Bar & Cigar, Shrewsbury Street, Worcester. Cigar bars only fly with a small number of people, so I have little worry that the next time I pop over, my graduating class will have infiltrated. This is without a doubt, the greatest part of Victory for me, the crowd is generally 35+ and at any given moment there are no more than 3 women...No one I know goes there without me...Wonderous. If you're lucky enough to snag seats in the back, you're free to lounge in comfort with table service (albeit, the strip club vibe is strong back there, but it's a small price to pay). Friendly bartenders, decent price, and an all around good vibe has been my experience on at least two birthdays and a dozen or so other occasions.

Ladies, bring your guy here and you've pretty much set yourself up for the sexiest looking night ever. For a woman to bring a man here is a fool-proof plan: You won't be doing the trying-to-get-the-bartenders-attention jig which we all know looks like an awkward two step side to side around the inevitably-massive bar hogs; Geriatric gentlemen part, even MOVE THEIR CHAIRS to make sure you can squeeze in to survey the bar. And that's not an easy feat in a floor length fur coat (watch out for him) and gold diggers hooked to each arm (hearts of gold I promise). Once the drink situation is settled, the would-be imposing cigar selection can be easily navigated with assistance from the helpful staff. Or, if you're trying to go home with the helpful staff, study up on the basics at

Now comes the "Best Bar to take and test your girlfriend" part: Even I can admit that after the 2 hour marker, I get the slightly asphyxiated, Caterpillar-on-the-mushroom feel...But if your girl can keep herself afloat here, hold onto her because you're already doing a lot better than the rest of the people in there who are sitting alone, with an extra change of clothes in the car, so the wife doesn't know they've been smoking. If she can hold her own here, maybe pick out a decent cigar, and/or at least pretend she's not suffocating...you've got something good.