in britannia

The banking situation in this city is atrocious. I am really to murder people, honestly. It's not like the US, where if you want to open up a student account, the bankers take pity on you and say, please come over here, let me explain things, and let me get you a cup of coffee. Here, those who wish to open student accounts submit to thorough background and credit checks, pay enormous fees, and get the runaround to the point where it's almost preferable to keep your cash in a shoebox under your bed. At the top of the "go here and be exasperated" list is Nat West, or National Westminster bank, which I have heard to be truly evil.

Of course, without a bank, I can't get a proper cellphone. And without a proper cellphone, I can't really contact anyone. So this is a step which, however painful, needs to be done. I think I'll go with Barclay's as they have a pre-existing relationship with Bank of America, which just bought out my neighborhood bank, Fleet, which had previously bought out my old neighborhood bank, BankBoston, which was a conglomeration of my first neighborhood bank, BayBank. I can't take much more of this...

note: this entry was written previously and uploaded with a revised time.

Power is what runs the world; what runs my life; and what runs my appliances. And if the power is presented in a three-pronged English monstrosity of a plug head, then that power is sadly unavailable to me, as was the case today. So insteady, I had to walk to all of the different places that might sell an adaptor for that plug, and a converter for that power. Dixon's? They've been out for a week. Argos'? They're out. Random tech shop? I'm sorry, we don't sell those... So I had to walk a good two miles to PC World, where I was unable to buy an adaptor flat out, but was able to get a cord that plugs into my Macintosh Power transformer. So now I can use my computer without fear of losing power. The only unfortunate part? My college ID doesn't work yet, which denies me entrace to the computer rooms, and also prevents me from getting online in my own dorm room. So these blog entried will be posted at a later time.

So I have a room: and it's a wonderful room. It's really quite big (a room like this at Princeton would have been a double) and comes with a bed, desk, swively-rolly chair, and shelving. It also comes with two built-into-the-wall couches upholstered in the most garish of 1970's yellowish-lime-green, as well as a small coffee table. Here's the kicker, though: included int his wondrous new room are a microwave, kitchen sink, double hotplate, cabinetry, refrigerator, and electric teakettle. Oh, and my very own bathroom sink (no toilet or shower; that's just next door). So yeah, I'm pleased. I unpacked everything, and have come up with a pretty comprehensive shopping list for the next few days. For now, I'm enjoying playing Bach on my computer and reading about Greek religious pollution.

Addendom: Wandered around Blackwell's today. No less than five people at the P. school insisted that I check out Blackwell's, and none of them was kidding. This place is incredible. Not only are there, in fact, three of four (I may have missed one) different shops, but they are stocked to the gills with everything that one might need. It's unreal. My wallet's going to be taking beating.

note: this entry was written previously and uploaded with an updated time

On the Oxford Tube bus to school: a truly excellent place to be at this time of day. I spent the morning trying to figure out what cellphone plan to go with : honestly, I thought that the plans in America were hard to handle. We've got nothing on the UK, what with several different companied offering both contract and pay-as-you-go services, in addition to the confusion about phones and networks and such. My head is spinning and it's not even lunchtime. And wouldn't you know it, it's drizzling. I am in London, afterall. This should take me about an hour or so: time to collect my thoughts and get ready to see my room.

From here on in, the times reflect the local time in England.

Landed pretty much without a hitch, except for the 20 minutes we spent circling over north London because of "congestion" on the Heathrow runways. Just went out for pizza with Tarek, good conversation was had. I'll be trying to pick up a cellphone tomorrow and setting up my dorm room in Oxford. I'll be emailing folks when I know my full contact information. Hope you're all well: it's been a long day, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep, I'm so excited.

note: this entry was written on the plane and uploaded later with an updated time

The animated dolphin is back! Evidently, being larger than the state of Connecticut means that it can swim from Boston Harbor to about 1000 miles northwest of Dublin in less than a few hours. Also, I am, as the map tells me, 2331 miles away from my destination of Heathrow Airport. Evidently, I am flying over a little treasure island witha palm tree and yellow sand and a treasure chest. This little island is the destination for an animated Caribbean-style pirate ship sadly very lost in the North Atlantic. Yet, this ship, sailing as it is from Northern Scotland of all places, zeroes in without fail toward its tropical island destination. Good for those pirates! :) Also, a dancing Elvis has been spotted towering over Milan.

note: this entry was written on the plane and uploaded later with an updated time

Currently, we're flying over Nova Scotia at the moment, headed toward the island province of Newfoundland. I know this from the very cute skymap that seems ubiquitous now on all airplanes. Interestingly, in the zoomed-in view of new England, there is an animated dolphin the size of Connecticut leaping out of Boston Harbor. This is a severely underbooked flight, in that I have an entire quad-seat row to myself. Not that I'm complainign, it's nice. I get to spread out and take up as much room as I want.

Props are due to Virgin Atlantic Airlines, who give us poor schlubs in economy class actual glasses into which we may pour our little foil-sealed plastic cups of made-from-concentrate orange juice. Tres classy, really. I was king of hoping I could make a parfait out of my fruit salad, muffin, and yogurt in that glass, but I decided against it as being too messy. It would be an interesting cooking competition: here's a mess of bad airline food - what can *you* do with it? Julia Child held a similar competition in her backyard one summer regarding military MREs. The result was astounding - I'd like to find that Boston Magazine article again, but I wouldn't even know where to begin looking. Woow... Haven't thought about that article in years.

Funny tidbit from the in-flight magazine. Mario, plumber and star of numerous Nintendo videogames, is, in fact, surnamed Mario. So his full name is indeed Mario Mario, while his brother is named Luigi Mario. I would never have guessed.

So I'm sitting in Logan Airport's terminal E, having been singled out for a random inspection, which comprises a full metal-wand sweep and a thorough investigation of my carryon luggage. Interesting, since I was carrying my bassoon at the time. The woman couldn't seem to figure out what my reeds were for, especially, viewing them as if they were some sort of drug paraphernalia. I kind of wish I hadn't taken my Greek textbook out: that would have made me look even weirder. I've ot well over the stated weight limit of carryon baggage, sinc I am carrying my instrument and a laptop bag. I'm also taking two large suitcases of clothing, books, and assorted toiletries: all of which will be a royal pain in the butt to carry through London.

That said, my good friend Tarek, who is helping me out tonight with a place to stay and some help setting myself up in England, has arranged for a car service from Heathrow Airport to central London. This takes, as I am told, something like 50 minutes, but will only cost me about 25 pounds. The tradeoff (of course there's a tradeoff) is that said car service is operated by a reliable but somewhat shady Afghan who bears. Sometimes I wonder if Tarek knows what he's doing or whether he's having me on.

Anyway, I'm excited to be leaving on my adventure, and I'm scared and filled with wonder at the same time. And I'm amused by Virgin Atlantic, who feel the need to call their first class section "Upper Class"; for that extra bit of British snob appeal. Well, they're calling my flight. As was said in Angels in America, "the great work begins..."

Let the countdown to my UK adventure begin. I'm 24 hours away from wheels-up at Logan International Airport.
I'm packing today. It's hard work - think about the inability to squeeze your entire life into two suitcases weighing less than 70 lbs each. I say this because I've been helping my parents clean up and move furniture around the house, and because I have helped a total of four people move their stuff (ok, one of those people was me, but still). It's amazing how much stuff I've accumulated in three years, or that my parents have accumulated in 20 years in this house, or that Maria accumulated in just one year of college. I am, of course, thankful that I'm not moving furniture across the ocean, but at this point, I'm probably pretty used to it.

Payment for helping Diana move was collected yesterday in the form of an excellent sushi dinner. I think that more transactions should be made using sushi as currency. I am going to miss talking with Diana so frequently, as I will miss talking with all of my friends stateside with such frequency, but Diana, being as she is my best friend, will be especially missed. I'm glad we remain friends.

Today is Mike's birthday (yay!). Mike is my cousin, and he's getting married in May. Unfortunately, he scheduled his wedding for Princeton's Reunions weekend, which I plan to attend. So I'll have to fly from London to Newark to Boston. I hope to stop by the P. school on my way to Princeton.

So here goes. 24 hours and counting. Wish me luck...

It's been quite a week, and quite a day. For starters, we've repainted and recarpeted the interior of our house. So I've been moving furniture and such for the past week. To be sure, it's grueling and awful. But there's a magical feeling when you step on freshly laid carpet and see that the walls are sparkling and brand new. Wow.

Just set up my surround sound DVD/CD system, to go with the TV. They look fantastic together: unfortunately, it was past some folks' bedtimes, so I was prevented from cranking the stereo as high as it would go. They look even better considering that they're sitting on the new TV bench that I just bought from IKEA (see previous post).

I also had the wonderful opportunity to have breakfast with a very good friend of mine, and coffee with another very good friend of mine. Leighna, the breakfast friend, was my carrel-mate in college, and we were the only two Asians in the Classics Department at the time, save one professor. She's a real sweetie, and it's so nice to hear that she's doing well. She is also very patient: I was 15 minutes late this morning because some idiot rolled a flatbed truck over on one of the major highways at 6am, and it wasn't clear by the time I left the house at 9.

Had coffee with my good friend and former neighbor Adam, who is, to use his own vernacular, "the man." It took him less than five minutes to call me 'the man' today. He's a great friend and a rock-solid person. I just wish he were still singing!

Finally, it's four days until wheels-up en route to Oxford. I haven't been packing much yet, but I'll definitely start this weekend. It's also four more days of going to the gym. Since I started back in late, late, late August, I've lost over 30 pounds. Now, before you say mean things, I just want to say that it's not been easy, and I still hate going to the gym. But that's life: health is too important a factor to ignore.

So I just came home from watching Sky Captain And The World Of Tomorrow. A grainy movie with a nice plot and ease of execution. I had a hard time adjusting to the full color saturation of the real world after stepping out of the theater. Or, should I be typing "theatre"?

But as for the world of yesterday, I was cleaning up my old room when I found a true gem of technological know-how. It was my Nintendo Game Boy. The first hand-held videogame system, it was a true leap forward. It still has the original Tetris game, which still works! I had forgotten how addictive that stupid game really was. Questions out there: I've googled the question and I have no answers. What are the three musical selections from the Game Boy version of Tetris. The first two sound Russian, and the third sounds very Baroque: many people assume that it's Bach, but no one has any ideas.

So my friend Diana and I took a nice trip to New Haven yesterday. She just moved into her own apartment and is needing some small furnishings. I am was looking for some stuff for my parents. What fun. I think we honestly spent something like four hours wandering through their cavernous floor displays and warehouse. We held off from sampling their Swedish cafeteria but did wander through every inch of the store itself. That is, every department save one: the children's section. I used to feel bad about having friends say "I hate kids." It used to hit me funny: not liking kids? That's almost the same as not liking sunny days or ice cream. Except that sunny days don't cry and throw temper tantrums and get loud and obnoxious. Ever since my second or third time at IKEA, I am finding procreation less and less palatable.

So a few months ago, I had serious issues with technological instruments. I had my mobile phone, television, computer, modem, and cordless phone conk out on me. Some of these instruments, thankfully, did come back to life. One of these was my mobile phone, which recovered in about one week after its demise. Sadly, it has met with its full demise today. Being stupid, I failed to check my back pocket before throwing my laundry into the wash. And my cellphone met with a very watery, and sudsy, grave. :(

Thankfully, I don't need a cellphone for much longer. Still, I've had a cellphone for so long that it's difficult for me to imagine even going out to dinner without it. Ain't modern technology great?

Happy New Year!
Honestly, the changing between one year and the next is so seamless anyway, that any of the 365/6 days of the year could be your own personal new year's day.

Angels in America just came out on DVD. This is one of my favorite plays, having seen it performed by an amazingly talented cast in college and later having read both parts and feeling absolutely gobsmacked. It's tough reading, to be sure: some of it's grotesque and over the top, other parts are profane and superfluously self-absorbed. But when a book like that comes along its raw power and energy and creativity spark something incredible. And now, this HBO special production starring the likes of Meryl Streep, Al Pachino, Emma Thompson, Mary-Louise Parker, and Jeffery Wright is a beautiful adaptation. If you can, go see it. But before you do, read it.

I just read a fantastic review of the new iMac in the New York Times. Check it out. It's amazing.

Finally, there were a few choice lines from today's article by William Grimes of the New York Times food section. Grimes was the chief restaurant reviewer for the Times for five years. His wit and culinary savvy were astonishing. So he's back, having unmasked himself earlier this past year, effectively retiring from food criticism, since now all of the restaurants know what he looks like. Today's topic: 30 minute meal preparation. He began with this: "Critics never stop criticizing. They just change thier targets. After nearly five years of finding fault with everyone else, I now impose my exacting standards on the chef least likely to live up to them: myself." Also, this gem: "Absolutely clueless college students probably constitute the ideal readership for Ms. Ray [Rachel Ray of the Food Network], who can explain to them how you make prosciutto and melon, a favorite with all 30-minute cookbook writers. For the record, you cut a melon into pieces and serve it on a plate with slices of prosciutto. Is this necessary to explain? Should she also include a recipe for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?" Finally, though, some words by which to live. "No one should ever dine at a quality lower than veal in sage-butter sauce. At least not at my house." So someone out there, take this adage to heart. And then invite me over for dinner. :)

Today, I think it would be appropriate to pause in rememberance of Henry Bliss, the first person in America to be killed by an automobile. It happened, where else, but in New York City, where Mr. Bliss was stepping out of a streetcar at W74th and Central Park West. As extraordinarily bad luck would have it, he was run down by an electric taxicab, the driver of which was eventually acquitted on the charge of manslaughter. That's driving in Manhattan.

It appears that the British might not be as intelligent as some had hoped. According to The Register, a science and technology newspaper based in the UK, the British Royal Navy has agreed to make Microsoft Windows the standard operating system on its nuclear-weapons-carrying ships. This comes as a shock to most people who can't even get Microsoft Windows to run their calendars withou multiple security patches. I remember when I was asked to switch over to Windows half-way through my teaching job. It was, shall we say, unpleasant.

In a somewhat related topic: I was looking at digital cameras in Cambridge (anyone got any suggestions on what's good, reliable, and cheap?) when I saw the new iMac. It's gorgeous.

I heard an interview on the radio just now, and it offered a spectacular vision of teaching. It comes from Father Gregory Boyle SJ, a Jesuit priest and community activist in Los Angeles, who works with former and current gang members in one of the poorest sections of the city. It was told during an interview with Terry Gross, whose show, Fresh Air, is one of the most popular and long-running programs on National Public Radio. One of the young men that Fr. Boyle had been working with had a dream where the two had been in a pitch black room with no windows. In that dream, no words were exchanged and it was impossible for them to see each other, yet they knew of each other's presence. Fr. Boyle took a flashlight out of his pocket and shined it at the light switch, which the young man then switched, filling the room with light. As Fr. Boyle tells it, as this young man relates the dream, he begins to sob and says with the conviction of one who has had an epiphany: "the light is better than the darkness."

As teachers, it was impossible for me to turn the light on in my students' minds on my own: no teacher can spark that kind of instantaneous knowledge acquisition. But it was my duty to point my flashlight and show the student where the switch was. What was hard about teaching Latin was that in addition to pointing my little flashlight at the light switch, I also had to convince the student that the light is indeed better than the darkness. Many middle schoolers, and fully grown adults, for that matter, are convinced that the darkness is better, or at least, it's not worth their effort to find the light.

My father, interestingly enough, had another view of teaching. He was a professor of Landscape Architecture for many years, and I truly admire him for his love of teaching. He had a friend from college or graduate school who ended up as the lead designer for the Howard Johnson chain of hotels. It was his job to take a unique and untouched piece of land and turn it into a recognizable and cookie-cutter facsimile of the established Howard Johnson look. This, my dad said once, was like teaching: you take a fresh and untouched mind and mold it to exactly the same as everyone else. I can't say that I agree, but it's interesting, no?

My younger brother, the med student, called home last night for cooking tips. I had to smile - I remember calling home for cooking help my first year away from home.

Thank goodness for Bill Belichick and that alchemy he calls coaching. A nailbiter to the end, like all other great Boston games (some glorious, some infamous), this was spectacular. I would not be surprised at all to find that Boston's sporting franchises were really in league with some of the heart specialists at Mass General Hospital. I think that this is going to be a glorious season. I am just bummed that I'll be asleep during most of their games.

I didn't see any of the pre-game show, but I heard that Elton John performed. Actually, a few weeks ago, the Boston Symphony Orchestra got a call saying that Sir Elton wished to have them perform with him, and to bring the chorus for two songs. We chorusters got a recruitment email, which would have been SWEET. Unfortunately, Sir Elton decided against using us old folks in favor of performing with a children's chorus. "The children are the future" my BUTT. The children are here now and they're taking our stuff! Little jerks... :P

So I've been going to the gym pretty regularly recently, and in addition to a whole lot of other things, I 'run' on the eliptical trainer for 30 minutes. I had previously discovered that I react very poorly to knowing how much more time I have to torture myself, so I try to cover up the timer while I'm on. And I found that if I listened to the 1955 recording of Glenn Gould's Goldberg Variations, I would be done with the 30 minutes, the 5 minute cool down, and the wiping down of the machine with just about one minute left of the 38 minute and 20 second piece to enjoy while I drag myself to the locker room. Unfortunately, progress comes with a price. I'm upping my workout time to 40 minutes, which means I need a new album to listen to. Today I tried the Lamentations of Jeremiah by Ferrabosco, Tallis, Brumel, White, and Palestrina, performed by the Tallis Scholars. It was good, but it wasn't great. If anyone has any suggestions of a piece that's about 48 minutes in length, please let me know.

It took me twenty-four hours to post that last blog entry. For some reason, blogger wasn't posting the new posts. Well, it looks like it's back now. Thank goodness.

I do hope that the first day of school went well for all involved. I slept in and then went to the gym. Life is good. :)

...but not for me! My former students head back to school today. I wish them all the best of luck.

I'll spare everyone my rant regarding the Yankees and their insensitivity this past Labor Day. Except to say that the Yankees still suck, even though it's really the fault of the commissioner's office for handling the issue poorly long before the game's expected first pitch.

I've taken up eating salads as meals again, and I can safely say that salads are not meals. I mean, they can be parts of meals, even large parts of meals. But they do not replace the entire meal. I'd have to eat a salad the size of my head in order to be full on a salad. I mean, I like salads; I just also like feeling satisfied after a meal. And for the record, Waldorf salad is gross.

So yesterday I heard one of the funniest moments I've ever heard on NPR. Legal affairs correspondent Nina Totenberg, who is a legend in her field, adored by many, reviled by some, was called into the studio in a demonstration of the art of pie throwing. Sadly, Ms. Totenberg was the benefactor and not the recipient of said pie. That honor would have to go to Weekend Edition Saturday host Scott Simon. Now, I've been listening to NPR since High School, and I've NEVER heard anything quite so funny. You can read about it, hear it, or even watch it (watching it is only funny if you're invested in these characters, as i am) by clicking here.

Also, it has been brought to my attention that a British interactive television network, aptly named Avago, has programmed "Gerbil Roulette." The rules which follow are taken directly off of the Avago website: "When the wheel stops turning its up to you to decide which house our talented little rodent will choose to enter. It couldn't be easier." The New York Times has this, decidely more useful, description: "Viewers can also wager on a gerbil, which is spun around on a platform and then scurries off into one of eight surrounding gerbil houses. Bet on the right house, and win." This is hilarious. Avago also offers Squeal of Fortune, in which a farmer reaches into a pen full of piglets and grabs one of them. Viewers bet as to which number (1 - 9) will be written on the piglet's belly. Seriously, British people are weird.

Finally, the last restaurant week meal for the rest of the year. This one was good. Lumiere is a cute little restaurant operating out of what used to be a Brigham's ice cream parlor in West Newton. We went as a family and were able to order everything on the menu, sans wine. I had the wine tasting, which I have to say was sub-par. But I digress.

First course: local mesclun salad: my brother hated this. It was tasteless and exceedingly ordinary. Chilled Sweet Corn Soup: both of my parents ordered this and it was amazingly sweet and subtle, even with a sweet and hot pepper vinaigrette. I had the Maine mussels, which were cooked in a Smuttynose India Pale Ale. Not surprisingly, the wine pairing here was actually more of the IPA. Not bad.

Main course: my brother had the pan roasted chicken, which was outstanding: in each bite there was a burst of flavor followed by a juiciness one hardly ever associates with chicken. Mom ordered a hanger steak with french fries, which was good, but not outstanding. The fries, however, in true European fashion, were full of flavor and buttery goodness. My dad and I both ordered the Chatham hooked cod, servved on a sweet corn, potato, and applewood smoked bacon ragoût. This was, in my opinion (not shared by my family, I might add), the best dish of the night. The cod was pan seared and crispy on the outside; inside, the flesh was firm and moist, with just a bit of flakiness. Stealing the show, the ragout was heavenly: this was a creamy sauce: sweet from the corn and savory from the bacon, perfectly balancing each other and the potato. Honestly, this felt like a nice corn chowder. Unfortunately, the wine was far too acidic for this dish. I was disappointed with this wine, a 2003 Rueda Blanco from Las Brisas, Spain. The wine would have worked with something less sweet. Here, it was almost a chore to drink.

Finally, dessert: Dad had a watermelon sorbet with melon salad and lime-tequila syrup. The sorbet was delicious, but the syrup was far to sweet. Mom tried the Valrhona Manjari chocolate mousse with crème fraîche and candied hazelnuts. This was very good, but I hate hazelnuts with a passion. My brother and I both ordered the wild maine blueberry crisp with ginger ice cream. This was a tad blah. The ginger ice cream was good, not sticky sweet like many other ginger ice creams. However, the crisp itself was much too sugary: the blueberry flavor got lost. This was served with a Mas Amiel, Muscat 2003. I'm not much for dessert wine, so perhaps I just didn't get this. I might have liked the wine on its own, but it did nothing to enhance the dish in any way.

OK, that's it. I'm restauranted out. I long for a bowl of ramen noodles and a dr. pepper...

Whoever pairs up sister cities has got to have a sense of humor. Observe the following:

Beverly Hills, CA and Cannes, France
Detroit, MI and Toyota, Japan

For more, check out http://www.sister-cities.org/.

Wow... I'm watching the Red Sox come apart to the tune of 8-1 against Texas when suddenly, Mark Bellhorn rips a grand slam to left and then David Ortiz homers to right. Unreal. MLB Gameday says, a bit wanly, "coaching visit to mound". HAH.

I love the fact that the Yankees posted a historic train-wreck earlier this week. As I was saying to friends, there was much freude in my schadenfreude. It's tough, of course, living in Boston. The curse of the bambino, it has been said, was broken on the exact same day when a 16-year old kid from Sudbury, Massachusetts 'caught' a line-drive foul ball in his mouth. Well, not exactly. Two of his teeth went flying and blood started to pool on the cement beneath his seat. Now, I don't normally applaud the physical abuse of teenagers, but this kid lived in the same farm that Babe Ruth used to own. So given both his address and bodily injury, in conjunction with a historic blowout by a certain team in the Bronx might actually have put the curse to bed.

Of course, I doubt it. But one never knows. And it's still a 2-run game in Fenway, with the Yankees having lost. The six games where the two face-off later this month will most certainly be interesting. I just hope that no one does something stupid like getting into a fight or punching a wall and breaking his hand. :P

Restaurant week continues, well past its stated objective of lasting for one week. I have no problems with this: I'm always up for trying some new restaurants.

Thursday lunch: Spire. It's interesting that the first steps in their directions are, and I quote: Traveling from London and Moscow: Get on a plane and arrive at Logan Airport. (See traveling from Logan Airport below). Whoever designed this website has a sense of humor. The same cannot be said for the ice-cold waitstaff. I'm sure they have nothing to do with website design. I had an heirloom tomato salad, which was outstanding - it's tough to get good tomatoes in a supermarket, what with them being bred for shelf-stability and not flavor. This was delicious: the ricotta was a creamy and cool foil for the basil and vinaigrette. Second course was a wild american snapper, pan fried and served over a "gazpacho" of cucumbers, zucchini, tomato, and green onion with smashed avocado. I don't know what the preoccupation is with smashing foodstuffs nowadays. They're not mashed potatoes, they're smashed potatoes. This was a smashed avocado. And several years ago, smashing pumpkins? jk. The snapper was very well cooked and with lots of flavor. The chilled hibiscus and champagne soup I had for dessert was new. And by new, I mean odd. It had a deep red color one normally associates with red wine or pomegranite, but was very refreshing. Unfortunately, it was poured around a shortcake upon which had been piled wild berries and a sheep milk yogurt sorbet. I'm sorry; the sorbet tasted like lime, not sheep milk yogurt. And the soup was soaked into the shortcake. My mom had an excellent sweet corn soup, followed by a three-day brined pork loin, and then the heirloom stone fruit cobbler. Briefly, the corn soup was amazing: sweet and creamy. The pork loin was disappointing - it had plenty of flavors, many conflicting with each other. It was vaguely Asian tasting, but I really could not place it. The cobbler was OK, except that one expects a crumb topping on cobbler: this was served with a biscuit on top, and was accompanied by lemon thyme ice cream.

Thursday dinner: Julien. Holy moly this was incredible. Restaurant critics have named this dining hall the "embodiment of elegance". This was truly an outstanding experience: the service (especially when contrasted to the nimrods at Spire) was outstanding: the entire staff was friendly, knowledgeable, attentive, and courteous. Wow. My only gripe with Julien was that they charge extra for adding things to their restaurant week menu. You can have the native and heirloom tomato salad, but if you want the blue cheese flan that's really supposed to go with it, you need to give us another $8. Boo. For the record, the tomato salad was even better here than at Spire. I had a pan seared sea bass on a zucchini and saffron risotto with pinot noir essence. I certainly didn't taste the pinot noir essence, and had a hard time identifying that there was saffron in the risotto at all. In fact, the risotto was chalky and bland, no what would have been naturally expected. We also ordered the other entree, the roasted breast of chicken with organic herbs, garden beans and marcona almonds. This was tender, juicy, and very well balanced, flavor-wise. Of course, we could have added lobster in the risotto for an additional $14, or sauteéd Sonoma foie gras to the chicken for $16. Dessert, like the appetizer, was pre-determined. This was a lemon crème brûlée with native blueberry compote. While a bit on the sweet side, this was outstanding: the service was wonderful and the entire experience was fantastic. I hope I'm wealthy enough to return outside of restaurant week.

Last night (yeah, so my family went a little restaurant-week crazy) was a chic restaurant called 33. This was nuts: located in a forgotten part of Boston almost facing the Mass Pike (one of the few things standing in the way of a truly unobstructed view of the Pike is a large construction pile) and close to the culinarily and cultural bereft Hard Rock Cafe, 33 is a bizarre restaurant and bar with ultra-chic touches here and there. Not a place I would have gone ordinarily, but then again, that's what restaurant week is all about. I had an asparagus with shaved parmesan, mache salad and truffle dressing. I have, in the past two weeks, eaten more asparagus than I usually do in a year. The parmesan was bright and tangy, while the asparagus was a tad flavorless. We also tried the leek and potato soup served with a little island of crab flan. The soup had a curry/cumin hint to it, while the crab flan was almost entirely devoid of taste in every way. My brother had the sirloin of beef with grilled asparagus (there it is again!) and foie-gras jus. He ordered it rare, they brought it out medium-rare. I have *never* sent back a meal, and would have difficulty doing so. Especially having read Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential, which is a terrifying look inside the kitchens of America's top restaurants. I ordered a torchon of salmon with vegetable relish and lots of other things. This was excellent, though I am getting quite sick of salmon. It's difficult, of course, to cook salmon poorly, which is why I cook and eat so much of it. Toxins in farmed salmon being as they are, though, I'm starting to re-think that. Dessert was, for me, a warm chocolate cake with crème Ânglaíse. This was rich and delicious: exactly what I was looking for. My mom and brother had a medly of vanilla ice cream or sorbet. The thing is, that both the ice cream and sorbet were presented, and it was difficult to distinguish between the two.

Overall, restaurant week is a great excuse to go out and try new things. Believe it or not, we're doing one more, on Sunday.