Bahstun! Food: Part Four

13 Mar

Last time in my thrilling Boston food story, I had eaten my bodyweight at The Cheesecake Factory, and had returned to the hotel with a doggy bag of pizza and fries.

Unsurprisingly, I was still feeling quite full in the morning. However, after a few episodes of My Cat From Hell (God bless you, American Television) I was feeling a little peckish, so promptly devoured my cold sweet potato fries and pizza slices. The girlfriend was content with another breakfast bagel, and we picked one up on the way to our next destination: Harvard.

Harvard is brilliant. Just saying that now. Unfortunately, we picked somewhere bad to eat lunch. I have a very stupid habit of buying food out of vans. I don’t know what it is about it, but I’m attracted to food trucks like a fly to a bug zapper. Seeing a few Harvard students congregating outside a van selling Chinese food, I thought to myself ‘well, if they’re eating it, then it must be good’!

Turns out, Harvard students may be smart, but their taste buds are dumb as fuck.

Maybe Pro Plus kills taste?

Actually, I’m doing the van a disservice. I chose beef in black bean sauce with noodles, which was tasty enough – a standard British takeaway level – and the portion was massive. Unfortunately the dame went for a not-so-tasty orange chicken. The chicken itself was covered in powdery batter, and it was topped in what I think was sauerkraut. Even I couldn’t eat it, and I’m effectively a fleshy waste disposal machine.

Thankfully, dinner was much better. We decided to go to Spike’s Junkyard Dogs. They do a deal, of sorts; eat six hot dogs and they take your photo for the ‘wall of fame’, and give you a free t-shirt. Eat more than the current champion, and you get a t-shirt and all your hot dogs for free!

Not seen: the fries. Or me, salivating.

The only issue was, the dogs are pretty large. Although I think I could have handled six dogs (and got my hands on a totally badass t-shirt), it would possibly have destroyed me. It would certainly have destroyed the rest of that evening, as I sat complaining that I ate too much. So instead I went for a standard – a chilli cheese dog with curly fries and a Mountain Dew.

The dog itself was very nice – chilli was a good level of spice, and the all-beef sausage was served in a nice baguette instead of a bun. A meal there wasn’t too expensive either and the decor was a suitable level of tackiness. Obviously not enough can be said for the wonders of Mountain Dew, either. If Mountain Dew offered all the vitamins and minerals needed for survival, I would quite happily drink it until the end of time.


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