We arrived in Boston mid-day on Thursday. The weather was set to be good for the entire weekend, and it was actually on the warm side by later afternoon. After settling into the condo, we headed to the Four Seasons’ Bristol Lounge for a pre-dinner drink, because there’s no finer way to kick-off a long weekend than with a smart cocktail.

On the menu was “A Perfect Pearing” – a pear martini that was slightly on the sweet side for my dry-favoring palette – but I gave in mostly due to the cute moniker. (I’m a sucker for a silly cocktail name.) The sun slanted down on the Public Garden across Boylston where only a few months earlier we were married. Now the summer was drawing to its close.

Inside the Bristol Lounge it is calm. Andy sinks into a chair that looks cozily like it’s been upholstered in someone’s winter suit jacket, and claims it is one of the most comfortable chairs in which he’s ever sat. I lean into the velvet-backed couch and the afternoon passes perfectly. A perfect pairing indeed.

Across the street the wind blows through the willows and Andy recounts how he used to swing on their long branches as a kid, just like Tarzan.

Before we leave, I scoot to the bathroom to see what kind of soap they have. Yes, I judge establishments by the soap in their restrooms. In this case it is orange blossom – the sweet fragrance that will always remind me of summer in Boston.

We have reservations in the North End, so we make our way to the Green Line and ride the few quick stops to Haymarket.

When I lived in Boston, I didn’t make it into the North End as much as I should have. (I’ve been a South End boy from the beginning.) But Boston’s own Little Italy has charms all its own, and some of my most special dinners have taken place around Hanover Street.

Tonight dinner is at Mamma Maria – one of the original contenders for our wedding weekend. It is said to be one of the culinary bastions of the North End, and we couldn’t wait to try it out.

As on so many other Boston trips, I had not planned ahead to see what events were taking place this weekend (I have an unfortunate history of scheduling every Spring trip during the Boston marathon), and this weekend the city was in the midst of their latest restaurant week.

Usually I avoid this sort of thing – not wanting to battle with crowds or sub-par service – and I would rather try the menu as it was intended by the chef. However, I was happily surprised that in all our restaurant experiences this weekend the special deals afforded us an ample sample of dinners, at about half what we would usually pay.

I’d had my cocktail earlier, but I was very much impressed with the fact that they offered a Negroni – made with Hendrick’s gin – enough so that I took this photo. Even so, I opted for a white wine.

Our table was on the second floor, overlooking an Italian-like scene below.

I love any restaurant that begins with olives. A rustic bit of bread provided a suitably rough canvass for the accompanying bowl of pesto.

In all my years of trying anything and everything put in front of me, this was my first time sampling the traditional melon wrapped in prosciutto – and I’m glad it was Mamma Maria who broke my ham-&-cantaloupe cherry. This was amazing.

Almost as good as the pasta-wrapped lobster for my main meal.

It was all so good, I lost track of the rest of the meal, except for Andy’s dessert. (Someone ate mine before I could get a decent picture of it.) Here’s Andy’s:

[Bathroom soap: Camay-like traditional soapiness.]

First night in Boston to be continued…

One last photo of us in our wedding finery.

After our stroll in the park, we headed across the street to the hotel to change and fill out the official marriage documentation.

Here is Chris as he signs the license and makes it all legally official.

Andy and I changed into dressier pants for a lunch at the Four Seasons, and placed the bridal bouqet in a vase above the fireplace.

This was my white raincoat, in the event of rain – now I could wear it just for its fun ruffled back.

Andy opted for khakis over fancy frills, but we both kept our matching shirts on as we headed over to the Four Seasons for a midday lunch courtesy of “Aunt” Elaine and Suzie.

Andy and I had reserved the Bristol Lounge of the Four Seasons on our last trip to Boston, and their service was splendid. They even brought out a congratulatory chocolate tower cake – eight layers of chocolate and cream that was enough to feed all nine of us following a delicious meal.

After lunch, we had some time to ourselves to rest and relax.

Later in the day, I returned to the Public Garden alone. A pair of swans was just beginning to build a nesting area on the side of the pond. One of them swam around with the swan boats, periodically returning to his partner, who seemed to be doing most of the work. Not unlike a certain other couple…

{To be continued…}

Copley Fairmont Plaza

This was originally my very first choice. Having passed it a zillion times, and enjoying a birthday cocktail with Andy at the Oak Room a few years ago (a $20 martini worth every penny), I’ve always thought of it as unreachable entity, a Grand Dame who wouldn’t normally deign to indulge me. It is a central mainstay of Boston, with its two gold lions looking out onto Copley Square and Trinity Church. The lobby is baroquely ornate, and veritably Versailles-like in golden grandeur. Unfortunately, age has weakened the venerable establishment, and the room (the one they showed me at least) was somewhat dark and on the smaller side. The opulence of the lobby would be the only draw, and how much time would we be spending in the lobby? Still, it’s a Boston landmark, and I’m sure the suites are a lot better than the “Moderate” room I got to see.

Mandarin Oriental

By far the most prohibitively expensive choice, the Mandarin is pretentious enough to not even mark their entrance in the Prudential Center – a trait I like and always found ridiculously humorous. The staff persons here were, and should be, professionally courteous, but they were surprisingly personable as well. I was shown two rooms, both of which had more private hallway space than our entire condo. The bathroom was a spa-like dream, and the closet was a room unto itself, with an upholstered bench on which to sit when you’re pulling your socks on. This was the newest hotel on our list, and its modern elegant decadence was suitably impressive. After seeing the rooms, I thought it would kill me to not stay here, even if put me in debt for the rest of my life.

The Four Seasons

For some reason, this hotel has never beckoned me into its doors. I know it’s been consistently considered one of the best in Boston, and many a famous politician and celebrity have graced it, but I never wanted to go inside and look, as I have with all of the other choices. Outwardly, it seemed to lack an inspiring exterior, but as with most things, the appearance is a deceptive one. The lobby was much more spacious than I envisioned from the street, warmer and more inviting than the smoky glass doors would have one believe. The suite I was shown was immense, and classy in all respects. There was one more auspicious moment: on the way out, a pair of women was riding in the elevator and one was carrying a large bouquet of flowers. “Those are beautiful,” my guide said. “Are they from the wedding last night?” The woman said they were, and then introduced the mother of the bride who was next to her. It was a good sign, and I think it’s going to come down to the Four Seasons and the next one.

The Taj

About fourteen years ago I stayed in this hotel when my parents were visiting Boston for a conference. It was the Ritz Carlton then, and I remember that I had just gotten over a week at the infirmary with mono, so the luxury was doubly appreciated (as was the indulgent breakfast of waffles that they allowed me to order from Room Service). While the memory of that stay was grand, I wasn’t sure how well the hotel had weathered the years, or its transition to the Taj. Situated on the corner of Newbury Street, it overlooks the Boston Public Garden. At this time of the year all of the Christmas decorations were up – including a life-size gingerbread/candy castle – and a collection of stuffed teddy bears lined the winding staircase to the next floor. 

The mirror-paneled elevator doors opened and we were brought up to view one of the fireplace suites. Oh how badly did I want to just stay there (especially with a broken water-heater back at the condo). The suite was spectacular – the bright and airy windows were framed with sumptuous drapes – and an ornately carved four-poster king bed presided over the bedroom. Elegant but not overtly extravagant, the adjoining room looked out over the Garden and had a richly-appointed writing desk and several refined but comfortable settees and couches. The gentleman who showed me the suite told a story of a wedding his colleague had had at the hotel, and how it had been a small, intimate affair of ten or twelve people for which the hotel chef had crafted a personal several-course meal. (Obviously we wouldn’t be partaking of this particular service as it probably is the financial equivalent of our mortgage payments for an entire year). Yet even without the personal chef perk, this is quite possibly my favorite of all four hotels.

It’s going to be a difficult and fun decision for us to make, and the thought of Boston in the Spring will see us through the Winter.