The end of a calendar year is generally a time of
reflection. As January 1st looms, so do resolutions, those pesky promises we
make to ourselves year after year, in hopes of making our lives more
satisfying. I think the
only time I followed
through on a New Year's resolution was the year I resolved not to make any.
And, now that I think about it, by making a resolution to not make any
resolutions, I failed before I even began.
My head hurts.
If I'm not going to set goals for the year ahead, I figure I
should at least take some time to look back. 2009 was a big year for me, most
especially because I moved my boozy butt to the opposite coast. After nearly a
lifetime spent stirring up trouble in the Greater Boston area, I now live in
San Francisco, where I haven't quite found my nightlife niche.
To really look back at my 2009, we have to look
in the bars of Boston, where I left my heart, my dignity, and my credit card
more than a couple of times. January was the month of rum - more specifically,
the month of RumBa (InterContinental
Boston, 510 Atlantic Avenue, Boston, 617.217.5152). This sleek rum and
champagne bar rules the waterfront, and every sip of RumBa's Hemingway Daiquiri
($14) is seductive. Sweetly tart, it's a customized classic cocktail of
grapefruit and lime juices, maraschino liqueur, and, traditionally, white rum.
However, RumBa gives you a hundred rums to choose from, so I usually request
Old Monk dark rum - a sinful sip with notes of rich toffee. It introduces an
entirely different dimension to this citrusy cocktail. Order one up while lounging
by RumBa's fireplace in the back of the luxurious bar, and you'll feel like
old-time royalty on a Caribbean vacation.
One of my most memorable evenings of 2009 I don't actually
remember much at all. On St. Patrick's Day, I joined the Sandbox
monkeys, Charlie, Fletcher, and Special Ed, for a night of Jameson (and
generally cringe-worthy moments involving my coworkers) at Hurricane
O'Reilly's (150 Canal Street, Boston, 617.722.0161) to watch The
Gaslight Anthem headline for a room full of women dressed like slutty
leprechauns. So. Much. Glitter. Hurricane O'Reilly's isn't a normal hang of
mine, but it's an undeniable hot spot for St. Patty's Day, and damn, did it do
that holiday up right. The enormous bar in the middle of the room is the ideal
space to grab a Guinness or toss back a whiskey while you make new, loud,
ruddy-cheeked friends.
Speaking of Irish bars, I can't stop thinking about The
Field (20 Prospect Street, Cambridge, 617.354.7345). Many of my
happiest nights out in 2009 were spent perched at a rickety table in this
Central Square pub, drinking a beer and enjoying the antics of hipsters and
townies and improvisational comedians fresh off a show at neighboring ImprovBoston
(40 Prospect Street, Cambridge, 617.576.1253). There's not much elbow
room here on the weekends, but there's always a ton of personality mash-ups.
Even reserved literary nerds flock to The Field on Bloomsday to toast James
Joyce with a frothy pint.
I, of course, had to kick off my 30th birthday party by downing
Midnight Espressos ($8.50) at Highland Kitchen (150
Highland Avenue, Somerville, 617.625.1131) in order to gear up for exquisitely
terrible karaoke at Do Re Mi (442 Cambridge Street, Allston,
617.783.8900). A supercharged jolt of Van Gogh Espresso vodka, sambuca, and
coffee, this caffeinated cocktail is the perfect way to wake you up before you
go-go. Damn. Forgot to sing that one.
When it came time to bid farewell to Boston, I hit Audubon
Circle (838 Beacon Street, Boston, 617.421.1910) with my fellow
Phoenicians, Stuffies, and FNXers to celebrate my last day at the office with a
few Pimm's Cups ($10), dangerously drinkable cocktails of the British
persuasion, made from Pimm's No. 1 (a spice-infused gin-based liquor),
lemonade, a splash of soda, cucumber, and CRACK. Just kidding about that last
part, though it may as well include some of the wiggity-wack applejack,
because, holy mother, are these drinks addictive. I can plow through four,
easy, without pausing for breath. (Hmm. Maybe my liver is better off now that I
don't work with nightlife addicts.)
As you can see, 2009 was a big year for me - lots of drinking,
lots of frequent flier miles, and lots of memories. And as I search for my
hangs and my people here in San Francisco, I keep in mind the one truth I
discovered for myself in the year 2009: no matter where in the world my
adventures carry me, Boston, you're my home.
