…dotted by Bekki
“You had me at lettuce wraps.”
He was reading our menu options, and I stopped him in his tracks; I had heard enough. Lettuce wraps: they get me every time, and 224 Boston Street was serving the appetizer as part of their prix fixe menu for Dorchester-Milton Restaurant Week.
As we drove down Dot Ave towards Boston Street, I was super nervous, and my husband let out an audible groan when he realized why. I needed to take photos … of our food … with a flash … in a quiet, cozy, dimly lit, upscale restaurant … and my mister, he’s no big fan of the limelight. I was fidgeting with my scarf tassels as we parked near 224.
Fortunately my fears – and my scarf tassels – were abandoned as soon as we passed through the iconic gate; we were greeted with a twinkling garden entrance, warm interior colors and a huge comforting smile.
I failed in shooting the lettuce wraps. I barely know how to use my middle-of-the-road camera, so my flash knowledge consisted of “on” which was too bright, and “off” which was too dark. I tried to pull in some light from the window, but alas my beloved Asian Lettuce Wraps with Stir Fried Chicken, Water Chestnut, Carrots, Pineapple, Peanuts & Hoisin will remain imprinted only on my palate, if not on my memory card. My date quietly ate his White Truffled Potato Gnocchi with Hen of the Woods Mushrooms & Micro Arugula.
For the main course, I channeled the wisdom of a fellow shutterbug art teacher. I swiped the paper napkin from underneath his Pappardelle Bolognese. Wrapping the thin material around my flash diffused the light just enough for me to do justice to our absolutely scrumptious meal.
At some point during this heavenly voyage of food, Kevin the owner arrived in our corner. I had been nervously babbling about DottieHotties to our server Debbie, and in the process had encouraged her to invite the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker over to our table; my other half was officially mortified. Thankfully, 224’s owner was gracious, accommodating and compassionate towards the plight of my companion. Kevin suggested we focus on enjoying the food.
“I just. want. to. eat.”
I am married to a very patient man, but by the time dessert rolled around, my window of opportunity had shrunk. I was able to get in one last quick shot before he started devouring his Apple Wonton.
I left 224 Boston Street with some hefty accomplishments. I had: mustered up the courage to promote DottieHotties, filled my belly for $30.12, revived my appreciation for kid-free meals, strengthened a deep gratitude for my sister-sitter, and earned a new nickname.
Thanks to my intense, napkin-flash wrapping, photojournalism techniques, he now calls me “Scoop.”