Michael John W.'s Profile

While road-tripping from MA down on to Austin Texas a gentleman and his lady are likely to develop an appetite, and so much will be experienced. Burger Express was worthwhile. The friendly hometown staff were pleasant to deal with, and the food was proper. The order/review:

Cheeseburger: fresh white onion, lettuce, tomato, ketchup, mustard, mayo. The meat  was similar to what is served at Burger King sans the grease. A clean and decent burger, a 6.

Grilled Chicken Sandwich: fwo, l, t, k, m, m. The chicken was freshly cooked and tasty, with the sandwich overall having a good clean feeling, a 7.

Pulled BBQ Pork Sandwich: lettuce, tomato, onion, mayo. The pork was fantastic; entirely tender, a hint of smokiness, excellent and unique barbecue sauce. A 10.

Fries: The ridged ilk of fried potatoes, crispy and in no way overly greasy.

Overall I had a fine experience, the food was clean, the burger and grilled chicken definitely good, with the pulled pork and fries being on the level of awesomeness. I'd normally give it a 3-star given the "a-okay"ness of the burger and chicken, but they were clean and didn't leave me feeling greasy and guilty, and the pricing was solid, all these things cost something like $13, a great deal for relatively healthy American fare done well and with some finesse on the BBQ pork. Def a recommend. The one regret: they'd sold out of their home-made strawberry turnovers, a relative bummer.

I tend to write at length, so, the short version:

Fantastic cultural food, pleasing presentation, moderate portions, nice interior ambiance, chill music, friendly and humorous owner/cook/server, the one negative: it is in crack-head central of Worcester, Main South.

Full Iteration : )

Drink: The Spot is BYOB!

My girlfriend and I had a Schmitt Sohne Riesling, a tasty German release that is a bit sweet at 9% but perfect for this food. A pitcher of water with a slice of watermelon in it was also provided. A sweet touch that I extracted and enjoyed later on.

Appetizer:

Cod Cakes - A Perfect 10 like. Crust/batter was impeccable and crispy, fish was moist and fresh, a hidden spice inside, well seasoned, came with a sweet Thai-chili sauce or something similar.

Main Courses:

Curried Goat: I give it a 9. The curry was unique from Indian cuisine yet discernible. The meat was quite obviously caringly slow cooked and perfectly tender. The purple rice and beans were a nice addendum, with a small fresh greens salad topped in ginger dressing also crisp. There were a few bones and fatty pockets that occasionally detracted from the experience, and next time I'll ask for it to have a kick of spice. My first goat experience though, totally worth checking.

Jerk Pork: 8.5. Mild (hot was also an option, would have prob added .5 to my score). The pork was flaky and succulent, jerk sauce awesome, but not quite enough of it. Same side salad, rice/beans. A solid rep of the dish that I'd ask for a side of extra jerk sauce with to max out its potential.

Dessert: Opted out, already too much to eat, and the one "true Jamaican" dessert had sold out. Next time.

Atmosphere: Solid interior design, chill reggae-tones lighting the environment. Plenty of eclectic wall decorations, and we were entertained by reading a pictorial coffee-table book detailing Vogue fashion from the 1930s-2000s, books being scattered about the restaurant. The owner was charming and had an interesting aggressive then apologetic sense of humor that was fun. She obviously took pride in her food and the taste buds can sense this. This did make it take a bit of time between courses or to handle the bill, but running a one-(wo)man show takes time, and having a bottle of wine and fine company makes it glide past anyways.

Location: The one negative. Upon arrival my girlfriend asked if the neighborhood was bad, and I assured her it was in fact the worst, but also had the most police per square foot than any other area in the city. Approaching the front-door we would find it to be locked, the owner coming and allowing us in then again closing it off. We would find out why when leaving. Two cars down from mine a police officer would blare their horn to shoo a homeless beggar from tapping on a running car's window seeking attention. The cop would roll to us, take a look, and ultimately decide we for some reason didn't deserve the same effort. The bum of course accosts us as I open the door for her, closing it to deal with the pitch already in motion. I notify him that we are all in the same recession and it doesn't make sense to give what is rudely asked for yet hardly earned. Cursing obscenities my way I start and shift into first, entertained at the distasteful exit. My girlfriend however was a bit shaken, coming from the sticks in Uxbridge and having had Uni in the sticks in NH, this was her first experience with an aggressive crack-fueled solicitor. Don't engage them and carry on.

Value: Solid. Most dinners are $8-16, apps $4-6, drinks $2-4 (non-alcoholic), desserts $3-6.

My first Jamaican food experience outside of an occasional meat-pie from a street vendor. Great food. Talented and committed owner/chef. BYOB is a fantastic option as well, beyond Tortilla Sam's; solid and late-night Mexican spot on Highland Street; this is the only other I know of. Definitely recommend.

My experience at this particular sushi joint was relatively positive but marred completely by a culinary and managerial failure to be touched upon after; now- Drinks, Food, Critique. My girlfriend Danielle ordered up a Flirtini for her drink, feeling tropical I went with a martini that contained pineapple juice and I believe Malibu, although the name is now all elusive like. The drinks were well done and my lady assured me her Flirtini was quite on point, and delivered with the swiftness given that we'd posted up at the bar. The atmosphere is laid back and relatively zen, dark hued Asian influenced interior design, although the walkways are a bit narrow.

For food we went with an order of maguro sushi I believe, alongside a spicy yellow tail, and one of the house specialties, the Lion King Roll. The seaweed had the proper level of moisture, and the sushi rice was likewise al dente, if the phrase transfers, otherwise, tender. The maguro was as it should be being a basic and the spicy yellow tail was just swell, the spicy mayo adding a pop to my already wasabi laden bites. Their wasabi is zesty and likely not green-dyed horseradish. The only issue with the spot was with the Lion King Roll. Comprised of spicy tuna, tempura crunch, nori roll, and topped with king crab and Baba eel sauce, the ingredients went incredibly well with one another, and tasted quite fantastic. However, to our disdain within the midst of a flavorful bite, an obtrusive texture would ruin it, having to be removed from the mouth, the opposite of what one expects to do in a restaurant. To our dismay, there was a piece of bone or cartilage in the sushi! I know, aaa! I've been into sushi for a decade and have had it here and there, and even in Portland Oregon where sushi may be found crafted by a Mexican gentleman and sold out of an aluminum snack cart, I've never encountered this. Hardly something I'd expect from an establishment plastered in plaques heralding its "Best of..." chef and restaurant awards and costing enough to make the customer expect this. I brought it to the bartender/manager's attention in a properly polite fashion; I've worked in the service industry so understand how to approach from the other side with tact; stating "Everything tasted fantastic, however, there was a bone or piece of cartilage in the sushi, and it was rather unpleasant and something I've never encountered." Pausing to allow the manager, who was also our bartender/server, a chance to inspect and consider how to resolve the situation, we watched and observed. The manager tweezed the fleshy piece of boniness off the plate with her bare fingers, examined it, and confirmed that it was in fact a piece of bone or cartilage, then set it back down on the plate and went back about her business, clearing our plates and moving along. No apology was offered nor any attempt to positively address the situation. The check was dropped. No offer of dessert or presentation of menu. I am all about the sweets, but at this point had lost interest so have no feedback for that area.

Baba sushi is tasty and well done when not ruined by bone, although I will not again patronize a restaurant that lacks pride in their product and their customers' satisfaction, particularly one at this price point where such things are generally taken for granted. A $2 roll off an aluminum cart is one thing, a $14 roll in a restaurant with masterful presentation, yet questionable execution, is quite another. I've no recommendations for an alternative in the immediate area, although Oki's Japanese Steakhouse, a Japanese-owned (not to be taken for granted in the world of sushi...)  establishment that takes severe pride in its product and presentation, in North Providence, is entirely on point. Moo sushi onegaishimasu yo

Driving through the mountainous community of Boulder my spirits are peaking. Crash! Ding! Drag! Uncool. My shifting lever has disconnected and I'm rolling in neutral. A spot is found, legal, near the hostel within which I'd pulled a private room the night before. I book a week to feel chill about the car situation. Going to Craigslist I am quoted at $40 from a mechanic 30 miles away who'd be borrowing a garage and tools. Weak. I call around town, locally. Jim from Repair Masters is instantly friendly on the phone and seemingly the guy for the job. I get the AAA tow, 95 minutes waiting time, driven by Clay. We get there, Clay knows the mechanic Gordon. I tip out Clay a Lincoln. The car is quoted at $40. It takes 30 minutes, I pay $46.50, tip out Gordon a Lincoln, and I'm on my way. No attempts to upsell me or do anything beyond what I asked for. Incredibly clean restroom and facility overall, on the level of my Italian aunt's, very homely.  Jim is polite, Gordon handled what he needed to, and I'm quite satisfied, the machinations beneath me once again shifting seamlessly. Go here; they are legit. Rock and Roll

Generally I'm down with this bar, they've $2 beers, $3 well-drinks, bartenders acknowledge your presence, serve you fast, and the drinks=strong. A good endorsement thus far I'd say, but wait for it. Tonight diverged from this. Ordering my 1st Greyhound (capitalized for the sake of the company who has trademarked the name mind you) I say hello, introduce myself to the gal beside me, a costume feather in her hair with a too-large, entirely buttoned-up pea-coat on, leaving large flaps, protrusions of fabric. We banter briefly, she introduces me to her friend Michelle, mainstream alternative style like most in the area. I bore quickly and wander; bump into familiar faces, a lass I'd met at the Hilt earlier, a classy establishment with a relaxed vibe, Amber. Again a Greyhound is necessary. Upon ordering, a male from New Orleans, flaunting a heavy accent and wearing a baseball cap telling me this, middle-aged and entirely intoxicated verging on pissed, begins. At first he entertains me, assures me he's a freemason and asks me to buy him a beer, and so I offer to barter. Teach me the secret Masonic hand-shake and I'll buy you a beer. He does. I don't believe him, but I buy him a beer nonetheless. At this point he accuses me of being a police officer. I assure him this isn't the case, although he continues, his overly drunken mind on a track. It is explained that were I to pull him over, his fists, exhibited to me, would beat me to the ground, and his gun, imaginatively un-holstered and pressed to my forehead in the form of his pointer, would erupt my skull or something of that nature. At this point I smile and state, "You're welcome for the beer guy, now move along, plenty more bar." It does not work, but rather, Michelle, who a moment earlier prior to the arrival of the belligerent had proudly identified herself to me as the owner/founder of the Nest, sits quietly as her overly-large pea-coated friend proceeds to attempt to intervene. She draws the drunk's aggression for a moment and I step in and deflect it back to myself, recognizing a potential situation. The drunk is momentarily occupied, and the owner's friend begins to mock me for wearing a quite stylish lemon collared shirt emblazoned with a silver lion and makes some discriminatory comment about "people who wear polos" and so on, I question the validity of her statement, she makes a senseless comeback as prejudiced fools do when confronted on their baseless tomfoolery, and as if on queue the drunk begins again. I tell him to move along, he'd experienced my gentlemanly courtesy in my buying him a beer, and now given that I'm no longer entertained, he is simply to move along. I inquire of the owner Michelle, "Isn't this about time you summon your muscle? I'm happy to help in the interim, but seriously...", she acknowledges my statement with a nod and brush of her hair, and nothing. Her friend again berates me, beginning with "Listen East Coast Guy...", stating that isn't how it's done in Portland etc. So, apparently belligerently drunk customers at the Nest are allowed, by the owner's consent, to assault other customers with bullshit and even threats of violence. The bouncer did not once appear nor was he summoned, nor did a single one of the handful of hipster males standing directly within the vicinity of the scene have the courage to raise their eyes above the bar or from the puffy chest of the too-large pea-coated girl, despite their heated verbal involvement on the periphery of the incident. Truly brave young men I do so say, entirely in tone with the tough tattooed and bearded exteriors they present I assure you. At this point me, the customer, entirely outside the scope of my professional responsibility as a drinker and having-fun-er when patronizing a bar, giving them the benefit of my money and unique brand of charm, steps up and deflects the drunken fool and ultimately is kind enough to extricate him from the premises without incident, apparently must endure additional insults intended to be both intelligent and scathing from the classless friend of the silent and entirely without objection owner. Upon leaving the bar I was followed out by this particular belligerent individual who had caused a scene in the bar, and the bouncer, as opposed to being a fucking professional and handling his business, shut the door on us and remained inside. What a guy. I ignore the middle-aged, hammered non-gent, walk to my car whilst being followed, start it, engage the clutch as he approaches the vehicle, and drive off, leaving the problem the bar had apparently so desperately pawned off on a customer to finally be dealt with directly. I will be going back. Bartenders are cool, the drinks are cheap,  I like the crowd. Annoying tonight, yes, but that's entertainment. I'll be wearing a polo most likely as I am after all a professional, should I see the owner will be sure to inquire as to her behavior, and will certainly update here upon having done so. Rock and Roll

Having moved to Portland in August from Worcester, home of the perfect 10 Bean Counter Red Velvet or Tuxedo cupcakes, I began my search, in earnest mind you, for the bombest cupcake this side of the continent. Entering St. Cupcake after a short walk through the seemingly omnipresent rain, having found a spot merely a block away within the busy downtown NW business quadrant, and to my surprise having to pay for parking on a Sunday due to some silly municipal government decision or another, I was enlightened by the atmosphere. The counter-lass would greet me with a smile. As is my practice, only this time verbally as she met the level assessment, I determine if she is a professional or student, then discern what she is or does. Square-framed glasses tell me she appreciates sharp order, separation, and classification as opposed to the harmony-circumspect style of round frames, and these square frames had blots of copper and black, indicative of a preference for and understanding of complexity. She's a student without a name, as I'd neglected to ask, I guesstimate psychology and communications double-major. The reality: education and theatre arts. I was for the most part wrong, she is cute, life, somehow, goes on. To the product review mobile Robin! I ordered the cupcake containing "Mexican" and "Chocolate" in the title at her recommendation the other words therein forgotten; a dark-chocolate cake with the perfect level of moistness, the blossom on top effectively chewy with a slight crunch around the edges (the blossom quality; I think muffin-top is passe given that it is now used to describe that unattractive excess body-fat phenomenon and is used for a different species of dessert altogether; is the same on all their cupcakes, with the cake mutually well done), topped with milk-chocolate mousse and espresso powder. Now, the filling is where this cupcake goes wrong for me, as it has a spiced chocolate filling, which while made proper I don't care for, as the spice reminds me of spiced apple cider; remove the spice from either and a grin turns to a smile. The Mexican Chocolate Cupcake - 9, as it is still bomb and upon the first bite, if done well, mind the frosting on the tip of your nose as it first made me feel quite foolish,almost apprehensive, but then entertained so it was alright, it's okay guys, I'm cool now. Their Red Velvet Cupcake - 10. The cream cheese frosting is legit and also fills the center, with the cake and blossom a godsend, making it one of my favorite adjectives: god-like. The next choice was the "What's Up Doc?", think Warner Brothers, think Elmer Fudd, you're getting there... Which I've yet to try as it is in the fridge, understanding the necessity of chilling cream-cheese frosting for full effect. If I remember that will go up later, or email me and be all like, "yo, where is that review mehn?" And I'll be all like, "word". So, the interior design is bright, the employees happy and knowledgeable and in no way rushing, the grounds exceedingly clean with nearly full transparency so I've no worry of cat-sized sewer rats and roaches like aliens from Starship Troopers lurking behind closed doors, just ill cupcakes and baked goodness. Check them out, then try St. Cupcake maybe a baker's dozen blocks away, and come to terms with your preferences.

Voodoo Donuts are tasty treats without a shadow of a doubt, and given that one can go there during the dark hours only makes it that much sweeter. The donuts themselves vary between cake, heavy and dry but nonetheless alright by me, and razed as I prefer to spell it style, fluffy and full of air however slightly lacking in the moisture one expects and needs in this style. The frostings are tasty, with my favorite donut being razed with milk-flavored frosting and Cap'n'Crunch all up on it; bomb, had one at 3am, alongside a butterfinger (white frosting, chocolate cake, butterfinger crunches that noone better lay a finger on without Bart's express approval) with my homie Serafim last noche. The donuts on a scale of 1-10 are a 9 as a result of this, as compared to the spot-on dime for example on Alberta that I can't remember the name of at the moment, who have a solid ten butter-cream glazed donut masterpiece, or Donut Cafe II in Worcester MA, whose glazed and chocolate frosted razed are a bite of whatever your personal conception of heaven is, but only on earth G, and that is plainly fantastic. Check this spot out, this location is 24/sizzle and their other one on the other side of the River goes until 3am. Rock and Roll.

In these days of late I've realized that carbohydrates are carbs regardless, necessary fuel for life after all, and so if they must be eaten they may as well be marvellicious. And so comes in the Bean Counter, undoubtedly the best cupcakes I've ever had. Try the "Tuxedo" so as long as you are not opposed to cream cheese, and you shan't be sorry, and if you dont like Philadelphia's putty-like substance, try out the "Death by Chocolate", it will slay your taste-buds with goodness. They also have wireless access, tasty coffee, go for the hazelnut, and an engaging staff of young and chill folk which adds to the ambiance, accented by a totally sufficient soundtrack which varies by staff.  So live healthy, train, run, lift, take protein, eat lean meat, and when it comes time to carb, cup-cake it up, excellent for that pre-run festival of tastiness.

---Third Shot - The food is still served upon styrofoam with plastic forks and knives, coffee served in the same. They charge twice as much as the Gold Star Diner and are half as good, and finally, they have upward-exposed duct-tape on their booths that will leave strips of adhesive glue on your clothing that necessitates dry-cleaning, for which the owner was unapologetic on, at least from a genuine perspective, making the weak excuse that they've not the money to fix the problem, as though duct tape were so expensive and they aren't saving considerable money being cheap and low-brow by serving their food in such a manner, avoiding dishes altogether and any semblance of a spot worth going to. Hit up the Gold Star Blvd, hit up Coffee on the Common, hit up the Kenmore, but not here. No. Not here. Donut Cafe II is also across the street, and while I've never had their breakfast sandwiches they look good, and the donuts are fantastic, dime-pieces of donut form.

---Gave this spot a second shot at the behest of my sister. I ordered three eggs, over-medium, a grilled bulkie, extra-crispy, and a short-stack of french toast for dessert and later. The eggs and bulkie were perfect and the coffee, Good as Gold, was good although a bit hot. All is good here save for my one criticism of the silver-ware, cups, and plates. In a city of the Gold Star Blvd and Kenmore Diners they are not on par with the competition in that and I don't like eating with plastic  off paper and drinking out of styrofoam, call me not unrefined, something I don't expect when paying more than nothing. Food though on point, last time must have been previous management or a fluke.

---totally bomb cookies. (as in "period".) Highly recommended: Some of the best I've ever had, white chocolate macadamia nut as previously soon to be mentioned, crispy on the outside, soft and quality on the inside, with quality nuts, as important to squirrels as fine cookies. And now to the beginning: Christina is a resident in the same building as myself, and upon my girlfriend's having spoken to her, learned she is an artisan of sorts, with custom jewelry, glassware, and photography amidst her skillset, however what interested me was the fact that she makes baked goods, and claimed to have excellent white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, a preference of mine, and offered to hook us up upon the next batch. Unlike most, she came through on a promise and gave me more than a handful of ---