We get to the Woburn Marriott at about 3pm on Friday and we are starving. But of course they don't serve lunch. They have a businessman's breakfast buffet from 7 to 9 am and serve a limited menu for dinner from 6 to 10pm. So we are shit out of luck.
I go to the concierge to ask for some restaurants in the neighborhood. Now this chick was bad news. She had half eye shadow on. That means she had thick black eye shadow on half of her eye lid and nothing on the rest. The wife thought it was something that the kids must be doing today. I thought her father must of rubbed it off. With his dick.
Anyway she gives me a list with about twenty restaurants on it. Now the deal is the hotel shuttle will take you to anyone of these joints but it only runs once an hour. It will pick you up anytime but only goes out once an hour. Luckily it leaves at 3pm so we are ok. I look at the list and see three joints all with the "North End" in the title. Now the North End is the Italian section of Boston and I figure the might be ok so I say "Which of these three Italian places is the best?" She goes "Well I love this Mexican place because Chipolte is the best. Or you can go to the Salty Dog Bar it's really great. You can drink and have wings and sex with ten guys in the bathroom and everything. It's my favorite place." "Yeah thanks a lot there."
So I decide to just guess and I pick this place called "Felicia's of the North End." I figure what the fuck let's give it a try.
First of all the shuttle is a bus which is pretty filthy. The wife has to climb up stairs to get in and she is not happy. The driver doesn't even know where the place is so he stops in the middle of the block and asks around. It turns out it is at the end of Main St. Now one of the reasons I picked it was because it was on Main St. I figured it had to be the "Main St." you know what I mean? But it wasn't much of a street. An auto parts store. A nail parlor. A gas station. I felt like an exile. So to speak.
Anyhoo the front of the joint is a huge window and all you see is the dirty Venetian blind closed tight. Not promising but what the hell. The wife is on the phone complaining so I go in to check it out. It had a bar in the front and a dining area on the side. It looked like your typical meatball and spaghetti joint. Just like Red Rose on Smith St. And you know that's what it was.
We sit down and it is that deadly time between lunch and dinner. Our waitress is a Boston Irish lady with a wicked accent. Just what you want to hear when you order guinea food right?
But she was OK. We ordered some cocktails to start and they did make some great drinks. Then some wine. The wife had stuffed mushrooms which were very nice. They had a nice zing of lemon and a creamy top that must have been ricotta so they were good. I had the pasta fragiole and it was nice. I ordered a bowl but she only gave me the smaller portion because she said that the main course would be too much. It also came with a salad with a nice cheese dressing. The wine list had a lot of very reasonable choices so I picked a nice robust Chianti and it went down great with dinner.
The entrees were indeed huge. Served over Angel Hair pasta the wife had Chicken Sorreinto and I had Veal Piccata. Now it was heavily battered and the pasta was pretty soupy so it was tough going. I had absolutely no complaint about the size of the portion or the value but I could only eat half of it as it was just too much. Not good enough for you to finish it but no so bad that you didn't want it. Just like Red Rose. Good robust Italian food with big portions just not prepared properly. That's all.
Then the fun began.
You see we had to hang because what were we gonna do? Go back to the Fleabag hotel. I ordered another bottle of wine and had them box up the leftovers. Then I do what I always do. I ordered off the menu. I ordered a plate of meat and cheese and olives and figs and other stuff. It was a piss poor effort but at least they tried. We got some prosciutto and some soppressate and some mozzarella and a few olives. They didn't have any figs or walnuts or other cheeses. But we lived with it and had our wine. This was in lieu of dessert. At the end of the meal I ordered a double espresso and a snifter of anisette. So all in all we enjoyed ourselves. Mainly because of the floor show.
You see the clientele of this joint skewed very old. Or we were just there for the blue plate special. Although it was still really old after nine o'clock so I don't think the youngster came in for a late night snack. There was a table of octogenarians at the next four top and they were pretty funny. I said to the wife "They look like swingers from the seventies. Or maybe they are swingers in their seventies. Look they are throwing the keys to their Little Rascal scooters into the middle of the table!"
Then there the photo's on the wall were amazing! You ever go in a joint and they have signed head shots from the famous people who dined there? Now this place supposedly was in in it's third location. So it had some shots from the fifties up till today. Some were pretty funny. Like the one of a young Teddy Kennedy in a denim workshirt squeeze the tit of the grandma who owned the joint thirty years ago. But some of the photos were really crazy. I mean there was a photo of Elvis! But when I looked closer I realized that it was an Elvis impersonator! Holy shit. Half of the photos were of impersonators. Dean Martin. Frank Sinatra. Michael Dukakis. What the fuck?
Anyway we enjoyed a few bottles of wine and had some laughs. They did move us three times because they couldn't figure out how to accommodate people unless it was exactly how they always did it. So we had to move a couple of times. But what the hell? When you are in Mass do what the Massholes do I guess.
I left a very nice tip and we climbed into the nasty van for the ride back to the Hell Hole Hotel.
WHERE THE FUCKIN BAR CLOSED AT ELEVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
24 comments:
Titus left a list of first rate restaurants in Boston. I don't get the masochism of taking a pure chance when he had listed the best seafood, the best Italian, the best pub food, etc. I guess some folks have to have "an adventure."
At least you made the best of it. I have been in places like that.
And just think, Trooper, if you had gotten my e-mail, we were done at Andover at 5:30, and we could have come down and gotten you and taken you anywhere. I had this bistro in Andover in mind. It would have been about 20 or 30 minutes backtracking, but it might have been fun sitting there among prep school parents, most of whom were not, as I keep saying, preppie snots. You could have seen a more interesting slice of New England life than in Long Island North where you were. And at that point, after a long and emotional day, I was definitely ready for a little refreshment.
We also could have gone to a couple of places in Cambridge that don't have early closing like the 'burbs do. Boston itself might have been a little far, but, hey, we would have been happy to have been your ride.
You need a tablet with 4G to stay wired to your e-mail. My older son can't imagine life without it, but few 18-year-olds can.
Backlog!!!
As ND is fond of proclaiming, "Better out than in", with the Elvis picture serving as a sign!
ricpic, Trooper is a NYer. This rant is part substance and part schtick. And, as you point out so well, mostly self inflicted. The rant about the Marriott Courtyard is a good example. They're not a full service hotel like a regular Marriott, Hyatt, Hilton, etc. They're geared for biz people staying for one night. I believe we gave our friend a heads-up on that prior to him leaving his comfort zone. If you look upon this like it's the Brooklyn City Slickers go to Boston then you can enjoy it. Maybe that would be a good reality show. Have our favorite couple going to Tulsa, Akron, etc. Nobody can bitch like Trooper.
MamaM, I just got your Elvis line, witty as always Mama! It makes sense the King was always constipated. I'm sure his daily pill cocktails contained opiates. They make your asshole tighter than a crab's ass, and that's water tight.
Troop could have spent another c-note or two and had a high end hotel downtown. But now he will have years of ranting about mediocre service and 11 pm last calls in Boston. To have that is priceless for Troop.
EBL, You nailed it! The Brooklyn tightwad has loads of material now.
If he doesn't pick up the pace, I'll have to post more pictures of my dozer.
I've been by the restaurant whereTrooper and Lisa ate a million times, and I've never had the slightest urge to go in.
Now, if they had come back to Andover with us and we'd gone to Palmer's (by golly, New England DOES have some pretty good food), or the Cassis Bistro Français (Rt 28's answer to French country cooking), or even the semi-tacky but fairly good Mexican restaurant I can't remember the name of, well, Trooper wouldn't have much material. And he might have been hard-pressed, in any event, to bitch about someplace he was invited by friends.
Speaking of places to bitch about, the former "Glory" restaurant has been replaced by an Italian restaurant run by the same owner. The Glory was always a bit of a trap for out-of-towners. I made the mistake of going there a year and a half ago before it closed, when I was on one of our numerous prep school scouting expeditions. As soon as we applied to Andover, the "Glory" began bombarding us with ads, both e- and snail-mail, and I fell for them. (Must have had a spy in the admissions office) That place DID suck, and I hear its Italian replacement isn't much better, although no doubt a cut above Felicia's.
Anyway, we wound up eating Mexican, and we were very happy. Margaritas were ample, if mediocre. I liked the ample part.
Hey I had a decent time. I like to complain but the food was good enough. I mean it wasn't up to the standard of the North End of Boston where I had eaten before but as a red checkered table cloth place it was fine.
I am really sorry I missed your email Tim. Lisa and I would have loved to hang with you and your wife.
Although you guys are way too high class for me.
The people at the wedding were all high faluting cultural elite types. You see the bride is an opera singer who sings at the Met so it was ultra classy.
They had this long hair dude playing the cello at the cocktail hour. Pretty boring but classy as shit. When we sat down I had to play my Brooklyn lout character like I always do. So I go to the table "Hey that long haired guy was pretty good on that big violiny thingy!" And this woman goes very condescendingly "That's a cello." "Sorry....the only cello I know is Lemoncello."
The night went on from there.
If he doesn't pick up the pace, I'll have to post more pictures of my dozer.
In high gear, the dozer could probably crawl faster with as much cranking and less fits and starts!
That said, the spluttering and stories are the TY foo that makes the whole thing run.
I had a music professor in college named Enzo Liva. He was an Italian immigrant and played cello for the Philadelphia Symphony. We would listen to classical music and would give a brief explanation, then we would just sit back and listen. Once in awhile Enzo would bring in his cello. I found it hauntingly beautiful. He was a great teacher. He gave me an appreciation for classical music..quite a gift from a quiet, humble man. Oh..he was bald.
I feel bad about your stay in Boston Troop. I think I have driven through Woburn but it is probably one of the last places that I would consider a destination for anything.
You should of went into the city or even Cambridge. You would of had a million options and all the cabs in Boston has a list of top 10 restaurants and many of them are italian.
My sister had a harpist at her wedding. The woman was a total bitch and wore her displeasure on her face throughout the reception. The wedding was held in Burdett, NY, so I can't really say that I blame her for being sour concerning her misfortune. It was the closest the town came to culture since the yogurt truck got a flat tire once.
Heh.
Troop blows more on a night out than my family of six does in a week...
And on mediocre food!
Windy that makes Troop a kind of liberal. I am afraid to say.
Troop, embrace it.
You love the gays and spend too much on nothing and for that we kind of hate you, you old softie Rhino.
Now where is Mamam's big tits?
It's a damn good thing Trooper didn't stay over to watch the Yanks at Fenway tonight.
MamaM's tits have been all over, Titus, providing nurture and delight in your absence, with only SixtyG to throw in a growl or two to balance the effusion!
All those cities and towns you were visiting and not one mumblin' word from you about whether or not THE FUCKIN" BAR CLOSED AT ELEVEN O"FUCKIN CLOCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know nothing about Boston, except I've dealt with a lot of a-hole Bostonians. And the only Big Metro area I know is the SF Bay area - where I visit on business every year. To translate: it sounds like Trooper -instead of eating in Downtown SF - went to San Jose or maybe Fremont.
Fremont maybe, but even downtown San Jose is pretty decent. I stayed at a nice hotel there a few years back - right across from the arts center. Saw a performance of the Mark Morris dance company. Admired the sculpture by Beniamino Bufano outside. All in all had a good time.
I think a closer analogy might be Alviso. Or, down south, Bakersfield. I kid, I kid. I have been to Woburn, and most other suburbs, they are what they are. But as I say, I travel better than a Brooklynite.
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