Posted by Rachel on June 22, 2011 in
best of,
Boston,
breakfast,
foodieventure |
∞
While on an unrelated work assignment, I found myself touring bakeries and cafés in the Metrowest and Norfolk county areas of Greater Boston. My objective quickly transformed from a simple, yet repetitive task to a ravenous, impromptu food critic. Expecting to see mountains of scones, muffins and bagels, it came as a surprise to me that each bakery also sported some savory shade of a luncheon café. Had this trail taken me through these quaint, side-road shops several hours later, surely I would have sampled their great array of sandwiches, but alas, it was barely past the sunrise so I happily dined on delectable pastries. I broke from my typical pattern of eating in which I purchase the same item in order to choose which was best at the end of the day and instead opted to embrace the variety of breakfast fare.
At the beginning of the bakery crawl, I chose to obtain a sampling of a hole-in-the-wall’s delightful muffins, keeping to tradition I had the chocolate chip—slightly warmed. I knew at the first velvety bite that it was a stroke of luck I had a partner helping me that day; otherwise my stomach would soon be none-too-happy with me. We devoured the muffin from its sugary top down, ensuring each bite held a morsel of chocolate. Nearly a mile further down that road was a bagel shop, their everything-style bagel, slathered with lox-cream cheese and a side of iced coffee (hazelnut, of course) paired perfectly for a hearty second breakfast.
We meticulously looped through the town and located a larger, well marketed establishment that had just recently changed hands. The stream of customers boosted my belief in the eatery’s quality. Soon enough, their generous sampling of sweet breads placed precariously atop their counter was vultured clean in seconds. I was merely able to snag a piece of apple danish and cinnamon bread before the platter was retracted. Nonetheless, the meager snack satisfied my trust in the bakery’s claim of having the best bread in the county. But despite my taste buds begging for another bite of the danish, I had developed a whisper in my head instructing me to trek northward to the mythical home of what I had heard was the best croissant outside of Paris.
Another unplanned stop held me back from the buttery goodness awaiting ten miles away as we parked for a shared frozen mango smoothie. This was the precise boost of fruit needed to urge us further towards the final stop of the day and hopefully the famed croissant. As the mound of whipped cream melted into our mango drink just as the miles faded behind the wheels of the car, we emerged into the bustling town center of red brick buildings flanking a thriving park. Sitting on the common, this bakery was the most vibrant of all the others we had visited that morning. And there it was. Parked next to several incarnations of the luscious dough was the chocolate croissant. Light and airy, it practically floated onto our plate. Drizzled with chocolate and filled with the same smooth substance, the croissant pulled apart in flakey layers. Like unwrapping a long awaited Christmas present, I cherished each piece of the croissant before inhaling the thick, luscious center.
As the final bite disappeared, I regretted sharing this scrumptious pastry, devilishly eyeing its counterpart as it too was devoured. Feeling heavier already, we relaxed at the table long enough to recall how nearly each bakery we visited also boasted cupcakes; dainty cakes in all sizes: mini, cup or jumbo. Classic versions, specialty flavors and two for three deals. It was settled: as soon as we recovered from the marathon eating event, we would venture out again to discover if these bakeries could support an equally delicious cupcake crawl as well.
Posted by Rachel on June 5, 2011 in
audbudon,
best of,
nature |
∞
If you share my kindred love for nature, this list is for you. The National Audubon Society has preserves, sanctuaries and centers in nearly every state and even some US territories. Their mission to conserve America’s natural wildlife is breathtaking, not only in their extensive effort but the sights their parks offer. The Massachusetts Audubon is one-step removed from its national brethren, providing a local stomping-ground for the state’s residents with specialized rewards for its members. I was practically raised on these timeless sanctuaries, spotting animals through the brush and calling out bird names after their sweet songs. As a product of an Audubon wedding and a current employee, it seemed fitting to post my top five Mass Audubon locations.
Welfleet Bay, Welfleet – This prime Cape Cod sanctuary takes the top spot for its winding trails that snake visitors through a seaside forest before breaking into a magnificent seascape of the bay. The low tide estuaries harbor extensive sea life begging for a closer look, and the hide tide observation platform offers a glimpse into a hidden world.
Stony Brook, Norfolk – There is slight favoritism being played here since this is my second home during the spring and summer months. Located south-east of Boston, Stony Brook provides a central pond with accompanying marshes that are easily navigable. Crossing through three habitats on your walk, spotting a variety of animals on the short walk is commonplace.
Joppa Flats, Newburyport – Unusual terrain is not often as accessible as this Newburyport landmark. Nestled along the ocean’s edge, this north shore sanctuary draws you along placid salt-marshes and through living mudflats to the best location in Massachusetts for birding elusive birds and waterfowl.
Drumlin Farm, Lincoln – The name itself is indicative of its unmatched excellence for entertaining children. Its namesake farm houses grazing animals and the ageless hayride. Moreover, the compact loop of zoo-style exhibits allow for an interactive trail: the aviary is a personal favorite as is the underground room, giving a covert insight to burrowing animals. This sanctuary is a must-visit for young nature-lovers.
Broadmoor, Natick – Vast fields and a beautiful inland marsh provide the tranquil backdrop for a secluded walk. Patrons can traverse the paths while leaving their daily worries behind. Broadmoor is a wonderful viewing station for the transition of the seasons. Each cyclic visit opens new passageways to inspiration and reflection. After all, the bend in the boardwalk was the site of my parent’s wedding.
This list is only one review of the dozens of options available. Explore and make your own list! Outdoorsman, or not, the Mass Audubon houses such a vibrant collection of sights that people from all walks of life can find the right walk for them.
Posted by Rachel on April 13, 2011 in
Boston,
Harvard Writer's,
Lisa Tener,
writing |
∞
In the early, misty days of April I was privileged with a chance to attend the Harvard Writer’s Conference as a supplement to my editorial internship with book writing coach, Lisa Tener. The heavily anticipated weekend lived up to every wild concoction my nerves imagined. As an introduction to the inner-workings of the publishing industry, the flustered, tension-filled meeting room of seductively intimidating insiders offered an essential reality check. The marvelous Fairmont hotel function room had a heartbeat. And it was racing.
Hundreds of names, book pitches and rehearsed jokes bombarded me as I shadowed my inundated supervisor handling the tidal wave of authors like a season pro. I could merely listen and hope I retained every word. But my mental bookshelf only had room for so many volumes. On a whim I decided to brave the waters on my own. Venturing into the nearby workshops, I soaked up as much information as each presenter provided. Chicken-scratch notes recorded the most pertinent points. Finding hope. That stuck. The speaker prompted everyone to quickly describe a peaceful, remote island. Soft white sand washing rhythmically with the surf. A refreshing breeze saturated with salt. The cheerful calls of tropical creatures.
I connected with nearby attendants sporting a familiar, daunted stare. “What do you write about?” I was surprised that’s all it took. The knot in my shoulders untied as I found a common ground. Knowing everyone harbored similar dreams and goals made the rest of the conference as comfortable as a blue-sky summer cook-out with family laughing around the smoky charcoal grill. A blur of casual meals, miniaturized think-tank’s and rickety train rides to and from Boston became the patchwork of memories I took from this highly sought after collection of experts and future experts. Of all the workshops I wondered which would improve my writing. A mother from the suburbs I spoke with questioned if she could write her book. Everyone that pitched dwelled on their flights home if the agents would offer a contract. Really, we were all seeking hope. And I believe this conference is where we found it.
Posted by Rachel on January 25, 2011 in
foodieventure,
hamburger,
wisdom teeth |
∞
The horror stories compounded. Getting your wisdom teeth extracted created innumerable problems ranging from bruises to sleepless nights. As friends and family consoled me about the oncoming surgery, no one seemed to understand my true discontent. Liquid food. It took weeks of sympathetic head-tilts until finally my aunt pointed out the real concern. I would be deprived of an entire week or more worth of good nosh. But I had the will to persevere.
After the inebriating drugs wore off, I piled into creating decent food for my sore but insatiable desires. Jello, pudding and soup. It took several hours before this got tiring. I craved crunchy snacks like nuts and cereal, never mind being able to open my jaw wide enough to enjoy a decent sandwich. But the misery didn’t last long and was rewarded tenfold. Almost exactly two weeks after my teeth were extracted, my gradual return to solid food was complete with the delicious culmination of the perfect burger.
My jaw didn’t click or crack when I began devouring the burger. The back of my mouth wasn’t sore and every bite was full of deep grilled flavor with the perfect accoutrement of rich caramelized onions and crisp lettuce and tomato. No ketchup needed. I have never eaten another burger without condiments and been so pleased. Each scrumptious note of the burger blended together in a wondrous symphony. It even made me push away the perfectly season sweet potato fries that lounged at its side. The path from surgery to burger was slippery and bland, but it forced me to savor success.
Hundreds of names, book pitches and rehearsed jokes bombarded me as I shadowed my inundated supervisor handling the tidal wave of authors like a season pro. I could merely listen and hope I retained every word. But my mental bookshelf only had room for so many volumes. On a whim I decided to brave the waters on my own. Venturing into the nearby workshops, I soaked up as much information as each presenter provided. Chicken-scratch notes recorded the most pertinent points. Finding hope. That stuck. The speaker prompted everyone to quickly describe a peaceful, remote island. Soft white sand washing rhythmically with the surf. A refreshing breeze saturated with salt. The cheerful calls of tropical creatures. 
