Today was an upside down day, a day of Indian Summers, of opposites when the irregular is the norm like a dream that continues enfolding long after you wake-up. For starters, I am one of those rare people (no pun intended) that don’t like steak, yet here I was sitting in one of Boston’s best steak houses… and why?
It is because their breakfast pastries are divine – little baskets of freshly baked scones, muffins, croissants, and morning breads. How can one resist freshly baked scones? Abe & Louie’s is by far one of the best steak places in the city but their brunch is decadent. I was here with my eclectic assortment of friends whom in many ways were as delectable as the pastries themselves.
Everyone was munching on sweet bread perusing through the menu as if the choices were symbolic of some unknown future. Rukhsana auntie (Grams closest friend) was shrewdly looking over breakfast options as if examining a royal decree. Casey was sipping her Espresso (no doubt a double shot) and eying the fruit and granola parfait, the decision she wants to make verses something more decadent the decision she’d like to make. My brother Rumi, never turning down the occasion for free food had hardly looked at the menu and was instead explaining the difference between indie and alternative music to Armand. Armand looking quite forlorn as if couldn’t possibly eat a bite. Poor Armand despite his intelligence and good looks tended to suffer from break-ups, and more often than naught, unrequited love.
“Natasha, do you know what you want?” Asked auntie.
You mean in life, I wanted to say. Instead I picked up my menu and pondered. In truth, I liked this little bit of normalcy of mulling over whether I should have the eggs benedict with smoke salmon or the French toast with butter, pecan and maple banana topping. Would this one decision cast a domino effect on all other outcomes?
Culturally, living in Boston is like sitting at the edge of a pool. You are free to dip your feet in as far as you want or take the proverbial plunge. Last night we took a dive into the proverbial deep end at Club Oberon (Harvard Square). It was Casey’s idea… after another grueling week, another bad date, another what are you doing with your life conversation with les parent. Interestingly enough no one is my familia seemed to be wondering what I’m doing with my life. Casey’s solution was…The Donkey Show!
The only way to describe The Donkey Show is, A Midsummer Night’s Dream on steroids. Thanks to the American Repertory Theatre the show is a completely interactive experience with 70s music, actors (and audience) gyrating to disco, mirror balls, feather divas and roller blades, making it a completely psychedelic experience. This is the show you would get if Shakespeare dabbled in acid. I brought my other compadre (namely my danceaholic friends) Meleanie and Nikhail – who fit in a little too well. Needless to say we had a far out time.
I managed to drag Casey to brunch but Mel and Nikhail were currently in a deadpan sleep. If it weren’t for hollandaise sauce I may be envying them right now. As for The Donkey Show there are some that say it has little to do with Shakespeare, but I disagree. The play attempts to sprinkle magical juice in our eyes (and perhaps in our drinks) that make us if only for an instant act in unrecognizable ways and fall in love with the wrong people, if only for a few hours, in a production of A Midsummer’s Night Dream.
Next Post: April 15.