Solo Sojourn

Scallop Ceviche with ALL the Veg

Vegetable Ceviche
Seven months ago, I lived in a town of white. I left my white house, shoveled white off my stairs so I could get down them, and navigated treacherous white streets, surrounded by tall white walls. Within those white walls, I felt about 3 inches tall, and the weight of that winter was heavier than a 3-inch-tall person could carry; I couldn’t breathe. I was cold and I was tired and I was sick, always sick. The only green in this world of white was knowing that I wasn’t alone. I had 650,000 people with whom I could commiserate. But that small patch of green wasn’t enough to nourish me and on a cold February day, as I cursed at my immune system, I craved warmth so badly that I did something pretty out of character: I booked a trip. Just like that. The trip was for April, when it would still be frigid and when the white would still be present.

It would be my first vacation in years. I had kept a list of places I would go. My top 5 international locations: 1. Peru/Chile 2. Istanbul/Greek Islands, 3. Morocco, 4. Back to France, 5. Mexico. Plus, there’s still a lot of this expansive country I want to see.

But I did not go anywhere on my list. I did not go anywhere I ever intended to go. I needed to go where the heat was inescapable, where the white wasn’t cold, and, most importantly, where I could do absolutely nothing. I went to Turks and Caicos, alone, with my books, music, and podcasts. And, for three short days, I did what I desired: nothing.

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A Tail of Two Lobster Rolls

“Tail”, get it?

Typically, I avoid the North End like the plague.
Well, perhaps not the plague. Maybe I avoid the North End like the flu, as I do head there occasionally for a less than perfect, but satisfactory cannolo from Modern, a sandwich from Volle Nolle, or for the adorable individual packages of imported Nutella from Salumeria Italiana
Ok, so maybe I avoid the North End like the common cold, but the point is that the hordes of tourists and the restaurants that get by serving their unknowing patrons lackluster, and often, inauthentic cuisine, prevent me from staying too long. In fact, my favorite places in the North End aren’t even 100% Italian: Taranta is an Italian/Peruvian restaurant (must order: the house made antipasto and the saffron butter brushed grilled trout), and my new favorite and the subject of our long-winded post today, Neptune Oyster, is a seafood restaurant with an emphasis on shellfish.

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