I’ve been thinking about launching this blog, site, Tao of Me – whatever you want to call it – for a while now. However, it can be a bit daunting to throw your neck out there when a significant chunk of my time is spent A- watching The Golden Girls on Hulu and B- rolling my eyes at, well, people who do exactly this.
I figured the calling for Dinners & Deadlines to birth itself came after I read one too many articles in magazines or newspapers in Boston or New York where the person doing the food or travel or life advice was – pardon my French, Mom – a real asshole. It’s always someone with a name like Porchetta or Lichtenstein or something that somehow requires a punctuation mark normally reserved for Baltic countries. And they always have a snide sentence or two that lets you know REAL FAST they’re the type of person who would think Sbarro is the working title of a coronavirus vaccine and not the OG of the American shopping mall food court.
Then, they’re always fapping about some random 10-table (MAX!) restaurant that only serves hollowed quail eggs filled with artisanal Tic-Tacs and Dasani drizzle on a $975 tasting menu, and you better put in a reservation now because they’re booked through October. Of 2023.
Porchetta! Shit! In THIS economy?! Can we at least think about a Chili’s recommendation once in a while?!
Oh, and when they do go to an attainable restaurant, it’s always written with this smarmy tone: “I would never be caught dead here again, but it’s important to remember. We need places like this, ugh where the tomato sauce has oil swirls twice as dangerous – TO MY FOOD WRITER SOUL – as the Exxon Valdez spill, where your average American can get an affordable meal, that they will inevitably pay for in a higher cholesterol count, from real people, who I’m pretty sure were in polyester outfits that made me choke more than the oily puttanesca.” Porchetta! Take a breather!
As you may have seen, I was supposed to be working the marketing blitz at the moment for the second edition of Moon Boston, my greatest hits album of all my favorite Boston bars, restaurants, shops, attractions, and day trips. To be honest, it’s now a question of whether many of these places will make it through the toughest time for the travel industry. But I’m going to do my best to still highlight these and other of my favorite spots around the world and hopefully keep this going for volumes 3 to infinity.
It’s pretty simple to digest. There will be no real pattern to what I’m writing about, but I’ll stick mainly to “dinners” (food musings, restaurant and bar summaries) and “deadlines” (often travel breakdowns on a deadline, usually 48 hours to give you from 5pm on a Friday until 5pm on a Sunday when those Sunday Scaries are likely causing a trip or two to the bathroom – pardon my French, Mom!). We’ll get some other categories going eventually, but let’s start small.
Also, as the logo suggests, I’ll always end each post with a “must” (you’re going to regret not doing this while you’re at whatever it is I’m writing about), a “maybe” (eh, go for it if you’re in the mood, but you can probably use your cash for something elsewhere and not have FOMO), and a “miss” (don’t even bother with this dreadful item). I think that’s enough for now, so until next time, here’s a welcome round-up on what to expect:
The Must: I solemnly swear to not make this another snotty travel or food blog where I make you feel like an idiot for not knowing there’s a secret dining room somewhere that requires you to tap a wall in a certain way like they require in one of those Harry Potter Potemkin villages. We’re going to have some fun and not blow the bank – unless it’s something absurdly necessary like a mint condition complete collection of the McDonald’s Teenie Beanie Babies
The Maybe: This won’t be perfect, so tolerate me for a few weeks while I learn the ropes. But photos of my dog will hopefully make it worth your time until we get fully up and running.
The Miss: Porchettas of the world, please drop your scowls and sneers. We’re tired of your nonsense.
Dinners & Deadlines 