Hookah in Boston: The Hobo Returns
We went back to the Bean Town and here’s what we found…
Its been a good year since we made the last Fung Wah trek and brought our patented hookah to Boston. This time around we stayed away from Tia’s, the shit-hole that it is, and went to a couple real clubs:
First, Boston is so very different than New York. In many ways, its like a small town: If you are a young professional, and frequent the local clubs, you will run into people you know. Crazy. In NYC, the scene is so massive that just running in to someone can only be described as serendipity.
Our first stop, was Gypsy Bar, one of the hotter spots these days up in Red Sox land. Its got your classic posh feel, just to frame your drink purchases appropriately so you don’t freak out about a $10 dry cocktail. The great thing about Gypsy, and bars of this ilk, are the split halves: There is a bumping dance floor, not wide open, but with nooks and crannies to slip your party into, and a bar up front that is away from the loudness in case you need to give your legs and ears a break.
Next, is the hot dog stand: Man, there are some good dogs in Boston. My previous review, highlighted the lack of food available after the 2pm bell, which is still more or less the case, but if you are lucky enough to find an Italian dog stand, served on a fresh roll with peppers and onions, that’s living the dream. The Boston dogs put NYs to shame.
Finally, we ended the night at Venu, which was a poor choice. Picture roman columns and weird projections on the wall and so few people, all listless, and that sums it up. On the positive side, if there is an artificially long line outside, you can pretty much roll up to the bouncer with a well timed “Come onnnnn!” and they’ll let you in, as long as you look like you got money and have closed toed shoes.
We ended the night up on the roof deck near Copley: Smoking a little Starbuzz Pomegranate out of vanquished Arizona Iced Tea bottle, which could only be described as a brilliant setup for hookah in Boston.
The next day, we hit the local beach off the Andrews T stop, which was surprisingly uncrowded for such a great day. The beaches around Boston are classic east coast style: Nothing the West has, but a pleasant place to kick it, get a tan and drink a few beers while playing Frisbee.
There was one last notable event we should report: The Fisherman’s Feast in the North End. The North End is known for its Italian food, but something about the Feast is just about bringing the best to those less initiated. I for one, recommend the Quahogs with hot sauce and the Pujole (a grilled pepper and steak in an Italian roll). Phenomenal. We even got into the “Club House” for the after party, where we were treated like family, which we pretended we were.
This trip around I think we got a bit better overall sense of the scene: Boston is a compact, small town, with features of NY but with that neighborhood feel you expect in a Williamsburg or Jersey City. We’ll be back again, as usual, we wouldn’t deprive our Bostonian friends of the only portable hookah.
