That time I fell in love in Boston

Me and Boston have some history, with much of it not being very positive. I mean, how could it be? I’ve been a Yankees fan my entire life! Baseball aside, though, there are a myriad of reasons why Boston just never measured up to my own definition of a city.

A. It’s kind of small.

B. My first visit there was when I was 30 and pregnant with my first child. I recall being hungry and struggling to find any place inviting to have a lunch in the area (then) near Jordan Marsh and Filene’s.

C. It isn’t NYC.

Since that first visit, I’ve returned to Boston a number of times and I have to admit, it’s growing on me. I’ve learned a bit about where to find good food, enjoyed some of the kid friendly spots like the Children’s Museum and Aquarium and even (just once, Thurman Munson) took a tour of Fenway Park.

In recent years, Boston has also been a launching point for travel, be it to catch a flight from Logan or the ferry to Provincetown. I’ve run through the Commons, shopped on Newbury Street and eaten excellent meals in the South End. Other than last summer’s disturbing stay in a hotel overlooking an open air drug market, time spent in Boston became something I actually enjoyed.

So, naturally when my cousins let me know they were going to be there last weekend, I made arrangements to meet them.

At this point in my life, I have zero interest in driving 6 hours round trip in a single day, so I booked a Hilton property ($89!) using a discount code made available to me. I was on the road by 9:00 and pulled into the parking garage, next to my hotel, at noon. Early check in was available and I quickly settled into my really lovely room and freshened up before meeting the fam nearby at the Paul Revere statue.

The weather was decent with some wind, but without the rain which had been falling for the past couple of days. After hugs, our first order of business was lunch. Our rendezvous location was conveniently right on the edge of the traditionally Italian North End, so we randomly picked a place.

I went pretty light for lunch, assuming we’d be having dinner later, and chose pasta fagioli and a Caesar salad. They were both fine (although the soup could have been hotter and the salad plate had too little surface area for the amount of greens served) and did the trick. The pizza and pasta the Irish had looked quite good and the bread served on the side was excellent.

We followed lunch with a visit to the State House, whose entry fee is a steal for educators at $0. We caught an actual live presentation highlighting the building, historical events associated with the space (such as the Boston Massacre) and toured the exhibit relating the chronology of protests and demonstrations in American history.

Sidebar: I was completely gratified to see a timeline which very much mimicked the one I had created following January 6th for a lesson intending to put the incident at the Capitol on that day in context. Unlike my intentional omittance of the attempted overthrow of the government, the display in the State House concluded with that MAGA event.

Our early evening was spent walking, window shopping and, later, hanging out in the roomy suite my family had taken at the Lenox. We made dinner reservations for a nearby restaurant and eased into our night with cocktails at the hotel bar, which was cozy and nicely lit. My paper plane was delicious.

Dinner, on the recommendation of a food writer friend, was at the Saltie Girl. From one salty girl to another, it was an excellent suggestion, A.C.!

After perusing the menu, we went right in on mains and a fragrantly crisp bottle of white wine. Our meals of halibut, moules frites and pasta with lobster and corn were all beautifully sourced and expertly prepared. A definite win.

A quick nightcap at a pub was our last stop before parting for the night and walking in opposite directions to our hotels. My walk was a mile plus and I wished it had been longer. I kept to the perimeter of the Commons with music playing at a low volume in my ears. The wind had stopped and the night was still with glowing lights.

I was absolutely charmed.

That sense of beguilement remained for the next dozen hours as I (after sleeping for far too briefly) walked the North End searching for exactly what I wanted for breakfast (a ham, egg and cheese sandwich) yet ordering instead a vanilla cream filled croissant that was as close to Italian pastry as I’ve ever had on this side of the Atlantic. Entering Caffé Vittorio was like stepping across a threshold into a neighborhood joint in Napoli or Roma, complete with Italian being the dominant language spoken. My cornetto and latte were both exceptional, with the pastry being special enough for me to return to the counter to pick up a couple more to bring to my family.

My walk to deliver the baked goods, through the Boston Commons in the morning sunshine, was just beautiful. The homes with decorated front stoops and a remarkable attention to aesthetic details, were a treat to my eyes. The vibe was less frantic than NYC and I just wanted to take it all in, something which was impossible with limited time. I found myself wishing (once again) that train travel in this country was at a level more on par with Europe. Why can’t Amtrak offer service between Albany and Boston which takes less than 5 hours? I would be all over that!

Until next time, Beantown…I’ll be thinking about you.