Boston

Recently, I made a trip to Boston. It is one of my favorite cities. It has a historical depth not found in any other city I have visited. Old buildings are scattered throughout, snuggling up to modern skyscrapers as though to say, “You may aspire to the heavens, but my foundation reaches back in time. I am rock solid.” From the 28^th floor of my hotel room, I could count five churches built before the 1800’s. They seemed to pin the city to the ground, keeping it firmly in place.

I made a brief visit to the Boston Library in Copley Square. It was opened in 1895 and considered “a palace for the people.” The front entrance was indeed like the entrance to a palace – a two story ceiling, lots of marble, and curved staircases. It felt safe – not just for me, but for all the books it held, a grand repository for the immense knowledge within those books.

Aside from its historical value, Boston is a place for good food. I ate at an Italian restaurant with a Zagat rating of 28. Thirty is the highest rating a restaurant can get. I had butternut squash soup and a pasta dish with mushrooms and garlic – lots of garlic. Unbelievable. What I would have given to go back to the kitchen and watch! And that was just the first night!

On the second day, my dear friend Michele took me to Penzeys Spice Store in Arlington just outside Boston. You can’t even imagine how much better the spices are than those off the shelf in the local grocery. I bought the standbys I love – Vietnamese cinnamon, ground chipotle, smoked paprika, and sweet paprika – and a few new ones just because they smelled so good – rogan josh, vindaloo, garam masala, and a little jar of raspberry essence. Now my kitchen has a little bit of Boston in it.

One night I was privileged to eat at McCormick and Schmick’s. (Yes, I realize it is not a very appetizing name.) I had a salad with lettuce, shredded red and yellow beets and candied bacon. It was interesting, but the best was the halibut. The waiter assured me that it was fresh, had never been frozen. Believe me when say I was not disappointed. It melted in my mouth. It hard-wired a to-die-for gustatory memory in my brain.

Besides buildings and food, the most striking thing about Boston is the people. There are so many of them! I grew up in a home surrounded by 620 acres with no other houses visible. Some days the only people I saw were the four other members of my family. In Boston, sidewalks are like yards. If you live in an apartment, the only outside you have is covered in concrete, and you share it with a million other people. I had a hard time grasping how many people there were in that city during the work day. I rode the MTA, which was always crowded. I walked down sidewalks, which epitomized the term “bustling.” I could not walk three feet without passing another person, coming or going.

Needless to say, I have a much better appreciation for living in the “little” town of Edmond. It may not be historical or be filled with Zagat-rated restaurants, although it does have some good ones, it has an openness that is typical of Oklahoma. People are not stacked on top of one another. I will always miss the country, but at least I don’t live in Boston.