September 26

I made deviled eggs again today, and this time I was completely unsupervised. One dozen eggs, two dozen deviled eggs, sixteen of which went onto the egg plate purchased for the occasion (Boyfriend and I were going to a potluck party). The other eight "deformed" eggs went on a separate plate to be devoured at our leisure.

Speaking of deformed eggs, I have no idea how Boyfriend can hard boil six eggs and have them all come out perfect. When I boil eggs the yolks are anywhere from the narrow end of the egg to practically coming out the side. Is there some trick to it? I mean, really?

But I digress. The eggs tasted OK, except for having used more mustard than I should have. That was my fault entirely; I scaled up the amount I put in the last batch without bothering to taste it, but with the salt added this time, the mustard was a bit overwhelming. Adding a little butter to the mix only added to the creaminess of the filling, though my arteries are probably hardening as I type.

Still, they were good eggs. Really good eggs.

Next time, with luck, I'll get the salt and the mustard proportions correct and have enough mayonnaise to avoid having to resort to butter. My goal is to get the original recipe down pat, so I can begin to experiment with it.

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September 11

Julia is love.

My boyfriend was cooking breakfast this morning and made himself an omelet. Then he was kind enough to make me one. This is no ordinary omelet; it is a very special omelet, one cooked according to the method taught by Julia Child on The French Chef, circa some time in the mid-1970s. And it's good -- really, really good.

If you have never tried an omelet a la Julia, I recommend you give it a try. You can see the portion of the original episode on Youtube (click here). Like deviled eggs, it's deceptively simple to make, but incredibly delicious to eat.

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August 19

"... qu'ils mangent de la brioche."

Often -- and mistakenly -- attributed to Marie Antoinette, the phrase "let them eat cake," has a pejorative ring that is completely at odds with my experience at work tonight.

A resident is leaving us for the west coast, and his colleagues threw him a going-away party today. He's always been a very generous guy, and showed this by leaving the employees here the remainder of his cake (a quite substantial hunk of white cake with delicious icing). It made for a great dessert, especially when washed down with one of the cans of Coca-Cola another resident gave us, just as a thank you for being so nice to them.

It's nice to be appreciated.

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August 16

The recipe for Deviled Eggs is suspiciously simple for such a delicious result.

Boyfriend made the dish for me when we were on vacation, and indulges my taste for it every couple of months. Having grown up in the South, I've had many different varieties of deviled egg, and liked most of them. I have to say, though, that boyfriend's recipe is the best. So I asked him to show me how he makes it.

Hard boiled eggs, mustard powder, mayonnaise, and paprika. That's it. I expected something more elaborate, and certainly something requiring more utensils than a paring knife and a couple of spoons. It boggles my mind how he could create something so divine -- pun intended -- from so few, and so humble, ingredients.

I proceeded to eat eight deviled eggs for breakfast -- well, eight halves equals four eggs, I guess -- and thoroughly enjoyed them. Hopefully I'll enjoy them more often in the future.

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July 18

I thought I was being clever and sneaky in getting this amusing photo of somebody standing on the grass next to the "keep off the grass" sign. If I'd been really clever, I'd have noticed the bag she carried is from Agent Provocateur, a high-end seller of women's knickers and things.

Brandon and I went on a photo walk in Back Bay today, starting off in Copley Square and quickly seeking shelter in the shady areas of the Public Garden and Boston Common. We had no real plan for this photo walk, other than possibly meeting up with Tom and Steph somewhere along the route. Eventually we ended up at Government Center before reversing course and heading back.

I ate the entire way, it seemed. A hot dog on the way to the Commuter Rail, another one on Boston Common, a fried dough with cherry pie filling near Park Street Station, and a cherry slush on the way back.

All in all, it's been an excellent way to spend an afternoon.

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June 01

There is a no-tipping policy in place at the high-end luxury apartment building where I work. "It's all part of the service," is what we're supposed to say when refusing gratuities from grateful residents.

Many of our residents, however, will not be deterred so easily. Ennio and I are often the recipients of gifts of food -- everything from dinner to snacks to sweets -- that our residents bring us to show us their appreciation for our hard work. Today, over the course of about ten minutes, one resident brought us fudge and macaroons from Ocean City, NJ, while another brought us an Edible Arrangements selection of chocolate-covered strawberries (pictured, with an appreciative Ennio).

As I've said before and likely will say again, the residents may offer us the occasional tip out of a feeling of obligation. When they feed you, though, you know they like you.

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April 12

Happy Easter!

A resident where I work (and one who has a dog I like very much) gave me Godiva chocolate eggs for Easter.

At the building where I work as a concierge, there is a no-tipping policy in place. We are expected to refuse gratuities, the idea being that whatever tasks we perform are all "part of the service." In essence, we're expected to treat everybody equally, and they don't want us being nicer to the more generous residents in the building. It makes sense in a way.

It's pretty common for us to be offered meals, or candy, or sweets. I've always told Ennio, my doorman, that when your residents offer you money, you can't be sure whether they're just doing it because they're grateful for your help or because they think it's expected. But when a resident feeds you, you know they like you. And that's a great feeling.

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April 08

If Wheaties is the breakfast of champions, steak tips and spicy fries must be the dinner of losers.

My doorman and I occasionally order from Nicoles, a local delivery place that has decent food most of the time. I usually just get a hamburger, but I'm not feeling well and I'm not in a marvelous mood, so I went right for the steak tips dinner with spicy fries tonight. The steak tips are cooked with onions and peppers, and the cook has the rare and special ability to cook the meat well done without turning it into show leather.

My dinner wasn't healthy, and many people wouldn't find it appetizing, but when I'm in a crummy mood, this really hits the spot.

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March 18

Anybody who has known me for more than a few minutes probably knows how much I enjoy drinking Dr Pepper. It's my little taste of the South, no matter where in the world I've wandered.

The company has released a new variation on Dr Pepper: Dr Pepper Cherry. This is apparently a follow-up to the ghastly Cherry Vanilla Dr Pepper they released in 2004. I was of two minds about this new development -- should I just buy the regular flavor, or should I try it and see if it's any good? I opted to try it.

Surprisingly, it's not bad. I still prefer Dr Pepper to this new flavor, but I wouldn't turn down Dr Pepper Cherry if it were offered to me. And considering how many of these things I imbibe in a week, I think it's perfectly appropriate that it make my Photo of the Day for today.

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March 10

There's just something terrifically appealing about hot chocolate. Today, my doorman and I received Starbucks from one of our residents. Ennio got a chai, while I was given a hot chocolate with whipped cream. The whipped cream had melted into the hot chocolate, and the result was positively dreamy. Yum!

At the building where I work, there's a no-tipping policy in place. "It's all part of the service," is our mantra, and for the most part, it works. Many of the residents, since they're not allowed to give us tips, often bring us food and drink. When somebody gives you a tip for doing something, it can feel rather pro forma; when somebody feeds you, on the other hand, you feel appreciated. I like that.

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January 04

Occasionally I have something that resembles a social life. Here's my friend Anna at Longhorn Steakhouse in Boston's Landmark Center.

My friend Anna and I went out to dinner tonight. She wanted steak, and I rarely turn down the chance to work on a big hunk of red meat. Anna and I work together on National Novel Writing Month, the novel-in-a-month writing competition, and in the course of three years volunteering together, we've become pretty good friends.

It's not a great photograph, but it shows the most fun I've had all weekend; dinner and great conversation with a good friend. And posted with 10 minutes to spare!

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