Little Italy

A few times a year, my family drives to Boston's North End. Our stomachs are grumbling because we have reserved our appetites; not because it is a food-filled holiday like Thanksgiving, but because we are anticipating the enticing and very filling dishes served at Giacomo's, a gem on Hanover Street, known for its handmade pastas and seafood.

Giacomo's typically opens at 5pm, but we usually arrive around 4:15, in time to claim our spots at the front of the line. As we wait on the sidewalk, we try to expel our feelings of hunger by occupying ourselves with people watching, a simple task when the characteristic neighborhood is normally bustling with interesting tourists and residents alike. As the line grows longer to the corner of the block, we smile when we hear passersby acknowledge its extent and stare up at the sign to find out which restaurant attracts so many customers when there are so many other eateries of the sort in every direction. 

The truth is, Giacomo's doesn't compare to the others. Eating at Giacomo's is an experience. The moment they open the door, we are pointed to a small table, not even an arm's length away from its neighbors because of the close quarters that seat few more than 50 people at a time. At the back is the bar, behind which several cooks have already begun preparation. Our waiter immediately rattles off the day's specials before hurrying us to decide on our order. We each commonly order our favorite dishes but today, instead of the handmade lobster ravioli, I am in the mood for grilled salmon. Until our meals arrive, we focus on devouring the perfectly crisp calamari and colorful caprese salad made up of tomato slices and rounds of mozzarella encircling roasted red peppers and topped with olive oil and shredded basil. We barely have time to clear our plates before steaming plates are placed before us. A long strip of pink fish, striped with the brown lines of the grill, which looks fabulously enticing with the heap of grilled summer vegetables and lemon wedges alongside it. I briefly admire the arrangement before taking a bite of the extremely tender fish which possesses a flavorful, yet not overly fishy taste. Not to be denied my share of pasta, I relish my side of spaghetti with marinara sauce. Before I regret my indulgence, I decide to wrap up my meal when I am slightly more than halfway through. Not only do I feel perfectly content, but of course I need to save room for my cannoli from Mike's Pastry!

Feed the Birds

This summer I am considering myself lucky that I have a job nannying for a six-year-old and a nine-year-old. Despite the long days, I relish the opportunity to make money while also soaking up the sun at the pool rather than spending hours sitting in a local shop. So far, it hasn't been terribly challenging finding things to do as they act their age and don't feel they are too old to do certain things like feeding the ducks. Just the other day, they were thrilled that their mom had left out a full bag of old hot dog buns. Their enthusiasm was evident as they bounded out of the house, reminding each other not to feed the greedy sea gulls who would inevitably bully the innocent families of ducks for some crumbs. Minutes later we arrived at the boat ramp in the harbor and they eagerly began tearing the soft white bread into little chunks, beckoning to the Mr. and Mrs. Mallard's relatives. Needless to say, they swiftly swam over, probably having learned the value of free food much like anyone else. I gave credit to both children, who aimed pretty accurately from the edge of the water and watched the bread make it safely to the circles of patient ducks rather than into the beaks of swarming sea gulls. Once our bag was empty, the kids were sad to leave their new friends "Pikachu" and "Quackers", but still talked vibrantly about the birds' loyal stance at their feet in order to collect a bit of bread. With so many children now growing out of Raffi and into the top 40 long before I did, I'm pleased to be spending my summer with two who are still young at heart.