I hope I'm handsome enough to be a cardiac arrest model when I get to this man's age.Theo's Brazilian Burger
Before I visited Boston over Easter Weekend, I asked around as to what some must-see places were. Virtually everyone I spoke to mentioned the North End, which I was lead to believe was a sort-of Little Italy. Well, I went with friends Emily and Brittany, and the place felt like an excuse for jerks to yell at you to eat at their rip-off restaurants. Fortunately before we made any brash decisions, we visited the church where Paul Revere did his thing, which gave us some time to think.
After a presentation that cleared up all the lies I was told about Revere in the first grade, I approached one of the church's employees, asking for dining suggestions. Initially, the lazy good-for-nothing recommended the tourist trap food court that is Faneuil Hall. Nobody's fool, I pressed him for a better answer. He wasn't easy to get information out of, but after I knocked him to the floor and pinned him bleeding beneath a folding chair, he volunteered that a place he actually ate at was Theo's, an Italian and Brazilian diner. We had passed it on our way to the church, and even had an elderly gent recommend it, but assuming he was in cahoots with the restaurant owners, we ignored it. Good grief, did we feel the fools! We sheepishly returned to Theo's, where we remained suspicious of the Brazilian restaurateurs' largely Italian menu.
Something strange happens to me when I'm around Brittany, who is a licensed nutritionist: my eating habits become an exaggeration of their already cartoonish unhealthiness. It's as if I'm at the swimming pool and notice a lifeguard on duty. Knowing a trained professional is on hand only makes me want to attempt even more dangerous feats, as I know that if the worst happens, they can at least use their cleaning net to fish my corpse from the bottom of the pool. And so, the only choice on Theo's menu that made sense for the situation was their Brazilian Burger XXX or whatever they named it. The burger was a quarter pound of beef topped with cheese, bacon, ham, fried egg, tomato, and lettuce. Two greasy breakfasts and a lunch housed in one bun: I wouldn't even try to resist. Combined with french fries, I was looking death in the face.
Well, the hamburger was really something. Nowhere near the hamburger I had in Caracas a few years ago (which resembled what you'll see here), but still, really something. Taking my health and manners to a new level, I then helped Brittany finish her eggplant parmigiana sub, which was equally delicious. Those squirrely Brazilians and their cross-continental cuisine really took my body by storm:
Kimball Farm Ice Cream
I'll also use this time to remember and rate Kimball Farm Ice Cream of Westford, Massachusetts. I had a peanut butter chocolate frappe, which I nearly ordered as frappé, but was saved from hoity-toity embarrassment by the employee who pronounced it as if it rhymed with rat trap. I'm going to save you a lot of grief and just tell you to cancel all your plans and head to this modern day dairy miracle now. It's nothing less than, and somehow more than, an:
Before I visited Boston over Easter Weekend, I asked around as to what some must-see places were. Virtually everyone I spoke to mentioned the North End, which I was lead to believe was a sort-of Little Italy. Well, I went with friends Emily and Brittany, and the place felt like an excuse for jerks to yell at you to eat at their rip-off restaurants. Fortunately before we made any brash decisions, we visited the church where Paul Revere did his thing, which gave us some time to think.
After a presentation that cleared up all the lies I was told about Revere in the first grade, I approached one of the church's employees, asking for dining suggestions. Initially, the lazy good-for-nothing recommended the tourist trap food court that is Faneuil Hall. Nobody's fool, I pressed him for a better answer. He wasn't easy to get information out of, but after I knocked him to the floor and pinned him bleeding beneath a folding chair, he volunteered that a place he actually ate at was Theo's, an Italian and Brazilian diner. We had passed it on our way to the church, and even had an elderly gent recommend it, but assuming he was in cahoots with the restaurant owners, we ignored it. Good grief, did we feel the fools! We sheepishly returned to Theo's, where we remained suspicious of the Brazilian restaurateurs' largely Italian menu.
Something strange happens to me when I'm around Brittany, who is a licensed nutritionist: my eating habits become an exaggeration of their already cartoonish unhealthiness. It's as if I'm at the swimming pool and notice a lifeguard on duty. Knowing a trained professional is on hand only makes me want to attempt even more dangerous feats, as I know that if the worst happens, they can at least use their cleaning net to fish my corpse from the bottom of the pool. And so, the only choice on Theo's menu that made sense for the situation was their Brazilian Burger XXX or whatever they named it. The burger was a quarter pound of beef topped with cheese, bacon, ham, fried egg, tomato, and lettuce. Two greasy breakfasts and a lunch housed in one bun: I wouldn't even try to resist. Combined with french fries, I was looking death in the face.
Well, the hamburger was really something. Nowhere near the hamburger I had in Caracas a few years ago (which resembled what you'll see here), but still, really something. Taking my health and manners to a new level, I then helped Brittany finish her eggplant parmigiana sub, which was equally delicious. Those squirrely Brazilians and their cross-continental cuisine really took my body by storm:
Kimball Farm Ice Cream
2 comments:
I LOL'd at the Venezuelan burger reference. And I thought arepas with salty white cheese were bad enough. I remember going to Paul Revere's house- and isn't it in Little Italy? Because I swear there was a Buca di Pepo across the street. I am glad to have you as a reference.
I really appreciate the description of Brittany's influence on your eating habits.
Two A's in one trip? Boston was very good to you.
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