Dispatch from SC: I Do This for a Living

Last week, I told you all about one grand dinner my girlfriends and I gorged on in Hilton Head a few weeks ago. Today, I wanted to give you a guide to some other tasties we sampled on that trip, in case you’re ever headed that way and staying more than one night.

On our first night at the beach, we knew we wanted to eat on the water. As I mentioned last week, waterfront restaurants are not prevalent on Hilton Head Island. Unlike other beach towns I’ve visited, like the Outer Banks and Destin, FL, Hilton Head is wooded, thick with Spanish moss, palm trees, and shade-darkened streets. So we went to the iconic Salty Dog Café, scion of a million touristy t-shirts and source of good libations and great times. The food here is not the focus, and it’s not outstanding. But the beautiful water view is hard to resist and the Coronas, honestly, are just right. One stand-out was not even remotely gourmet, but still tasty: shrimp toast. It’s in the background of the following photo, but consisted of crunchy, chunky slabs of bread slathered in a shrimp and cheese mixture spiced up with garlic, paprika, cayenne and maybe a small hint of sherry. Slapdash, but delicious:

The crab dip in the foreground was less exciting, but those pita chips were kind of addictive

If there’s a place on the island rivaling Eat!, it may be Red Fish, the CIA chef-helmed and Wine Spectator-awarded respite from the bustling family-oriented spots choking HHI. We enjoyed two evenings there: one lovely dinner inside, and then an outdoor dessert and cocktail “laughy hour” that alienated our waitress but tickled us pink. At dinner, we were seated in the restaurants on-premise wine shop, though we chose to indulge in cocktails of several varieties. I had been craving crab cakes, and was really pleased with Red Fish’s iteration, with chipotle aioli (in this case, I believe someone may have actually made this mayonnaise by hand) and roasted corn salsa. I wasn’t feeling jasmine rice that night, but there were happy to sub in some lovely mashed potatoes for me. And my crab cakes were flawless; exactly the dinner I was craving. There were nice, beefy lumps of crabmeat in there, some good spice, and not a ton of filler. In the World of Crab Cakes, which would be a totally baller theme park, these would be featured in the little café next to the kiddie ride that parents treat themselves to after letting little Bobby and Susie ride the clamshells.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, dinner at Red Fish! Another standout of dinner was Robin’s tuna tartar, which was a recurring dish throughout our beach week. When you don’t want to go for an all-out sushi feast, tuna tartar really fits the raw fish craving so nicely. This example was creative, served in little, crispy, fried wonton dishes. The seaweed salad and very mild wasabi sauce were delectable – seaweed salad is a brand new “like” for me – but the flawlessly fresh, tender tuna sprinkled with white and black sesame seeds was the star.

Red Fish is a posh place, but still cool and modern. During our first visit, we had terrific service from our waiter, but when we returned for dessert and drinks on the patio, our waitress was mostly absent, not amused by us at all. Kind of a buzzkill. I mean, I know we were laughing loud enough to raise several generations of dead pirates buried deep at sea, but come on, you serve me three Bailey’s cocktails, and my behavior is your problem. And you’re welcome for the tip.

Please be nice to us!

One last good, solid dinner was had at the Sea Grass Grille, a French country jewel with a hilarious maître’d and some pretty yummy seafood. But we began that meal with a Low Country classic: tomato pie. Have you heard of this? I hadn’t. There’s a tomato pie recipe rolling around on Pinterest, but I have no idea if it shares a lineage with this uniquely Carolinian dish. The crust was somewhat saturated with tomato juices in some parts, but buttery and flakey in others, the filling was pure summer decadence: tomato and cheese (mozzarella, gruyere, asiago) in perfect harmony, a little soupy, a lot savory, and totally scrumptious. Seriously, why aren’t more things pie?

Next up, I made Robin and Katie eat foie gras. You know I had to do it – it was on the specials menu! I loved it, natch, they did not. Oh well, you win some over to the side of fatty goose liver swimming in a pool of balsamic reduction and rosemary, and you lose some.

So here’s the thing, my entrée was fresh fish. And I can’t remember what kind. It was local, it was firm, it was good. We had it piccata style, and the very rich, buttery potatoes au gratin and very fresh green beans, broccoli and pearl onions alongside made for an enormously satisfying plate. Sea Grass Grille is rated highly on Urbanspoon among HHI seafood restaurants, and deservedly so. But beware: the rest room is through the kitchen, so if you have more than one glass of wine, get ready to say hi to the chef.

One more laughy hour was spent at Truffles, a spot much lauded by locals, but at which I didn’t care for the appetizer, which again was tuna tartar-adjacent. That being said, the space is lovely, the cocktails are inventive and the service is friendly. My very first bite of tuna had a big, thick, gross, chewy vein in it. Ew! But frick and frack liked it, and the wonton crisps with cabbage and wasabi sauce were good, obviously. So here you go:

Overall, our food was very good in Hilton Head. The shopping, less so. We had three separate instances of late afternoon shopping thwarted by closed shops. Apparently, the shopkeepers of South Carolina do not want our money. However, the restaurateurs of South Carolina benefitted from our frustration in the form of hefty bar tabs. Do you suppose it’s some kind of racket?

I can’t leave you this week without just quickly recapping the meals Katie and I enjoyed on our ways from and to the Charlotte airport at both ends of the trip. When I first landed, she took me to the Diners, Drive-ins and Dives sweetheart BarBQ King, an honest-to-goodness drive-in specializing in pork BBQ and hush puppies. I had both, and was a happy girl, indeed. Not remarkable food, but a classic, southern nosh.

In the lap of luxury at BarBQ King

On the way back to the airport on the tail end of the trip, I introduced Katie to the Flying Biscuit Café. Yes, this is a chain. I know! But I’ve been to the original, in Atlanta, with Big Hungry Jill, and I am utterly, completely addicted to its creamy, dreamy grits. They are the grits I make at home, spiced with garlic powder and white pepper, and crammed with white cheddar. I had the eggs over sausage gravy and biscuits with tons of grits this time, and it was a gut-busting but perfect last taste of the south:

I’m in DC this week, cooking up scads of ridiculous, high end reviews for you, Big Hungries, but next week, I’m taking you to Sackets Harbor, to test out the new inhabitant of the old Barrack Restaurant. Come back and dine with me! My hunger is big; my personality is bigger!

PS: So I guess I should explain this post's title? We were actually in a shop, shortly before laughy hour at Truffles, and I was trying to convince Robin to buy formal shorts. I calmly laid my hand on her shoulder and said confidently, "Trust me. I do this for a living." Immediately remember that, in fact, I write and talk about commercial aircraft electronics for a living and NO ONE actually pays me to tell them what to wear, I stammered, "No I don't. No one pays me to do that. I don't know why I said that. I lied." And that became the inside joke of the week. Aren't you proud to be an insider? Yeah, I thought so.

Red Fish on Urbanspoon
The Salty Dog Cafe on Urbanspoon
Sea Grass Grille on Urbanspoon


Dispatch from SC: I Love It, Y'all!

I just returned from one of the most relaxing, hilarious, steamy hot and perfectly-timed vacations ever. Back in the late 90s, I met two little blond girls from Carolina, and this summer, we decided to reunite for a few days of laughter and sunshine. St. Andrews, the tiny private college at which I began my higher ed, was a complete red herring as far as learning institutions go. The drug culture was on equal footing with the strong athletic program, one of my history professors adopted a nickname given me by my high suitemate and continued to call me that for two full years, another professor would actually give me the choice whether or not to take tests for Mass Communications, since I was tutoring several classmates and had the highest grade, and we rarely left campus, choosing instead to make our own fun there. It was on this magical stomping ground that I ended up in Suite 3 sophomore year – down the hall from Katie and Robin. Robin was reedy, cool, witty and wild. She tested every boundary, sometimes more than once, and led our group with an unassuming assuredness that most often masked whatever hijinks she was really up to. Katie, tiny, bouncy, loud, and beautiful, followed our lead and surprised us with her intelligence, which you could sometimes forget when you listened to her high-pitch, deeply southern drawl. I’m not sure quite where this Yankee fit into this trio, but maybe my girls can flesh that out in the comments. We got up to all kinds of crazy shenanigans – like field trips to South of the Border and its hilarious adult toy shop, speeding tickets cutting across Camp LeJune on the way to the beach, stealing ash trays from Huddle House (Waffle House’s ghetto cousin and the cheapest place to eat in our small, college town), and evenings drinking canned beer at the Shady Lady – the worst-named bar EVER.

I hadn’t seen Katie since 2009, and then, only for a fried feast of pickles and burgers at The Penguin in Charlotte. Robin and I hadn’t managed to connect since (gasp) 1999, and I missed them both terribly, so we finally decided to cut the crap and pick a date for a reunion. Robin and her hubby stay annually at a really affordable condo in Hilton Head, SC, so we decided to avail ourselves of the deal and make that our destination. Instantly, I knew I would be treating my sisters to dinner at Robert Irvine’s Eat! Restaurant. Robert Irvine is the well-muscled British dude at the helm of Food Network shows Dinner Impossible and Restaurant Impossible. He’s thriving as that network’s answer to Gordon Ramsey, and I was just dying to try out his food. I’ll fill you in on some other Hilton Head high points in next week’s post, but today, I just have to outline our stellar meal at Eat!

First off, the restaurant is in a strip mall, which kind of surprised me. It’s not beachy at all, but then, most of Hilton Head isn’t. There are few waterfront restaurants, and the island is so thick with palm trees and Spanish moss, you would never know you’re at the beach until a stingray lodges his spur in your foot and says hello. Eat is, however, swanky. We were seated in a grand banquette lit by a beautiful blown-glass red lighting sculpture:

We discussed ahead of time and knew we wanted to eschew entrees for a large selection of tapas. Lately, I’m all about the small plates. It was 100% the right choice, and the girls wanted me to let you know that everything was hot, including the wait staff. Meaning, not a single one of the more than 10 plates we tried was less than piping hot, and also, our waiter Shane was a complete doll, as was some dude who was not our waiter, but whom we called the Silver Fox. Later, Shane also addressed him as Silver Fox, which is hilarious, and also proves that we know what we’re talking about. Not only was Shane a looker, he was a fantastic server. He chose the order our dishes came in, and they were orchestrated perfectly, lightest to heaviest. He also made custom drinks happen without batting a long, attractive eyelash, and put up with every bit of teasing, goofing around and borderline sexual harassment we threw his way. To kick off our three-hour loiter at Eat, he brought us tuna tartar and shrimp ceviche.

While the ceviche was perhaps our least favorite dish of the entire affair, the tuna was our favorite. It had the most flavor of any tartar I’ve ever had – and if you’ve read BHS for any length of time, you know this is a go-to menu item for me. Over a disc of brunoised, skin-on, cucumber, the sweet thai chile-spiced, flawlessly fresh tuna cubes were garnished with avocado cream and a touch of sweetness from ginger-maple-infused soy sauce. Both the chiles and the ginger were integral to the kick of this spiced-but-not-spicy dish, and the avocado cream lent a dreamy creaminess that balanced everything perfectly. We didn’t leave a single, tiny, cube of cucumber on that blessed plate.

Next up was our “salad” course, of pickled watermelon salad and the olive and tomato platter. Both were delightful, with the watermelon salad just edging out the trio of rosemary-sprinkled kalamata and green olives, fried, herbed wonton crips, and roasted grape tomatoes topped with tiny, pearl fresh mozzarella balls. The cold cheese over the warm tomatoes were killer.

The watermelon salad, though, was bursting with bright, sweet, tangy flavors. It sported shredded dark greens – probably the darkest parts of the romaine head along with micro basil – spotted with salty feta, the delicious, small, lightly-pickled watermelon chunks, and a drizzle of thick, syrupy-sweet, aged balsamic vinegar. It was fabulous, and seemingly healthy as a prelude to the bounty of fried treats heading our way.

The fried course, of the bacon and green tomato variety, was accompanied by a bowl of tomato havarti grits so good, we begged Shane to bring us an additional bowl at our condo the next morning. See what I mean about harassment? Never trust a group of rowdy women, in absentia of their “men-folk,” as Katie would say, and under the influence of sun and alcohol. I don’t know if the grits were fortified with tomato sauce or dried tomato powder, but I do know that I will be procuring some havarti and using it on the Anson Mills grits I have in the pantry. The tomato flavor was fresh and full of umami, while the cheese was simply ethereal. This light-as-air dish was a superb accompaniment to the bodacious stack of fried green tomatoes served alongside. Northern readers: have you ever had fried green tomatoes? They serve them at Dinosaur BBQ, so maybe. These were an exemplary rendition, coated in a crunchy but light cornmeal tempura batter, piping hot, with more of that punchy feta cheese (I actually thought it was goat cheese, it was so creamy), and a brown butter and balsamic vinegar sauce that perfectly set off the tang of the unripe tomatoes. So. Good.

But oh! Oh, hungries. Next up, the winner for Most Inventive and Mind-blowing Dish: fried bacon. More of that delicious cornmeal tempura coated thick-sliced, cured pork belly, atop hominy and black eyed pea salad, with pickled red onions and a nice, snappy gastrique. The bacon wasn’t crunchy, it was meaty. Groan. As a whole, the dish was rich, smoky, and grounded from the peas and exploded-corn hominy fun, as well as well-textured. There was a lot going on on this plate, but it felt surprisingly fresh and light, considering it’s probably one of the most decadent things you can possibly eat. The final word on the fried bacon is that it’s good, really, really good, and you may want to consider a trip to Hilton Head Island on its merits alone. It wasn’t the last surprising eat of the meal, but it was a welcome one.

The last tapas course was the heaviest, and still excellent. Two kinds of sliders: beef and bahn mi, plus gnocchi carbonara hit our table with a thunk, and all three were delicious. The gnocchi were melt-in-your-mouth airy, veiled in a smoky, chunky carbonara sauce that was more silky/creamy and less eggy than mine, but still successful. You KNOW I couldn’t resist ordering the carbonara, and I felt like the extremely tender gnocchi were my reward. For what? Harassing the help? Yes.

Robin and Katie liked the tender, rich, beef sliders, which were earthy with thick slices of brie cheese and blue-cheese-dressed shredded romaine lettuce, better than the bahn mi. I preferred the stronger, more varied, flavors of the pork version, laced with tons of hoisin and either fish or oyster sauce, topped with pickled slaw. I was worried the slaw would be too kim chee-adjacent, since I don’t groove on really authentic, fermented kim chee, but this was busch league slaw: pickled, user-friendly, piquant, and yummy; a solid, clean-tasting foil for the fatty, salty, luscious pork. The buns for both slider varieties were perfectly bland and soft, but just slightly more toothsome than a supermarket burger bun. Kind of a Chinese steamed bun crossed with a yeast roll that you would get in a Southern steakhouse.

At this point in the meal, we were enthralled…and stuffed. We had laughed and drank and ate and heckled longer than most of the diners around us, and when Shane proffered dessert, we were unsure if we could do it. He was still working hard for his big fat tip, though, and convinced us to split the one dessert on the menu oddball enough to intrigue: sweet potato bread pudding with Tabasco (!!!) ice cream. Praise Shane. Seriously. None of us ate too much of this, but it was divine. Katie just kept muttering “I love it, y’all.” The Tabasco ice cream was sweet and cold (of course ice cream is cold, but this surprised me for some reason), then spicy as it hits the back of your tongue. The moat of salted caramel sauce, spiced with cinnamon, which encircled the eggy, dense bread pudding lent a complexity that surprisingly would have been wanting with just the ice cream alone. This dish is a total rock star, and you should eat it.

You’ve read all the high points about Eat! There was one low point that wouldn’t even bother a lot a people, but I feel the need to mention it: the ladies restroom was in poor shape. One toilet didn’t flush at all, the other not well, and there were finishes in there that were once industrial and cool, but now a bit shabby and dirty. But listen, everything else was fantastic. Katie was on some kind of food lobotomy loop tape, and kept repeating, “Robert Irvine knows how to deep fry some sh!t.” Indeed. While the famous chef was not, himself, in house that particular night, it didn’t matter a fig. Our food was equally inventive and comforting, every execution and presentation was beautiful, and the service was impeccable. It rates a 10 on the BHS scale, and if I happen onto HHI again, I WILL be eating there. Hell, we considered going back again two nights later, but were embarrassed to run into Shane again after all our naughty behavior during our visit. Sometime in your life, you will have occasion to visit Hilton Head, and when you do, I can’t recommend dinner at Eat enough.

Next week, I’ll report in on other tasty tidbits from my trip down south, in the Carolinas both North and South. I also will be travelling to Washington, DC for work, and I think we’re dining at Jose Andres’ tapas pantheon Jaleo. So stay tuned for me to be raving about garlic shrimp and tomato bread, because I love it, y’all. My hunger is big; my personality is bigger!

Robert Irvine's Eat! on Urbanspoon


Citizen Main

As you know, I recently popped my Jimmy Buffett cherry, and the scene of said debauchery was set in the Greater Boston area. The concert itself was in Mansfield, but we began our fun weekend away in Boston proper. Heh. BLD wanted to see a Sox game at Fenway, and while baseball really isn’t my bag, anywhere that serves beer and hotdogs in abundance is OK with me. In Boston, we met up with BLD’s college friend C, who just so happens to be something of a foodie. You may have noticed I’m a bit of a control freak, and typically, when I’m in a travel situation during which all the meals are not under my control, I’m put out because I’m not getting to experience a city’s food scene in the way I’d like. But C’s presence proved not only to be fortuitous to our Friday night dining experience, but also to our tailgate festival of meat the following day, when he and his dad churned out some really great eats.

After escaping the environs of Fenway during the eighth inning to beat the hoards, C directed us to a spot he’d heard a lot of good buzz about: Citizen’s Public House. Wherever C gets his buzz, I want some. We finagled a great outdoor table, ordered up some adult beverages and started our feast with a dozen creamy, sweet, succulent oysters of various origins. We also treated ourselves to the burratta appetizer. Have you had this treat? It’s basically fresh mozzarella with a creamy center. The plate arrived with a huge hunk of crusty baguette, paper-thin slices of funky, robust duck prosciutto (thereby fulfilling my recent duck obsession), and a little dollop of fig and pepper jam. Each of us built a tiny sandwich that would make glutton drool: bread, creamy, milky burratta, sweet, viscous fig, and salty, chewy prosciutto. I could seriously eat this every day and never get tired of it.

They serve this with a knife the size of a cleaver so you can truly complete the caveman appeal
I’ve been in this weird mode lately in which I don’t really care to order entrees – I want two appetizers as my meal at most dinners out. I don’t know if I should attribute this to greed – I like to try as many things as I can off a menu – or to my smaller appetite since dieting, but whatever the reason, it’s yielded double the yum! At Citizen, I ordered the pork tacos, which C’s buzzbin had recommended, as well as the fried chicken livers. I’ve spent enough time in the south to love this delicacy, although you see that this wasn’t my favorite this particular outing.

The adbobo pork shoulder tacos, which C also ordered up, were dyn-o-mite. Tender, slow-cooked pork shoulder with adobo seasonings mingled with pickled red onions (one of my favorite taco toppings) and lime crema on sexy little corn tortillas. While I honestly could have used more seasoning on the pork and more lime in the crema, I loved the texture of the pork and slightly crunchy, acidic onions. The portion was really too generous to eat all of, but I did it anyway, because I couldn’t bear to leave any on the plate. And see the ample cilantro spig on top of each? I don’t know why cilantro is one of those ingredients that instantly elevates every dish for me, but I can’t get enough of its grassy brightness.

For me, the fried livers were less successful. I don’t know if they were a bit overcooked or what, but the salty creaminess that I love about livers was here replaced by a minerally flavor and grainy texture. They did have nice crunch, and the mustardy dipping sauce helped a bit, but I did not eat most of the plate – skip these if you visit Citizen.

Melinda sampled a monster burger which she loved, while BLD went for the tuna burger. I loved the slaw on this, and the buttery brioche bun, but the soy-mustard glaze was a little weak for me. BLD loved it, though. Melinda’s burger was tender and juicy to the extreme – I don’t remember the last time I saw a burger that thick. And the fries alongside were done right – hand-cut, crispy exterior and puffy, light as air interior. Delicious.

Self-assembly required tuna burger
We also did a fair bit of imbibing at Citizen once our dinners were done. The inside is swank enough to please the city folk among us, but not too noisy or snooty for me. Plus, not only are the website and menu adorned with a wood-block pig motif, the bar is designed with lots of swine. You know I love that!

Once the guys devolved to debating the relative quarterbacking strengths of the Buffalo Bills and New York Giants, Melinda and resorted to taking pictures of ourselves and plotting our partying-hard-without-passing-out strategy for the Buffett concert the following day. But whatever your poison, Citizen provides a great post-Fenway stop for your Boston itinerary. I'd give it a solid seven on the BHS scale. And if chance finds you searching for a breakfast refuge in much more bucolic Norwood, Mass, as it did us on Sunday morning before heading for home, do drop in at the Mug ‘N Muffin to try the Irish benedict, which ditches wimpy Canadian bacon and embraces New England staple corned beef hash with its hollandaise, poached eggs and English muffins. This diner is no frills, but lavishes you with coffee refills, and serves corned beef hash up right, griddled with crispy bits and supreme savoriness.

Hope you had a fun Fourth, Big Hungries! I’m off to Hilton Head, SC, for a girls’ vacation with college buddies next week, so I won’t be posting. I WILL be eating at Chef Robert Irvine’s Eat! Restaurant however, so look forward to that recap when I return. Meantime, enjoy the heat, try not to stroke out, and for God’s sake, eat something delicious. My hunger is big; my personality is bigger!

Citizen Public House and Oyster Bar on Urbanspoon

Mug N Muffin Restaurant Incorporated on Urbanspoon


Click, Flash

Sometimes, in the course of life, you run across someone great. These individuals may be extraordinarily talented, or beautiful, or kind. Maybe he teaches you something invaluable, or maybe she lifts you up when you're in the depths of despair. If you're lucky, you meet many such people in your journey, and each one changes you in a different, special way.

I've been lucky enough to meet a quite a few of these great people through pageantry. A few years ago, I trusted my Miss TI to go off and find her own headshot photographer, and she brought April McClintock into my life. April, an art school graduate and proud Army wife, had a cool studio in the Paddock Arcade in Watertown, and an approach to her art that I'd never seen before. She turned a plain old headshot session into a full-on, high-fashion,  photo shoot, and over the years, has shown our Miss TIs in some pretty amazing ways:

Morgan Bocciolatt, Miss TI 2011

Kristina Ferris Blackford, Miss TI 2010

Allison Carlos, Miss TI 2012
When I found out April's hubby was being reassigned and the Nourthcountry would lose this talent, I knew I had to strike while the iron was hot. I've wanted some imagery to support BHS for awhile. April has always been supportive of the blog, and I've seen the commercial photography she's done for musicians, trainers and other bloggers. I greedily wanted some of that talent turned my way. And oh boy, did we have fun:

April was assisted on this particular day, and also, the day we got poor Allie to do a vertical split up a wall, by the talented Mr. Michael Huxley. Even though April is leaving us, you should look Michael up if you need a photo shoot with a dose of edge. April, Michael and I had a blast all day, trying to light both me and some bacon-wrapped dates in a flattering way, fighting the breeze and the traffic on public square, and absolutely destroying the seating arrangement of The Boathouse Sackets' deck.

The nice folks at the Boathouse were very gracious about us taking over their deck for an hour or so, and The Hops Spot, right next door, even delivered some fine appetizers to us out there, so that we could use them as props in our wicked games. You KNOW I can't possibly work so hard to look good without sustenance! The marinated goat cheese, pulled pork won tons and bacon-wrapped dates were the perfect trio to photograph, and made a tasty snack when we were done:

And you kind of can't beat the scenery provided by Sackets and The Boathouse:

And I got to spend several hours in the company of true artisty. I wish I was the perfect model, but I'm just an amateur. April, however, brought the powerhouse goods. She knows how to place her subjects, how to light them, how to coach them, when to muss their hair or tell them to hold it right there, when to laugh, when to get them to laugh, and when to slyly take surreptitious shots of them giggling away:

April, thank you for my wonderful photos, and thank you for capturing our Miss TIs with every ounce of beauty, grace, style and subtance they posess for the past three years. It has been an honor and a priviledge to know someone of such talent. I'm jealous of the region inheriting you and your beautiful family. And you never know - I just might have to fly you in to keep shooting our girls!

And for those of you wishing this post were more about food, and less about pictures, I'll tell you this: bacon-wrapped dates? Meat candy heaven, with tons of sweetness tempered by a smidge of saltiness from the bacon and some acid from balsamic vinegar. The pork won tons were right up my alley, crispy and meaty, with a piquant BBQ-like sauce for dragging your sloppy bite through. The goat cheese was marinated in EVOO and garlic, and served with shatteringly crisp bruschetta - a creamy, tangy, crunchy delight.


Happy Fourth of July, gang! I will have a full-on restaruant review this week, from a recent jaunt to Boston, but I couldn't wait to share these photos with you. Expect to see more from my BHS shoot with April over the coming weeks and months, and stay tuned for eats from the Thousand Islands and Hilton Head this summer, plus another installment of The Blather, featuring a Finger Lakes star chef. My personality is big; my hunger is bigger!