#Classically Modern Kitchen Traditional Kitchen Boston

[bondsofeveryonessouls]

Classically Modern Kitchen Boston

[downtoearthmarkets]

Now that the brunt of summer is upon us, nothing holds more meal appeal than a refreshingly cool, crunchy, raw salad. Not only are salads chockful of important nutrients, but they also help hydrate us thanks to their water and electrolyte content. In fact, official heat safety guidelines encourage the consumption of more fruit and vegetables during temps like this. So, if your arm is getting a little sore from lugging around that oversized reusable water bottle, try introducing these iconic summer salads made with fresh farmers market produce to your dining repertoire.

Caesar Salad The Caesar salad just celebrated its centennial birthday! This popular salad is believed to have been created by Italian immigrant restaurateur Caesar Cardini (1896–1956) on July 4, 1924, at his restaurant, Caesar's Place, in Tijuana, Mexico. Cardini moved his restaurant from San Diego to Tijuana to attract American customers seeking to circumvent the restrictions of Prohibition.

Over a busy Fourth of July weekend, Cardini's kitchen ran short of ingredients, and he had to make do with what was left. So, he improvised by creating a salad with romaine lettuce, croutons, raw egg, olive oil, Parmesan cheese, and Worcestershire sauce that the chef tossed tableside for dramatic flair. The salad was an instant hit and went on to become a sensation across the United States.

A bedrock of any classic Caesar salad recipe, romaine lettuce clocks in at 94–95% water, making it a great way to stay hydrated. In fact, a single head of romaine lettuce can contain around 20 ounces of water.

Salade Nicoise Gordon Ramsay declared that the Nicoise salad to be “the finest summer salad of all" while Delia Smith called it "one of the best combinations of salad ingredients ever invented". Hailing from the French Riviera city of Nice, the first known iteration of this Mediterranean delicacy was popularized in the 19th century and featured tomatoes, anchovies, and olive oil. Over time, the salad evolved into a catchall dish made with whatever was seasonally available from gardens and pantries.

Classic Nicoise Salad Recipe

Vinaigrette

⅓ cup lemon juice or red wine vinegar

¾ cup extra virgin olive oil

3 tablespoons Migliorelli Farm finely chopped shallot

2 tablespoons 4E Green Farm finely chopped fresh basil

1 tablespoon 4E Green Farm finely chopped fresh thyme

2 teaspoons 4E Green Farm finely chopped fresh oregano or tarragon

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Salad

2 (8-ounce) grilled P & S Seafood tuna steaks

6 Yellow Bell Farm hardboiled eggs, peeled and quartered lengthwise

1 ¼ pounds Migliorelli Farm small red potatoes or fingerling potatoes

2 medium heads 4E Green Farm Boston or butter lettuce, torn into bite-sized pieces

3 small ripe Jersey Farm Produce tomatoes, cored and cut into wedges

1 small Migliorelli Farm red onion, thinly sliced

8 ounces Jersey Farm Produce green beans, trimmed and cut into 2-inch pieces

¼ cup Pickle Licious Kalamata olives

2 tablespoons Pickle Licious capers, rinsed and/or several anchovies, optional

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Bon appetit!

Greek Salad The Greek salad, also known as horiatiki (village salad) or therini (summer salad), has roots in ancient Greece, where its basic components of cucumbers, onions and olives were staples in the diet. The modern version, which includes tomatoes and feta cheese, is thought to have originated in Athens during the country’s tourism boom of the 1960s and 70s. During that period, business-savvy taverna owners sidestepped the government’s fixed prices on ‘simple salads’ by slapping a block of feta on top, allowing them to charge whatever they wanted.

Given its simple preparation and seasonally accessible ingredients, the traditional Greek salad has since become a widespread and familiar summertime staple both at home and abroad. Not only are they nutrient-dense, cucumbers also contain 96% water – which is the highest water content of any food!

Whatever kinds of salads you decide to indulge in during this extended high heat, you simply can’t go wrong with copious amounts of the farmers market fruit and veg that abound right now. While we may be wilting under the searing July sun, an array of seasonal produce is ripe and ready to be plucked from the farmstalls and toted to your kitchen for chopping, slicing, dicing and tossing into the dinner salad of your summertime dreams.

[restaurantify]

How to Eat Your Way Through Boston: 15 Famous Foods You Must Try

Uncover the culinary treasures of Boston, a city famed for its picturesque coastline and a gastronomic tapestry that reflects its vibrant history. This blog introduces you to 15 must-try foods that make Boston a haven for food enthusiasts.

1) Boston Creme Pie at Omni Parker House

Indulge in the classic Boston Creme Pie where it originated — at Omni Parker House. This delightful creation, born in the kitchen of Parker's Restaurant in the 1900s, boasts a light sponge cake filled with crème and enrobed in chocolate. A slice of history and a celebration of Boston's culinary excellence.

Location: Parker's Restaurant, 60 School St., Boston, MA 02108.

2. Fried Clam Platter at Woodman's of Essex

Experience the essence of Boston's maritime culinary heritage with Woodman's fried clam platter. Since 1914, this historic restaurant has been delighting locals and tourists alike with golden, crispy fried clams served alongside perfect companions — French fries and onion rings.

Location: Woodman's of Essex, 119 Main St., Route 133, Essex, MA 01929.

3. Boston Baked Beans at Beantown Pub

No visit to Beantown is complete without savoring Boston baked beans. Rooted in colonial times, these beans have become a cozy, traditional Bostonian comfort food. Head to Beantown Pub for a generous serving of sweet baked beans accompanied by rustic brown bread.

Location: Beantown Pub at 100 Tremont.

4. Cannoli at Mike's Pastry

Embark on a delightful debate about the best cannoli in Boston. Mike's Pastry, a family-run bakery since 1946, offers these Italian pastries filled with luscious ricotta cheese and adorned with fruit, almonds, or chocolate. For a cannoli showdown, also explore the offerings at Modern Pastry down the street.

Location: Mike's Pastry, 300 Hanover St., Boston, MA 02113.

5. Lobster Roll at James Hook & Co.

In a city known for outstanding seafood, a lobster roll is a must. James Hook & Co., since 1925, has been serving up this signature dish. Choose between a hot, buttered lobster roll or a cold version with mayonnaise, both promising a generous helping of succulent lobster meat.

Location: James Hook & Co., 440 Atlantic Avenue, Boston, MA 02210.

6. Clambake at Neptune Oyster

Indulge in a clambake extravaganza at Neptune Oyster, where fresh Maine lobster, clams, sweet corn, and chorizo come together for a flavorful feast. A tradition in New England, Neptune Oyster's clambake is a visual and culinary delight.

Location: Neptune Oyster, 63 Salem Street, Boston, MA 02113.

7. Roast Beef Sandwich at Kelly’s Roast Beef

Boston's North Shore is renowned for roast beef sandwiches, and Kelly's Roast Beef is an undisputed master. Thin slices of roast beef paired with horseradish create a classic Bostonian staple, with each establishment adding its unique touch.

Location: Multiple locations for Kelly's Roast Beef.

8. Frappes in Toscanini's

Indulge your sweet tooth with a frappe, Boston's beloved milkshake topped with ice cream. While many places offer creative variations, Toscanini's stands out for its incredibly thick, creamy frappes.

Location: Toscanini's Ice Cream, 159 First St., Cambridge, MA 02142.

9. Clam Chowder at Union Oyster House

Savor the classic "chowdah" at Union Oyster House, a dish with roots dating back to the 18th century. This thick soup, a New England version, features shellfish, clams, milk or cream, potatoes, and oyster crackers. Union Oyster House consistently ranks among the best for this iconic dish.

Location: Union Oyster House, 41 Union St., Boston, MA 02108.

10. Fenway Frank at Fenway Park

Immerse yourself in the quintessential Boston experience by enjoying a Fenway Frank at Fenway Park. This isn't just any hot dog — it's boiled, grilled, and nestled in a fluffy open-top roll, smothered with yellow mustard.

Location: Fenway Park, 4 Jersey Street, Boston, MA 02215.

11. Fish and Chips at Yankee Lobster

Delight in a classic sea-faring Boston dish with a plate of fish and chips. Yankee Lobster, with its decades of expertise, serves perfectly crisp yet juicy fried fish alongside golden chips.

Location: Yankee Lobster, 300 Northern Ave, Boston, MA 02210.

12. Giambotta Pizza at Regina Pizzeria

While Boston and New York may have baseball rivalries, there's no debate about Regina Pizzeria's excellence. Try the Giambotta pizza at their North End branch, laden with meats and vegetables, a testament to Boston's diverse pizza scene.

Location: Multiple locations for Regina Pizzeria.

13. Stuffed Gnocchi at No. 9 Park

Elevate your gnocchi experience at No. 9 Park with the prune-stuffed gnocchi. This dish, a crown gem of No. 9 Park, features delicate pasta pillows served in a sauce flavored with foie gras, almonds, and vin santo.

Location: No. 9 Park, 9 Park St., Boston, MA 02108.

14. Irish Beef Stew Pie at Sea Biscuit

Experience the warmth of Boston's hearty cuisine with an Irish beef stew pie at Sea Biscuit. A buttery, flaky crust envelops a filling of tender beef, beef broth, carrots, onions, celery, and fragrant herbs, making it a perfect winter indulgence.

Location: Sea Biscuit, 256 Marginal St., Bldg. 16, Boston, MA 02128.

15. Oysters at Union Oyster House

Conclude your culinary journey with plump, briny oysters at Union Oyster House, one of Boston's oldest establishments. Serving freshly shucked oysters for almost two centuries, it's a testament to Bostonians' enduring love for this delectable shellfish.

Indulge in the culinary wonders of Boston, a city celebrated not just for its baked beans but a plethora of delightful dishes. As you explore the vibrant food scene, these 15 iconic meals offer a delicious glimpse into the diverse flavors of Beantown. Stay connected to Restaurantify for more culinary adventures from around the world.

[classically-abby]

I have met the devil himself, and, contrary to popular belief, he is not the ravishing sexbeast that we like to imagine him as. The devil is, with grave condolences, Zack Snyder.

[swagatmahapatracom]

Classically Modern Kitchen (Boston)

[onetapmedias]

Classically Modern Kitchen (Boston)

[airvvaves]

Classically Modern Kitchen (Boston)

[staceynickelcom]

Classically Modern Kitchen (Boston)

[asqart]

Classically Modern Kitchen (Boston)

[petergiuliano]

How One Woman Changed the Coffee Industry

Note: last year, I was invited to contribute a piece on the ‘second wave’ of coffee to the Deutsches Museum’s exhibit ‘Cosmos Coffee’. The following is the text of my contribution. Many thanks to exhibit curator Sara Marquart for the invitation.

* * *

In 1968, a professional secretary named Erna Knutsen took a job in a coffee trading firm in San Francisco. Part of her job was to maintain the “position book” in which accounting records were kept concerning the company’s coffee inventory and contracts with BC Ireland, a well-established coffee importer. Although born in Norway, Knutsen had grown up in New York City, a place where––like the rest of America––coffee had become the definitive everyday drink: ubiquitous, commonplace, ordinary. Though coffee’s origins are in Africa and the Middle East, and early European and American coffee drinkers recognized the deep cultural roots and special flavor of coffee, by the mid-twentieth century American enterprise had tamed the exotic coffeehouse and sanitized the smoky, brash coffee roasting companies. Coffee had become slick big business and, by the 1950s, coffee was a quotidian drink for most Americans, a commodity sold pre-ground in cans lining the shelves of polished, sterile “supermarkets.”

By the late 1960s, coffee was in trouble. Per capita coffee consumption had fallen steadily since the end of World War II and young people were rejecting sanitized commercial coffee brands as boring, tasteless, and square. Slowly, in the latter half of the 1960s, a different vision of coffee began to emerge in cities on the West Coast of the United States. Alfred Peet, an immigrant from the Netherlands whose father used to run a coffee roasting company in Europe, had worked in America’s coffee industry and found it lacking in quality and variety. He established Peet’s Coffee, Tea, and Spice in Berkeley in 1966. His shop liberated coffee from its steel cans and sold whole beans, scooped from gleaming brass bins into simple paper bags, alongside exotic teas and spices. Decorated with wood paneling and vintage coffee equipment, Peet’s evoked a nineteenth-century coffee aesthetic and was a rejection of the space-age modernism of the 1960s supermarket.

Soon, Peet was joined by others: in 1968 in San Diego, Bob Sinclair founded Pannikin Coffee Tea and Spice, which sold freshly roasted coffee alongside handmade cookware. That same year, after honeymooning in Sweden and experiencing a coffee epiphany, Herbert Hyman opened his first coffee store in Los Angeles, called the Coffee Bean. In 1971, Jerry Baldwin, Zev Siegl, and Gordon Bowker, three friends who met at the University of San Francisco and who were inspired by Peet’s vision of coffee, founded Starbucks in the city of Seattle, naming the company after a character in Hermann Melville’s classic novel Moby Dick. In 1972, Carl Diedrich, a German immigrant who arrived in the United States via Guatemala, established his own coffee company in Costa Mesa, California. George Howell, also inspired by Peet’s in Berkeley, brought the vision to Boston, founding the Coffee Connection in 1974. Before long, most urban metropolitan areas in the United States had their own small coffee company, dedicated to a common vision of quality coffee and freshness.

From her secretary’s desk, Erna Knutsen could see something unique was happening. These new, young, quality-oriented coffee companies were asking her for “special coffees.” They insisted on the very best quality, seeking out unusual varieties, historic origins, and meticulously prepared “lots.” Realizing that her bosses at the coffee trading firm thought of these new coffee companies as an annoyance, Knutsen began to focus on identifying these special coffees and presenting them to her audience of small, quality-oriented coffee companies, building a little side business. It was in an article she wrote for the Tea and Coffee Trade Journal in 1974 that she called this new market segment “specialty coffee.” In building her business and documenting the rise of a new generation of coffee companies, Knutsen was one of the first to identify what we now call the second wave of coffee––a group of coffee entrepreneurs who, in rejecting the norms of the commodity coffee business of the mid-twentieth century, created an aesthetic and a movement of their own.

Erna Knutsen at her desk. 

The specialty coffee era emerged as America rediscovered gastronomy. Led by culinary enthusiasts like Julia Child and Craig Claiborne, a new movement helped Americans discover the regional cuisines of Europe, explore the ethnic diversity of food in the United States, and partake in the excitement of exploring food traditions from around the globe. In 1968, Child’s television show The French Chef was at the peak of its popularity, introducing Americans to the techniques and traditions of French cooking. New York Times food editor Craig Claiborne’s Kitchen Primer was published in 1972, introducing his readers to French, Italian, and Spanish cooking techniques, complete with instructions on brewing fresh coffee. This aesthetic of culinary technique, gastronomic exploration, and a do-it-yourself ethos created a fertile environment for entrepreneurs with a zeal for coffee, flavor, and cuisine. It should be remembered that many of these coffee companies sold spices, cookware, and books alongside coffee. This meant that coffee became central to a lifestyle that embraced good food and drink and the desire to cook “the hard way,” and eschewed the conveniences of frozen-food dinners and pre-ground coffee.

detail of coffee brewing in Craig Claiborne’s “Kitchen Primer” by illustrator Tom Funk, 1972

The second wave of coffee went hand-in-hand with a new sense of cultural exploration. The 1960s and 1970s were an era characterized by ethnic identity and pride, and specialty coffee companies incorporated cultural awareness – particularly of Latin America and the Pacific Rim––into their own identities. Royal Coffee and Knutsen herself sang the praises of Mandheling coffees from Indonesia, George Howell celebrated Huichol art, Pannikin integrated Mexican chocolate and indigenous Mesoamerican folkways into its company identity. All this exemplified these companies’ attempts to communicate and celebrate the cultures from which coffee was sourced. “Offering sheets” and newsletters from coffee importers circulated by post and by fax in the pre-internet era provided a critical education in the coffee trade to the widely-scattered companies of the second wave. Erna Knutsen’s missives, enthusing about the qualities of the coffees she traded, became legendary, as did updates from Royal Coffee and others. Second wave roasting companies from this period embraced the offering sheets aesthetic of the coffee importers and began to expose consumers to the language of the coffee trade, adding regional names like Guatemala Antigua and Ethiopia Harrar to coffee menus, alongside technical trading terms like “Kenya AA” and “Colombia Supremo.”

All of this was done in a spirit of cultural rebellion. Taking their cues from the back-to-the-land and bohemian movements of the late 1960s, second wave coffee companies embraced a style of rebelliousness and nonconformist business practices that came to typify the movement. Bob Stiller founded the Green Mountain coffee company only after the success of his first business, “E-Z Wider,” a company that manufactured rolling papers for use in smoking marijuana and was named after the seminal counterculture film Easy Rider. Paul and Joan Katzeff founded their company Thanksgiving Coffee as a “hippie business.” Although Alfred Peet embraced a conservative personal style, his shop in Berkeley became known as a countercultural hangout, and its regulars became known as “Peetniks,” after the Beatniks.

In the 1980s, these companies began to be embraced by the wider community, having already become well known to the culinary elites and bohemian subcultures of the cities they served. Individual, idiosyncratic outposts turned into local chains of retail stores, which began to host coffeehouses too. In 1982, the Specialty Coffee Association of America was founded. Erna Knutsen helped lead the way in providing a professional association that could assist with establishing standards and educating personnel at the companies participating in the movement.

In the tradition of the second wave’s celebration of European coffee style, Howard Schultz incorporated the Italian espresso bar aesthetic in his Il Giornale project, which became an integral part of Starbucks’ identity. Second wave specialty companies became known more for their beverages than their beans, and the Italian “caffè latte” simply became a “latte”, which in turn became synonymous with specialty coffee in popular culture. The espresso bars and coffeehouses of the specialty coffee companies began to typify the movement, and became essential parts of urban and suburban communities in the 1980s and 1990s. Ray Oldenburg’s 1989 book The Great Good Place specifically focused on specialty coffee shops as important elements in American cultural life, and these second wave companies began to take their role as curators of public space more seriously.

By the 1990s, the second wave of coffee was cresting. Peet’s, Starbucks, Coffee Connection, and many others were expanding rapidly, opening new stores to meet consumers’ demand for high quality coffee beverages, specialty coffee beans, and public spaces where communities could come together. But then the coffee tradition that commenced with a counterculture identity and culinary approach began to be seen as ubiquitous and standardized, and incorporating elements of the 1950s coffee culture it was established to oppose. Coffee shops began to be regular features of suburban strip malls, specialty coffee brands began to appear in pre-ground packages on supermarket shelves, and espresso bars began appearing in gas stations and airports. This led to a great conflict within the specialty coffee movement: was its rapid expansion evidence of “selling out” and abandoning specialty coffee values, or was this a mission with a higher purpose––bringing great coffee to the masses? Were the ideals expressed in Erna Knutsen’s moniker “specialty coffees” possible in the context of mass markets and public stock offerings?

A counter-movement within specialty coffee began to form. This loose group of professional craft coffee roasters established themselves as the Roasters’ Guild, objected to the commercial excesses of the second wave and sought to build a new movement that recommitted to values of quality, freshness, and artisanship. Young entrepreneurs who had worked as baristas or roasters for the second wave companies began to establish companies of their own, seeking to reclaim the mantle of specialty coffee and create new cutting edge coffee.

Some made the transition between generations––Erna Knutsen and George Howell remained relevant to the next generation of coffee entrepreneurs even into their 70s and 80s––while other specialty coffee companies sold or folded. A new generation of specialty coffee had arrived. Trish Rothgeb identified the third wave of coffee in her influential 2003 essay “Norway and Coffee”, published in the Roasters Guild newsletter. Third wavers built upon the culinary drive, cultural exploration, and spirit of rebellion that epitomized the early specialty coffee movement, and brought those values to a new generation. And Erna Knutsen, who had ushered in the original specialty coffee revolution, was there cheering it on.

In June, 2018, Erna Knutsen passed away at the age of 96. Her passing may well mark the definitive end of the second wave of coffee, but the ideals and aspirations of the specialty coffee community live on.

[herondaleholly31]

Love On The Weekend  Chris Evans X Reader

overview: Whenever you can you and Chris spend a weekend together just the two of you. This  weekend is different. 

A/N Hey guys!! I’m currently in the middle of exams but I wanted to start writing some of the requests that was sent to me after my last post. Thank you so much for all your kind messages and follows after that post, it really means so much to me. I’m working through the list so I will try and upload as much as I can I promise. I hope you enjoy this one, make sure to keep sending me any requests! 

Like and Reblog! 

word count: 3,738

4:55. Five more minutes to go. You were impatient, and having already cleaned your desk three times in the past hour you were checking your emails one last time before you clocked out. Delete, delete, asos discount code saved, the rest thrown in spam. That’s it. All done. Only three more minutes. 

“Y/N!”

Jack entered your office without knocking, an ominous stack of papers under his arm. “you’re still here, great. I need you to sort these files out before you go.” The stack fell with a thud onto your desk.

“I can’t,” you shook your head “I’m just about to head out.” 

“Oh I’ve also put you on call duty this weekend,” Jack ignored you “so any plans you have cancel them.”

Your spine chilled “I can’t do this weekend. I cant I-“ you shook your head to try and stop your rising panic “I have to have this weekend off.”

“Tough luck. You’re going to want to keep you phone charged, I get a lot of emails.”

“No Jack-“

“Is there a problem?” He scowled.

The clock had struck five, he was going to be there any minute. “I can’t reschedule this plan my boyfriend’s job-“

“sweetheart can I be frank? I don’t give a shit,’ your bosses patient demeanour had gone and his normal irritation came through “I’ve got a golf game tomorrow and you were the last person to ask for time off. So you’re on this weekend.” He slammed his hand on top of the stack of papers and then turned to leave when suddenly a deafening sound came from outside. Shocked, Jack smacked his arm onto your computer, causing him to swear colourfully “WHAT IS THAT?” But you had already rushed to the window, your smile widening. 

“He’s here.”

“WHO?” 

You weren’t listening, grabbing your bag and throwing your coat over your arm “I’m going.”

“Is that for you?”

“Yes.” You turned once more, determination overruling your fear “Have a nice weekend Jack.” And with that, you flicked off the light switch and walked out the office. The honk was ringing down the corridor as you took the stairs two at a time before bursting out the door. A black range rover was sat in the middle of the carpark, and leaning against the  bonnet was your boyfriend Chris. His eyes were covered with sunglasses but you knew his eye brows were raised in a teasing expression as he watched you stride over “are you always that dramatic when leaving work?”

“Only when my boss is being a dick.’ You reached him and cocked your head back so you could kiss him, both smiling against each other as the realisation that this moment had finally happened washed over. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Chris rested his forehead against yours and you breathed deeply, feeling the anger ebb away. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too. I couldn’t get out of that place fast enough.”

‘I saw” Chris laughed. He pulled away to open the door next to him to reveal  leather seats and your battered rucksack, bulging at the seams. “I packed everything on the list.”

“including the-“

“including my grey jumper for you to wear in the car.” 

“thank youuuu,” clambering up into the seat you started to get changed, tights getting ripped and pony tails being loosened. Chris’s jumper had been washed one too many times, the fluffy interior bobbled and stretched to fit his physique; however you always wore it on these trips and had therefore become a running joke. “Where to this time?” You asked, popping your head over the collar to look over at Chris who was fiddling about with the Keys. He slid them in and a second later the car roared and shot out of the car park, the revs barking through the quiet. He didn’t answer until you had made it onto the highway.

“I’m going to keep it a surprise this time.”

“ooooo” you perked up “we haven’t done that for a while. Do I get a clue?”

“nope.”

“pleaseeeeee.”

Chris shook his head chuckling “you’ll like it I promise.” Still determined to know you sat up on your knees, leaning over the gear stick to kiss his cheek “not one hint?”

“No!” Chris laughed. You continued to ask, peppering the half of his face and neck with jokey kisses until his death went slightly ragged. “you’re going to make me crash.” He didn’t move away though, enjoying the way you bumped your nose against his cheekbone as the car steamed ahead. The car flew like a the air of you were on the run, Chris only realising when cramp started to form in his ankle from the clenching. You were so present to him in that moment his mind seems to have fogged over. Luckily You only kissed him a couple more times before sitting back, defeated. He was able to calm his pulse once again. “fine” You rolled your eyes teasingly “I guess I’ll trust you. Give me the aux cord.” You propped your bare feet up onto the dash board and plugged it into your phone and scrolled down until you found the playlist: Love on the weekend.

The weekend was something you and Chris had done for a long as you’d been dating. Although you lived in Boston near his family and spent stints in LA, work and business sometimes kept the pair of you apart for weeks if not months at a time. This had been difficult, until on a whim Chris had done what he would come to do every time; text you the night before that he was picking you up and that you two were going away together. That first time he’d taken you to a beach house where you’d spent the weekend getting a suntan and much needed alone time. That had been nearly two years ago and since the pair of you had taken trips all over the country, with nothing but a car and essentials. They had become your favourite tradition together. 

The first song of the playlist started and Chris nodded his head in satisfaction “yessss!’ He pumped his foot on the gas and the car shot down the fast lane, leaving the traffic behind. The music swelled until the rough voice of Journey’s “Don’t stop believing” was blasting through the speakers, matched only by Chris’ rendition. He was tossing his head about and giving it his all, making you laugh so hard you felt the breath pound against your throat and your chest started to tense. The tipping point was when on the final high note your boyfriend’s voice cracked dramatically, to which you had to dig your hands in-between your clenched thighs to stop you from peeing. God it was so good to laugh like this again. 

The speakers continued to blast out classics, raging from Kanye West to Disney to Prince until both your voices were frayed and your chests ached from laughing. At one point there was no sound from either of you except for wheezing and knee slapping. You were like children, bubbling with energy and excitement as the feeling of each other there made you giddy. 

“We’re nearly there,” Chris was able to heave out later, breathing deliberately to even out his chuckles “keep an eye out for the right exit.”

“exit for what?” 

“I’m still not telling you.”

“How am I going to know what the right exit is if I don’t know where we’re going?”

“Hey I gave you a name just trust me.” He reached out and patted your knee, before slowly moving his hand up to rest on your thigh. There was nothing suggestive about it, but you felt your body melt under his touch as he continued to drive. He hummed to the dulcet tones of John Mayer and would occasionally have to shift in his seat but he made sure to keep your thigh at arms length. His palm stayed soft and warm against you  as the car pulled off the highway and drove down strips of long roads under golden sun stained foliage. One rumbling dirt track later and the car rolled into an opening, where it stopped and slumped, exhausted. Chris breathed, smiled, and squeezed your leg “we’re here.”

The house sat snuggled in the trees, overlooking a lake that shone brightly. White walls, blue tiles roof, a rickety dock that rocked slightly against the wind. It looked exactly the same as it did in the pictures that were hung around the Evan’s family home. You gasped in excitement “This is the place-“

“From my childhood pictures,” Chris nodded.

“The place you said you’d always take me,” you placed your hand on top of his “I can’t believe you did this.” In your excitement you leant over the gear stick and grabbed Chris’s face In between your hands “Thank you thank you Thank you!” You planted one big kiss on his lips causing him to laugh loudly before leaping out the car, your bare feet lacing with the grass. The pair of you grabbed the bags from the car and dragged them up into the house, abandoning them in the hall way to explore your home for the weekend. An open floor plan of polished wooden floors, white furniture and blue wallpaper stretched through the house, with soft corduroy sofas and shelves of thumbed classic books and board games. It was a weird mix of modern and old; as if time didn’t effect it. You were running around the house, calling for Chris to see something before discovering something else and getting even more excited.  When Chris still hadn’t come after the fifth time you called you went clattering down the stairs to find him in the kitchen, already pulling things out of the stocked fridge “pesto eggs?” He asked.

“MMMM YES!” You yelled in excitement. “Sorry,” you quietened “sorry. Yes please.” 

“I take it you like the house then?’ “Is this the part of the story where you tell me you’ve bought it?” You slid onto one of the stools by the island, nicking a bit of red pepper from the chopping board.

“ Unfortunately not.”

“shame. I would’ve quit work on the spot to move.”

“It’s that stressful huh?”

“You have no idea.”

Chris stopped stirring “so tell me about it.”

You shook your head, running your hands through your hair once before letting them fall on the table “I don’t want to weigh you down with that. You don’t wanna hear about that.”

“Yes I do,” Chris said “its obviously bothering you.”

“Not tonight Chris. Please.” You didn’t want to think about anything negative this weekend. Not with the limited time you had with him. “your eggs are burning by the way.”

“Huh? Oh Shit,” Chris went back to wildly stirring the contents of his pan, and the conversation was dropped. 

************

The next couple days felt like the montage to a rom com movie, a warped bubble where negative thoughts and emotions weren’t allowed to penetrate. There was a lot to Catch up with so the pair of you didn’t waste a single minute. Swimming in the lake, running together through the woods, playing chess whilst drinking too much beer. A lot of random hugs and heated make outs that lead to other things that caused your skin to flush and tingle. This was partly due to Your shoulders getting  burnt, resulting with Chris finding great pleasure in occasionally smacking the sensitive skin causing you to scream blue murder whilst chasing after him. 

‘I still think I’ll have a hand imprint on my shoulder forever,” you joked. It was the last night and you were cooking whilst Chris picked the movie. He was crouched by the shelfs, his recently showered hair peering his grey t shirt with droplets. “What movie we thinking?” He called.

“hmmmm How about Captain America?”

“Funny.” Chris rolled his eyes. You laughed before diving down to retrieve the steaming dish of Chicken and vegetable pasta from the oven and dishing into bowls. 

“Babe! You’ll never guess what movie they have.” Chris lifted the DVD case like a trophy, the title in your direction. You read it and gasped excitedly “About Time? Oh my days yes!”

“You’re gonna cry.”

“I am not.”

“You say that every time.”

“well this time I can definitely say that I will not cry!”

*************

“It’s just” you stuttered, “it just so…so” you had to gulp loudly through the raked sobs “so sad!” Bill Nighy and the little boy started skimming stones on the beach, causing you to whimper loudly, more tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“I told you you would cry,” Chris said, but his own eyes were watery and his jaw clenched in emotion. Seeing this made you even more upset and you started to grip onto the pillow, holding your breath so to stop the sobs. It didn’t work. Chris couldn’t stand it anymore; part of him obviously wanted to comfort you but also your turmoil was starting to become comical. “sweetheart,” he laughed “come here.” He dragged you over to sit in between his legs, your back against his chest so he could try and stop you from crying. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,” you breathed “I’m not going to-oh my god they’re hugging.” The crying was uncontrollable now “This is the last hug they’re ever going to have together.”

“Okay you need to tell me whats wrong now,” Chris’ tone shifted to worry. He’d never seen you this upset over this movie before “hey, hey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to leave me tomorrow.” 

“what?”

“You’re going to leave tomorrow and I’ll be left with an apartment that is too big for just one person, a job I hate and the constant reminder that these weekends are the only things that I actually enjoy in life.” 

The movie continued to play but Chris wasn’t watching anymore. Instead he sat there, struggling to find the right words to say. He didn’t want to ask, you’d specifically told him not to ask this weekend, the itch of knowing was starting to burn in his brain. “What’s wrong with work?”

You huffed, flinging your head back to knock against his shoulder “I hate it Chris. I used to love working there, but I just can’t do it anymore. The last time I had a weekend off was our last weekend 3 months ago.” 

“why?”

“Because Jack makes me work so he can piss about golfing and spend the weekends screwing his assistant. I see the texts,” you nodded as Chris’s eyebrows shot up in surprise “they’re just as awful as you can imagine.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“about the affair? It’s not tha-“

“No. About work.” 

“Oh.” You shrugged,  wiping the back of your sleeve across your face “I didn’t want you to worry about me that’s all.” Feeling your boyfriend huff you felt yourself get defensive “you’re away for so long I didn’t want you to have to take off anymore time than you had to just because my career turned shit.”

‘That’s not fair,” Chris shook his head “I should’ve known.”

“Why? What would’ve you done?’ You were sitting up now, frowning at him, arms crossed “Quit your work and moved back full time to Boston?’ “Maybe!”

“No you wouldn’t of!”

“But at least I would’ve had that option!” His eyes flashed with a mixture of pain and annoyance “Y/N how am I supposed to be there for you if you don’t tell me these things?” 

“That’s not fair Chris.”

“NO,” he snapped “what’s not fair is finding out that you’re feeling like this and yet I was the last person to know!”

“If you were here more YOU’D KNOW!”

There was a horrible silence. Shocked, you put your fingers over your lips, as if trying to grab back the words that were still ringing through the room. You were both shocked; hurt plastered on both your faces. You wanted to take them back, to rewind time so you could start this conversation again, to finish this weekend in a way that you will treasure and picture for the next weeks as you wait for him to come home to you. “I’m sorry.” You finally spoke “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Chris nodded slowly, and you noticed that his eyes were glistening with tears and you felt your brain screaming in fear and your heart be squished like a juice box “yea you did.”

“NO! No I didn’t.” You pulled him closer “I’m just upset about work, I’m taking it out on you.”

“But you do wish It don’t you?” Chris whispered.

“Of course I wish you were here more,” You nodded “but acting’s your dream. Of course I want you to be doing that.”

“Im so sorry Babe,” he pushed out a heavy sigh to stop the emotions from stunting his voice “I wish I knew how bad it was.”

“It’s not your fault You didn’t know. I wasn’t telling you.”

“I should’ve picked up on it. If I’d known I’d-“

“It’s not your fault Chris. I’m sorry for not telling you.”

Chris smiled softly. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, locking his hands together so you were pressed against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head, nodding slightly “This was not how I was thinking this conversation was going to go.”

You laughed, snorting slightly due to the snot that had built up from your previous sobs “me neither.”

“And I was looking forward to telling you about my plans for after the movie.”

You felt your heart sink slightly. These conversations were always awfully painful. “Did your agent get another script for you?”

“Actually no. He won’t be getting me any for a while.”

“What?’ You looked up at him, confused “why?”

“because I told him I didn’t want any. Because I’m taking a little break.”

‘Chris? Please say you didn’t do that because of me!”

“only partly,” Chris smiled guiltily “I just miss Boston. I miss my parents, My nieces and nephews, You. I just want to spend some time here. Spending time with my family.”

The tears were falling again, only this time they were ones of happiness “you serious? You’re coming home?”

Chris nodded, savouring this moment for as long as he could. “5 more weeks and then I’m yours.”  

******************

The Boston skyline had never looked so unwelcoming. Despite the sunrise bathing the windows with molten pink and blue reflections, they were a reminder that you were back in reality. You’d left the house early that morning with the remise you’d return in the summer with the whole family. It had still been difficult to say goodbye. The entire drive back you and Chris only spoke a few times, both too nervous of what to say in these last moment. Chris’s hand was back on your thigh, but this time your hand was intertwined with his, your only lifeline from breaking down into uncontrollable tears once more. Although this was the last goodbye you’d have to say for a long time, this one felt the most difficult because of the reality of what they were going back to. The buildings of the city grew thicker and thicker as you drove down main streets and over bridges until all too soon the looming signs floor your office building started to come, and then the ruling for the carpark, and in no time at all Chris was pulling into one of the visitors spots and switching off the engine. “we’re here.” 

“yea.” A silence. “ Thanks for dropping me off by the way.” 

“Yea of course.” Chris swallowed. Neither of you moved. No one made the move to say goodbye. But you knew it was going to happen, and your grip on his hand got tighter as you realised that now was the moment to let go. 

In the end it was him. It left you feeling empty, like you’d dropped something into water and you knew that you were never going to get it back, and that’s when the tears started to fall again. In a moment Chris jumped out of the car and ran over to your side of the car, opening your door so he was able to scoop you into a hug. “ I know,” he whispered as you clung to him “ I know.”

“i don’t know if I can do this Chris,” you sniffed into his neck.

“Yes you can. You can sweetheart. Remember what we said.” He kissed your ear lightly “Just five more weeks. Five more weeks and the I’m home, you can quit your job here and we’ll figure something out together okay? Okay?” His tone made you move your gaze so you were looking at his wide eyed expression, full of promise and reassurance “We’ll figure this out together.”

“Five weeks.”

“five weeks and then I’m yours.”

You nodded, sniffing “Okay,” You breathed “Okay I’ll do it.”

“You can do it.” He kissed you then, and his lips tasted of salt but they were familiar and warm and his, and you already missed him so much five weeks suddenly felt like a lifetime. 

“I am,” he rested his head against yours once more “so proud of you. I really am.” 

You nodded. You kissed him as long as your lungs could muster and this time you let go, flattening your skirt and slipping on your heels as Chris grabbed your bags from the boot and handing them to you. He kissed you once more, told you he loved you and then walked back around to sit in the car. You walked around to his door and leaned in through the open window to kiss him again.

“I can’t watch you walk away,” he confessed “because if I do all I’ll want to do is stay.” 

You nodded “That’s fine. I’ll see you in five weeks.”

‘Five weeks.” 

“I love you Chris.”

One more kiss, and then he pushed the car into gear and pulled away, leaving you to wave goodbye to him. As he did, the windows rolled down, and a second later you heard the opening chords to “Love on the weekend” play. He didn’t look back, but you knew that he too was already counting down the days until the next time you two could see each other. 

[cristianjamescom]

Classically Modern Kitchen (Boston)

[helicoptus]

Classically Modern Kitchen (Boston)

[classically-abby]

YAAAAAS QUEEEEEN

DISNEY WOMEN UNITE AGAINST THE STERILIZATION OF OUR PASSION

LET OUR CRIES PIERCE THE HEAVENS AND SOUND THE TRUMPETS OF WAR

[swagatmahapatracom]

Classically Modern Kitchen (Boston)

[balancingthelions]

Classically Modern Kitchen (Boston)