huck

Using the Salinger spelling of that wonderfully evocative word.

Boston was all too brief, now a distant blur of excessive wine consumption at a tasting festival thrown by our friends at The Second Glass, chased with the innards of a giant champagne bottle the following morning during brunch at The Eastern Standard, “candle pin” bowling at Louie’s in Somerville, my good friend Ryan’s sad-eyed dog, and of course: some very, very delicious oysters.