Viva la Redbones!
As you probably already know, I spent a good six years of my life living in the fine city of Boston. I fled in August 2005 under less than ideal circumstances, but wound up in beautiful Brooklyn where the brownstone-lined streets and Gorilla Coffee keep me quite the happy camper. (I mean really, New York is awesome.) But this morning I've been hit with a pang of nostalgia so sharp it induced blogging.
I miss Redbones.
For the uninitiated, Redbones is a BBQ place in Somerville, Mass., right off the main drag in Davis Square, and they have the most amazing ribs outside of Texas. I'd write poetry about them if I thought my poetry skills were anywhere near good enough to wax on about Redbones Texas ribs, hush puppies, corn fritters, Lynchburg Lemonades... You get the picture. It's some serious down-home cooking in the chilly North East. And it is amazing.
I was hoping to head back to Boston this week for a conference, but now I'm heading to Los Angeles for a different conference, and my weeks of nostalgia and scheming on how to get in a trip to an Anna's Taqueria for a carnitas super burrito, how to find a few lazy hours to hang out in Harvard Square and then maybe hit up O'Sullivan's for a burger and still have time to have a few cocktails and a gouda skillet at the B-Side Lounge for old times sake.
Yes, much of my Boston memory revolves around food, but I think that could be true of most peoples' memories about most places. (Good memories that is.)
I used to drive to work every morning from Kendall Square in Cambridge across the city to Needham, a suburb, and listen to the Emerson College radio station, WERS. I was even having pangs of old radio show nostalgia this morning. Some quality indie rock was played on that station, introducing me to things like The Decemberists, Martha Wainwright, Meg Hutchinson and Antje Duvekot.
For a few years I thought going home to Boston would be too sad, but lately the sadness has moved aside and I'm filled with this overwhelming urge to re-connect with the little day-to-day realities of a life I'd most willingly left behind.
I think perhaps its time for a visit.