Maybe it’s irrational, but I feel so helpless as I sit holed up in my apartment for the ninth hour.  In seeing coverage of similar tragic events in the past (how awful is it that the phrase similar events – plural – rolls off the tongue so easily?), I’ve always tried to keep the focus on those afflicted.

“I feel so terrible for them.”  “We should say a prayer for those people.”  “I can’t believe this happened, I wish I could do something to help the families”

Because nothing irks me more than seeing someone make another person’s personal hell about them.  Feel bad, feel sad, feel scared and disenchanted with the world we live in.  Fine.  But the pain we all feel from the outside-looking-in cannot even compare to the all-encompassing pain of losing a loved one or having their life forever changed from the despicable ill-intent of others.

But today is different.  Today I learned it’s not black and white.  My prayers and thoughts are, first and foremost, with the victims of the Boston Marathon attack.  But unlike “similar events” of the past, today I’m not an outsider looking in, and every replay of the footage threatens to unleash everything I’ve been too numb to acknowledge.

This morning was wonderful – I had Patriots Day off, so some girlfriends and I decided to start the day with mimosas, fruit, and a delicious assortment of pastries from Deluca’s and Wired Puppy.  Around 1pm, we went to Globe on Boylston Street, where we split nachos, ordered salads (to reconcile the gluttony), and planned to mosey on over to the finish line to cheer on our friend who was running the Boston Marathon.  We would probably elbow our way in front of Forum – it has the best view, and it’s where I watched the finishers last year, anyway.  Unfortunately, our timing was a bit off.  We started a little on the early side, and by around 2:30 we were feeling the effects of morning drinking and a sugar crash, and our friend was still about an hour away, so we decided to head home and nap. After saying our goodbyes, I went upstairs to the apartment I love so much.  The one with the charming bay windows, in the heart of Back Bay, on the best block of Newbury Street (in our opinion), and right by the Boston Marathon finish line.

I walked in and barely had the chance to even flirt with the idea of sweatpants before I heard a huge blast.  I ran to the window and saw people standing around, a little confused.  Some people were running, but it’s Newbury Street and there were so many people.  I barely had a chance to register the first blast before I heard the second one and felt the whole building shake.  It felt and sounded like it was next door, and immediately following were screams of abject terror and a huge crowd of people running.  It is exactly like what you see in the movies.

I’ve never heard a bomb.  I knew these were bombs.  I knew it in every way a person can know that kind of thing, but the reality that there were bombs going off was unthinkable.  Did the stands collapse?  Or the stage?  Did someone set a record? But panic was already setting in because I knew.

Ryan was working, so I called him because that’s what I do when I have no idea what’s going on.  We had about thirty seconds of frantic –

“WHAT HAPPENED WHAT HAPPENED??? ARE YOU OK??”

“STAY PUT! WHERE ARE YOU? DON’T LEAVE THE HOUSE!”

“People are running, I feel like I need to run away, what if there’s another one!”

And then we got disconnected.  I frantically started texting and emailing, doing whatever I could to confirm that he was ok.  Refusing to leave until I knew where he was, I opened the window and called down to people in the streets, who confirmed it was a bomb.  A passing police officer told me to stay put.  Ten minutes passed with no word from Ryan, while I watched streets full of people crying, screaming, and running.  At one point I thought I saw some officials drag someone to the middle of the street.  Looking back, I’m assuming the person was an injured bystander.

Finally Ryan threw the door open and I pretty much collapsed into his arms a sobbing mess, so thankful that he had not been affected by the blast (I still didn’t know at this point where the bombs were detonated, and he works in a high profile building).  When our call dropped, he didn’t know that I wasn’t on the street and had the same fear as me, so he ran home to make sure I was safe.  We turned on the news, and saw reports and rumors of bombs found in the JFK Library, Apple Store on Boylston (where I bought my iPhone), the glass tunnel connecting the Prudential building and Copley Mall (which Ryan ran across to get to me just moments before), and a nearby hotel facing our cross-street.  We realized the second, deadliest blast went off at Forum, the restaurant directly behind our building and one of our favorite neighborhood go-to places.  Everyone was telling us to stay put, and that staying home was safest – but what happens when your home is next to the most dangerous place in the city?

Ryan told me to take Maverick and lock myself in the bathroom, away from the windows.  He put cushions up against the windows to guard us from a potential blast at the street level.  After running downstairs to talk to a police officer about whether it would be possible to get our car and get the hell out (it wasn’t), he came and sat in there with us.

For the next two-and-a-half hours, we sat in our tiny, hideously decorated bathroom, responding to the influx of frantic check-ins from our families and friends.  Thinking about their genuine concern brings a tear to my eye and humbles me to my very core.  The phones were down, but Ryan and I were both texting and Facebooking throughout the entire ordeal with people who, after awhile, were clearly still talking to us because they wanted to know we were ok – for our sake and theirs.  We are so thankful to have that kind of love and support in our lives, and there is no way to express that gratitude in a way that doesn’t cheapen the sentiment – but to all those people, please know how deeply and meaningfully we appreciated your care and concern.  And that it continued even after you knew we were fine.

Finally, we emerged from our cave to watch the press conference (and to ease our aching backs).  We remained seated behind the couch for good measure, and slowly settled back in.  We returned the cushions to the couch and have spent the rest of the night in semi-darkness, lost in thought, breaking the silence to share musings with each other.

So that’s where I am now.  This time last year, I was so excited to be living in such a great apartment in a prime location where I could watch the Boston Marathon finishers by simply walking downstairs and taking a left.  When the race was over and Ryan came home from work, we sat in our bay window and watched the crazy drunks mingle with the willowy athletes proudly wearing their medals.  While the sun went down, we made pizza together and caught up on Marathon footage.

This year, the only people on our streets are wearing vests and army suits.  No one is celebrating.

I am not a victim of this senseless act of violence, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t affected me in a way others haven’t.  I think about how close Ryan was to a bomb, and how easily the girls and I could have been standing in that area (especially if a friend hadn’t been parked on Dartmouth).  I see pictures of the first bomb – on the block I walk down every single day to go to and from work.  The Charlesmark Hotel, where we went with my sister and her family last summer.  They have monthly wine nights and cocktail nights that I haven’t made it to, yet.  Sugar Heaven with the funny plastic M&M guy outside, who had holes on the side they had to cover up with signs that said “This is not a trash can!”  Every night around 8:30pm, the store employees would drag him back in by his little arms.  The Marathon Sports, where I went to buy new tennis shoes when I got serious about running.  The Lenscrafters where I bought the glasses I wear as I type this.  Forum – great for drinks and a casual dinner, Starbucks – big, by Boston standards, Max Brenner – had great cocktails with friends there…the list goes on.

(Ryan sitting on the patio at Forum during one of our weeknight dinners out.  He was eating deconstructed beef wellington and drinking a glass of red wine.  As always, it was delicious and relaxing.)

I’m not a victim, but my home is a victim, and all these places that mark my happy memories are now marred with the blood of the injured and memories of the day that changed their lives for the worse.  It’s personal, and it makes me sick to my stomach every time they replay that God-awful footage.

I’ve spent the day shaking, intermittently crying, and barricaded in my bathroom with my boyfriend and my cat (who we both agreed would NEVER be left behind).   I’m absolutely terrified to take the T to work, and even more terrified to walk to that T stop, past the blown-out windows and stained pavement.  Back Bay has always been the Barbie of Boston – cosmetic perfection, materialistic, a little superficial but nice enough that you overlook it, filthy rich, and always, above all, fun. I wonder how this area of the Back Bay will return to its former glory, full of tourists, ladies who lunch, shoppers, and Boston’s elite.  Can it?  And if it does, does that mean we’ve forgotten what happened here?  How can an area like this one memorialize something so tragic and painful and still be that oasis of superficiality people need when they just want to have a good time?

I don’t know the answers.  The rest of the world is moving on, and the country began returning to normal about three hours after the bombing.  But don’t let that happen.  Go hug your loved ones – for ten minutes, I faced the possibility I could have lost one of mine, and so many more people were not as fortunate.  If you pray, say a prayer for the victims and their families.  If you don’t pray, please send loving thoughts their way.

But if you made it this far, thank you for listening.  I needed to get this off my chest.

If you or someone you know were personally affected by today’s senseless act of violence, please let us know how we can help.

Also, feel free to vent or share your own story below.

UPDATED: CLICK HERE for a full list of ways you can help.  (Thanks, Boston.com!)

Barbara Lynch???  Say no more.

I arrived at the store and went on a little tour.  I’m in the market for a new mattress, but I’ve always been a big fan of pillowtop mattresses.  Before now, my only experience with tempur material is the Bob-O-Pedic mattress on our couch bed, which I hear is quite comfortable but I have a sneaking suspicion you can’t really compare it to a) a legit mattress, and b) the name brand who patented the material in the first place (or was that Nasa?).  Anyway, I’ve never actually tried out a Tempur-Pedic for myself, so this presented the perfect opportunity to do so.

Upon walking in, I was greeted with this gigantic bed (that I couldn’t help thinking would look AH-MAZING in our bedroom….KnightlyBoyfriend, get on that for me, mmmkay?).

Since it was 9am, there were few things I felt like doing other than curling up into that glorious setup and going back to sleep.

I’m not a morning person.

I really liked the setup of the store (again, I don’t know if they’re all set up like this because I’ve never been in a Tempur-Pedic store).  It was perfect for a novice like me who has absolutely no idea what kind of mattress she wants. 

It started with a wall of memory foam.

Other than presenting the arguments for a Tempur-Pedic mattress over a regular mattress, it allows you to feel the varying degrees of support offered by the different lines.  I like to feel as though I’m sleeping on a cloud, so it’s no surprise that the Cloud line appealed the most to my achy back.

Then it came time to test out the mattresses.  The beds were organized by line and by degree of support.  My two favorites were the Tempur Weightless Supreme, a line of Tempur-Pedic mattresses made for those who like the feel of an innerspring mattress and a medium level of support,

and the Tempur Cloud line, which is, well, cloud-like.  Super soft, just how I like it.

These were my two faves:

The prices are…well, let’s just say Sallie Mae would come after my kneecaps with a bat if I made an  impulse buy.

At the end of the trek through the store, there’s a pillow bar that has all the Tempur-Pedic pillows on display for customers to feel and test out. 

The rest of the store has pretty luxurious bedroom accessories, like 600-count Egyptian cotton sheets and Nest fragrance products (which, if you’ve never tried them, are THE BEST – they infuse your entire home with subtle but really lovely scents).

This is the best scent by Nest – Bamboo.  Get you some.

Of course, the best part was breakfast.  The lox had a nice, buttery texture and just enough salt to season, but not enough to overpower the flavor of the fish.  The bagels were crusty on the outside and fluffy on the inside, the scones were buttery, and the cream cheeses were so delicious I could have eaten them with a spoon.  It wasn’t anything particularly new or fancy, but it was well executed.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get a photo with Babs (Barbara Lynch…you know, we’re on a first name basis like that), but it was not a bad way to start a Tuesday morning.

Like this, which I stumbled upon while trying to explain the ERMAHGERD phenomenon to KnightlyBoyfriend and promptly dissolved into a fit of snorting, uninhibited belly laughter:

(Source.)

As much as I love sharing an apartment with the boy toy (and I miss him so much when he’s gone blah blah blah), hearing that I have the apartment to myself for the occasional evening results in this:

(Source.)

A bottle of wine to myself and UNLIMITED chick flicks?  Plus all of Bride Day on the DVR??

YES.

But first, I celebrated with a little retail therapy.

(Source.)

Two years ago, Ryan gave me a gift card to Williams Sonoma for my birthday that I foolishly held onto because I wanted to buy the PERFECT kitchen item.  I wavered between a dutch oven (HAH.  And yes, I’m five.) and a mandolin, and after watching three – ok, ok five straight hours of Chopped my decision became clear.  I put on pants, tamed the crazy beast mane, and strutted my big, bad self down to Williams Sonoma where I made out like a MF BANDIT with a mandolin, a new coffee table book, truffle salt (SWEET JESUS), and a few other overpriced kitchen accessories.

Then I stopped by Trader Joe’s and walked aimlessly through the store to decide which foodstuffs were worthy of my new kitchen gadget and borderline-maniacal appreciation for secret single behavior (which, most unfortunately for KnightlyBoyfriend, generally happens regardless of whether I’m home alone…it just reaches new heights when left unbridled for an evening).  Finally, the Heavens parted and it became clear what I would be eating with my Cotes du Rhone blanc.

You know how dogs have that spot on their belly that, when rubbed, causes their uncontrollable kicking of the back foot?  Scallops are that spot on the belly for me.  I love them.  I can’t get enough of them.  I love that they’re light but meaty and filing, and nothing – NOTHING – beats the sweet, caramelized crust around the edges.

Friends, BEHOLD: Scallops with zucchini and pasta in a lemon, white wine, and garlic sauce.  (The zucchini was julienned on the new mandolin!)

(If you want to do a lower calorie version of this, just omit the pasta and double up the zucchini.)

I used the mandolin to slice my onion paper thin and to julienne my zucchini.  I love it – I’d recommend it to anyone.  For forty bucks?  It’s basic, but what more do you really need?  I can’t WAIT to get my greedy little hands on some eggplant…

Anyway, start by searing the scallops in olive oil over medium-high heat (about 2-3 minutes each side).  They’ll pull away from the bottom of the pan when they’re ready to flip, but it’s critical that you heat the oil first.

While that’s going, saute onions and garlic with a little red pepper until translucent and also caramelized.

(Pretty onion ribbons from my new mandolin!!)

When they start turning brown, turn up the heat and add the zucchini.

Once the pan is dry, pour in a splash of wine and the juice of half a lemon.  Keep stirring over medium heat for another 3-5 minutes, until the zucchini is wilted but still has a bite to it and the liquid has reduced slightly.

Add in the pasta and toss with parm.  Squeeze the other half of the lemon over the whole thing and voila!

The whole shebang took all of 20 minutes.  Easy for a weeknight, a show-stopper for company, and perfect for nights at home when you’re parking on the couch, sipping wine, and catching up on your lady shows.

Spill it.  What’s your secret single behavior? ]]> http://www.knightattherestaurant.com/2012/09/05/that-spot-on-the-belly/feed/ 3 http://www.knightattherestaurant.com/2012/08/27/review-uni-sashimi/ http://www.knightattherestaurant.com/2012/08/27/review-uni-sashimi/#comments Mon, 27 Aug 2012 22:15:49 +0000 KnightlyRatings http://www.knightattherestaurant.com/2012/08/27/review-uni-sashimi/ As someone who grew up in a region characterized by bold and zesty cuisine imparted by its Cajun, Southwestern, and Southern cultural underpinnings, I am drawn to complicated dishes that pack the punch with complex spice combinations, intricate sauces, and tongue-singeing heat.  While living in New England has certainly honed my appreciation for allowing the natural flavors of ingredients to shine, I still find my palate piqued by the robust flavors of my youth.

Uni’s food does something amazing by marrying these divergent philosophies through inventive ingredient combinations.  Intriguing and unfamiliar flavors play across the tongue with each bite, while also elevating the natural flavor of the fish and allowing it to sing.

Uni needs no introduction.

370 Commonwealth Avenue
Boston, MA 02115
617-536-7200

Uni Sashimi Bar

The Atmosphere

Uni is located in the Eliot Hotel, connected to Ken Oringer’s acclaimed venture, Clio. I’ve been to Clio for drinks, but it was my first experience stepping down into Uni.  The area was much smaller than I had originally thought – I think there were only five tables and a bar bordering the very small preparation area.  We opted to sit at the bar and watch the action, something I’d highly recommend to first-time visitors or anyone who wants to watch the meal preparation.  Watching the care taken and attention paid to every piece of fish and every minuscule detail made the meal that much more special.

(Source.)

It was quiet, but it was clear that the people in that small space were there to sample the well-reputed delicacies.  Diners were examining every plate intently and taking the time to taste each component, action rarely seen collectively among patrons.  We were certainly no exception.

The Food

I’m OBSESSED (obsessed) with Clio’s cocktails, meticulously perfected by the ingenious mixologist, Todd Maul.  If I knew someone who only had three hours to spend in Boston, I would tell them that sipping a cocktail at Clio should be a priority.  In fact, Clio’s Bull’s Eye Gin & Tonic was recently named on of Boston’s top 15 most iconic drinks.

(It’s worth the hype.  But that’s another story for another time.)

Part of Uni’s appeal is that you can enjoy the impeccably fresh sashimi while sipping a cocktail from the 24-page menu at Clio.  Tonight, I opted for the Mary’s Liquor Cabinet, a mixture of Tanqueray, Cocchi Americano, Grand Classico, Wormwood Bitters, and Lillet Paint, all deconstructed/evaporated in a rotovap and brought back together to create something magical.

NERD ALERT: While the concept of a rotovap is a little beyond the comprehension of my liberal arts education and lack of scientific understanding, the best comparison I can fathom will only make sense to other Harry Potter lovers.  You know how, in The Half Blood Prince, Slughorn kicks off a potions lesson with the task of separating the components of a poison to find its antidote?  If I comprehend correctly, it’s kind of like that.  The purpose is to concentrate the flavors of the various components before mixing them back together, and the effect is mind-boggling.

(If I’m wrong about/grossly misunderstood this, please feel free to correct me in the comments!)

With each sip of this cocktail, new hints of flavor sparkled across my tongue.  It started out sweet and floral with accents of caramel, slowly melded into the slightly bitter, slightly citrusy flavor of caramelized lemon peel, and ended with a mellow oaky-ness.  The sensation lasted for several seconds after each sip.  It was a delightful and surprising way to enjoy a cocktail.

For dinner, we wanted to supplement the Restaurant Week menu with something from the regular menu, so we chose to be adventurous and try something new – the restaurant’s namesake, Uni, or sea urchin.

I’m not going to lie.  My experience with uni made me consider dismantling my blog altogether.  Ryan and I had a long discussion on our walk home about whether or not I should even mention trying it in the write-up, but ultimately decided in the interest of authenticity it would be ridiculous to pretend it never happened.

I didn’t like it.

With everything you read and see about this and that professional food critic absolutely RAVING about uni, I’m actually terrified that any respectable food enthusiast will see this and assume I’m some bumpkin who has no business blogging (if they haven’t already), but I’m just putting it out there.  Texturally it was lovely, a cross between a custard and a foam that actually dissolves upon hitting your tongue.  The color was a vibrant orange, and I don’t doubt for a second that it was impossibly fresh.  The accompaniments brought out the briny sea flavor in a lovely way.  However, the underlying flavor was a mouth-puckering bitterness that I just couldn’t get past.  While I would definitely give it another shot, it’s not something I’m eager to eat again.

This isn’t a knock on Uni at all, but a reflection of my palate.  Perhaps, for me, uni is an acquired taste.  If this makes me a simpleton, I guess I’ll have to deal.  I’m really disappointed in myself for not loving it, but I just…didn’t.  I feel like there’s something wrong with me.

Now that I’ve ripped that bandaid off, we’ll move to the rest of the meal, which was absolutely stellar.  One of the best I’ve had in a long time, and definitely in the top five ever.

We both started with the sake sashimi, which was thinly sliced Scottish salmon lightly dressed in a cucumber jalepeno vinaigrette and garnished with minced grilled pineapple and Japanese puffed rice.  As a general rule, KnightlyBoyfriend and I try to order different things, but the appeal of spicy jalepeno was too much for either of us to pass up so we both ordered it.  And we were so glad we did.

(This picture would have been so much better on a real camera.)

Salmon is usually not my first choice due to the underlying fishiness that often runs through the flesh.  This salmon had none of that.  Thinly sliced and impossibly tender, it was only slightly sturdier than the uni that dissolved in our mouths.  It tasted like fish butter – bright, fresh, and meaty, offering little resistance to the tooth.  You would assume that the bold flavors accompanying it – the spicy jalepeno, sweet pineapple, and toasted rice – would overpower the delicate flavor of so fine a fish, but they only served to enhance the natural flavor of the fish itself.  I couldn’t eat it with my eyes open – I had to focus all my energies on making that glorious taste last as long as possible.  This is a dish I’ll remember for many years, and has completely altered my perceptions about what is possible with salmon.

For our main course, we both ordered the Chirashi, a bowl of seasoned black and white rice topped with the chef’s choice of sashimi and pickled cabbage.  When placing our orders, we asked if we would each receive a different selection of fish to sample, and we were delighted that the chefs obliged.

I had bigeye tuna topped with wasabi mustard and fried shallots, hamachi (yellowtail amberjack) topped with sea salt and minced Japanese peppers, and local striper ceviche (did they read my mind? how did they know I’m a ceviche enthusiast!?).

The texture of the bigeye tuna was similar to the salmon – a delicate block of meaty tuna that offered no resistance to my bite.  The bright, fresh flavor was enhanced by the acid from the mustard, and the paper-thin fried shallots provided a nice textural contrast.

After gushing to the waiter about how much I loved the salmon, he relayed my message to the chefs.  They specifically chose hamachi for me because it’s another fish that has a reputation for being temperamental and, at times, fishy.  It obviously was not in this circumstance.  While meatier and sturdier than the buttery salmon, it had a light, delicate flavor.  Its inherent sweetness was highlighted by the Japanese peppers.

The local striper ceviche was my favorite.  Thinly sliced and very lightly seasoned with an acidic component (I believe it was lemon, but I can’t remember for sure), it was light and flavorful but also sturdy in texture.

Ryan’s plate contained the same bigeye tuna, sea bass from Italy topped with goji berries, and striped jack from Japan dotted with wasibi.

We both agreed that, while we enjoyed trying less familiar fish varieties, the bigeye tuna was a superb version of a favorite.  I said that in light of everything else the tuna was like a comfort food, and Ryan took a bite and said thoughtfully, “Yeah.  When I eat it, it’s like ‘hey, I know you.’” and then he smiled as if recalling a good memory.  That’s just the type of reaction it evoked.  No, it’s nothing exotic or unusual, but it was a classic done better than ever, and for us, that made a stronger statement than anything else.

The sweet and slightly acidic notes of the goji berries intensified the subtle sea flavor of the Italian sea bass, which had a slightly more gelatinous texture than the other fish varieties.  The striped jack was very mild and almost fruity in flavor, with the same sturdy texture as the hamachi.  All were phenomenal.

The rice served with each plate was a mixture of black and white rice lightly seasoned in a way that nicely complemented the fish.  It did not compete with the flavors in the fish and enhanced the sweetness, and also provided a palate-cleanser between bites.

For dessert I had the green cardamom flan, served with sweet corn ice cream, dehydrated blueberries, and coconut powder.

The flan was more custard-like than gelatinous as I expect with flan, and I loved it.  It was creamy and contained the perfect balance of sweet cream and cardamom.  I kind of gave the idea of sweet corn ice cream the side-eye, but was delighted by the combination of sweet custard and the hint of nuttiness from the corn.

KnightlyBoyfriend ordered the blackberry cocoa cremeux.

There were two small dots of the cocoa cremeux, but it was so packed with rich chocolate flavor it was enough.  It had an underlying saltiness that satisfied sweet/salty cravings, and the presence of tart blackberry sauce pulled out the complexities of the cocoa.  Delicious.

The Bill

Our total (before tip) was roughly $101, and included:

• Two Restaurant Week meals ($33.12 each)
• Uni Sashimi ($16)
• Mary’s Liquor Cabinet cocktail ($13)
• Tax

A Note About Uni and Cost

If you’re anything like me and burdened with offensive student loan payments that will likely last until you’re 5,000 years old (or, you know, living in the real world where resources are scarce and recreational activities have to be triaged), you might find it difficult to justify the expense of places like Uni during non-Restaurant Week periods.  Even so, I urge you to try Uni.  The care they take with each individual ingredient is inspiring, and it really allows you to taste the natural flavors of the fish through inventive pairing and preparation.  It’s also a great opportunity to try the cocktails at Clio, which CANNOT be missed.

Even if the tasting menu is out of our price range, Uni offers some really great deals to diners looking for a bargain.  They end each week with Sake Bomb Sundays, where diners can enjoy a 4-course prix fixe menu that includes a Sapporo and sake (a better deal than Restaurant Week!).  They also offer late-night Ramen on Fridays and Saturdays after 11pm.  If you go to either of these you can supplement with one or two items from the regular menu and have a well-rounded experience.

So…what are you doing next Sunday?

Summary of this Knight at the Restaurant

• To put it simply, Uni is amazing.  Go.  It’s not like you’d expect anything but perfection at a Ken Oringer establishment, but still…go and experience it for yourself.
• The waitstaff is very knowledgeable and passionate about the food and cocktails.  We had two waiters and they were both able to describe each ingredient – from the fish to the obscure garnish – in detail, down to its geographical origin.  Oh and there’s a refreshing absence of snobbery, so even the most timid of diners can feel free asking questions.
• Each component has its place on the plate – nothing is there “just cuz.”  The flavors all combine to enhance the main attraction, and the result is a bite with beautifully balanced flavors that play on the tongue long after the bite is gone.
• I know Uni isn’t cheap, but they offer some really great alternatives to diners on a budget.  I highly recommend taking advantage, but supplement it with an item from the regular menu so you can experience the dishes that have contributed to Uni’s stellar reputation.

FINAL RATING: 4.7/5.0

KNIGHTED

In case you missed it, click here to see our 15 minutes of fame.

Cats across the country in December:

Cats in Texas:

(Someone get this guy some pants!)

You see, with the changing seasons you have things to look forward to, like snow in winter (which still enchants me every time it falls softly to the ground, blanketing the earth in glittery powder).  Or the vivid and equally spellbinding leaves in the fall.  Or the warmth of the summer sun when it finally hits your shoulders (because here, it’s finite).  Or Christmas…except more authentic because I can’t tan in my backyard while the ham is roasting.

But more than any of this, the changing seasons bring with them another kind of magic.  A magic that warms me to my very core and embraces my soul in a way that makes me feel as though I can conquer the world.  And this magic is available once in the winter and once in the summer.

BRING ON RESTAURANT WEEK!

Christmas, schmistmas.

(Source.)

Look, say what you will about the hoards of rude diners and the sub-par quality of food and service.   Restaurant Week is a way to get diners – some of whom wouldn’t go if they had to pay full price – in the door, spending a little money on food and an exorbitant amount on alcohol, and (if restaurants play their cards right) raving about how good the food is to friends.  It’s brilliant.

Oh and what’s that?  You’re above Restaurant Week?  Well then you may take your hoards of money elsewhere and I’ll take my jealously and teeny wallet to one of the high end restaurants offering great deals for loan-laden millennials like myself.

(Source.)

Every year, twice a year, I anxiously await the ping of the email announcing that the menus are up.  Oh boy, at that point?  Clear my MF schedule, I’m BUSY the rest of the afternoon.  Looking at menus, taking notes, and deciding which restaurants I like for lunch, which I like for dinner, and which are my top 5 that I must try (because let’s be honest, even though thirty bucks for a three-course meal in Boston is a steal, I’ve got to keep my loan shark – aka that conniving bitch Sallie Mae – off my back).

So what are the criteria for such an important and exclusive list?  In addition to the general reputation of a restaurant, I consider the following:

• Have I been there? If the answer is yes, it defeats the purpose.
• How expensive is the normal menu? I feel like $33 for three courses anywhere is a great deal, but I definitely don’t need that much food.  If I can normally get an entrée for less than $25, I’ll pass on that establishment for Restaurant Week and try it at a later date.
• How’s the drink menu? Delicious food?  Great.  Delicious food but no unusual cocktails or wine to try?  It goes on the “maybe” list.  With more than 200 restaurants to choose from, you’ve gotta trim the fat somewhere.
• What’s on the menu? This is the most important question.  Usually the other three criteria help me narrow down the list to about 30 (no, I’m not even remotely kidding), and from there I look at the menus to see who is offering at least one item I’ve never tried.  Steak, chicken, and salmon just aren’t going to cut the mustard during Restaurant Week.  Extra points if the menus have something I’ve never tried and something else containing duck, mushrooms, or any combination of the two.  Or bread pudding…that erases any number of sins.

This year, after much deliberation –

my Top 5 for Restaurant Week are:

1. Gaslight Brasserie

I can’t decide what’s better – the crepes parisienne or fried brie for an appetizer, the tagliatelle with pork belly, or the fact that the price includes a glass of wine.  I love me a good deal.

2. Uni Sashimi Bar

As the lower priced, but still certainly not inexpensive, little sister to the brilliant Ken Oringer’s Clio, I frankly don’t give a damn what’s on the menu.  I’m just excited I get to sample Chef Oringer’s food while sipping cocktails from Clio (served at Uni) that take me into another flavor dimension.

3. Toro

Another Ken Oringer creation, Toro is my unicorn.  No matter what I do, plans to make it there always fall through.  It’s a Restaurant Week list staple, not because I wouldn’t go when it’s not Restaurant Week, but because hey, maybe a discount on dinner will somehow get this to work out.

4. Pigalle

They have a large Restaurant Week menu that includes fresh oysters, duck liver terrine, escargot bourguignon, and duck a l’orange.  Need I say more?

5. Craigie on Main

Ok, so I know I’ve been to Craigie before, and I know they don’t really do Restaurant Week.  They offer their Sunday night “Chef’s Whim” menu throughout the week instead.  They market it as “not wanting to sacrifice quality for price,” which (aside from being a brilliant marketing ploy) benefits both the restaurant and the customer.  They get to use up whatever ingredients they have in excess, the chefs get to experiment a little, and the diners get something that was created especially for them at a heavily discounted price.

I don’t care if I’ve been, this place is one of the best restaurants I’ve ever been to and if I can take advantage of deals, I’m going to.

Runners up:

The Wine Cellar, Meritage, and Brasserie Jo.  Everything in Cambridge is a runner up; unfortunately, we don’t make it over there as often as we’d like.

If you want more information on Restaurant Week, go to the official site for a full listing of restaurants and published menus.  They also have information about special deals, like who includes wine, which menus have been extended, non-traditional Restaurant Week specials, etc.

For the record:

Restaurant Week favorites from the past include Marliave, Umbria Prime, and L’espalier.  We had less-than-favorable experiences at Mare (BEFORE they revamped the menu, though) and Sibling Rivalry.  All of these reviews and more are available on my Reviews page.

What are your Restaurant Week top five?  What were your best and worst Restaurant Week experiences?

I love the constant hustle and bustle of tourists and residents roaming the eclectic mix of boutiques, shops, and restaurants, the never-ending parade of Italian sports cars vying for the pissing contest gold, the big hair and small dogs of Back Bay’s ritziest residents walking through the street, and the dizzying array of dining options within ten steps from our front door.  I even love our apartment, which more than makes up for its small size with an overabundance of sass and charm that suits us and our spoiled cat perfectly.

We’re so settled and content here that we’ve carved out the same routines everyone has in their neighborhoods – gyms, cleaners, laundromats, grocery stores, and restaurants.  All of this is fantastic, but we’ve recently realized that in taking extreme advantage of our location we might be missing out on the other great opportunities our city has to offer.

So last weekend, I put my foot down and bought a Groupon for a NEW restaurant.  I said to Ryan and our friend Sethiford, “Boys, TONIGHT…tonight, we try something NEW.”  And then after buying the Groupon, I realized that this mysterious restaurant was located in…Back Bay.  Oh, and the Groupon wasn’t even valid on weekends.  So much for THAT little plan.

At least now we have another neighborhood restaurant to frequent when we feel like walking ten blocks instead of two.

33 Stanhope Street
Boston, Massachusetts 02116
617-723-3131

The Brahmin

The Atmosphere

For starters, The Brahmin has outdoor seating, which is pretty cool.  As soon as I stepped foot inside this place, I knew I’d love it.  It was warm and cozy, with dim lighting, exposed brick walls, a hearty wooden bar, and rich leather sofas and chairs sporadically placed throughout.

(Sorry for the blurry photos, I was trying to be inconspicuous.)

I guess The Brahmin was designed to look like a Back Bay brownstone, so it had home-y touches everywhere that combined the feel of a lounge and living room.  I especially liked the art on the walls.

It’s your classic gastropub, serving handcrafted cocktails and fine dining twists on American favorites in a “vintage chic” atmosphere.  I’m still a big fan of the trend, so I dig it.

The clientele was comprised mostly of young professionals in their mid- to late-twenties.  We went around 9pm, and it was pretty crowded already.  The music was loud, but you could still have a conversation over it.  As the night progressed, the music got louder and it became evident that dinner was coming to a close.  Around 10pm, they started clearing furniture out of our area to make room for a dance floor – a great idea in theory, but kind of irritating when you’re trying to finish your dinner.  If I go back, I’ll plan my night with the changeover in mind.

Otherwise, a great atmosphere.  The music was mostly Top 40, with a few oldies-but-goodies from the 80s and early 90s.

A note on service: really not the best.  The waitress was super nice, but she didn’t seem knowledgeable about the menu and she wasn’t very attentive (it took her 45 minutes to bring us the check, for example).  The dragging pace of the meal is what kept us there until they started moving furniture out of the way for the dance floor, which resulted in several bobbing tables delivering harsh smacks to my shoulders and chair.  After this happened three times, one of the guys moving the tables saw me make a face and apologized, but COME ON.  I’m not saying The Brahmin is crazy expensive or ritzy, but prices suggest that I can expect not to get decapitated while eating my dessert.  It put a major damper on the evening.

But again, next time we’ll just go earlier.

And word to the wise – MAKE RESERVATIONS.  This place fills up quickly, and it’s almost impossible to get in on Friday or Saturday without them.

The Food

I went with these two fools.

[Picture of KnightlyBoyfriend and Sethiford - wearing matching button-downs, I might add - removed because, in Ryan's words, "I seriously look like I was sleeping because I was drunk, then slapped in the face with lemon and habanero sauce."  Well, ok then.]

Rumor has it that The Brahmin has great cocktails, so naturally we started with those.

I had the Saltonstall, a mixture of Maker’s Mark, raspberry puree, fresh-squeezed lime, simple syrup, and soda water.

It looks fruity, but it was stiff and just lovely.  It tasted like a whiskey sour with a nice undercurrent of raspberry that enhanced the sour flavor and complemented the sweetness of the whiskey.

KnightlyBoyfriend ordered the Crowningshield Manhattan, for which the addition of St. Germain brought a new twist to a classic favorite.

Although it sounds like a strange combination, the notes sweetness from the St. Germain was delicious!  It was the perfect amount to add another dimension to the drink – not overpowering at all.

Sethiford ordered the red sangria.

The sangria was on the sweet side, but it tasted like ripe, bursting fresh berries.  If you normally like sangria, you’ll like the refreshing flavor of this one.

The Brahmin’s menu is one of small plates, with a few sandwiches, burgers, and entrees thrown in for good measure, so patrons can opt for a tapas-style or traditional entree dinner.  After perusing the menu, we decided on the former because everything looked so good.

We ordered the Tuna Two Ways:

The tuna was perfectly fresh.  I’m still not sure how I feel about the tuna/melon, but it was an interesting combination.  The tartar was seasoned with sweet ginger and soy, and the wasabi aioli was spicy but not at all overpowering on the tuna.

The sizzling spicy shrimp:

The buttery sauce had whole peppers just chillin’ in the skillet, heating it up.  I wished we had more bread to soak up the spicy, garlicky sauce.

Sausage-stuffed arancini with roasted red peppers, caramelized onions, and roasted garlic.

I love arancini, and these did not disappoint.  I was hoping for nice ribbons of sweet, caramelized onion and chunks of Italian sausage, but the flavors were not distinguishable.  Regardless, the arancini were typical arancini – cheesy, crunchy, and delicious.

Fried pickles with a sweet red pepper sauce:

If I had to guess, I would say these pickles are house-made.  They had a subtle sweetness to them that went well with the red pepper aioli.  They were flakier and more delicate than the pickles at Stoneforge, but I think I prefer the brinier flavor and thicker crust of the Stoneforge pickles a little better.  These were good, though.

The filet mignon bruschetta with fresh mozzarella and tomato-avocado salsa:

The steak was nice and tender and the tomato-avocado salsa added great flavor.

Finally, the grilled pork tenderloin with colcannon (a mashed potato and cabbage mixture) and habanero applesauce (whole order shown).

This dish was remarkable.  The tenderloin was cooked to impossibly tender perfection.  The exterior was a crust of sweet apple glaze greatly enhanced by the habanero applesauce.  By the way, the habanero applesauce?  Oh. Em. Gee.  I have never tasted anything like it.  It was infused with the habaneros – you could taste every note of the spicy pepper, but there was no burn left on the tongue.  I don’t even know how that’s possible.

The dessert menu isn’t online, so here it is:

I had the chocolate banana bread pudding, because there’s nothing in the world I love more than bread pudding.  Except bread pudding that contains some combination of chocolate and bananas.  And a sexy, robust rum sauce…but I suppose that’s just getting greedy.

It was more like traditional bread pudding than the usual congealed block of bread custard.  It was quite good, but I’m still on the prowl for the perfect Southern-style bread pudding in New England.

Overall we left very impressed.  The drinks were delicious, and the food was all above par.  The pork tenderloin was exceptional.  We were expecting this to be a similar scenario to Storyville, but were pleasantly surprised by the quality of everything we consumed.  The reason behind the great experience at The Brahmin is BALANCE – the drinks had the perfect balance of alcohol and cordials and the ingredients in the food all had a purpose.  No one flavor trumped or competed with another.

The execution of recipes was purposeful, leading to a really delightful meal.  I wish we had stayed to boogie down afterward.  I’m happy the Groupon gives me a reason to return; all three of us are already looking forward to going back.

The Bill

After waiting for at least 45 minutes, it arrived in this:

My squeal of delight was stifled when I opened it.

Ah, well.  You can’t win ‘em all.

The total for three people (6 dishes, 3 drinks) was $115.07, and included:

• Crowningshield ($9.35)
• Saltonstall ($11.21)
• Sangria ($7.48)
• Bread pudding ($8)
• Fried pickles ($5)
• Shrimp ($12.50)
• Arancini ($10)
• Tuna ($14)
• Filet bruschetta ($10)
• Tenderloin ($20)
• Tax ($7.53)

Summary of this Knight at the Restaurant

• MAKE RESERVATIONS – the line starts backing up around 9pm, especially in the summer.
• If you go for dinner only, go at 8pm or earlier or you might have to mind your head for the sea of moving furniture.
• Everything we had, from drinks to dessert, was enjoyable.  Order whatever looks good and you’ll probably leave happy.
• Even for the entrees, portion size is smaller.  We ordered five small plates and one entree to split between the three of us (two big guys and me, who has the appetite of a big guy) and we left satisfied.  Not OMGSTUFFED, but satisfied.

Final Rating: 4.3/5.0

KNIGHTED

Where have you “branched out” (or not) lately?

This week, I got filmed eating. For TV. Like, WHAT?? A producer of a national TV show read my blog and decided that they wanted to feature me as the host in a new program that will begin airing next spring!

That’s a lie. A sad, sad lie devised by pitiful blogger.

What really happened: every year at my company’s Christmas party someone wins a really cool prize, and my coworker (not even me) won a package that involved dinner at a local restaurant and the opportunity to appear in TV Diner’s (not national, very local) “Diner for a Day” segment. She is the best person ever, in the entire world, and invited me to join her. Naturally I ran home immediately to plan my outfit.

(Source.)

Is it pathetic that three minutes on a TV show is maybe the most exciting thing to ever happen to me? Probably. But I’m ok with that. BECAUSE I’M GONNA BE ON TV, Y’ALL.

I thought it might be cool to take you through the steps of filming while reviewing the restaurant we visited. Granted, this isn’t going to be a full review because we went during off-hours. I also don’t really feel comfortable reviewing the service, because it was SO exemplary it was clearly staged.  For instance, I don’t think it was an accident that our waitress was the cutest, bubbliest staff member in the room.  Also, you know how some places will take your used silverware and place it back on the table between courses?  I would totally peg this restaurant as the place that would do that, but we got what resembled freshly polished silverware at least four times throughout dinner.  Not that I’m complaining – it was pretty cool – but I just don’t think it was realistic enough to assume that’s the norm.

Who knows, maybe it is…like I said, I wouldn’t know.  It’s like the cat fur on our couch.  Our good friends don’t really get the benefit of seeing our couch in its freshly vacuumed glory.  They can suck down that cat hair all the live long day because, hey, they’re practically family and they are comfortable with my crazy ass cat lady-ness.  But if someone has been to our apartment less than 10 times?  They’ll assume Maverick is hairless and just wearing a really cute little coat I fashioned especially for him.

(I like to look like an exhibitionist while I destroy your house with my thick Russian fur.)

Ok, bad example, but do you see where I’m going with this?

10 Roosevelt Circle
South Easton, Massachusetts 02375
508-238-0550

Stoneforge Grill

(Update: See our segment here!)

Getting Ready to Film

Ok so can I be honest?  I totally didn’t have high expectations for this place.  For one, it looks like your average steakhouse chain restaurant (which I tend to avoid like the plague because I prefer quality over quantity).  Secondly, the menu is huge and the prices are low.  Living in Boston has skewed my perceptions of food entirely; I’m used to the small and more expensive menus typically breeding better dishes.  I forget about the inflation of price and pomp characteristic of Boston restaurants.

We arrived to the restaurant about 45 minutes early, so we compensated by reapplying lipstick in the bathroom and ordering some pre-dinner libations.  We decided that fried pickles would be necessary to soak up some alcohol from said libations.

(Getting drunk on TV is not classy.)

The fried pickles took me back to my childhood.  When I was younger I would visit family in Mississippi twice a year, and I would always beg my aunt to take me to this place in Oxford called Kalos that had the BEST fried pickles served with “comeback sauce” (spicy ranch).  Every encounter with fried pickles since that time has involved pickle spears, which are just NOT as good as the chips.

These fried pickles took me back.  They were crispy and crunchy, and the seasoning was perfection.  I could have eaten these suckers all night long.  The dipping sauce was no comeback sauce, but it wasn’t bad.

The Filming

This takes place in two parts.  The restaurant scene is one part, and all we had to do was eat.  They would film the dishes arriving at the table and us taking the first bites.  The next segment will involve a trip to the studio, where Billy Costa (the show’s host) will interview us about the experience.

Our crew consisted of one cameraman, Michael, who was great and very friendly.  When he arrived, he asked us to walk outside so he could film us walking into the restaurant.  It was slightly awkward – we had a fake conversation about “uhhhh, this is weird” complete with big hand motions and smiles.  After we walked in, I became acutely aware of my poor posture and immediately wished we could re-shoot the scene.  Let’s hope I don’t look like Quasimodo.

The hostess led us to our table, which was already set for two and located next to the fireplace.

Michael told us he would film the food arriving to the table, and film us eating our first bites, but then he would disappear so we could enjoy our dinner.  He was right; I don’t think he ended up filming more than about 5-10 minutes total.

(This is staged, but it pretty much looked like this.)

The Food

I couldn’t get shots of the food arriving to the table because Michael had to film us eating our first bites, so the following pictures are uglier than usual.

Naturally we started off with cocktails.

I ordered the Cucumber Crisp, a mix of Effen Cucumber Vodka, St. Germain, soda water and cucumber slices ($8.25).

It was similar to a cucumber gimlet with St. Germain.  It was fine – nothing earth-shattering but great for a hot summer day.

Nicole got a Guilt-Free Creamsicle, which contained Pinnacle orange and whipped cream vodkas, soda water, and an orange garnish ($6.25).

This was pretty refreshing as well, and not too sweet.  It actually tasted identical to a creamsicle.

For appetizers we ordered blackened ahi tuna served with a spicy soy mustard butter sauce ($9.99)

and stuffed mushrooms brimming with spinach, feta, and bacon ($8.99).

The stuffed mushrooms were essentially big globs of spinach and cheese, with a nice meaty texture from the mushroom.  They were as good as you would expect something smothered in cheese – we stuffed our faces.

The blacked ahi tuna was delicious.  The sauce wasn’t particularly spicy, but it had a lovely, complex flavor of soy and miso with the undercurrent of wasabi running throughout.  Texturally, the julienned vegetables were a wonderful pairing with the tender chunks of tuna.  All was seasoned perfectly.

Dinner started with a side salad (included with dinner price)

and warm bread fresh from the oven.

For my main course I chose the Moroccan spiced mussels, which came towering over a pile of cilantro rice and braised chick peas and drowning in a spicy tomato broth ($23.99).

This was a sexy dish. Pulling out the mussels and dragging them through the robust and flavorful broth, spearing tender chick peas and forkfuls of fluffy rice, dipping the warm bread into the sauce and licking it off my fingers – it was a delicious, delicious dinner.  The broth was light and flavorful, the spiciness tempered by the sweetness from the mussels.  The textures were all so different but worked so beautifully together.

It was a stand out.  I will order this if I ever go back.  If you go on a date to this restaurant, split this dish.

Nicole ordered the pan roasted cod ($21.99).

I only had a bite but it was very tender, and the Ritz crumbs on top were nice and crispy.

The dessert menu isn’t online, but here it is:

At this point we were absolutely stuffed, so we decided to order more drinks and split a dessert.  We went with the Lemon Berry Mascarpone Cake ($5.99), a Nutty Irishman Coffee (me) and a glass of port wine (Nicole).  Dessert drinks aren’t online either, and I don’t remember the cost.

The cake was great – tasted like a mixed berry coffee cake from Starbucks (spongy, dense, and sweet).  I like mixed berry coffee cake from Starbucks, so I was a fan.  The creamy mascarpone was a nice accompaniment.

By now we were off camera, so we just started acting-a-fool.

Class, class, class.

Price

The entire dinner was complimentary (thanks to Nicole, my company, and TV Diner).  Prices are what you would see in any casual, above-average chain restaurant.  As always, my opinions are my own.

Summary of this Knight at the Restaurant

• I mentioned before that I thought Stoneforge is a chain – it’s not, really.  There are only two locations.
• The restaurant is clean, inviting and affordably-priced.
• Like I said, I totally didn’t have high expectations.  I was dead wrong.  From start to finish, there isn’t one dish I didn’t enjoy eating.  If I were paying for my own dinner, I would order the pickles, ahi tuna, and mussels again and not regret a thing.
• It got pretty busy for a random Tuesday night, the mark of a good dining establishment.
• I probably wouldn’t drive to Easton JUST to eat here, but if I were in the area I would absolutely return.  I could see this being a go-to place if I lived nearby.

FINAL RATING: 3.8/5.0

KNIGHTED

What’s your neighborhood go-to?

Ours is Piattini, on Newbury.  I haven’t done a review yet because we haven’t eaten a full dinner there in awhile (I usually get wine and an appetizer or a salad or something small, and they deserve a big review).

We also do Tapeo, Lolita and Forum regularly.

(Yeah.  I just started a work-related post with the word “poop” in it.  Way to look professional, Knight. Source.)

If you read this blog with any regularity (I’m assuming you don’t, especially since my posting as of late has been…nonexistent) you know I very rarely discuss discuss my job.  I feel very grateful to work for a company that allows me a loose leash for my creative outlet, so I generally try to steer clear of work-related topics out of respect.  Even so, this is a food and lifestyle blog, and it was only a matter of time before the two converged.

My blog is 100% my hobby…which is unfortunately why I disappear from time to time.  During after-work drinks with a few colleagues at Julep Bar, my boss asked me about my recent disappearing act and said that she can always tell when I’m buried at work because I stop updating the blog.  This is a fairly accurate assumption.  And, since the majority of the questions I receive (both for the blog and in life) are about what exactly it is that I do, I used my boss’ keen observation as an opportunity to ask whether she would be ok with me writing about it.  She kindly consented, so here’s a brief overview.

What IS PR?

The short story is that I work in public relations.

The reason I get so many questions about it is because a) there is a lot of confusion about what, exactly, public relations is or what that means (it is NOT marketing or advertising), and b) it’s a popular industry so people want to know what it’s really like to do it.

(I know it’s overdone, but it just says it so well.)

My family did not understand what I do until about six months-to-a year ago (despite the fact that one of my sisters works in PR, so this is not new information).  I think my friends and Ryan’s family have given up trying.  It gets even more granular than typical public relations because I work in public affairs, a specific sector under the public relations umbrella. 

Let’s start out with what it’s NOT: I am NOT Samantha Jones. 

(Not me.  Source.)

What she does IS a type of PR (obviously glamorized for television), but it definitely doesn’t capture the less-than-glitzy pieces of the job and it bears no resemblance whatsoever to MY job.  My company deals with the business and policy side of public relations – crisis management and strategic communications for the healthcare, education, real estate, professional services and nonprofit industries.  In other words, we are not party planners (usually), but consultants who advise clients on a wide variety of matters including:

Internal communications – communicating to employees during a merger or crisis, or guiding management through a change in leadership

Government and community relations – informing audiences about legislation the client is backing or a community about the permitting of a controversial building

Relationship building with key stakeholders and thought leaders – helping a client’s voice reach these audiences by setting up meetings or securing speaking engagements

Crisis management and labor relations – managing media coverage of unfavorable situations, minimizing the risk of a strike

Traditional media outreach – social media, press releases, editorials

Among many, many other things. 

Most people hear this spiel and they’re like:

But y’all, I LOVE what I do.  It’s like ten jobs in one.  No two days are ever the same, I am constantly challenged and pushed outside my comfort zone, I learn new things about new industries HOURLY, and I get to pick the minds of very intelligent, successful and powerful people…and I’m only 26.  When I say I have my dream job, I am not kidding.  I’m very, very fortunate.

(Source.)

Ok I’m bored, and you’re using fewer pictures of LOLcats than you normally do.  What’s it REALLY like?

I had a friend once who said PR is the perfect field for people who like business and writing.  Depending on your field, you likely spend about one-half to two-thirds of your day writing and/or researching, and the rest of the day talking to clients, pitching stories to reporters, and reading the news.

Regardless of the type of PR you decide to do, there are some very general trends that are almost always part of the job:

1. It’s a highly competitive field and your starting pay will SUCK.

Everyone wants to be Samantha Jones, or at least a raging socialite, so actually landing a job in public relations is half the challenge.  You need a strong resume and some really good experience through volunteer opportunities and internships, and it usually helps to know someone who can act as the point of the sword.  I had a roommate in PR who helped me get my resume and cover letter to a good place and taught me how to apply for a PR position.  If it hadn’t been for her and a series of very, very lucky breaks, I would probably still be looking.

Oh and if you’re just starting out?  Enjoy late nights and lots of ramen.  As you move up, you have more autonomy over your schedule and, thankfully, more fulfilling paychecks (PRSA has a good chart for industry standards here), but the first year or two is killer.  My advice?  Be a passionate learner, work your butt off and move up as quickly as possible. 

(Source.)

It’s also likely that you won’t talk to clients or see the inside of a conference room until you’re an account executive or higher (unless you work for a smaller agency).  Until then, your bosses are your clients.  Treat them as such, it’s a good primer.  That way, when you f*ck up (and BELIEVE ME, you will), you’ll learn more and the consequences won’t be as catastrophic.

2. It’s not a 9-to-5 gig.  All hours are “normal” hours.

PR people say this so much it should be tattooed on our heads, but the fact of the matter is that your time belongs to your clients and your boss(es), especially during the formative years.  Your job lasts from the time you finish up your to-do lists from the previous two days (because you will NEVER finish it day of) and start on your list of deliverables for the day.  My days probably average about 9.5-10 hours, and during busy periods I usually leave the office around 7pm (sometimes earlier, sometimes later).

Again, I work for an outstanding company that appreciates its employees having a reasonable work-life balance, given that you’re getting your work done, but this is a rare characteristic in the industry. 

3. If you don’t already enjoy the sauce, you probably will.

Client dinners, happy hours, cocktail parties, functions – most people in PR have such a refined ability to throw back the alcoholic beverages and appear totally normal that they put Don Draper to shame.

4. You will learn to think in the confines of 5 bazillion little boxes.

You think you’re organized now?  No.

Everything is done in grid format.  Everything.  Media lists, strategy memos, timelines, vulnerability assessments, etc. etc. etc.  While it may take awhile to wrap your brain around it, you’ll probably emerge having guzzled the kool-aid and see grids as the quickest, most efficient way to organize and reference information.  So much so that you start thinking in grids.

I love them.  LOVE them. 

5. You will become permanently knock-kneed from all the pencil skirts.

(Truth. Source.)

I hate those damn things.

6. You’re probably at least marginally cranky 99% of the time.

(Source.)

This is a service industry, which means that everyone else is more important than you.  You tirelessly work to please others and pull rabbits out of hats, all while moving at a ridiculously fast pace – and you probably thrive on the stress of it all.  It feels good.  It also probably means that your patience and tolerance for bullsh*t is non-existent.  The nice thing is that your coworkers are all in the same boat, so you can roar at your computer or snark at something absurd (“Look at that bitch and her stupid ponytail.  I HATE MOTHEREFFING PONYTAILS!!!!!!!”) and you’ll probably just get laughed at. 

This also contributes to #3.

Personally, I’m shocked they haven’t filmed a reality show from inside the walls of a PR company yet.  The colorful characters, ridiculous conversations, and general bat-shit-craziness of it all would be great fodder for primetime.  Despite its many quirks, I really love working in PR (in case I hadn’t said that part enough already).

This is a very brief, high-level overview of what it’s like – if you have more specific questions or you’d like more information, feel free to email me.  Also, if you’re in the Boston area and looking for a job in PR I’d be happy to sit down for coffee and pass anything I know along that might help you out. 

What’s your job like?  If you work in PR, what would you add?

Anyway, my account was hacked and I would hate to repay the kindness of your following me with some a-hole sending BS to your entire list of followers.  I think it’s fine now, but be careful.  Links to blog posts are fine for clicking.

Moving on –

Now that I’ve given you the whole spiel about our experiences with the Ragnar Cape Cod Relay, I wanted to reflect on it a bit in the final post.  A review of sorts, with mostly irrelevant pictures sprinkled throughout for good measure.  Then we’ll be back on our regularly scheduled food talk.

Things I liked about Ragnar:

1. The idea.  Doing an overnight relay is really cool for the reasons I described in my previous post.  If you’re not athletic and you really, really hate being uncomfortable then it might not be for you.  But even if you’re a casual runner (like me) and you and some friends can assemble a good team, I think it’s totally worthwhile.  Even if you just do it once to say you did it. 
2. The camaraderie among runners.  This was my favorite part of the race.  It’s almost as if signing up for this race automatically enters you into this really friendly and supportive club.  Everyone is friends on the Ragnar trail, probably because we all know we’re crazy for signing up in the first place.  All along the routes, vans are not only honking at their own runners, but cheering for other runners on the way.  When people slow down and start to look tired, you will always see a runner come up from behind and say some words of encouragement.  Rather than competing with other runners, it seems more like everyone is competing with themselves by trying to finish with their wits about them.
3. Few people (if any) take themselves too seriously.  With any competitive event you’ll obviously have some beast who wants to prove he or she is a demi-god.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it.  You’re awesome.  Whatever.  Most people who do Ragnar just want to have a good time.  Expect to see some ridiculously decorated vans, offensive language, blow up dolls, crass jokes (of sexual nature and/or involving toilet humor, both of which I find endlessly hilarious), and crazy costumes. 
4. Every single exchange had an army of porta-potties.  Most of them had toilet paper, and few of them had lines.  Porta-potties are disgusting in any capacity, but these were reasonably less repulsive than usual, and they switched them with new ones at least once (possibly more) during the event.
5. The course.  The legs on the course are of varying lengths, which allows each runner to choose something that either challenges them or suits their abilities.  Even though most of the legs were on highways, each runner had at least one leg that was beautiful.  Also, Ragnar does a great job of making the short legs more challenging with terrain obstacles (i.e. MF SAND).  It’s a nice mixture that allows everyone to have a taste of everything on their run.

Things I wasn’t crazy about:

1. Most importantly, the race was appallingly disorganized.  Believe me, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to throw an event like this together seamlessly, but it felt like it was thrown together at the last minute.  I know they can’t help construction or mileage changes, but when you hear about changes happening five minutes before a leg is set to start it begins to look like they didn’t do their due diligence before finalizing the route.  One of our runners actually took on a second leg because it was shortened from 8 miles to 2 and since she was running, she was unaware of the change.
2. More on that note.  You’re dealing with people flying from exchange to exchange in vans they’re not used to driving, and runners who have enough on their minds without having to navigate unfamiliar routes.  Directions were given for both the runners and the vans on each route…except they were completely wrong.  More times than not they said “right” when they meant “left,” and at one point our van got completely lost.  We finally broke out the Tom-Tom.
3. Not enough volunteers, not enough signs. The direction issue would have been less of an issue had there been volunteers placed along the route to guide runners (it’s not like a normal race where you’re surrounded by people – as the race goes on the runners are more and more spread out).  The signage they had was ok, but at least once on each of my legs I faced a fork in the road with no sign indicating which way to go.  A sign on one leg got turned around, leading one of our runners directly into a marsh (it was a night run and she couldn’t see).  This wouldn’t have happened if the race had been adequately staffed.
4. Not enough security during night runs.  This is another area where proper volunteer staffing would have been great.  KnightlyBoyfriend kept saying that the night runs were going to be one of those “no big deal” situations until something really bad happened (he offered to run it with me, actually), and I kind of agree.  In spite of the threat of drunk drivers and ankle-twisting potholes, runs along the main roads weren’t terrible because the vans can stay with you.  But putting runners through a dark and secluded wildlife area with little-to-no security and no people around to make sure you’re ok? Very sketchy.  Maybe I’m a baby, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. 
5. Poor food/drink options.  Other Ragnar events seem to have a variety of food and drink stations.  Only two of the exchanges offered real food (not just gels and energy bars…which were only at one or two other stations anyway) and only the major exchanges had water.  It would have been nice to eat something full of protein and unprocessed food.  However, to be fair, this isn’t something that’s hard to do on your own, we just opted to sleep rather than drive around aimlessly looking for food.
6. The after-party totally sucked.  One free beer that takes an hour to get because there aren’t enough booths serving it, and a cup of clam chowder?  Y’all.  The first thing I want is a beer, which I couldn’t get to through all the people, and the last thing I want to eat when I’m disgusting, crampy, and sleep-deprived is SEAFOOD.  Come on.  You charge people more than $100 each and you pocket all of it (Ragnar doesn’t support a charitable cause).  Throw a decent party. 

Whatever.  We made our own after-party.

All snags aside, I look forward to doing this again next year!