JP is cool, but James's Gate will leave you cold.

I know it's probably inappropriately immodest for me to say so, but I am truly a human database for Boston restaurants. Having had evening plans with a colleague cancel at the last minute, I found myself heading home tonight with no plan for what to have for dinner. Spending a good chunk of my commute on the Jamaicaway (not to mention dodging rubber-neckers checking out the "Christmas House"), I thought that it might be fun to grab a meal in JP. On route, I called Paul and checked in - his request? Fish & Chips (how a foodie married a Brit who thinks ketchup is its own food group could the subject of its own blog). Well, the ones and zeros whirred away in the mental database and spit out its input - James's Gate. We'd had dinner there once before with some friends. I didn't remember much about our meal, but I did remember that it had a good pub-y atmosphere, so it seemed liked a sure bet for decent fish & chips.

I really love JP. It's diverse and urban and full of good range of people. Plus, there's tons of great little places to eat. However, tonight, JP was testing my last nerve. I was a little on edge already after a stressful day at work. By the time we circled three times for street parking and ended up parking four blocks away on a chilly night, the edge had become a cliff. So James's Gate had a tall order to get me mentally back on track. On the first pass, it failed... the bar is totally mobbed and there are no available tables. Luckily, we can see that across the bar is more of a restaurant area with open tables. Strangely, you need to actually exit the bar and walk to a separate entrance to get there. Once inside, my mood brightens considerably - the host is friendly and attentive and the warm-hued interior is decorated with local art.

I should have known that the food was going to be a challenge as soon as we got the menus. There were two. The pub menu and the restaurant menu. Some of the same items appeared on both, but largely they offered two completely different styles of food. Strike one: I am totally confused and overwhelmed by the options. I seriously don't get how restaurants don't understand a simple fact: If your kitchen staff doesn't rival the ranks of the armed forces, keep your menu to a manageable few items that you can do really well. Sigh.

The quiet, but sweet waitress takes our drink orders quickly and I am soon fortified by a really good glass of Huia Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand. My feelings continued to improve as we are brought a basket of hearty, crusty wheat bread and a dish of dozens of Kalamata and Spanish olives in a spicy olive oil. I loooove olives. We ordered the "Gate Plate" for an appetizer (my fail-safe strategy when I am menu-challenged is to order the "signature dish") and it arrives quickly. The Gate Plate is a sampling of smoked salmon, smoked trout, rare pepper-crusted Ahi tuna strips, served with slices of tomatoes, red onions, fresh mozzarella over a bed of mixed greens and sprinkled with capers. It also came with a side of sour cream and mustard. Ok. This is perhaps the weirdest combination of food I've ever eaten at one time and I would not say it exactly "worked" all together, but the individual elements were tasty and well-done. The smoked trout, in particular, was a standout.

While I was enjoying the appetizer well enough, the course ended on a sour note. Strike two: The chef brought our entrees out while we were only mid-way through our appetizers, and stood there staring at us (as they always do when this happens) as if to say, "um, these are hot, could you hurry along?!" We were forced to move our own dishes out of the way to make room for the unwelcome next course and, naturally, none of the appetizer plates were cleared away since they were still full of food. This is, hands down, one of my biggest restaurant pet peeves. Seriously, people, you are a professional establishment for serving dinner. How about you actually check out where the diners are with their previous course before heading out with a new pile of food? If I wanted meals timed this poorly, I could have stayed home.

Paul, of course, got an order of fish & chips. I had selected the pork shank braised in Magners. Seriously, pork & hard cider, how could this go wrong? Oh, James's Gate. First of all, the shank was huge! However, I was assured by the chef that - aside from the bone not being a good option to bring home to my dog (um, ok? I don't have a dog.) - the meat would just "fall right off the bone." Hardly. The meat was dry and tough, fatty and tasteless. The Magners sauce was fruity and would have been a nice compliment to good pork. Too bad. The mashed potatoes and roasted root vegetable sides were fine, but unremarkable. The fish & chips fared a little better, with salty, dark brown fries and flaky moist fish. But even this dish suffered from an overly thick - almost tempura-like - batter, as well as lifeless cole slaw.

Once we'd eaten enough of our dinners to confirm definitively that they were not good, we put our silverware to the side to indicate that we were done. Strike three: And then we waited. And waited. A good ten minutes later, our plates were finally cleared by a busboy and, a few minutes more still, our waitress came by to inquire, "all set? Should I bring the check? Oh, did you want dessert?" Double sigh. I was done with James's Gate, but unable to quench my foodieness, I succumbed to at least looking at the dessert menu. Nothing. Not a single thing that even tempted me. Not even the "chocolate carrot cake." Huh? Yeah, I didn't think so.

I'd give James's Gate at 5-11 McBride Street in Jamaica Plain a D. Want good Irish fare? The database says, head to Matt Murphy's in Brookline.

Can Someone Say "Resolution?"

What more could a foodie want than an entire holiday dedicated to feasting? I do love Thanksgiving. However, being a foodie is nothing short of a huge liability this time of year... road trips mean being forced to eat foods prepared under Golden Arches, travels to small towns to visit the in-laws where dining at nine o'clock is considered eating in the middle of night, daily treats brought to the office by co-workers, and huge family meals with no end of childhood favorites to choose from. It leaves me in a constant state of flux, between being disgusted with my food and picking at overcooked, overprocessed options, to being constantly stuffed by refusing to leave the dinner table without at least trying a bite of each dish.

How will I make it through the next four weeks? New Year's can not come soon enough, with resolutions certain to include healthy eating, moderation, and dropping some pesky pounds. Until then, bring on the figgy pudding.

A list of what I sampled over the last five days:

Apple Cake
Artichoke-Spinach Dip
Beer, beer, beer
Biscuit
Bite of Snickers Bar
Buffalo Wings
Cheeseburger
Chicken Fingers
Chocolate Chip Pie
Coffee, coffee, coffee
Corn
Cranberry Sauce
Cucumbers & Tomatoes
Diet Coke, Diet Coke, Diet Coke
Egg Sandwich
French Fries
Fried Stuffing Ball
Fruit and Yogurt Cup
Gravy
Green Beans
Ham Sandwich
Handful of Salted Almonds
Leftover Grilled Chicken & Salad
Mashed Potatoes
Mashed Sweet Potatoes
Onion Rings
Parsnips
Pita Chips
Pumpkin Pie
Pumpkin Pie Whoopie Pie
Ritz Crackers
Roast Turkey
Shrimp & Spinach Salad
Shrimp Cocktail
Spaghetti Squash
Steak Sandwich
Stuffing
Sweet Potato Fries
Three Rolos
Toast with Butter and Jam
Tortilla Chips
Turkey Sandwich
Vinegar Chips
Wine, wine, wine
Yorkshire Pudding

Wherefore art thou, delicious arancini?

Last night, Paul and I found ourselves in the rare position of heading to an event in an area of Boston that we almost never get to. We went to see Dane Cook at the TD Banknorth Center (the Gahden, for the traditionalists) - man, that guy is filthy, but hilarious. I could barely breathe I was laughing so hard. At any rate, not being much of a follower of the Celtics or the Bruins, I never spend any time in that North Station neighborhood and I know almost nothing of the restaurants down there. A quick Google search proved that I wasn't missing much - as you might expect, the area is abundant in sports bars, but little else. While I generally love pub grub, it just wasn't what I was craving last night. A little off of the main drag of Causeway, Friend, and Canal Streets, Google served up a little Italian trattoria called Nebo - just a few blocks from the North End, it seemed like a promising bet.

Though it's a short walk from the Garden, Nebo requires a fair bit of committment to get there - it was a little difficult to find and the weather was less than forgiving (winter, it seems, is officially here - sigh). More than once I was tempted to give in and settle for a burger at Beerworks. As soon as we get to Nebo, I am glad that we persevered. The restaurant is smallish, with great chic decor - dark wood, small spotlights, and an accent wall in brick. Unfortunately, there are already many diners there when we arrive, leaving only seats by the window open. It's both colder and less cozy by the window, but still nice. Plus our section has a helpful, attentive waitress which improves my opinion of our table.

Nebo has a lot of delicious looking options on the menu, but it's a little difficult to decode. Half of the menu is made up of "smaller" plates including antipasti, salads, and bruchette, the other half is more standard pastas and pizzas. What I found confusing about the menu is that the waitress recommended that we do more of a "tasting" and order two or three of the small plates for each of us. While I generally don't balk over the price of food, I was dissuaded from doing this since the small plates were ten to twenty dollars each! As faithful blog readers will recall, I love small plate eating, but I am used to paying for tapas that average about seven dollars each, so I opted for more traditional dining at Nebo. Both Paul and I ordered one selection from the antipasti and a pasta entree.

With my meal, I also had a lovely glass of Italian red (a varietal I've never had before and, now, don't remember the name). I thought it was a great touch that the wine menu came with tasting notes (I went for "a mellow blend of balsamic and cherry flavoring"), but, again, I was surprised by the prices - glasses ranged from eleven to fourteen dollars each. For a place that bills itself as a "pizzeria," this seemed on the high side.

Based on the waitress' suggestion we ordered the meatballs and arancini for appetizers. In particular, she insisted that the arancini were the "signature" dish of the restaurant. Now, I will admit to having some suspicion around this. I love arancini, but I am consistently surprised by how poorly they are executed at restaurants. During a recent Restaurant Week, I went to Ivy Restaurant specifically to try their much-touted arancini and walked away completely disappointed. My interest was certainly piqued by the rice balls at Nebo, as they are stuffed with porcini mushrooms and finished with a chestnut honey sauce. Unfortunately, even these unique flavors couldn't save this dish. In my mind, perfect arancini are dense balls of risotto lightly coated in breadcrumbs, which - when you bite into them - ooze a bit with the creaminess of the rice and a healthy dose of melty mozzarella. The arancini at Nebo had a thick, fried crust with dry rice that fell apart as you ate it, and barely any filling. I will admit that the earthy mushrooms and chestnut flavor was offset by the honey, creating an unusual and tasty flavor combination. Nevertheless, the quest for delicious restaurant arancini continues.

The meatballs did not fare much better. While flavorful, they were dry with too crunchy of a coating. The red sauce in which they were served was an embarrassment to the restaurant's proximity to the North End. It tasted as though the chef simply sent a few tomatoes through the food processor and poured the contents into the serving dish. It was flavorless and thin. I was sorry that we'd ordered the grilled bread (not complimentary at Nebo) to be able to sop up the sauce, though the bread itself was well done - smoky and crisp.

At this point, I had pretty much written off Nebo. I should not have been so hasty. Our main courses arrived, well portioned (not too much and not too little) and beautiful-looking. Before my first bite, I knew that the pasta would be exceptional - it looked thick and dense and misshapen, as all homemade pasta should be. It was outstanding. Paul had ordered tagliatelle with a mixed mushroom-marscapone cream sauce. Again, the dish hit just the right sweet-earthy balance with the cheesy sauce and mushrooms. Together with the pasta, it was warm and filling and delicious. I had ordered the ricotta gnocchi with sausage and broccoli rabe. The gnocchi were chewy, but not overly doughy, and topped with the nice spicy-bitter flavors of the sausage and rabe. The whole dish was mellowed by a very light chicken stock sauce.

Riding on the high of the exceptional entrees, plus with more than an hour still left until show time, we decided to stay for dessert. Wrong choice. Even considering the lackluster antipasti, dessert was the biggest disappointment of the night. We ordered the warm molten chocolate cake, served with cappuccino gelato. The cake lacked any punch of cocoa flavor and was beyond dry, especially considering that there was no discernible "molten" center. The gelato was the strongest point of the dish, with great coffee flavor and smooth texture. It also came in a heaping portion - a whole bowlful served with the cake.

I'd give Nebo, at 90 North Washington Street in Boston, a B-. Nebo seems to have forgotton the importance of first and last impressions - while the homemade pasta makes this spot a standout around North Station, the starters and desserts make it impossible to enjoy your meal all the way through. Next time you are heading to the Garden, stick with beer & nachos. Next time you are craving Italian, walk the extra few blocks to the North End.

How Many Ways Can You Serve Fried Taro?

It's been one of those months. You know the ones where you are so busy - running around, trying your best to manage your job, your relationship, your friends, your zillion activities without letting any of them down - that, before you know it, you look up and four weeks have zoomed by? Yeah, it's been one of those. So, when a few old friends from grad school e-mailed and asked to get together for dinner, I was happy to - as long as they told me exactly where and when to show up and I didn't have to do any planning. Kind friends that they are, they did just that and, earlier this week, I joined them at Aneka Rasa, a Malaysian place in Allston.

When I graduated from college and moved to Boston, my roommate and I had one major criteria for an apartment - that it be cheap. Remember being 22? Wow. We were so thrilled to find a place that we could afford, we barely noticed that we'd landed in grimy, gritty Allston-Brighton. In fact, since the area was so affordable, there were young, recent grads everywhere we looked (including many old friends from school) - we felt like we'd hardly left campus. I still remember the horrified looks on our mothers' faces the first time they saw our apartment.

Well, it's been years since we've lived there, but navigating Harvard Ave. for a parking space brought back a lot of memories. While many of the store fronts have changed over time, the types of shops and clientele are still the same. Aneka Rasa is one of the new places since I'd left the neighborhood. From first glance, it looks very promising - a big, modern space that, from the street, looks packed with patrons.

As soon as I got inside, I had to laugh. The hostess has been quite ingenious in her seating plan - all of the tables in the front window are full - giving the outside appearance of a hopping joint - but they were the only ones with diners in the whole place. Granted, it was a Tuesday night, so certainly one of the slowest nights of the week. My friends had already arrived, so I join them at their table. Since we are - of course - by the window, it was freezing in our area of the restaurant and I end up with my coat on the whole night.

The menu is an absolute tome of at least 50 or 60 possible entrees. I know very little about Malaysian food, having only tried it on two other occasions, both times at a place in Brookline that - if I am not mistaken - is no longer there. It was very good. However, that was years ago and I don't remember what I ate or what might be considered a specialty of the region. So, when faced with the number of options at Aneka Rasa, I feel a little lost. A few things on the menu that look tasty, are unfortunately crossed out (I assume, meaning not available?). Amusingly, they are clearly crossed out on the computer before the menu was reprinted - as opposed to simply deleting them!

One thing I find unusual about the menu is that quite a few dishes are served with some form of fried taro. Taro is a root vegetable, a little like potato. I didn't know that this was an ingredient frequently used in Malaysian cooking, but it appears that way. Interested by this phenomenon, we order butterflied shrimp, battered with taro and fried, as well as chicken satay, for appetizers. Service is quick and friendly, though they are a little aggressive with filling our water glasses and getting an explanation of a few items on the menu is a challenge due to a language barrier. At one point, my friend and I literally drop our forks on the floor at the same moment and our waiter is immediately to the table with two replacements, without even being asked.

Our appetizers arrive quickly and I go first for the shrimp, eager to try the taro. I should have been more patient. The taro is bland, tasting only of the oil it was fried in, and the small shrimp are mealy and lost in the mush surrounding them. The plum sauce that accompanies them is overly sweet and too thin. The satay is far better. Thin strips of juicy grilled chicken, served with an ample pot of chunky, spicy peanut sauce. I am a sucker for nuts and I love the crunch that the large pieces of peanuts give the dish.

For our main courses, one friend chooses a simple stir-fry served in - what else - a fried taro "basket." My other fellow diner selects a saucy, green curry pot and I order Rendang Beef, described on the menu as "pieces of beef simmered in coconut milk and exotic curry spices." We also ask for a side of coconut rice for the table. Despite choosing a wide variety of entrees, each dish shares one thing in common - they all lack any character or unique flavor. My beef is tough and a little stringy and barely has any punch of taste or spice. At first I worried that the coconut milk of my meal and the coconut rice might result in an overly sweet experience. I needn't have given it second thought. Neither dish has any identifiable coconut taste, which is a shame, since I love that flavor. The curry pot is equally bland and full of odd, mismatched vegetables. The stir-fry ends up being the safest choice for its simplicity and is somewhat tasty - if you avoid the taro.

I'd give Aneka Rasa at 122 Harvard Ave. in Allston, a C-. While Malaysian restaurants in Boston are in short supply, there are plenty of places turning out delicious pan-Asian fare - stick with those. And if you see taro on the menu? Skip it. Trust me.

Chilled Monkey Brains

Does anyone else remember that scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where they are in India and they are served Chilled Monkey Brains for dessert? Remember how Kate Capshaw sort of freaks when the monkey heads, with the tops sliced off, come to the table? My gag reflex is acting up, just thinking about that scene. Here’s the thing, I can totally relate to Kate’s reaction. Despite being a self-proclaimed “foodie,” I am not truly adventurous in my eating.

I was doing some work at home this morning and had the Travel Channel on in the background. At one point, I noticed an ad for a new show called Bizarre Foods. As the name implies, the host basically travels around the world, looking for the weirdest possible culinary specialties of different regions and eating them. The ad featured the poor guy downing “delights” such as fermented ducks’ eggs and huge grey worms that are eaten live, straight from the bark of a local tree. I have only one word for this. Barf. The host actually looked like he was having a good time sucking down the slimy, wiggling worms. Either this dude is crazy or they are paying him buckets of money to keep that smile on his face. My foodieness just simply does not extend to super obscure, bizarre foods. I just can’t do it.

This whole thing got me thinking. Can you really be a foodie if you aren’t willing to try new, weird food? Have I eaten enough “semi-bizarre” things to maintain my title? Let’s consider…

I’ve spent more than one delicious Sunday morning in Chinatown, dining on dim sum at the China Pearl. Happily eating shu mai and steamed buns, stuffed with unidentifiable meats and spices, crunching on spicy shrimp complete with shells and heads still on, and finishing things off with mung bean paste desserts. I stop short of munching on the chickens’ feet.

I love sushi and will eat pretty much any raw fish served to me, especially if it’s slathered with a good dollop of spicy wasabi. And even though I am not a huge fan, I’ve tried all types of roe – including the tiny, salty eggs that crunch in your mouth, to the big, gelatinous ones that pop like tapioca. I’ve tried eel, octopus, and sea urchin. The later two more suited to my palate than the first.

At one fine dining experience, I slurped raw oysters topped with a fish-essence foam, followed by a course that included a poached quail egg and roasted squab. It was all outstanding. At another high-end restaurant, I had an exquisite course that featured pork belly.

Having lived in France, I’ve tried the requisite frogs’ legs, escargot, and sweetbreads. Growing up in California, I traveled to Mexico frequently and indulged in all types of street food, prepared in less-than-pristine conditions. Amongst my family, only my brother Joe would join me.

Other – mostly European – travels had me eating liver, kidneys, and chicken hearts. Trips to the Southern US have meant sampling alligator and turtle and shark, as well as peeling and eating fresh crawfish. A backpacking trip to the Southwest had me eating kippers from a can and tasting rattlesnake.

Are my food experiences sufficient to still claim that I am foodie? More so than what I’ve eaten in the past, I think what makes me a true foodie is that I relish trying new things – within reason, of course! I may not be willing to taste pickled pig’s feet at my next outing, but I am certainly game for adventurous cooking techniques, unique blends of flavors, and obscure ethnic ingredients. I think I can still sleep at night.

I would love to know – what have you tried that would be considered bizarre?

Roslindale? Is that in the South Shore?

No. Roslindale is not in the South Shore. It's actually part of the city Boston. I swear. When most people ask me where I live, I get a blank stare when I reply, "Roslindale." My standard explanation is, "it's sorta between JP and West Roxbury." Oh, ok! That seems to be enough to offer a little orientation for most folks. So, you can imagine my surprise the other night when, having just met another couple at a fundraising event, they informed us that they were basically our neighbors. We'd actually started up a conversation with them because I'd overheard the woman referencing working for a Boston PR agency. We played a brief game of "do you know so-and-so" and then launched into a lengthy discussion about the state of the industry. Almost as an afterthought, Paul inquired as to where they lived in the area. When you find out that someone else is from Roslindale, there is only one place to take that conversation - restaurants.

Yup, that's right, I said restaurants. If, by chance, you have yet recovered from "Roslindale is a part of Boston," I am sure that you are now certain that I am playing a joke on you. There are restaurants in Roslindale? Good ones? Oh, yeah. Talking about the dining establishments in Roslindale, I almost feel like I am betraying my community. Aren't they our little secret? Should we let others know? I'm torn. However, the desire to brag about this little foodie-oasis in the city and to promote our local economy wins out. So here goes.

By far, the most well-known - and, arguably, the best - place to eat in "Rozzie" is Delfino. Delfino turns out the finest Italian in the city, outside of the North End. When Delfino opened in 2001, it helped jump start a major revitalization in Rozzie Village, our little downtown area - which is now, relatively speaking, booming. I have one friend that I believe would die happy, if it meant drowning in a bowl of their Bolognese sauce. One warning on Delfino - have a snack before arriving. A ninety minute wait is not unusual. It's worth it.

Around the corner from Delfino is a trio of restaurants that share a "secret courtyard." Seriously. You could walk up and down the street fifty times and not know that this place existed, but on that fifty-first time - if you are lucky - you might notice a small black tin sign that reads Sofia's Grotto at the end of an alley. Trust me on this one - go down that alleyway. When you get to the other end, you will have been transported to an old Italian streetcorner, complete with a brick terrace crowded with Bistro tables, shaded by overgrown trees in the daytime and lit by tiny string lights at night, all set to the soft music of a bubbling fountain. I KNOW YOU THINK I AM MAKING THIS UP. You'll just have to go and see for yourself. But wait until a warm night in May - it's so lovely, you'll never want to leave.

The terrace is shared by three restaurants, though many little shops also keep their back doors open in the nice weather to allow for browsing while you wait for a table. The first place, Sofia's Grotto, has a tiny interior with a huge open wood fire and a sizable bar decorated with Mexican tiles. The Mediterranean food is good, especially the paella. They also have a nice wine list, with a great Spanish rose.

Also on the terrace is the Birch Street Bistro, which has an interior just as nice as the courtyard with a dark, chic, Pottery Barn-esque look. The BSB has a lot of great wines available by the glass and comfy bar at which to drink them! The food used to be totally passable, but in the last year, the kitchen has really improved and now turns out consistently good bistro fare. The fish dishes are good bet. As an added bonus, they have live blues music every Thursday night.

The last restaurant on the courtyard is Village Sushi & Grill. I've only eaten at Village Sushi once and it was fairly disappointing. I'd ordered the udon noodles and they were somewhat tasteless. However, I am assured by several faithful Village Sushi fans that the sushi is excellent, so I am certain to give it another go at some point.

Across from Village Sushi's "street side" is the Blue Star Diner, which is a great spot for breakfast. Blue Star serves standard diner options, punctuated with Greek specialties.

Bordering the Village on one side is Washington Street. Turn on Washington heading towards Boston and you'll come to Nuvo Restaurant and Robyn's Bar & Grill. I've not yet had chance to go to Robyn's, but I've heard that their pub-style food is very tasty. Nuvo has a small side courtyard for outdoor eating in the good weather and cozy wine bar seating in the back of the restaurant. Both are better bets - decor-wise - than the main dining room, which has a weird hodge-podge style. I get the impression that they inherited a myriad of furnishings from former tenants of their space and just sort of kept everything. The food, however, is very good. Their spicy tomato soup is outstanding and nice comfort on a cold night. The also serve a killer Sauvignon Blanc by the glass from a vineyard in New Zealand called Zed.

If, coming from the Village, you were to head up Washington Street, towards Dedham, you'd find another great treat - Geoffrey's Cafe. Geoffrey's is somewhat new to Roslindale, having moved from Back Bay. Word is that the owner wanted to relocate somewhere with more of a neighborhood feel, but that could still support a bustling restaurant. There is nothing I don't want to eat at Geoffrey's and - from what I've sampled - it's all very good. I especially recommend the comfort foods, like the meatloaf and mac & cheese. And - this is important - do not leave without having dessert. They are homemade and to die for, especially the Devil's Food cake which is slathered in buttercream frosting. The atmosphere is also very nice with a trendy bar area and - again - a lovely patio with a few fountains. For those interested, it also has an active, super attractive gay scene.

If you are looking for just some good American grub, we have that too. The Boston Brickhouse offers over twenty burgers and all of them are juicy and delicious. I especially like that they have a great veggie and turkey burger, for the nights that you just don't feel like being weighed down by beef. The menu also has a few offerings that hark back to its previous life as an Albanian restaurant. The Brickhouse has a GINORMOUS projection television - perfect for big game nights (which, living in Boston, we get to have plenty of thanks to - it must be said - the WORLD CHAMPIONS, my boys in the rouge socks, not to mention the barely adequate - ha ha! - Patriots).

I am also yet to make it to two of Rozzie's ethnic food destinations, the Bankok Cafe and the new Yucatan Mexican Grill, but I've heard that both are turning out tasty, affordable fare.

In addition to all of these restaurants, Roslindale has some amazing food shops. There are six bakeries in a three block radius, each with different specialties, including homemade pita, baklava, and Irish soda bread. A gourmet cheese shop, the Boston Cheese Cellar, sells amazing cheeses and Greek olive oil by the gallon. And Tony's Market sells hard-to-find Italian ingredients, plus they make their own sausage.

Hungry yet? I am... gimme a ring and I'll take you out for a delicious meal in my little Roslindale. First, you'll probably need to pull out your map to find it. I'll wait. Till then, I'll just enjoy having the place to myself.