On Sunday, Jota and I met up for dinner at TORO, Ken Oringer’s Spanish tapas restaurant in the South End. Chef/Owner Oringer has been reaping in the accolades for some time — front and center in his trophy case is his James Beard award, no doubt. I don’t know if he is deserving of all the press, but the food here is definitely worth a shot. It strikes a pleasing balance between being trendy, innovative, and authentic. I say that because the usual suspects are present in full force (bone marrow, short ribs, pork belly, head terrine), but they don’t dominate the menu; there are plenty of other appetizing dishes, more authentic or innovative than trendy, to choose from. The restaurant is sophisticated but not stuffy; the high ceilings and open space chased away my claustrophobic tendencies, though the dining area was louder than I find ideal. I was in a forgiving mood, though, b/c the loudness wasn’t pointless din but an indication to me of good, festive cheer spurred on by good, festive food and drink. My only non food-related beef was the grumpy water and bread runner (“I ain’t a waitress”).
Since the new year, my housemates and I make it a point to eat together on a regular basis. We shoot for dinner once a week, though it is a beast of a task coordinating the schedules of six young adults. Seven days never seemed so cluttered, and sometimes it just can’t work out. But bless time for being such that another week is always on the horizon. Our persistence pays off and it is always, always worth the effort. I’m not sure how it works with the six really random people coming together, but chemistry can be a funny thing. It might make sense in a lab but less so when it roams the social world (chem majors, and I know you’re out there, feel free to correct me ). All I can say is that these guys have made me a believer in spontaneous order, and sometimes stuff doesn’t need an explanation.