After my dad and I went to New York for that baseball weekend in September (when I also met Darren, Miss Peach, hung out with Kate and Dave, experienced Chipotle for the first time, and didn't sleep), my mom and I decided that we should plan a mother-daughter weekend (pause for the "awww" here), so she and I just spent the girliest two days in Boston.
We stayed at the Westin in Copley, which is a solid A- as far as hotels go, and they have something that no other hotels do: the Heavenly bed and bath. Seriously, the bed is like nirvana. I don't even know what to say about it. I tried to deconstruct its infinite complexities to figure out why it felt so good, but then I just gave up and made sweet, sweet love to it instead. The Heavenly bath is great too. My new Philosophy 3-in-1 and I took three heavenly showers over the course of 40 hours. Fine, four. (Incidentally, Party Jen and I stayed at a Westin in the Bahamas a few years ago, and we called everything in the place heavenly, including the ants we found on our nightstand. Ew. In the hotel's defense, I'm sure the heavenly ants invaded us because of our empty daiquiri glasses.)
Anyway, since the hotel connected to all the stores in the Pru, we went Christmas shopping for, um, everyone. We probably got something for you. We're hoping that you like it, but there's a gift receipt in there so you can exchange it if you want to.
Before we went out on Saturday night we got our makeup done at Trish McEvoy at the hotel spa, which is probably the silliest thing you can spend money on, but we hardly knew our own beauty (and no one else will know it either, because we didn't bring a camera and washed everything off six hours later). I was coveting this, but got it to give to my mom for Christmas instead, because if I need to spend $85 for skin that's supple and glowing, I'll stick with drab and dehydrated and instead put the money toward my electric bill. No, just kidding. Don't you know me at all? They just didn't have two, and tis the season to give unto others (in hopes that she gets sick of it by February and then gives it unto me).
We went to see the show Respect, which was light and fun and adorable. It featured a blond, brunette and redhead, so it was kind of rocking a BFC vibe. (Ahem, I've mentioned my BFCs before and have received a few questions about this acronym; I've been meaning to add this Tent trivia to the SAQ, and just finally did, if you find that information at all interesting.) I'd never been to the Stuart Street Playhouse and liked it there. So it was this nice little show about music and women through the ages-a-lama-ding-dong, and we left on a happy little cloud of positivity, and then I had to tell a drunk hooker to step off. She and her lumpy fortyish-year-old date were about to jump right into the cab that I'd been waiting ten minutes in the cold for. I don't think so, kids. (When we got back to the room, my mom called my godmother and said, "You wouldn't believe it, Red just yelled at a prostitute! It was great!")
The food! Room service breakfast both days, which means you can eat eggs and drink hot chocolate and then lie down! Am I too young for that to make me as happy as it did? Friday night at Meritage in the Boston Harbor Hotel was parmesan and caramelized shallot wrapper style ravioli with white truffle oil, maple rubbed lamp chop with risotto, and a chocolate tasting plate. They actually do something that other restaurants should start copying... anything that you order can be served as an appetizer (excuse me, "small plate") or meal ("large plate"). So you can get a normal meal or order all apps and share, which is one of the best ways to eat out. Also, you know how lots of menus have wine recommendations for certain meals? (Jeez, they even do that kind of thing at places like the Olive Garden now, so now you can decide which "house merlot" goes better with your chicken parm.) Anyway, the chef designed the menu so that it's actually organized by wine... genres? what's the word I'm looking for? and the food that would go best with it. Neat! If I wasn't strictly a chardonnay girl, I'd have tried the prix fixe menu. Saturday night at Rustic Kitchen was olive bread, butternut squash tortelli (not tortellini, is there a difference?) with brown butter, sage and creme fraiche, and then chocolate chip gelato. The place is so lovely, cozy and warmly lit, perfect for a cold night.
While it wasn't like I was really away for the weekend (I live ten minutes from Boston), it felt like I was, and I was sort of out of the loop with my friends, so the text messages that I was getting were cracking me up: "I don't understand, you're in Boston but you're away for the weekend? Are you in captivity?", "Going to Hurricane O'Reilly's. Want to drop by, or are you busy being exfoliated?" and my personal favorite, "I know you're away, but do you think it would be bad to bring a girly magazine to visit my cousin in the hospital? Nothing hardcore, just like a bikini girl magazine."
All in all, a pretty perfect weekend. It could've only been better if I'd been there with Jason. No offense, mom.