Sometimes the food doesn’t matter.

Remember the dot com era? Business ideas that were formed in five minutes over beers and got their first million of VC funding because it was web-based and that alone was enough? Huge, funky-posh workplaces spaces where the 26-year-old CEO had an office the size of your studio apartment? Never, ever, ever actually making money? Ah, those were the days! Despite the nauseating roller-coaster ride that was the very definition of that time, I have nothing but fond memories. I was enormously fortunate to have found a job straight out of college with, quite literally, the best people in the world. Many of them are still amongst my best friends and, last night, I got to dine with four of them. At On the Border. The chain restaurant. Off the highway. In Woburn. Wow.

I am compelled to admit that this is not the first time I’ve been to On the Border. Or the second. I’ve been there at least five or six times. On the Border is – no exaggeration – the most convenient place on earth. It’s right off the highway, right at the intersection of 93 and 95. Most everyone can get there in about thirty minutes and everyone knows where it is (I bet you’re thinking to yourself right now, “I’ve been there…”), so it’s truly a great meeting spot. The food, service, and atmosphere, as with most chains, leave something to be desired.

First of all, On the Border is a really large place – it must fit a few hundred diners – and they have, approximately, two parking spots. After two loops around, I gave up and parked in the motel lot next door. My six-months-pregnant friend who was meeting us had to park across the street. Not an exceptional start. Secondly, the place is mobbed. I literally had to step around people to get in the door and then I waited en masse (no line, that would have actually been some form of organization that would have assured that we were taken care of the in the order we came in) for the hostess to put my name on the list. A forty-five minute wait. On a Thursday. In Woburn. Ok. Luckily, one friend wasn’t due to arrive until about then, so it was fine for us.

I was the first there, but another of my friends arrived within ten minutes, so we decided to fight our way to the bar. The two bartenders trying to serve about 800 patrons at once were understandably scattered. Though, forgetting my order four seconds after I gave it to him was still a bit much. My margarita arrived in a goblet that must have been used in Camelot and it was sticky, sweet, and clearly from a mix. However, it was a margarita, so, yum! Our other friends arrived and we were seated reasonably soon.

You know how I talked about loving tapas and appetizers and little nibbles of things? I’ll give you one guess as to how I feel about chips and salsa. Oh, sweet manna from heaven. I am truly not picky about chips and salsa; my strong preference is for chips that are super hot from the fryer with a reasonable layer of table salt and fresh, chunky salsa that is more what I would call pico de gallo. This is not what they have an On the Border, but that was fine… chips and salsa are chips and salsa (theirs was very spicy, which I enjoyed, but thought to be a funny choice for a huge chain serving hundreds of different palates), plus, the waitress brought three baskets of chips for the five of us. Right on.

I did mention that this was a girls’ night, right? Five girlfriends that worked together in our 20s, mostly single and all childless at the time, and totally, completely, fully insane. We are pretty tame now – all married and all with two kids, except me – but we love to relive the old days when we get together. So, needless to say, the poor waitress must have had to make three fly-bys before we’d actually stop talking for a millisecond to look at the menu. I literally chose the first thing I saw a picture of (ah, chains…) – carne asada soft tacos. I have to say, overall they were quite tasty. Having, naturally, totally filled up on chips before my meal even arrives, I focus on eating the tacos and ignoring the black beans and rice on the side, which looked a bit bland anyway. The tacos came with a few slices of avocado, shredded lettuce, and a small portion of pico de gallo, which were all welcome additions. The beef was a bit too charred on the outside, but was cooked to a perfect degree of done-ness otherwise and it came with this creamy sauce to drizzle on that was seasoned with chipotles – definitely the highlight of the dish. Weirdly, the tacos also came piled with fried, thin onion rings – I pulled most of them out and only left a few for the onion-y flavor. While I enjoy thick, soft tortillas, theirs were too doughy and more pita-like than even I wanted.

And you know what? None of it mattered. At one point, I laughed so hard at dinner, I actually had to sprint to the ladies room to avoid a potential “incident.” I got caught up with my girls and saw photos of their kids. We commiserated on frustrations and celebrated accomplishments. We stayed so late, they finally turned on the overhead lights and ushered us out. Then we all had to drive home. From Woburn. So, that part kind of sucked, but the company was hard to beat and I’ll go back to On the Border any time, day or night, to have a meal with those girls again. I may even order the carne asada tacos. They weren’t too bad.

I’d give On the Border at 19 Commerce Way in Woburn, MA a C+. Go with good friends and you won’t care.

Ok, so I get it about the corn.

Have you ever had that experience where some movie comes out and everyone talks to you about it and how fabulous it is? Then you go and the movie is good, but let's face it, it's not the second coming. Then you're bummed because, if no one had ever talked about it, you would have thought the movie was great... it was just burdened by all that build up.

I had that fear when going to Toro tonight. There'd been a lot of build up: Best of Boston, Spanish for two years running, Top 25 Dishes in the City (Grilled Corn), multiple glowing kudos from friends... how could it possibly live up? In short, it does.

I love TAPAS. Love it, love it, love it. It's like a cuisine custom made for me. I want to try a hundred different things, even if it only means one bite of each. If I go to a party with good apps, it's all over for me - I eat so many, I rarely care about the main meal. So, tapas is a perfect way to eat, in my opinion. I think I have eaten at all the major tapas spots in the city - Tapeo, Dali, Cuchi Cuchi, Taberna de Haro, Tasca (which was right across the street from my first apartment in Boston - it was fated!). If there are others, please let me know about them! Dali is my absolute favorite restaurant in the city - the food is great and the atmosphere is like no where else on earth. Each of these places offers very traditional tapas, except Cuchi Cuchi. I love traditional, but I am also always up for something new. That is definitely what Toro offers.

This shouldn't come as any major surprise, right? Toro is the second? third? outpost of Ken Oringer's growing list of restaurants - all featuring cuisine from a different part of the world. Oringer's skill with food is beyond genius; so much so that we'll forgive him his giant ego (so they say, and, really, don't all the great chefs?). And Toro keeps true to his reputation of creativity and exquisite execution.

First, let's get this business about the corn out of the way. EVERYONE that has ever been to Toro talks about the corn on the cob. I couldn't believe this... it's corn. You can buy ten pounds of it at a road side stand for, what?, thirty-five cents? Foolish girl. It's_really_that_good. I swear. It is grilled to smoky, sweet perfection and then covered in garlicky sauce and cheese (queso fresco? I'm not quite sure.) and then doused with lime. Holy crap. It's unreal. Just go. Eat the corn. Don't be the cynic I was.

So, you can't survive on corn alone, I know... the tortilla was egg-y perfection with a dollop of sour cream, raw tuna dressed with soy and scallions and teensy oyster mushrooms, tart chicken thighs with sticky, honey-like farro, tender grilled bistec with balsamic-y carmelized onions. Wow! All exceptional and unusual.

Less impressive were the portions. While tapas is supposed to just be a small taste, some plates came out with barely enough for the four of us sharing the meal to each get a bite. The sangria and dessert - doughy, bland churros with a spicy chocolate dipping sauce - were both ok, but no match for the meal.

I'd give Toro at 1704 Washington St, Boston, MA an A-. Stick with the main tapas and skip dessert. The service was also outstanding and knowledgeable.

"I take objection to the word 'rodent.'"

Oh boy. Who's read today's Globe?

I woke up super late this morning (enjoying to the fullest my last day of a mini-break/long weekend that I took from work) and plodded downstairs. My husband, already caffinated and watching "Meet the Press," immediately says, "wait till you see the paper!" No "good morning," no "would you like some coffee?" (I would, thank you, guess I'll get it myself!), just, "look at the front page."

While not exactly the main front-page story, there it is - above the fold and all - a small photo of my beloved Mistral with a headline that includes the word "violations." Uh-oh. The article is a most unflattering expose of some local restaurants and their non-Health Code-friendly practices. Mistral is mentioned, as well as Figs, the Federalist, Union Oyster House, Clio, McCormick and Schmick, Top of the Hub, Aquitaine, Sonsie, Harvard Club, and Smith and Wollensky. Legal Seafood is also discussed, but in a positive light regarding to their commitment to cleanliness. What a PR nightmare for the others.

Now, I am about as far from a germaphobe as they get. Last week, at Fenway Park, my friend insisted we rinse our plastic spoons that came from a filthy, open bin before we ate our ice cream. This was a perfectly reasonable request. However, it was also something I would have never considered. I am a big believer in the idea that exposure to a few germs will build your immunities! With all of that said, even I was grossed out by more than one fact in the article.

The same ice used for customers' drinks also used to store bottles of wine? Kinda ew. Hollandaise kept below the acceptable temp? Ew! Meat and seafood thawing in the same water? Double ew! Wiping the edge of a plate heading out to the dining room with a sponge that was sitting in stagnant water? Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!!

While, as a diner, I am slightly put off by these things, there was actually another aspect of the story that I found even more offensive. I have spent the better part of my career in marketing, specifically with some amount of experience in PR. Negative stories about your product, company, service can be hard to control. What's not hard to control are your comments to the press.

First, on the PR-front, I have to give quick kudos to Jamie Mammano, the chef at Mistral. His comments, briefly summarized as, "we are very successful, but we know we screwed up on this, we're working to address it immediately," were an appropriate and well-formed response to the article. He actually managed to make Mistral come out looking ok, despite being at the center of this hugely damaging article.

Less successful? A few of his peers in the industry... without mentioning names (just read the actual article), remarks ranged from, "we've never had any problems and I am not going to discuss the problems we've had," to "it's not right to look at our record over the past few years and print it in the paper," to the all time best comment ever (in response to finding droppings in his restaurant), "I take objection to the word 'rodent.'" Oh my word. Listen, Mr. M, let's call a duck a duck and a mouse a mouse. I don't care if mice are cute with their little whiskers and pink noses (I totally kept a mouse when I was a kid... little Rodriguez was one of my favorite pets of all time!), we don't want them near us when we're spending $100 on dinner!

Well, this article was gross and upsetting, but it still doesn't quell my desire to go out to eat. I'll be out on Tuesday night (How can CORN be that good? I can't wait to see.) and trying not to look too closely at the floor. However, I am hopeful that it encourages some restaurants to literally and figuratively clean up their acts - at least until the next Sunday Globe comes out! Even more though, I hope the folks that gave those absolutely moronic comments get a call from the "main office" reminding them that they are representatives of their businesses and, next time, they should consider a little PR coaching before talking to the press. I am available for a steep hourly fee.

I feel like a lobster roll.

That was my husband's request when, last night, we discussed a venture out into the city for lunch today. Lobster roll, huh? I know just the place.

I've lived in Boston for just over ten years and, in that time, I've become more and more of a foodie. To my great pleasure, the city has kept up with my interest by adding more & more great restaurants than one girl can reasonably try - but I do my best. I even have a spreadsheet to help me keep track. Super nerdy, I know.

I'd just been making some updates to said spreadsheet when my crustacean-loving partner began making demands. There is, of course, an entry on my sheet for B&G Oysters in the South End. Having heard about their infamous lobster roll, I knew that would satisfy Paul's hankerings.

Now, having just claimed to be a major Boston foodie, I am about to admit something that shames me greatly. I have never eaten at No. 9 Park. Sigh. It's been on my "list" forever, I've just never actually managed to get there. So, the idea of having a little impromptu lunch at one of the places in uber-Boston-chef, Barbara Lynch's, growing empire, was very good indeed. Before making a final commitment, I warned Paul, "it's going to be kind of expensive... probably $20 for just the lobster roll." "No problem." Really? Great, let's go!

We headed out at about one o'clock for the quick trip to the South End. One fabulous thing about lunch in the city? The parking! We pulled easily into a metered spot just a block down Tremont from the restaurant. As we entered the subterranean little space, I noticed their great patio for al fresco dining. At nearly 100 degrees and high humidity, we'll save that for another day. On entering, the first thing I notice is the size of the restaurant - tiny! - with low ceilings. That's a lot coming from me, since I am 5'2". However, the cramped space is all in the name of a good cause - at least half of the floor plan is taken up by the exposed kitchen. I pretty much love any place where you get to be privy to watching the chefs cook. The decor is super serene and calming - all brown-gray tones with intricately patterned, wood-paneled walls on one end and glass-tiled walls on the other.

Despite already having passed the lunch rush by the time we arrived, we waited for a few moments at the host station and ended up with a table by the door. Aside from that, service was good - quick and knowledgeable, if not friendly. The first thing I notice when we are handed our menus is the price of the lobster roll - $25. I laugh out loud. Oh well, we're here now! The menu is limited, which is fine. We're here for the lobster, which means we are totally ready to order by the time the waiter comes to inquire about drinks.

Since we've come to place dedicated to a delicacy that neither Paul nor I actually eat (oysters), we order a few pieces of shrimp cocktail as a compulsory nod to the raw bar. The shrimp are excellent - gigantic and firm, served on this perfect bed of crushed ice. The cocktail sauce is tasty, though I would have preferred more horseradish. Paul likes a mild cocktail sauce, so he was quite content.

Just a few moments after finishing our shrimp, our entrees arrive. For Paul, the traditional lobster roll; for me, the lobster BLT. Now, before I go on here, I need to be forthcoming about two things. First, I know lobster pretty well. I went to college in Maine and I've spent a few summer weeks in one Maine seacoast town or another since I was thirteen. Secondly, I am a purist. Lobster needs a little melted butter - nothing more, nothing less. So I am not sure what possessed me to order a big pile of lobster only to fuss it up with bacon, semi-dried tomatoes, and a giant ciabatta bun.

As a BLT alone, the sandwich would have been an absolute standout - thick bacon, with sweet, smoky tomatoes, and soft, powdery bun - and it would have been a relative bargain at $13. The lobster got lost in the smokiness and bread-y-ness. Luckily, Paul and I did half-sies and I got to try a good portion of the traditional roll. It was delicious - just touched with a hint of mayo and sprinkle of chives. Definitely the way to go... though, still a lot to swallow (or a little, as the case may be) for more than twenty bucks.

I would also be remiss to not mention the sides that come with the sandwiches, as they were outstanding and beautifully plated. For me, homemade potato chips fresh from the fryer with lots of weird shapes, just the way you want them. Paul's lobster roll came with fries that were - there is no other word - perfect. Brown and crispy with a dusting of coarse Kosher salt and a little parsley. Yum! Both plates came with slightly sweet pickle chips and excellent coleslaw - super thin strips of cabbage with a vinegar dressing.

Overall, I'd give B&G Oysters (550 Tremont Street, Boston, MA 02118) a B+. Solid entrees with great attention to the sides in a pleasant setting and good service.

I am looking forward to my next outing to Toro on Tuesday! Who hasn't heard about that corn on the cob? I will be sure to report back.