Nostalgia Tour 2024
No. 58 AKA Driving through Boston. And The Sunday Six!
Good morning!
Last night, when we decided on a whim to go into Boston for dinner around 6pm, my usual flood of memories poured out while we drove through the city realizing parking was a disaster (as always) and everyone else had also decided to go out for dinner (shocking). I’m not looking for your sympathy.
Truth be told, I hate making reservations (don’t hate me) when it’s just the two of us which results - most of the time - in going to a handful of usual spots on repeat. Not a bad thing! However, when the whim (my brain) decides on “city” for the spontaneous dinner outing, reservations (and parking) would greatly help the situation. Instead, we were left with a tour of neighborhoods, a long car ride, and eventually landing at an old favorite that seemed somewhat different than anticipated. A Saturday night adventure!
Having lived and worked in multiple neighborhoods in and around Boston since 2010, there are moments and memories on (almost) every corner. Not to mention I grew up just outside of the city and like many kids, I went into Boston with my family for various events and activities (a Red Sox game, visiting the seals at the New England Aquarium, the BSO Open House (is that still a thing?), wandering Newbury Street, the list goes on). Flash forward to now and driving - or walking - around brings it all back, every time. I live for a memory, folks!
Nostalgia lives rent free in my head, for better or worse, and when faced with a traffic-filled ride through Back Bay, all I could do was reminisce on past moments and experiences in the area. Humor me, briefly, with a trip down memory lane.
I once bought a chunk of brie from Deluca’s Market on a Sunday morning and ate it while walking down the street, waiting for Anthropologie to open. I needed a snack! We once walked to Patagonia (located on the far end of Newbury) from our Beacon Hill apartment the day before a giant snowstorm to buy snow pants and jackets which we would then wear every day for the rest of winter (it was a particularly snowy one). Seth generously used to meet me every evening at a barre studio near the Four Seasons Hotel because I took a class almost every single day for years (long ago) which would end after dark. We would then often walk over to the South End to visit Myers and Chang for an awesome dinner, grabbing seats that faced the open kitchen.
The Fairmont Copley holds countless memories, including my sister’s wedding and several New Year’s Eve Day brunches (we always went home to watch the ball drop). I celebrated my 21st birthday on Boylston Street with my parents; we had lunch outside at Abe & Louie’s and I ordered a bright pink cosmopolitan. Ha! Pretty sure I haven’t had another since.
I could go on and on, but I’ll spare you, since perhaps you now want to know the point of this story. After almost an hour of driving, we made it to Allston, our Back Bay plan spoiled by crowds and permit-only parking. We quickly got a space close to our old apartment and walked into an old favorite: Lone Star Taco Bar. Seth and I lived in Allston way back when we first met and Lone Star opened within that first year. Superb tacos, awesome margaritas, and a relaxed, very casual vibe. Perfection for the mid-to-late-twenties life we were living.
For a while, we were there twice a week (sometimes three times) since we lived across the street. We have eaten a lot of tacos at Lone Star over the years. These days, our visits are far less frequent, but the flood of fun memories arrives just as soon as we sit down and order. Sure, the place has changed a bit (not the food, thankfully), but my appreciation for the familiar meal and scenery has never wavered. Do I love the laminated menus? I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.
Last night, while crunching away on tacos and nachos, I realized we were the only guests. What was going on? Maybe it was an off night (rainy) or maybe we were just there too early (well before 8pm). Either way, I suddenly had this pang from within (no, I wasn’t too full) that perhaps this place may eventually change just as the neighborhood its in slowly has as well over the last decade. It used to be overflowing with young college kids and 20-somethings; where did they go? Is the rent too high even in this area? I can’t bear to look.
Much like the bartenders and waitstaff that seem younger and younger each time we visit, my nostalgia for this spot has since forced me to face a cruel reality: we are definitely getting older. Our food and drink order is significantly smaller than it used to be, the prices are significantly higher, and there is a chance that our favorite spot will need to adapt to its surroundings in ways we don’t see coming. Laminated menus and plastic plates; what the? All I’ll say is that the back patio better still be open next spring; nothing can beat tacos and margaritas in the sunshine.
Our drive home consisted of listening - extra loudly - to my favorite hits from 2010 - 2019, no traffic, and chatting about a possible order of Bombas socks. I’d call that aging gracefully. ;)
Do you have a favorite place that conjures up all sorts of joyful memories? Is there a place that you hope will never change? Despite my best efforts, change is inevitable and the only way I’ve found to confidently move forward is to embrace my nostalgia-loving heart. I relish in talking about the past and how those experiences and places have shaped my soul, dotted my personality, and prepared me for the future.
This week on The Sunday Six I’m chatting barn coats, sandals for next summer, and a couple recipes for dinner this week. Sound good? Let’s get to it.
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