It’s a challenge for me to get up in the morning. Except for the days I decide to trek to Somerville’s breakfast gem, The Neighborhood in Union Square. If it’s not a weekday, there is certainly a wait for a table. But it is, as it is so alliteratively put, well worth the wait.

Patio seating beneath a ceiling of clustering grapevines creates a charming aura. Perky pastels give the place warmth and make waking up not so horrific. The coffee helps too. Sadly, the oncoming winter may put a damper on my reason to get out of bed early. Rumor has it the patio is closed during the cold season, as patios are wont to do. But the food will still be available.

Technically, The Neighborhood serves Portuguese-American cuisine, but the breakfast selections are pretty standard—bacon, omelettes, waffles, and such, but they are able to make every bit of it taste fantastic. A massive compilation of breakfast compilations is listed for your choosing, including

 the handwritten specials of the day, which would make even the strictest dieter make an exception. The prices are great, the portions are massive, and there are even extra goodies with each order. Coffee, bread, and the tiniest glass of orange juice imaginable are all included as well as a choice between a small portion of fresh fruit and Cream of Wheat. And it is highly recommended to choose the latter.  My adorable cousin may look all smiles now, but in an hour the food before us will have been demolished and we will be left motionless from food coma.  Mind you what you see is just the bulk of the order.  The rest wouldn’t fit into the picture.

My only qualm with the place would be the overall service, which is not to say that the staff does a poor job. Just sometime things can get a little mixed up and items are sometimes forgotten. A friendly reminder sets things straight and no harm done. The food seems to take forever. But I’m probably just super hungry. Regardless, The Neighborhood has never failed me. It is the place to gorge and smile with full-mouths with friends. And that’s all I ever want in the morning.

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The North End is a great place to go without an agenda in mind.  There are always restaurants and cafes and pastry shops to discover for quick nibbles here and there.  This was my mission when I found, sitting outside Bacco Risorante and Bar, the sign that always goes straight to my heart: “Happy Hour: Half Off Appetizers.”  I eagerly powered through the door and took a seat at the bar.  The bartender was gracious enough to walk me through the best choices of their Italian antipasta selection.  I went for the recommendation of the Arancine, fontina and basil risotto fritta with oven roasted tomato ragu.  And it was quite what I was hoping for.

Arancine, as I learned, means “little oranges” in Sicilian.  And don’t they?  If you squint your eyes, kinda.  Behind that glistening flash-fried crispy exterior lies a gooey risotto interior.  A quick swirl in the garnish of vinegar, oil and tomato sauce made me swoon with each bite.  I was sad, though satisfied, when I finished my last bite, I remembered that there will be other happy hours with other new mini-meals to try.  Like most people these days, I’m on a budget that requires creativity and research to find new ways to indulge my hedonistic ways.  And find them I shall.

During one of my aimless wanderings around town, this time on Beacon Hill, I was most pleased to stumble across a wine bar, Bin 26 Enoteca.  The place seemed sleek and shiny, but with a little funkiness in the decor to mellow out their posh undertones.  Although the wine is the driving force of the behind all the giddy-up, they had food to pair with your wine, from cheeses plates and salami to full fancy meals.  Since I was just at the beginning of my nighttime ventures, I order myself a 100mL of cab franc and an appetizer of marinated octopus.

The vinegar-based marinade was super tasty and I had forgotten all about the chewy texture of octopus.  With my small glass of wine, it made for a great mini meal out.

Barack Obama has been a source of inspiration for new food and drink goodies around the world.  From the face-stamped cookies of Seattle to the Obama-face sushi of Japan.  

From the layered shots of liquor in Los Angeles to the frothy shots of espresso in Cambridge.  Clear Conscience Cafe, an organic Central Square coffee shop, proudly serves the Barackiatto, a simple concoction of chocolate, espresso, a dollop of foamy milk whipped up together with some barista love.   To show their community support, C3 invited in local musical artists in to play in celebration of Obama’s inauguration, the festive event that inspired the Barackiatto’s creation.  Its popularity has kept the item on the menu since, where it will hopefully stay for the next 8 years.

It gets better though.  The beauty shown above is made with organic, fair-trade, shade-grown espresso, organic milk (which can be substituted with organic vegan options) and organic, vegan cocoa.  You can get your fix of hope and caffeine in one tasty little cup while also supporting organic industries.  It’s almost as good as having a new president in the White House.

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Breakfast is the most cherished meal of my day, regardless of when I have it, because with breakfast comes bacon.  No cereal for me.  I often cook up bacon just to gnaw aimlessly at the naked strips, but most people find a food vehicle is appropriate to enable bacon-eating.  And as http://baconporn.me/ has shown me, there is no food too pure or too inappropriate for bacon. But as far as breakfast goes, the waffle sandwich is tops.

I found this hot little number when browsing the menu at The [oh-so hipster] Other Side Cafe in Back Bay for a hefty dinner.  And when I saw it, and the breakfast-all-day logo, there was no saying no to bacon, eggs and cheese drizzled in maple syrup and sandwiched between two belgian waffles.  Especially when juxtaposed with vegan picks, the waffle sandwich turned out to be the fattiest artery-clogging item I could find on the menu.  I had to try it.  It was a powerfully seductive meal that invaded my thoughts until I successfully recreated the glory that is waffle sandwich for breakfast one morning.  Since then it has become a clever bait for my bacon-loving friends who, ahem, did not even call to tell me about the 2nd Annual Atwoods’ Bacon Eating Contest on the first of March.  I hear the show-up was brutally intimidating.  Soon to come: pictures from our privately-devised bacon-eating contest.

Milky Way Lounge/Bella Luna, JP’s favorite candlepin bowling lounge, has shut down only to supposedly open mid-April in a new location.  But just incase, I dragged all of my friends for one last hoo-rah.  And here’s what came of it.

The food part at least.

If you’re looking for an all-around solid restaurant experience, whether it be for just a drink and some appetizers before you scurry off to the game at Fenway, or if you want the whole sha-bang, looking to impress a fellow or lady friend, or even just as a meeting place where the first one there can order a cocktail to sip on, follow our city’s beloved beacon, the Citco sign (or take the green line to Kenmore), where you’ll find Eastern Standard. This is where I decided to share an evening snack at the gorgeous 40-foot long marble bar, staffed with some of the best bartenders in town.

My bartender fixed me up a Whiskey Smash, what I consider a Mint Julep with lemon, but I’m no bartender. Meats and seafood hold an overwhelming presence on the menu. Foie gras, as I had it prepared with bacon-wrapped-apple and a balsamic glaze, was phenomenal. This time I went for something more casual and filling. Calamari and the soup du jour: Beer and cheddar soup, sprinkled with bacon.

Ahh. Who would have guessed beer could be an essential ingredient to a well constructed soup. Must be all the cheese. And the bacon certainly didn’t hurt. It’s like they revitalize the flavors of comfort food for a more sophisticated tongue and dolled-up for overall presentation. It was quite a satisfying way to start my night. And I would preach Eastern Standard to any friend looking for a fresh start to any night.

East Coast Grill is a chill venue in Inman Square to split a cheap pitcher of sangria amongst friends while digging into an assortment of internationally-inspired seafood and some damn good garlic mashed potatoes. However. Do not, however tempted you may be, do not order the Wings of Mass Destruction unless you are aware of the credibility behind the name. Also know that the title was once missing the M.

As an aspiring wing connoisseur, the menu item taunted me as a necessary addition to my wing catalogue. These babies came out grilled and sauceless, besides the dipping sauces. The magic lies with the jerk paste and spices. One bite set my face ablaze and teetered on the brink of intolerable. It was a pain I had ordered and paid for, so there’s not much room for complaints here. But behind all the fireworks there was no flavor. If I’m going to suffer through this special kind of torture, I expect something in return beyond a ramekin of banana-guava sauce. After two wings of hell, I gave up and dipped my lips in milk to appease the burn. Actually, this took a few long soak sessions. And a word of advice to those up to the challenge: wash your hands immediately afterwards. A half hour later I imprudently scratched the corner of my eye and suffered the obvious consequences. I spent the next ten minutes dunking my face into a saucer of milk with open eyes.

The Wings of Mass Destruction are just a mild taste of what the kitchen has to offer. Early on, East Coast Grill developed a reputation for spicy dishes that led to taunts from lead-tongued diners looking to sweat more at the table. With each new spicy dish the culinary team invented came further provocation leading to a more fiery dish. Ultimately, the battle escalated into the creation of special events dubbed “Hell Night” in which dinner menus are concocted with as if the devil himself was dining. Rumor has it that on these nights, a glass of milk costs $30. Take a gander at the latest concoctions: http://eastcoastgrill.net/menus/hellmenu.htm. I haven’t built up the courage, or found a big enough milk flask, to even consider this. I leave it to the bold.

If you missed it, condolences. Formal scotch tasting with Celebrate the Macallan, which took place all last week at Back Bay Events Center in Boston, exceeded all my expectations. Not only was it free, but it came accompanied with parting goody bags. Like a ten-year old’s birthday party but instead of cake there was scotch. But this isn’t all about the scotch; the 10-year, 12, 15, 17 and, of course, the 18. That was grand and all but I came here to talk a little about the nibbles of delicious available before the evening presentation began. Beef skewers with a honey Dijon dip.

Pear and Gorgonzola sandwiched into a mini pepper biscuit.

Duck confit with a cranberry sauce dollop all upon a wild rice pilaf.

Quite the presentation. And scrumptious. Especially when the main event so eclipses these little beauties, considering the crowd. I was certainly not shy about taking a portion each time a server approached.

The main event itself was such a treat. The ambassador of scotch, as deemed by the Macallans company I surmise, was a charming “Scottish” gentleman with a touch-screen flatscreen equipped to teach us all about the history and the making of scotch in an entertaining and interactive way, as is so important in the keeping people happy industry. It was a pleasant night. Free scotch is always a plus. And the hors d’oeuvres were just an unexpected delight. Highly recommended. Check out www.celebratethemacallan.com and scotch it up for a night in your town.