Some chilly weekend nights, to cure yourself of the ultimate in “blahsies”, you need comfort foods and comfort friends.
And just as I was feeling quite withdrawn and abit doldrumy from the continued freezing weather, ice covered sidwalks, and general “its nearly February in Boston” malaise that comes every year, my brother invited me out for good comfort food, comfort company, and of course, a flick. What could be more therepeutic, I ask?
Especially the delicious three-cheese macaroni I ordered up at Cafe de Paris, a quaint little bar down on Arlington Street last night, which I must say is now a favorite of mine and I will bring every one of my friends to this establishment (thanks for the introduction, Erin). Boasting an excellent beer selection (they even have Chimay and Delerium Nocturnum), and a sandwich list a mile long, the tightly squeezed tables and booths and beautiful bar make this an excellent stop for some quick eats and loads of catching up.
Honestly, if anyone every wants to enjoy some pints and eats with me, we’re going here.
On another note, I saw The Wrestler afterwards, starring a one jacked up faced Micky Rourke, who is oddly similar to his character Randy “The Ram” Robinson, seeing himself a rather pleasurable career rejuvination of sorts. And this film is absolutely brilliant. I reccommend everyone see it, and I’ll be gunning for Mr. Rourke in the Oscar showdown. Marissa Tomei, albeit it odd that I saw so much of her nakie, is superb as well, though I rarely, if ever, have a complaint about her in any role, for any film. And even though it will change that whole childhood image of her in “My Cousin Vinny” I’ve carried around since my youth, it was well worth every shimmy, shake, pierced nipple and the like.
File Under: Go eat this mac n’ cheese. And go see this film. Now.