On a brilliant fall afternoon, and early dinner at one of my favorite dining spots: the South End Buttery. Like Dorothy in Oz, I begin my journey with a Ruby Slipper, but there’s nothing wicked or sinister about this yummy brick road. The halibut sounds delightful, and before I know it I’ve devoured the whole thing.
These little nooks of Boston are what I love most.
I love an unexpected pop-up, and I love sushi, so when I heard the news that a sushi stand was visiting the Mandarin Oriental in Boston I made it the next reason to visit that favorite city of mine. Set in a pretty corner of its handsome lobby in cozy proximity to the fireplace, the bar area is manned by a very capable sushi chef. A few seats are available for those who like to belly up to the bar, but guests are also welcome to sit at the lobby tables, which is where I ended up, taking in the warm wood and extravagant orchid bouquets on display.
I’ve said it many times, but it bears repeating: happiness is a hotel lobby and bar, particularly when it’s as fine as the Mandarin. This is the perfect stop for anyone who is slightly peckish, but not quite ready for a full-blown meal.
There are half a dozen maki selections, the majority of which clock in at $10 for 8 pieces – surprisingly reasonable for such fancy surroundings. I splurged on the Mandarin Oriental Maki, which is $18 for 10 pieces, but they are packed with crabmeat, avocado, and cucumber then topped with salmon, tuna, shrimp and more fresh avocado. Suggested wines are available by the glass as well, most hailing from France.
In the midst of the bustle of Boston, this was another exquisite respite fashioned by the expert powers-that-be at the Mandarin Oriental. Well worth a stop if you need a break.
Along with myself, fall arrived in Boston this past weekend. Not in a dark and stormy way, but in a brilliant sunlit mash-up of blue skies, brisk breezes and pumpkin spice lattes. As the days waned, the sky grew softer. A few clouds rolled in – high and light and non-threatening – while the descent of the sun made everything look a little richer.
The start of the season is always a colorful thrill, even if the known and inevitable end is dismal, gray and dim. We don’t want to remember that now, and the good thing is that the change is so gradual that it goes almost unnoticed.
Boston is beauty, especially in the fall.
Inspired by his recent runway show, Tom Ford has a new leather fragrance out – ‘Ombre Leather 16’ – and it’s a doozy. One of the first Private Blends he ever released was ‘Tuscan Leather’ – a potent beast that I despised for a few years before coming around to its smoldering, dark beauty and delicious dry-down. Which brings me to the dilemma of the day as I seek out a leather fragrance: do I go with the ‘Tuscan’ or branch out to the lesser-known ‘Ombre’? This past weekend I had the opportunity to try both, but rather than sort things out, it only intensified the debate.
‘Tuscan Leather’ was the flagship of the Private Blends when they made their debut. The ultra-luxe line offered a niche for those looking for something exceptional – in quality, sillage, longevity, and, of course, price. Each was a decadent treat, and while a few soon fell by the wayside (‘Purple Pachouli’ and ‘Moss Breches’) about half remain in circulation (and some such as ‘Tuscan Leather’ and ‘Oud Wood’ are gloriously timeless).
The new ‘Ombre Leather 16’ actually opens with a bigger leather burst, and it’s a bit drier than its ‘Tuscan’ predecessor (which appeals to me as we head into fall/winter). However, the ‘Ombre’ dry down becomes something more delicate and soft, while ‘Tuscan’ powers on with its leather kick for a bit longer before softening into a well-renowned raspberry musk sweetness. The bad news for my wallet is that each is beautiful in its own right, and distinct enough to stand alone. Which leaves me in a pickle. A deliciously-scented pickle.
Thanks to the kindness of my Tom Ford experts, however, I have a couple of samples to see me through the decision-making process. These things take time. These things must be done delicately…
Despite what we might feel about invasion of privacy, here is Tom Brady doing some naked sunbathing. If this is how Mr. Brady prepares for a new season (even if he is on a little break), I should have been born a football player. Anyway, we are headed into the pigskin season, and based on this peek at a naked Tom Brady, I say Go Pats!
When I was in high school, part of my American History homework was watching the Presidential debates. That was mighty boring to someone who only wanted to pore over Madonna’s ‘Sex’ book and analyze her ‘Erotica’ album, but the world was a more innocent place in 1992, and a different Clinton was on the books. This time around it’s Hillary vs. Donald, and the stakes are a lot higher.
I vowed that this would never become a political blog, and I’m holding myself to that (for the moment). All I will say for now is that I cannot fathom how anyone could vote for Donald Trump, or any Republican candidate, when their official platform is one of divisiveness and hate. (Unless you’re Russia, in which case Mr. Trump has written some exceptions into the platform. Shady much?) The rest of the platform vows to end marriage equality, and proposes gay conversion therapy (read: torture) for the children of those parents who are not happy that their child was born gay. Look it up, it’s right there. The official Republican platform.
Even without those disgusting facts, Donald Trump is just bat-shit crazy, and I don’t want his fingers anywhere near a button that can start a war.
This photo gave the internet, and myself, all sort of tingles. In one fell swoop, I think we were all reminded of what greatness this country encompasses, and how important it is that we preserve such honor.
As if someone up above flipped a switch from summer to fall, in one day we went from the 80’s to the 60’s, and suddenly it was autumn. I’m not complaining, and the cooler temperatures made for much more pleasant walking in Boston, where I spent most of the weekend. Because of that, I’m easing my way into the work week, and what better way to do so than with our usual recap.
September’s sexy quotient rose a bit thanks to the likes of Sean Smith, Matt Bomer and Ollie Locke.
Keeping things light (pants down).
This summer took three posts to recap: Part One, Part Two and Part Three.
Pants down again.
A hotel is my happy place.
From a distance, even the grandest of cities look small and meek.
The world is vast, and we are small.
Shifting perspectives.
Fading views.
Everything, no matter how big, can be made to disappear.
Is there comfort or solace in that? I’m not sure.
In my perfect fantasy world, life would take place in a hotel lounge. Preferably one run by the Mandarin Oriental or a fancy Fairmont property as seen here. I love the idea of glamorous transiency, of people in flux and in travel status, going or coming hither and yon. There’s a pleasure and comfort in having a cocktail in such environs when your room is just upstairs, a sense of being at home even when away from home. And while I don’t usually have the luxury of a room in such establishments, itâ’s still a thrill to inhabit those spaces, even if I’m only borrowing them for a bit.
The art of a dramatic backdrop seems to be a lost one.
The grand lobbies with sky-high ceilings and elaborately ornate wood carvings are going by the wayside.
I mourn the loss of it all.
We need the space and time to breathe.
We need the moments to collect ourselves.
We need a bit of beauty to ease the weight of the world.
The title of this post says it all. Come back later for a Saturday night Hunk.
On this last Saturday of September, in the week we shifted from summer to fall, the mind dwells momentarily on time and how we do our best to manipulate it. In the end it is always a futile cause. Time wins out over everything, and everybody. All we can do is chase it, grab for it, and try to trick it, but the only thing we can ever truly count on is running out of it.
We think we can still it when we go to sleep, but that’s a trick we play on ourselves. Time continues on undaunted and blithely unaware of our efforts. We make our beds into sanctuaries. We pray in different ways to appease the unwavering march. We attempt to contain it in watches and clocks, skewing it on impossible-to-program microwaves and car consoles, purposely setting it just a bit ahead to fool ourselves into thinking we have more of it, but none of this matters.
We cannot beat it, but we can dip into its relentless flow, like stepping into a swiftly-moving river or the churning waves of the ocean. Giving in and letting go can be a powerful choice, and sometimes it takes more control and effort than fighting back.
Swimming in the sheets of my sanctuary, untangling myself from the flights of night, I groggily surface and allow the morning to wash over me.
Time. And time again.
The New World Bistro Bar on Delaware is great at any time of the year, but I especially enjoy it in the fall, when Ric Orlando’s spicy fare warms the tummy and the tongue in fiery fashion. From a grand selection of hummus to a final cup of guava sweetness, this recent meal was a joy. Give me a beet salad bleeding with color and a fish dish thrillingly doused with a blaring symphony of fresh herbs, and I’m a happy guy. Too many places seem to be afraid of big flavor, especially in the timid confines of Albany, NY, but this space has no time for such wimpiness, and I couldn’t be happier about that.
The original recipe called for some crazy banana leaf action, and digging a pit in the earth to properly cook a piece of pork, but I bastardized it with a slow-cooker twist because if you think I’m going to wrap a piece of meat in a leaf and sink it into the dirt of my backyard, well, you don’t know me at all. This recipe for Conchinita Pibil, modified from a recent New York Times Magazine story, is a spicy take on the traditional pulled pork. Here, an assembly of spices (and some judicial charring and spice-toasting) works to inject some badly-needed life into our pulled pork doldrums. It’s the perfect recipe for fall, when one brings the slow-cooker back into the kitchen, and it produces some exquisite aromas to welcome everyone back inside.
Cochinita Pibil, with a Slow-Cooker Twist
1 pork shoulder (3-4 lbs)
4 Tbsp. salt
4-6 garlic cloves, peeled
1 Tbsp. cumin seeds
1 Tbsp. black peppercorns
1 teaspoon whole allspice
1 Tbsp. red chili powder
½ teaspoon whole cloves
½ teaspoon cinnamon powder
1 Tbsp. Mexican oregano
4 Tbsp. achiote-seed paste (See substitute below if not available)
1 orange, zested and juiced
1 grapefruit, zested and juice
1 lime, juiced
1 small white onion, thinly sliced
Also:
– 1 red onion, chopped
– 1 teaspoon salt
– 1 habanero, seeded and finely chopped
Corn tortillas
The search for a Boston bathroom contractor continues, and this weekend I’ll be making my first fall trip to the condo this year. Having spent much of the summer in upstate New York by the pool, I haven’t been in Boston as much as I usually like to be, but that will change in the coming months, when the focus returns to my favorite city.
I don’t have much lined up, other than some relaxing alone time, and the lack of plans and expectations, while at odds with my comfort zone, is not unwelcome or jarring. I think it will do me well. There is no greater feeling than fall in Boston. Let the magic begin.
