It started off great.
I appear to be suffering from the blissful delusion that the long run is a fun adventure. And so on this particular Saturday, with the thought of 13 miles dancing through my head, I jumped-ish out of bed the moment the alarm buzzed awake at 7 a.m. I mean, not even ONE snooze.
I had enjoyed the mother of all pre-running meals - spaghetti with meat sauce - on Friday and had some help mapping out my new run.
You have to get a little imaginative when you start clocking runs over 10 miles. For one, it gets boring doing the same route and for two, you might as well keep your running self on your toes with obstacles such as, your tendency to get lost, and Boston's sign-less streets.
It's all so exciting.
My goal was to do 13 miles and since everyone you meet talks a big game about this pretty lake in Jamaica Plain I felt this was the perfect opportunity. I mapped it out on map-my-run and secured a probably interstate-ramp-free route to get me to the Emerald Necklace.
Sounds eco-kinky, doesn't it.
The E.N. is this windy path of green designed by Mr. Central Park himself, Olmsted, and it stretches and turns through Boston and up to the Jamaica Pond, which is, in fact, beautiful. The best part is that you are covered in lush shade for the majority of the trek and it's hard to get lost. My friend told me to 'follow the green' and while I had my skeps, it was embarrassingly obvious. So, I highly recommend.
The downside? Oh yes, there is one. It's long. Heading back was, blissfully, on a down slope, but once I exited the green space and ran back around an already-populated Fenway down, Beacon and across the Charles River I was drawing from a bone-dry pool of will power. It was the first time I had to talk myself into it: just place one foot in front of the other.
On my last mile I was running at a toddlers nap-time pace. On the other side of the street I noticed a gaggle of ladies carrying babies walking faster. It wasn't pretty.
After listening to a pretty entertaining This American Life (#225, Home Movies featuring an always delightful David Sedaris) I ran through a 19-song mix I made for a friend (awesome, if I do say so myself) and suffered through some picky ipod shuffle. BUT, just when I thought I'd have to ask a Cambridge Mom a ride home in her supped up baby buggie, the pod redeemed itself with the most random adrenaline injection I couldn't have even imagined:
You're the Best, by the one and only Joe Esposito.
What? You're not familiar? Have you been living under a rock? It was only THE song that helped the karate kid find the will power to hop around on one foot while kicking that punk kid's ass.
"You're only a man and a man's got to learn to take it."
Except for that 'man' stuff, the song was speaking to me. Esposito picked up each lame foot and set one in front of the other until I found myself on my street (oh happy day!). Stopping was the best thing ever, ever.
Worst thing? Finding out the run took me 2:20. Which means I hope and pray that map my run was off and I ran, at least, closer to 14 miles. Even at 14 miles I'm doing a 10 minute mile which is just not going to fly. Joe Esposito would be heartbroken.
Thus:
Miles: (let's just say) 14miles
Time: (gulp) 2:20
Overall: 7 (pros: the trail really was gorgeous and pretty and varied enough to keep you distracted, TAL, mix, Joe Esposito / cons: barely surviving, time, being past by walking mums).
xoL
Showing posts with label Boston. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boston. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Explore: Boston 3 ways, part 2
Summer festivities take 2: Free Friday Flicks at the Half Shell
What better way to celebrate a scorching summer day than with an outdoor picnic, so thought a friend and I. The lure of the Star Trek cutiepants boys on a giant screen helped as did a picturesque view of the Charles River at sunset. It all seemed so easy, I even pre-froze spritzer accouterments (I can't let these things go), but mother nature had other plans.
And so, take head young explorers and...
Do: Roast yourself in your already-stifling kitchen in order to make a large heaping helping of pasta salad. After allowing it to chill in the fridge, this once sweat-inducing dish will be a satisfying, perfect temperature picnic meal. Also, do pack up mound of pasta salad into individual servings via Tupperware because you never know when you're going to have to up and leave.
Don't: Play dumb to the glaring change-of-weather signs that surround you. Perhaps consider that everyone you pass is carrying an umbrella for something more practical than dead weight. Don't march out of the house in nothing more than a tank top and a skirt; just because its 110 degrees in your tiny kitchen does not necessarily mean it is 110 degrees outside, it could be just 97 and that three degree chill could be a killer. Also, a skirt? Really? Is that a jean skirt? What are you nuts? Don't be the girl who flashes the moviegowers because rain is the mother of all fashionable equalizers and, also, this is a family affair. Let's keep it PG.
Do: Give in to what weather obstacles may arise. Join in on the group mentality and stick it out, plant your denim-clothed tush to the (spritzer-dampened) blanket and take in that summer storm. When the lightening flashes behind the half shell you'll be glad for the bonus show and the crowd's growing excitement.
Don't: Be a hero. When that summer storm threatens tornado and the rain doesn't so much let up as pound down, pack up your things and go. You've seen the movie before, there's no need to encourage sickness, grass stains or electrocution just for a pretty face. Also, make it quick. There are a lot of serious trekkies out there who, unlike you, have come prepared with umbrellas, extra blankets and large mafioso-style sheets of plastic (where does anyone even get those?!)and will finish this movie in rain, flood or Apocalyptic event. So scoop up your meager belongings, crouch your head and get a move on.
Do: Come again. These puppies happen every Friday night and are the perfect opportunity to brush up on your summer blockbusters or Disney/Pixar classics while munching on some homemade grub.
Next up: Exploring via the long run brings me to puppy central, better known as Fresh Pond.
xoL
What better way to celebrate a scorching summer day than with an outdoor picnic, so thought a friend and I. The lure of the Star Trek cutiepants boys on a giant screen helped as did a picturesque view of the Charles River at sunset. It all seemed so easy, I even pre-froze spritzer accouterments (I can't let these things go), but mother nature had other plans.
And so, take head young explorers and...
Do: Roast yourself in your already-stifling kitchen in order to make a large heaping helping of pasta salad. After allowing it to chill in the fridge, this once sweat-inducing dish will be a satisfying, perfect temperature picnic meal. Also, do pack up mound of pasta salad into individual servings via Tupperware because you never know when you're going to have to up and leave.
Don't: Play dumb to the glaring change-of-weather signs that surround you. Perhaps consider that everyone you pass is carrying an umbrella for something more practical than dead weight. Don't march out of the house in nothing more than a tank top and a skirt; just because its 110 degrees in your tiny kitchen does not necessarily mean it is 110 degrees outside, it could be just 97 and that three degree chill could be a killer. Also, a skirt? Really? Is that a jean skirt? What are you nuts? Don't be the girl who flashes the moviegowers because rain is the mother of all fashionable equalizers and, also, this is a family affair. Let's keep it PG.
Do: Give in to what weather obstacles may arise. Join in on the group mentality and stick it out, plant your denim-clothed tush to the (spritzer-dampened) blanket and take in that summer storm. When the lightening flashes behind the half shell you'll be glad for the bonus show and the crowd's growing excitement.
Don't: Be a hero. When that summer storm threatens tornado and the rain doesn't so much let up as pound down, pack up your things and go. You've seen the movie before, there's no need to encourage sickness, grass stains or electrocution just for a pretty face. Also, make it quick. There are a lot of serious trekkies out there who, unlike you, have come prepared with umbrellas, extra blankets and large mafioso-style sheets of plastic (where does anyone even get those?!)and will finish this movie in rain, flood or Apocalyptic event. So scoop up your meager belongings, crouch your head and get a move on.
Do: Come again. These puppies happen every Friday night and are the perfect opportunity to brush up on your summer blockbusters or Disney/Pixar classics while munching on some homemade grub.
Next up: Exploring via the long run brings me to puppy central, better known as Fresh Pond.
xoL
Monday, July 19, 2010
Explore: Boston 3 ways, part 1
With R out of town I had a busy weekend of jumping on other people's band wagons, specifically of the picnic variety.
After three back-to-back adventures in the Boston area and a few days of rest I come equipped with a little lessons-learned nostalgia for gettin' down on some summer time activities.
And so,
Part 1) Forest Hills Lantern Festival (Thursday)
The Forest Hills Cemetery in Jamaica Plain, MA hosts this annual event that pays homage to an ancient Japanese, Buddhist ritual of spirits. Here you are meant to send a lit lantern sailing off onto the lake because at this moment a door to another world (one that ideally holds the spirits of your deceased loved ones) opens and lets your messages in. Sweet, really. But there are a few things to keep in mind before lantering:
Do: Pack a pimpin' picnic. Bring along a blanket to sit upon and some nibbles in re-closable containers so if you get distracted by the festivities (music and dancing among them) you can close and conquer. For our picnic we brought Farmers Market bounty, which included tomatoes, homemade bread, goats cheese and a fantastic Israeli spice smuggled in from the home land. Inspired by my recent wedding excursion, I brought accoutrement for white wine spritzers. True, not exactly your picnic fare, but if you can pull it off they are a refreshing delight. Which brings us to:
Don't: Bring white wine spritzers. Unless you are incredibly put together and an owner of clever things like a cooler and proper ice-keeping equipment, a simple beer would suffice.
Do: take part! To be honest, people look at you a little sideways if you're not inscribing your own lantern. Besides it's license for sentimentality -- shed a tear, coo at babies' lanterns dedicated to Grandma and Grandpa and resist the urge to sing a round of Kumbaya (over the top much?).
Don't: spend too much eating your righteous feast and miss out on drawing on a lantern (the whole POINT of the excursion). Along those same lines, don't wait until 8:29 to get said lantern to find that they have run out of the hearty wooden frames but can outfit you with a raspberry container (paper). Don't try to light the candle that sits in your raspberry container within the four walls of your paper lantern for at this moment what you're holding more closely resembles a homemade explosive device than a spiritual work of art. And don't count on your one-of-two options - ball of flames or sinking piece of paper trash - and the ensuing jokes to mesh well with the teary-eyed audience who now just view you as a heartless litter bug.
Do: Take your time, enjoy the evening. Sure it gets dark and that dessert you brought in three containers is a little harder to decipher. But how often do you get to hang around a lake at sunset with strangers in a cemetery. It's a delight. When people in brightly-colored jackets begin to take down the only light fixtures take your cue and leave.
Don't: Forget to make a note of where your car is. When the sun sets it is actually really dark out there and the winding roads that wrap around the stone grave markers all look eerily familiar. Don't let those friends walk off in search of the T because you will need buffers against the zombie vampires that like to attack clueless groups of less than four in the dark. When you finally find a helpful-looking man in a brightly colored vest sitting in a golf cart don't approach him at a full-sprint swinging your bag of contraband wine and shouting WAIT, DON"T LEAVE ME, because people don't usually respond well to crazy. Bring it down a notch. Ask politely, and when he still doesn't offer to drive you around the entire cemetery in search of your car that is parked in what lettered lot you know not (there were lettered lots?), swallow your pride and follow the direction of his point down the dark path toward what looks to be the road you came from. It's character building.
Next up, part 2: Outdoor Film Fest at the half shell (hint: bring your raincoats!)
xoL
After three back-to-back adventures in the Boston area and a few days of rest I come equipped with a little lessons-learned nostalgia for gettin' down on some summer time activities.
And so,
Part 1) Forest Hills Lantern Festival (Thursday)
The Forest Hills Cemetery in Jamaica Plain, MA hosts this annual event that pays homage to an ancient Japanese, Buddhist ritual of spirits. Here you are meant to send a lit lantern sailing off onto the lake because at this moment a door to another world (one that ideally holds the spirits of your deceased loved ones) opens and lets your messages in. Sweet, really. But there are a few things to keep in mind before lantering:
Do: Pack a pimpin' picnic. Bring along a blanket to sit upon and some nibbles in re-closable containers so if you get distracted by the festivities (music and dancing among them) you can close and conquer. For our picnic we brought Farmers Market bounty, which included tomatoes, homemade bread, goats cheese and a fantastic Israeli spice smuggled in from the home land. Inspired by my recent wedding excursion, I brought accoutrement for white wine spritzers. True, not exactly your picnic fare, but if you can pull it off they are a refreshing delight. Which brings us to:
Don't: Bring white wine spritzers. Unless you are incredibly put together and an owner of clever things like a cooler and proper ice-keeping equipment, a simple beer would suffice.
Do: take part! To be honest, people look at you a little sideways if you're not inscribing your own lantern. Besides it's license for sentimentality -- shed a tear, coo at babies' lanterns dedicated to Grandma and Grandpa and resist the urge to sing a round of Kumbaya (over the top much?).
Don't: spend too much eating your righteous feast and miss out on drawing on a lantern (the whole POINT of the excursion). Along those same lines, don't wait until 8:29 to get said lantern to find that they have run out of the hearty wooden frames but can outfit you with a raspberry container (paper). Don't try to light the candle that sits in your raspberry container within the four walls of your paper lantern for at this moment what you're holding more closely resembles a homemade explosive device than a spiritual work of art. And don't count on your one-of-two options - ball of flames or sinking piece of paper trash - and the ensuing jokes to mesh well with the teary-eyed audience who now just view you as a heartless litter bug.
Do: Take your time, enjoy the evening. Sure it gets dark and that dessert you brought in three containers is a little harder to decipher. But how often do you get to hang around a lake at sunset with strangers in a cemetery. It's a delight. When people in brightly-colored jackets begin to take down the only light fixtures take your cue and leave.
Don't: Forget to make a note of where your car is. When the sun sets it is actually really dark out there and the winding roads that wrap around the stone grave markers all look eerily familiar. Don't let those friends walk off in search of the T because you will need buffers against the zombie vampires that like to attack clueless groups of less than four in the dark. When you finally find a helpful-looking man in a brightly colored vest sitting in a golf cart don't approach him at a full-sprint swinging your bag of contraband wine and shouting WAIT, DON"T LEAVE ME, because people don't usually respond well to crazy. Bring it down a notch. Ask politely, and when he still doesn't offer to drive you around the entire cemetery in search of your car that is parked in what lettered lot you know not (there were lettered lots?), swallow your pride and follow the direction of his point down the dark path toward what looks to be the road you came from. It's character building.
Next up, part 2: Outdoor Film Fest at the half shell (hint: bring your raincoats!)
xoL
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Adventures in the South End and my kitchen
Alright, Boston, I said to know one in particular, it's time to figure you out.
What I know of this fair, historical city are the big box items: Museum of Fine Arts, Top of the Hub, Freedom trail. That's all well and good, but I'm going to need something grittier. Something I can step in and drag around with me.
So R and I headed to the South End. "It's up and coming," said one Bostonian. "A good place to start," quipped another.
So away we went...driving. Yes, ever since I started to drive to work it has been hard for me to get back on that T. We found (voila!) a parking space, filled it with all the quarters we could find in the back of the wagon (5) and hit the streets.
I'm not going to sugar coat it, I was underwhelmed. I had heard it was a good place for galleries and since it's also home to the Boston Center for the Arts I figured there would be some good contemporary creativeness oozing from the building's brick walls onto the streets.
Nothing oozed except for a ridiculously long line of 20-something kids dressed in black.
But we drifted up and down the streets anyway. And it wasn't all bad, in fact it was quite cute though sparce. Beautiful victorian town houses lined the streets peppered by modern design and clothing boutiques and dark tavern-like restaurants. I did walk past the winter skeletons of a few community gardens that made my heart flutter in yearning for warmer months.
Finally we hit upon the heart of the South End. Like the sprinkling of gingerbread pieces, our path to Union Park Street and Shawmut Ave was trickled with puppies!
And, ultimately, cupcakes
The South End Buttery was the journey-end treasure where I found, get this, cupcakes NAMED after puppies!
A true cross-section of this blogger's life-loves.
We went with the Harriot because the cupcake looked yummy and the puppy photo looked cute. It was moist, sweetly tart and carrotastic. It was a delight, just as I'm sure Harriet must be.
There was an obvious mutual affection.
Walking down Union Park Street we found a row of fantastic spaces - grand but rustic with white-painted wooden floors, overstuffed couches and giant mirrors. And, yes, of course, beautiful things to buy. My favorite was Looc Boutique for its stunning jewelry made my local designers (always a good sign). The necklaces were my faves - a mix of textures and patterns, heavy metals and soft fabrics. I want. The space appears sparse for, well, clothing, but I found it refreshing being someone incapable of making a choice. Like a well-tailored menu at a ten-table restaurant, Looc made each piece of clothing special and drool-worthy. It was expensive, but being broke, everything is.
I mean the food in the South End is definitely something to check out. Before leaving work on Friday I was given a lengthy list of caloric venues, Buttery being the only one I ended up visiting. That's all well and good and I think that unique and tasty independent restaurants are a good sign of a growing creative vitality...it's still not there, or at least not impressing me.
I need to find more. And that was only the start. next weekend...
After our South End romp and a RUDE parking ticket R & I hit the grocery store for a sexy saturday night shopping spree built around a tart that I fancied making.
Smitten Kitchen is one of my go-to food blogs and low and behold, the first post on there was the onion and cauliflower tart..I was being begged.
Now, I'm not really a tart-making kind of a girl and R's kitchen is still bachelor-sheek, but damn if those photes aren't tantalizing. And so it went...
There were a few hiccups - an overflowing pie-filling and the omission of the nutmeg - but all in all I think it turned out down-right delicious.
mmmmmmountains of caramelized cheesy goodness:
And hello lunch.
xoxoL
What I know of this fair, historical city are the big box items: Museum of Fine Arts, Top of the Hub, Freedom trail. That's all well and good, but I'm going to need something grittier. Something I can step in and drag around with me.
So R and I headed to the South End. "It's up and coming," said one Bostonian. "A good place to start," quipped another.
So away we went...driving. Yes, ever since I started to drive to work it has been hard for me to get back on that T. We found (voila!) a parking space, filled it with all the quarters we could find in the back of the wagon (5) and hit the streets.
I'm not going to sugar coat it, I was underwhelmed. I had heard it was a good place for galleries and since it's also home to the Boston Center for the Arts I figured there would be some good contemporary creativeness oozing from the building's brick walls onto the streets.
Nothing oozed except for a ridiculously long line of 20-something kids dressed in black.
But we drifted up and down the streets anyway. And it wasn't all bad, in fact it was quite cute though sparce. Beautiful victorian town houses lined the streets peppered by modern design and clothing boutiques and dark tavern-like restaurants. I did walk past the winter skeletons of a few community gardens that made my heart flutter in yearning for warmer months.
Finally we hit upon the heart of the South End. Like the sprinkling of gingerbread pieces, our path to Union Park Street and Shawmut Ave was trickled with puppies!
And, ultimately, cupcakes
The South End Buttery was the journey-end treasure where I found, get this, cupcakes NAMED after puppies!
A true cross-section of this blogger's life-loves.
We went with the Harriot because the cupcake looked yummy and the puppy photo looked cute. It was moist, sweetly tart and carrotastic. It was a delight, just as I'm sure Harriet must be.
There was an obvious mutual affection.
Walking down Union Park Street we found a row of fantastic spaces - grand but rustic with white-painted wooden floors, overstuffed couches and giant mirrors. And, yes, of course, beautiful things to buy. My favorite was Looc Boutique for its stunning jewelry made my local designers (always a good sign). The necklaces were my faves - a mix of textures and patterns, heavy metals and soft fabrics. I want. The space appears sparse for, well, clothing, but I found it refreshing being someone incapable of making a choice. Like a well-tailored menu at a ten-table restaurant, Looc made each piece of clothing special and drool-worthy. It was expensive, but being broke, everything is.
I mean the food in the South End is definitely something to check out. Before leaving work on Friday I was given a lengthy list of caloric venues, Buttery being the only one I ended up visiting. That's all well and good and I think that unique and tasty independent restaurants are a good sign of a growing creative vitality...it's still not there, or at least not impressing me.
I need to find more. And that was only the start. next weekend...
After our South End romp and a RUDE parking ticket R & I hit the grocery store for a sexy saturday night shopping spree built around a tart that I fancied making.
Smitten Kitchen is one of my go-to food blogs and low and behold, the first post on there was the onion and cauliflower tart..I was being begged.
Now, I'm not really a tart-making kind of a girl and R's kitchen is still bachelor-sheek, but damn if those photes aren't tantalizing. And so it went...
There were a few hiccups - an overflowing pie-filling and the omission of the nutmeg - but all in all I think it turned out down-right delicious.
mmmmmmountains of caramelized cheesy goodness:
And hello lunch.
xoxoL
Monday, March 23, 2009
Taking Boston by dinner
Visiting with R during wild and crazy spring break here in balmy Boston. I feel the itch for travel and by travel I mean food. With all the days, hours and minutes at my fingertips I am tapping into my inner foodie (fatty?). So we're on the hunt for meals bought, meals cooked and, above all, meals eaten.
First stop was R's apartment. Feeling snoozy from a early rise in Chicago we settled on a whole foods pizza topped with salad and home made dressing (a Hansen family tradition and secret).
Saturday we met up with my lovely friend Caitlin and her man Eilon (I'm probably wrong about the spelling of his name, though I'm pretty sure this is closer than I've been before because I sneaked a peak at his credit card signature) at this fabulous Middle Eastern restaurant called Red Fez in the south end. Delightful and delicious and there was even some belly dancing in case the grub wasn't enough.
So, anyway. Sunday we ventured out and up the coast. Walking around slightly desolate off season sea towns like Glouster and Westminster or something by the Sea. We had an awesome Cesar salad and this tuna business with jalapenos and avocados. yeah, that was good.
Dinner was late cause we decided to make a light salad with some miso dressing and were inspired by some blond beets. Having never actually made beets before I wasn't even sure how to do it but the little sign above the beets said something about boil and enjoy. It neglected to tell us that it was a 2 hour boil, but nonetheless the salad we ate at 10pm was a light and crunchy, slightly spicy, delectable dish.
But the thing is that when I get cooking (or whatever) I'm always in dire need of some chocolate. And we were watching the Barefoot Contessa earlier that day and she makes you think that 1) it's OK to cook with a stick of butter in every dish and that 2) chocolate is good at every meal. But R's kitchen, it turns out, isn't so much like the Barefoot's, but like a bachelors. Fully equipped with just enough silverware and bowls to get you by on a partially liquid diet.
So here I was inspired by the Barefoot, so much so to purchase a half a pound of dark chocolate and then figure the only thing I could melt it in was a jimmied double boiler involving two mugs, more or less. But it worked and I covered the shit out of some nuts and then this pretzel topped with peanut butter business that was AMAzing.
But NONE of that goodness tops what's simmering on the stove right this minute. Yeah, that's right. Take a big deep breath. That's short rib ragu that I'm gunna put over some pasta and then top with - wait for it - bitter sweet chocolate shavings. Just try not faint.
I'm trying not to. Oh yeah, and there might be some more of those pretzel peanut butter chocolate businesses in the fridge. Just hanging out until we're good and ready. Man spring break is the best.
It's been golden and delicious. And I'm definitely going to pull in another five pounds while I 'tour' Cambridge and all the rest.
Me scuzie, the ragu needs a stirring (genius does not cook itself).
More after we digest and eat again.
xoxoL (&R)
First stop was R's apartment. Feeling snoozy from a early rise in Chicago we settled on a whole foods pizza topped with salad and home made dressing (a Hansen family tradition and secret).
Saturday we met up with my lovely friend Caitlin and her man Eilon (I'm probably wrong about the spelling of his name, though I'm pretty sure this is closer than I've been before because I sneaked a peak at his credit card signature) at this fabulous Middle Eastern restaurant called Red Fez in the south end. Delightful and delicious and there was even some belly dancing in case the grub wasn't enough.
So, anyway. Sunday we ventured out and up the coast. Walking around slightly desolate off season sea towns like Glouster and Westminster or something by the Sea. We had an awesome Cesar salad and this tuna business with jalapenos and avocados. yeah, that was good.
Dinner was late cause we decided to make a light salad with some miso dressing and were inspired by some blond beets. Having never actually made beets before I wasn't even sure how to do it but the little sign above the beets said something about boil and enjoy. It neglected to tell us that it was a 2 hour boil, but nonetheless the salad we ate at 10pm was a light and crunchy, slightly spicy, delectable dish.
But the thing is that when I get cooking (or whatever) I'm always in dire need of some chocolate. And we were watching the Barefoot Contessa earlier that day and she makes you think that 1) it's OK to cook with a stick of butter in every dish and that 2) chocolate is good at every meal. But R's kitchen, it turns out, isn't so much like the Barefoot's, but like a bachelors. Fully equipped with just enough silverware and bowls to get you by on a partially liquid diet.
So here I was inspired by the Barefoot, so much so to purchase a half a pound of dark chocolate and then figure the only thing I could melt it in was a jimmied double boiler involving two mugs, more or less. But it worked and I covered the shit out of some nuts and then this pretzel topped with peanut butter business that was AMAzing.
But NONE of that goodness tops what's simmering on the stove right this minute. Yeah, that's right. Take a big deep breath. That's short rib ragu that I'm gunna put over some pasta and then top with - wait for it - bitter sweet chocolate shavings. Just try not faint.
I'm trying not to. Oh yeah, and there might be some more of those pretzel peanut butter chocolate businesses in the fridge. Just hanging out until we're good and ready. Man spring break is the best.
It's been golden and delicious. And I'm definitely going to pull in another five pounds while I 'tour' Cambridge and all the rest.
Me scuzie, the ragu needs a stirring (genius does not cook itself).
More after we digest and eat again.
xoxoL (&R)
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