The Best Years?

I have a major soft spot for all cheesy television shows and movies that are obviously geared towards a younger demographic. This category features, but is not limited to, Saved By the Bell re-runs, The Princess Diaries, and anything starring Mandy Moore. The king of this category, at least for me, has always been Degrassi, a Canadian cult icon that is re-broadcasted on the N, Fridays at 8pm. Appparently I'm not alone out there: Degrassi is the most popular imported English-language TV show in the history of American broadcasting.

Naturally I was psyched when The Best Years, a Degrassi spin-off, was scheduled to debut in June. The story line follows 18 year old Samantha Best, an orphan raised in South Boston, who thanks to a wealthy benefactor now has the opportunity to attend prestigious Charles University (obviously Harvard) across town. Week after week Samantha battles her WASP roommate, demanding professors, and rude sorority girls, all while maintaining her tough-girl Southie exterior.

Americans often get accused of not being knowledgable about foreign cultures. While citizens all over the world get to learn about American culture from watching Jerry Springer, I have to wonder if the Best Years is a representation of what Canada thinks of our university culture.

Though the show takes place in Boston, you'd be hard-pressed to find a single character who talks with even a trace of a Boston accent. In fact you're more likely to hear "aboot" than "wicked" in any given sentence. Alcohol also plays a huge part in each week's episode. Apparently the writers aren't able to grasp the fact that the drinking age is 21? The show's characters enjoy hanging out at swanky Colony, which they frequent thanks to their fake ID's. It's maddening to think that they would never show a character smoking on TV (something as college freshman they would be legal to do) but it's perfectly acceptable to show under-age students drinking and a laisse-faire attitude towards tampering with a federal document.

While the Best Years doesn't have the bite of Degrassi, it is if nothing else a wacky social commentary on how we are viewed by our neighbors to the North. Since the Toronto-based writers made absolutely no attempt to convert to American slang and spellings, one has to wonder why they chose to use an American college town in the first place. Cultural hiccups aside, The Best Years is a fun show to watch, especially since they do show shots of downtown Boston between scenes. If you want to jam-pack your DVR with 90 minutes of glorious Canuck entertainment, the Best Years is on at 8:30 on Friday, immediately following Degrassi.

Restaurant Review #5 : 5 Guys Hamburgers

Restaurant: Five Guys Hamburgers
Address: multiple locations in GA, AL, TN, FL, SC, NC, VA, IN, OH, MD, DE, NJ, CT, and NY
Website: www.fiveguys.com
Rating: C

To be fair, this place is called Five Guys Hamburgers and admittedly hamburgers are not my favorite food. Five Guys is a hamburger chain with multiple locations through the eastern seaboard. While they aren't quite in New England yet, 5 Guys has quite a cult following throughout the upper South.

The menu offerings are very limited, which is on purpose I'm told. You can get a hamburger, cheeseburger, hot dog, or grilled cheese sandwich - that's it. Customization of those four items are available via the dozen or so free toppings which vary from your standard relish to fried onions.

Since all food is made to order, Five Guys gives out free peanuts to nosh on while you patiently (and I mean patiently - this is a southern chain) wait for your meal. Since I enjoy peanuts as much as the next elephant, I thought that this was a nice touch.

For lunch I had a hot dog with french fries and a Diet Coke (bottled water isn't available). French fries come in two sizes (regular and large) and are measured out using a styrofoam cup because apparently someone didn't get the memo about global warming. After your styrofoam cup is brimming with freshly cut french fries, the fry guy throws an extra handful of fries into the bag, just so you can be damn sure that these fries equal your weekly USDA recommended caloric itake. I thought that the 5 Guys worker gave me extra fries because I kept giving him the "why the fuck does it take 10 minutes to make a hot dog" look. When I informed him that the extra fries really weren't necessary he said that it was company policy to do this random act of kindness. So much for being special.


At $7.01, Five Guys is definitely on the lower sphere of what I would expect to pay at a quick serve joint. However, the lack of options are a real downer. 5 Guys places in the same space as Fuddrucker's, U-Burger(Boston), and Wendy's, which I would whole heartedly recommend over this place.

Five Guys has multiple locations throughout the South. If any of you have eaten at Five Guys and dispute this review, feel free to sound off. I'm honestly perplexed by the fact that people south of the Mason-Dixon actually endorse this place.

Blogging in Baltimore

I don't really blog that much about what I do for work since this is the Internet and nothing is really that anonymous. If you know me, you've probably figured out that I work in sales and that it's not all that exciting. What you may not know is that we partnered (the technical term) with one of our competitors, which basically quadrupled the size of my company. I've kind of been upgraded to the national product manager of one of our lines (we officially have three) and have been tasked with getting a second one off the ground.

I'm down here in the DC area meeting C-level executives to introduce my company. Because we're a start-up I am expected to get the appointments, present the company, and make a judgement call as far as compatibility. Convincing a high level executive that you are worth meeting with to introduce a company that they've never heard of is not the easiest job in the world. Therefore when I get those appointments I want to make sure that everything is 100% perfect. I qualify the hell out of them and e-mail multiple meeting reminders. I make sure that our top analysts are available during those meetings to answer questions should they arise. Most importantly, I always show up on time because I plan ambitious schedules and obviously I value everyone's time.

This time around I was joined by a colleague that did not value my time. He was so late showing up to yesterday's appointment that he didn't even make it until 10 minutes after the appointment was over. Today he was not only late for my 9:30 but he yabbered on so much that we missed our 11am completely. I. was. bullshit.

I don't fly off the handle that much but one of my biggest pet peeves is when a colleague is late to my meeting. This is America. We adhere to schedules. It's really a very simple concept to grasp. Sometimes things come up that are beyond our control (eg: multi-car pile-ups) which I completely understand. What I don't understand are people who feel that they can show up 15 minutes late to every meeting (fresh Dunkin Donuts in hand) and whine that they were late because of traffic, as if the whole traffic concept is completely new.

But hey, let's face it: every company's got at least one person like that, right?

After chewing him out to my CEO (another advantage of a start-up: you can drop f bombs to your boss and it's perfectly ok), I felt a lot better. I'm starting to realize that not everyone share my perfect world outlook and every once in a while that's ok. I can learn to bend and adapt as well as anyone - just don't be late to my meetings :).

Geeks and nerds the world over are queuing up for their copies of the latest and final Harry Potter book. I seriously don't understand you people. First you insist on dressing up like an asshole to attend your Star Wars movies. Then a bunch you losers lined us for a freaking WEEK to get your damn iPhone. Now you're all going wild about Harry by dressing like witches and British schoolchildren (which I suppose are one in the same). Luckily this is the last chapter in the series and I won't have to watch you all make a fool of yourselves until the movie version premieres.

I've never read a single Harry Potter passage. Becasue my feet are firmly planted in this place called reality, reading about 11 year old wizards and warlocks never really interested me. Regardless, if it gets children to read, I'm all for it. What I don't understand are grown adults, ones who pay taxes and are productive members of society, who are skipping work right now to get their copy.

Because seriously, what's in this book that you don't know already? I don't even care about the series but even I am privvy to the fact that Harry is going to die some tragic death. What secrets does this seventh chapter reveal? Does it give the true meaning of Pi or unravel the 7 Mysteries of the World? Can it tell you where the Holy Grail is buried or which team is going to win the 2008 Super Bowl? If it does, let me know and I'll join you in line this instant.

Restaurant Review #4 - Mediterraneo Caffe

Restaurant: Mediterraneo Caffe
Address: 134 Atwells Ave, Providence, RI
Website: www.mediterraneocaffe.com
Rating: A+

Background: I worked in East Providence for a little over a year where I become indoctrinated into Rhode Island culture. While I never quite got into coffee Awful Awfuls (milkshakes) or hot weiners (skinny hot dogs you can buy by the arm-length), I was fortunate enough to befriend Tash, who gave me the DL on Federal Hill. Federal Hill is Providence's Little Italy, an area lined with restaurants and bakeries that encompasses Atwells Avenue and DePasquale Square.

Like any coach preparing for a big game, planning is required before venturing into the Hill. To psych myself up for tonight's feast, I called the Troll. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: Hey, I'm so sorry that you can't make it up for the birthday dinner. I actually looked into getting you a last minute ticket into TF Green but it was pretty expensive and it would've been a long day for you.

Troll: No, that's ok. I completely understand, you guys will have a lot of fun I'm sure.

Me: I'm glad that you're cool with this. Actually, the real reason why I called you is because I have a pretty important question to ask you. Do you have a sec?

Troll: Sure

Me: Well, as you know, we're going to Mediterraneo tonight which is my favorite restaurant ever. I guess my question is, should I get the lobster ravioli? I mean, they kind of overwhelm you with these huge raviolis crammed with lobster. Then for extra measure, they throw a couple of jumbo shrimp on top. To describe them, these shrimp are like the size of the steak that falls on Fred's car in the opening credits of the Flinstones. Do you think that it's just a little much?

Troll: You are such a fucking asshole. I fucking hate you.

There is nothing more exciting than setting the radio to 92 PRO FM and driving down I-95 towards Providence, especially since I fived the entire state last week. Every once in a while a restaurant comes along that is so outstanding that you want to tell everyone you know about it, just so you can use it as an excuse for a future visit. While there are many, many excellent restaurants in Federal Hill, none of them can hold a candle to Mediterraneo.

The menu is a bit eclectic: while they have some traditional red sauce items, the menu heavily relies on seafood and gigantic steaks. I could write pages and pages about all of the wonderful items to try on the menu but the truth is that you really can't make a bad choice. While the kitchen is always willing to accomodate special requests, you certainly won't find anyone common enough to chow down on chicken parm in this place.

Though definitely not priced out of the stratosphere, Mediterraneo certainly isn't cheap. While the prices are pretty much in line with what you'd expect to pay in Boston or New York, for Providence this is a completely different level of dining. The staff knows this and goes out of their way to make you feel like a superstar. Whether it's the free valet parking (yes, take note North End: free parking) or the complimentary limoncello shot at the end of your meal, one of the three waiters assigned to your table will ensure that your palate is dazzled and your water glass full.

I gave Mediterraneo an A+ because it's seriously my favorite restaurant ever. If you want to try it out for yourself, take I-95 to exit 21 - Atwells Ave. Street parking and complimentary valet service are available. If you're a T person, find someone with a car to take you, or take the Attleboro/Stoughton line to Providence station and cab it.

7/18 in the 781

Even though Attorney Lee thinks she only "glows in the morning sunlight", all of my friends radiate excellence 24 hours a day. Thanks to everyone who showered me with phone calls, birthday greetings, Glenfiddichs, MySpace shout outs, text messages, e-cards, real cards, blog entries, and e-mails. I'm not much of a birthday person, but it means a lot to me that you all made me feel special anyways.

30 minus three

At 7am, the Troll rang me up from Baltimore to wish me a happy 27th birthday. It's a tradition we have. Since she teaches summer school, we haven't actually spent a birthday together in almost 10 years. The closest we come is our frightfully early birthday conversations every July 18.

Growing up as a fraternal twin, you learn to share everything, including the day of your birth. With our joint friends we would have joint birthday parties where we would occassionally be forced to share a joint gift (on behalf of all twins out there I say to the joint gift thing "yeah, fuck you too"). We shared a room growing up (with bunkbeds!) where I was subjected to years of what I later found out was the third loudest snore ever recorded at a Johns Hopkins sleep study. Obviously if you can laugh about something that traumatic now, you are definitely going to be BFF's for life.

Following the Communist principle of share and share alike, on the 16th anniversary of our birth Dad bequeathed us a 1989 Chrysler New Yorker, which of course I never let Troll drive. She would call me lard-ass, I would sucker-punch her and snatch the keys. It was a really great system until we seperated to go to college.

My sister and I have been living in different states since 1998. Even though our birthday crops up in July, she teaches summer school so it's tough for her to get back up to Boston. Aside from showering me with conservative dribble in manner of a Boston Herald subscription, my parents celebrate my birthday by taking me out to a restaurant of my choice. We're heading down to Federal Hill tomorrow and although I'm excited about going to my favorite restaurant ever, it saddens me that Troll won't be there to celebrate our special day.

Next week I am going to be in Baltimore for work so we are going to celebrate our birthday, albeit a week late. We've got our joint birthday planned already: we're going to dine in style at Ruth's Chris and then go white water rafting in West Virginia. Even though we are completely different people, we'll always have at least one thing in common: our birthday. It would be great if aside from the 7am phone calls if we could make a summer outing another recurring tradition.

The forgotten heroes of a forgotten war

Told by their commanders that the war would be over in a few weeks, the Allied troops who entered the Korean Penninsula in the beginning of 1950 didn't even bother to bring their summer uniforms. 3 years and 55,000 American deaths later, a cease-fire was declared July 27, 1953 which divided the country at the 38th parallel. As far as wins and losses go, we called this one a "tie" and sent the majority of our troops back stateside. However, we never left the region entirely. To this day thousands of US troops receive combat duty pay for patrolling the DMZ between North and South Korea.

This afternoon Congress voted overwhelmingly to set a firm deadline for withdrawing troops in Iraq. Like Korea and World War I, the Bush Administration and US military brass over-promised and under-delivered on their promise of swift victory to the American people. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. The rumors of WMD's turned out to be false and US troops weren't exactly greeted as the great liberators.

Bush should've seen the writing on the wall after the mid-term elections of 2006. The Republicans and his entire Administration knew that this day of reckoning was bound to happen. At this point it doesn't matter whether or not the troop surge in the Triangle of Death is going to work. Unlike the invasion of Normandy, this surge is not going to be the act that changes the war in our favor. The battle as we know it, is already over.

Like Korea, the best we can hope for at this point is a "tie" while we spend another couple of decades of patrolling the safe areas of Iraq from hostile insurgencies. There's a good chance that our grandchildren will pulling guard duty on the Tigris River because our leaders today did such a piss-poor job planning a war that the only way to end it was for Congress to cut off funding. Hopefully our elected officials will take time to remember the "forgotten" wars of the 20th century before burdening this nation with the heart-ache and emotional turmoil of a war that is already stacked against us.

Fountain Diet Coke may be my all-time favorite drink (yes, even more than Guinness and scotch). If I'm at a restaurant that offers free Diet Coke refills I'll generally drink my weight in the cold, carbonated beverage. Mama T - you got nothing on me in the fountain soda department! However, I hardly drink Diet Coke at home because I really dislike the taste of canned Diet Coke. It's got way too much carbon in it and tastes like a completely different drink than the fountain variety.

I've got a quasi-blue print of how I'd like to install a soda in my very own home and it goes something like this: I would like to drill through the lip of my current sink and snake a fountain gun into the place where a soap dispenser would usually be. I would then install a CO2 cartridge and Diet Coke syrup under my sink. When I hit the gun the syrup would link up with the water that is currently running from the sink, hit the CO2 cartridge for carbonation, letting the end product run through the gun and into my glass.

There are two problems with my plan: 1. I need to find a way to get the water cold enough so I don't have to drink lukewarm soda (I could always add ice I suppose) and 2. All of the gun systems I've seen on eBay are about three large.

Which makes me have to ask myself how much fountain soda at 7-11 I could buy for $3,000.

If anyone has ever done this type of project or know someone who has I would be very curious to know how it came out.

When you're sexy, single, and living in the suburbs there are naturally three very exciting things you can do on a Tuesday night: drink scotch, wolf down Shaw's cookies (I wish I could quit you, Shaw's. I know that I rant about your slower-than-shit employees but your supermarket bakery is by far the best in the continental United States), and buy 1c/pack pencils for your twin sister in Maryland.

I received an extra exciting spam e-mail last week that Staples was offering a packet of eight No. 2 pencils for a penny. But seriously, though, when was the last time you saw something besides a No. 2 pencil? It was so annoying in school when the teachers would instruct you to fill in your exam using ONLY a No. 2 pencil, as if you were going to fuck up their testing efforts by using a non-existant No. 3 or No. 198 pencil. Melissa, I have spent 14c and 35 minutes of my life that I can't ever get back in order to procure No. 2 pencils for your students. Just remember: if they still can't pass their mandatory state testing, it won't be because of a lack of effort on my part.

Actually, I'm thinking of gift wrapping your No. 2 pencils and shipping them to Baltimore. Happy 27th Birthday!!

Now that that's out of the way, I guess that aside from drinking scotch and eating those Shaw's cookies, my dance card is empty this evening. Strike that: I can watch the pilot episode of Greek that I DVRed from ABC Family last night. I heart it when TV shows try to show the nation what the college fraternity system is really all about. I wonder if this show will feature people getting into all out cat fights because a certain sorority sister borrowed the Wings! delivery menu and didn't remember to put it back in its proper place. America - prepare to be entertained!

Tomorrow night I have a hot date at Papa Gino's with my UMass Hillel girls. Eschewing anything that might resemble greedy corporate America, Amherst all but banned my surrogate step-dad, Papa Gino from their precious downtown. At the age of 21 we would re-live our over-the-top high school days by travelling to Northampton for Papa Gino's and then stop off at Friendly's for dessert. It's kind of a tradition now, and one that we take quite seriously of course.

Partying in Boston becomes a bit more challenging after you hit the age of 25. While you still want to have fun, you definitely can't drink like you could in college nor can you drip dry in an unsanitary bathroom stall as if it were perfectly normal. Age and single malt scotch has changed me for the better. Nowadays I prefer swanky bars full of professional men that feature drink prices that start in the double digits, because frankly that is just how I roll, yo. S/Sgt Jenn and I were looking to have fun this weekend and I almost collapsed when she suggested Landsdowne Street. However, since we haven't hung out in forever (and since she's an army drill sgt and I really didn't want my ass kicked), I went along for the ride.

We ended up at Jake Ivory's and I serioulsy had a fan-fucking-tastic time. Really - why I didn't I discover this bar sooner?? For all of you who are not hip as I am to the Landsdowne Street happenings, Jake Ivory's is a dueling piano bar right next to Jillian's. Once you walk in there, you are greeted by 500 American Idol wanna-bes singing off-key in ridiculous Boston accents. Total Eclipse of the "Haht", anyone? It's every ex-show choir, chorus-geek, and theatre-nerd's wet dream. Plus if you manage to drown your vocal chords in enough Coors Light, you too can join in the glee club glory.

Sticky floors, cheap beer, and Trainspotting-type restrooms notwithstanding, I am so coming back here again. Or at least forcing my girl Hallie to get on stage and sing "Like a Virgin" for her bachelorette (too bad you don't read this blog, Hallie! Ha - I am so fucking evil!) at Jake's. If only my fourth grade chorus teacher could see me now!

Root Root Root for the Red Sox

My mother and I went to watch the Red Sox mop the floor with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays last night. With a victory of 15-4 it was pretty pathetic, even by Tampa Bay standards. I got the tickets as a gift for my mom's birthday, since she is a beyond ridiculous Red Sox fan.

My mom has been a baseball fan since the womb. My grandfather was fairly good pitcher in his day and was even offered a minor league contract with the Boston Braves after he got got out of the Army (he turned them down). Once the Braves left town, the entire city focused their attention on the Old Towne Team, thus ensuring that the New England Boomer generation could live a conflict-free childhood.

My mom watches every single game in its entirety, every single season. She stood by them when they managed to blow it season, after season, after season. She skipped high school to attend the 1967 World Series and would spend the majority of the weekends in her 20's getting a tan in the bleachers, even when they could barely draw a crowd of 7,000. She knows every player, every stat, and can give accurate rapid fire responses to every AFLAC trivia question.

Unfortunatley for Mama N my sisters and I did not pick up her rabid obsession with the sport. Sure, we like the Red Sox, but we're not, how shall I say it, fanatics about it. While my father would merely bore us with stories about Camp N Oil Truck (his father was an oilman, and he waxes nostagically about fixing oil burners at 3am in sub zero temperatures), my mom would bore us to tears with stories of the play-by-play for a particular game she attended in 1974.

Because she is honest to goodness the hardest person to shop for (and there is definitely a limit on how many Elizabeth Grady fascials you can buy your mother without her getting insulted), I somehow managed to line up the sun, the moon, the gods, and my Internet browser correctly to get her non-nosebleed tickets to last night's game. We stayed until the seventh inning stretch when the Sox had an 11 run lead and it started downpouring. Since we obviously wanted to see how badly we could beat the Rays, I introduced her to my best friend Eastern Standard for strawberry cobblers and big screen action. And you know what? We actually had a lot of fun. Despite the generation difference, there is nothing on earth that brings a mom and daughter together like $11 mixed drinks and the Boston Red Sox.

Cape Cod - it's all that and a kettle cooked bag of chips!

Making fun of Rhode Island is a long standing Massachusetts tradition, ingrained into our ethos as much as the Red Sox, Kelly's Roast Beef, and North Shore/South Shore turf wars. Even though their Mafia-style accents scare me, and Rhode Islanders refuse to travel more than 20 minutes for anything, I always respected their beaches. Every summer I'd go down to Newport of Misquamicut, since I was seriously brainwashed into thinking that they were the best in New England. While their beaches are obviously very nice, I was so excited to discover this July 4th that they pale in comparison to the beaches on our very own Cape Cod.

When I commuted into town I would listen to the nightmare traffic reports on WBZ. "There is a 7 mile back up at the Sagamore roatary"; "Traffic time from Boston to the Bourne Bridge is 3 hours"; "Route 6 is a parking lot"; etc. My co-workers would tell stories of how they would leave for the Cape at 1 o'clock in the morning and STILL sit in bumper to bumper traffic. I couldn't figure out what was so damn exciting on the Massachusetts "arm" that it was worth getting that stressed out over. Then Mama T took me to the beach this July 4th.

Surprise, surprise - the new Sagamore flyover actually works! Travel time from Canton to Hyannis on a holiday break = 1 hour, 10 minutes - not bad! We spent Independence Day on a Falmouth town beach which was absolutely beautiful. I don't think that I've ever seen a cleaner beach and the water was wicked warm. While I may not give up my RI beach habit entirely, I was so impressed with the Cape that I really want to make it a bigger part of my summer life.

I can't wait to go back next weekend for my birthday and discover more beaches, more stuffed quaohogs, and more Cape Cod Ale. We're also going to the Vineyard which I am psyched about, especially since I've never been. A big THANK YOU to Mama T and Attorney Lee for helping me expand my 617/781 horizons!

Shaw's Rant

I generally loathe and abhor shopping at Shaw's for the following reasons:

1. People walk like they drive. With 4 senior citizen complexes within a stone's throw of Cobb's Corner, this is obviously not a good thing.

2. Nobody in the entire shopping center (except me, of course) has any idea how to navigate a parking lot or how to stay in the lines. You get one parking spot, you greedy fuck, not two.

3. They never have enough cashiers on duty, which makes getting out there a nightmare. On top of that, they're all unionized and act as such. Just remember buddy, you're getting paid by the hour, not by the number of items you scan.

4. They have even less baggers. Why should I bag my own groceries? My sister is a bagger at Roche Bros and she has the paper or plastic thing down to a science. I don't enjoy doing it and tend to overload it with large, glass objects. My attitude is let a professional do it.

I'm having my grandfather and his girlfriend over for dinner tonight. I stopped off at Shaw's to get three small items: salmon, salad dressing, and sugar-free Klondike bars. The 10 item or less line (aka: the single people line) looked a drive thru McDonald's at 3am so I opted for the regular cashier. It took me 15 minutes to get out of there and I only had ONE person in front of me. Aside from being slower than shit, the old lady insisted on paying with a check! WTF!!!! Who in this century uses checks at the grocery store? And by the way, does the term "ice cream" mean anything to you? As in, it melts if you're stuck waiting for some shithead in front of you to balance their social security check against their Shaw's bill, minus the four billion coupons of course. Rant over....

Restaurant Review #3 - Birch Street Bistro

Restaurant: Birch Street Bistro
Address: 14 Birch St, Roslindale, MA
Website: www.birchstbistro.com
Rating: C+

The up-and-coming Roslindale Center has a dizzying amount of new dining options. Last night my friend Josh suggested the Birch Street Bistro, as he is friendly with their new executive chef, Marcelo de Oliveira. Juggling three jobs, Marcelo may be one of Boston's hardest working chefs. Birch Street features "new American" cuisine via a generic and slightly overpriced menu offering. Generally when I dine out I expect an amazing experience. While the service was impeccable and Marcelo obviously went out of his way to treat us like royalty, this experience just simply didn't measure up.

The three of us started off by splitting a bottle of grossly marked-up Kendall Jackson Chardonnay. I was kind of surprised that a restaurant attempting to be of a higher caliber not only served Kendall Jackson, but that it was in fact that only chardonnay they had available. I expect that a bottle of wine in a restaurant would be more expensive than it would in a regular package store. I don't, however, expect to be charged $33 for a $7 bottle of wine.

Moving on to dinner.....

The waiter promptly brought us all waters and a basket of remarkably fresh Italian bread. Josh and I ordered caesar salads ($6) which featured croutons made from that remarkably fresh Italian bread. For my main entree I chose the chicken piccata ($14) which was garnished with capers (I love capers!) and served over penne. Though it was a very good pasta dish, it had obvioulsy been under a heat lamp for a little bit which lead to a slightly crusty top layer.

Because Josh and Hallie were friendly with the chef and are regular customers, Marcelo brought us all free desserts which was nice of him and very unexpected. Incidentally, the desserts were the best part of the meal. Marcelo brought us out two of my absolute favorite desserts - creme brulee and a brownie sundae. He also brought us each a dish of sorbet with fresh berries on top - it was the perfect way to end a nice evening.

In my humble opinion, the new American cuisine thing is a bit overdone. The Birch Street menu features everything from fish and scallops to burgers and brick oven pizza. I think that they need to have a clearer vision of which direction they want to head in as far cuisine offering and stick with it.

Birch Street would be the ideal place to meet up with a couple of friends for desserts and drinks, especially on a Thursday night when the Birch St brings in live jazz musicians.

The Birch Street Bistro is located across from the commuter rail station in Roslindale Center. Parking is available on street as well as the MBTA parking lot.

Hooray for Summer!

Can I tell you how blessed we are to be living in New England? After spending some time in the mid-west, our summers are by far the best from sea to shining sea. When the temp soars in Chicago, people go off to Lake Michigan in droves. That's right - a lake. How lame is that?

After avoiding it for a decade and a half, I went down to Nantasket Beach yesterday in Hull. When my parents were growing up in the 60's and 70's, Nantasket was the beach to be and be seen. Years of poor MDC funding, erosion, and lack of community support lead to the downfall of a once New England treasure. The Herald did an expose on "Trashbasket" beach a few years ago and things have actually improved. While there are obviously nicer beaches, Nantasket is not a bad option, especially considering that it's only 20 minutes from the South Shore Plaza and parking is only $3.

I honestly don't know why I don't take advantage of the beach more. People across the world come to visit the Cape Cod National Seashore by the tens of thousands and I have never even spent a single weekend there. Newport, RI has beautiful beaches by day and Thames Street by night. Mystic, CT is a hop, skip, and a jump off I-95 and Ogunquit, ME is about the same distance going northbound.

For the first time ever, I am off to the Cape this July 4th. Naturally I am bringing a Cape Cod native with me for guidance and protection. We've already got plans to go back down for the weekend of my birthday and we want to squeeze more beach weekends in as well. Even with the price of gas and parking, I challenge anyone to come up with a better way to spend a glorious weekend afternoon than at one of our beaches. Summer is here - might as well take advantage of it!