Here’s the final part of my Boston food piece. It’s been emotional.
It’s time to impart on you all the most important food lesson I learnt about Boston. For breakfast, it’s all well and good eating donuts, amazing breakfast bagels or leftovers; but in reality, there is only one place worth eating breakfast in Boston: Mike’s City Diner, aka my new favourite place on Earth.
A great little diner a little south of the main shopping districts, the first thing that impressed me was Talking Heads as the soundtrack to our meal. Apart from that it appeared to be a pretty standard diner fare – free coffee refills, pancakes, fried breakfasts, yada yada.
The difference is, everything is great. I chose the Emergency Room breakfast – which consisted of a short stack of pancakes with butter and maple syrup, and eggs, sausages, home fries and toast. This came to me on two, large, plates.
I nearly, nearly, couldn’t finish it. This was partly to do with the fact that I was pinching the leftovers of my girlfriend’s breakfast at the same time, but I managed it. Just about. I had to waddle out of the diner but it was oh so worth it. The sausage and eggs were done to perfection, and obviously it’s pretty hard to mess up making toast. But the real joys of the meal were the home fries (sautéed with onion and herbs and crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside) and the pancakes – oh good lord, the pancakes. I’ll just leave it at the best pancakes I have ever eaten. And this comes from someone who makes it his mission to devour batter in every way, shape and form.
As I flip-flopped between grumbling about eating too much and extolling the virtues of two plates of breakfast, we spent the rest of the day shopping. Eventually, at about four in the afternoon, food was required again. So, we went into the food court of a local shopping mall and had a look. Eventually we settled on getting some fries from a place called Flamers, whose menu seemed to consist of charred animal carcases or things cooked in the fat of other dead animals. I went for chilli cheese fries and the female chose bacon cheese fries. I still can’t quite get my head around American cheese being used on things other than burgers, but they were nice nonetheless.
Our final meal of the day was another trip to Wendy’s at about nine. Another round of value burgers, coke floats and milkshakes – sans fries this time.
The next morning was our final day in Boston. Having witnessed the glory of a pancake breakfast the day before at Mike’s, we decided to try out a different diner just round the corner from our Hotel, called Thornton’s. They had a similar option to the Emergency Room – consisting of two pancakes, two rashers of bacon, two sausages, two eggs, home fries, and two slices of toast. It was, again, delicious, and the pancakes were lovely and fluffy, but unfortunately it didn’t quite reach the heights of Mike’s. The home fries were wonderfully spicy though, and I was able to get myself another bottle of Mug Root Beer.
My final meal in Boston was at the airport. With two dollars and twenty cents left in my wallet, I splashed out on two donuts from Dunkin’. As I sat, waiting for the gate to be called and nibbling away at another Boston Creme, I wondered exactly how many holes on my belt I had grown. Whatever the number, it had been worth it.