Founded in 1826, the Union Oyster House, famous for its round oyster bar on the first floor, and the popular clientele, including the Kennedy’s, can be found on the aptly named, Union Street near Faneuil Hall. Like many aged buildings in the area, and throughout Boston, the restaurant dons the typical exposed, weathered brick exterior and hardwood interior. If you’re wearing sunglasses, be sure to take them off before you enter, they like to keep it dim.

Known as one of the more popular tourist attractions in the area, the menu will reflect just that. With the prices a bit more inflated, we were skeptical at first, but the when in Rome hypothesis took over us. Naturally, when you go to a restaurant that dons the name “oyster” in it, you have to order oysters.

Not really known as the best season to get them, we ordered a 1/2 dozen, but were pleasantly surprised when we received another six on the house. With horseradish, cocktail sauce, and a little hot sauce on the side, the oysters were a perfect start.

First of two plates of oysters. I will never complain.

At our table we had an unfortunate soul who is unable to consume any dairy. Our waitress, whose name I wrote on a piece of paper I have since misplaced, will now be down as Janice. Forgive me, when I think of waitresses, and if you’re reading this and are one, you’re a Janice to me. Janice, like myself felt quite sympathetic to this dairy-free soul, and supplied her with ideas and recommendations, all with a smile. Usually, we would be rewarded with a grimace, when Janice, or her male counterpart, John, knew that we would be an utter pain, surely to cause them to work late or work too hard on a table that wouldn’t tip enough.

Well, Janice, or the John who was surely around laughing at her, you were both, so, so wrong. The table ordered Salmon. No, we didn’t really all order the same entree, but we did order the same fish. Three of us ordered the stuffed salmon while the “dairy-free-girl” ordered a simple grilled salmon, which to be honest, looked the best.

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The grilled salmon came out with a perfect grill outline, making my mouth water, and dropping the jaws of those at my table instantly. Though it didn’t look as appealing to the eye, the stuffed salmon was just as good. Cooked to perfection, a nice healthy pink on the inside, and juicy all the way through. We all looked up and smiled. I made the right choice.

Stuffing was superb. They wouldn't tell me what was in it.

The staff at the restaurant were not of your typical tourist attractions. They were kind, extremely helpful, and rather talkative and humorous. The food, the staff, and the satisfaction of being in a National Historic Landmark was enough for me.

Then there is The Fours.

Much like your typical sports bar there are TVs galore, sports memorabilia littering the walls, and usually a crowd that refuses to move when you are like a llama in a desert – deathly thirsty. In that case, you use your shoulders to force those ungraceful souls a little to the left or a little to the right. Either way, you’re through to the bar, and that much closer to a drink.

At The Fours, though, you don’t deal with the grumpy, dingy, barkeep. You deal with the best of the best. A man who knows his drinks and will give it promptly, and even, sometimes, with a smile. I say man because I’ve been there close to 40 times and I have never seen a woman behind that bar. So, before you get oversensitive on me, back off.

But more than the beer, the litany of drinks, is the food. Really good food.

Again, much unlike the smelly sports bar, The Fours offers a wide menu, in three different locations, Quincy, Newton and Boston. Usually, I attend before going into a Bruins game because Boston’s location is situated merely across the street, conveniently located close enough to where, no matter how much I indulge in an hour, I can always, safely, jog across the street in time for the game.

This time, the crowd was small, enough room to walk around like I was getting my wingspan measured. That is, until a bar crawl showed up. I first ordered the clam chowder. In my view, clam chowder should be on the thicker side rather than soupy, almost water-like. This cup was just what I wanted.

Thick, creamy, hint of bacon. Can't ask for more.

It was so good, or perhaps I embellished what I thought of it so much that my friends had to order the same. And that was after we originally ordered our appetizer of Buffalo Tenders (something I forgot to take a picture of).

The tenders were, much like the restaurant, different than many others I’ve experienced before. Unlike the usual buffalo tenders I get these actually tasted like real chicken. Chicken that could have been eaten as a meal, and not some overpriced appetizer that you get at a Friendly’s or odorous sports bar.

The plate of five acted as a perfect appetizer. Pleasing, tasty, not too hot, not too mild, but enough to where we, like the clam chowder, craved for more.

A staple of The Fours is the Bobby Orr. Named after the Greatest Hockey Player to Ever Live, the sandwich essentially lives up to the greatness of its name. This isn’t your ordinary steak and cheese, though.

The Bobby Orr - A steak and cheese served with the best baked beans you'll ever have. Fact.

Topped with charbroiled, crispy, steak, seemingly mixed with melted cheese that runs like a maze around each piece of meat and down the bottom of the bun. This is truly what I come here for. With a side of the best baked beans in an f’ing cool crock and crispy fries, someone back in the kitchen is doing their job right.

But this place isn’t merely about the Bobby Orr, The Fours has salads, legitimate, serious entrees, that separate this bar from others that would embarrassingly try to compare itself to the spot at 166 Canal Street.

If you’re looking for a spot to eat, relax and watch a game on one of the screens within your proximity this is it. If a pregame atmosphere is what you’re looking for, The Fours can satisfy that craving. Either way, The Fours is a win-win. Performing like the Boston sports teams is their motto.

One, to talk about food.

Two, to talk about different cultures and their food. The third, to entertain you.

So, the article that I read on CNN, about what one woman learned from her time in Paris is actually quite relevant. Thankfully. Otherwise, you’d think that I’d have no idea what I was doing and go up to the top right of your screen and click on that wee “x” that is so damn tempting.

Please refrain.

I went to Paris in June with my friend Mike and, like so many who have gone before, had an unforgettable time.

The first thing you notice, besides the obvious takeover of the French language (just remember “Sortie” means exit and you’ll be ok) is how incredibly passionate everyone in Paris is. Yes, Paris, perhaps one of the most iconic cities in the world, is dubbed the City for Lovers, well, it really is. So, needless to say after a few excursions around town Mike and I seemed to the surrounding Parisiens that we were as much a couple as Isla Lund and Victor Laszlo were in Casablanca.

But, when I say passionate I don’t mean toward each other per say, I mean just about life in general. They have a certain joie de livre or joy of life that many don’t. Stop shaking your head. It’s true. Their unending love for everything can be seen on every street, to those on the corner taking a love for the art, architecture, the streets they are stepping on, the history that would have once surrounded them just a hundred years prior.

The always-looking-presentable aspect about the French culture is undoubtedly true, too. You would turn to the person you’re walking with, gawk at someone on the other side of the street and rant something cruel, because, well, they just looked terrible. In France, that’s just not the case. You rant, but it’s of the appreciative form. The only eyesore on the streets is perhaps the overweight, mustachioed man with a designer shirt too small, or the seldom hobo just sitting there, hoping someone drops a euro or two into his hat.

They take the “first impression” idiom to a new meaning. It’s as if they don’t like how you’re dressed then you’re shooed away as casually as if you didn’t exist.

What is mentioned little, but I’m grateful that it was, is that fact that the French – more generally Europeans – have long, elaborate dinners. Not even so much dinners, just at every eating occasion. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, whatever time of the day it is, you’ll be there for at least an hour, probably closer to two. You won’t be rushing, feeding your face like a pig stuffing his face, unaware of his eventual slaughter. Sitting there, conversing – something simple that we miss out on – too worried of when the check is coming and what to do after.

All that can wait. Take here and now. Live the French way or at least try. It’s enjoyable. I’ve been doing my best impression since.

At the Sierra Grille in Northampton, Mass., the experience you get, leaves you satisfied until you return. This wasn’t my first visit, however. I’ve visited the Pearl Street establishment a few times before and have regretted not calling in; assuming that I can show up on a Thursday afternoon and was stuck waiting for hours. This time, I knew better.

My reservations were for 8:15. Showing up at 7:45 I didn’t expect to get seated right away, but surprisingly I was. In a dining room certainly not big enough for 60 people, I was seated at a cozy, against-the-wall booth for two. The dimly light, slightly european-like atmosphere can alter those who are in for a quick dinner, but instead for a relaxing affair where the outside worries are left back at the door.

Sierra’s menu isn’t overly expensive, I’m pretty sure I got the most expensive thing on the menu – Duck Breast. The Belgian Fries ($3, $5) are a must. The double-cooked fries come rather salty, but with a delicious aioli and truffle ketchup that will get you wondering where the heck all the frites went. And if you ever go with me, don’t even ask, consider them ordered.

The Frites with aioli and truffle ketchup. Must have.

The staff also has european-like tendencies.  What I mean by that is that they let you be. If you’re like me, then you like that. You have to get their attention for them to actually come to you. It lets you talk to whoever you’re talking to, take as long as you want, and just enjoy your time. And, if you decide that whoever you’re with isn’t worth your time, then you could be busy hailing the staff.

The Sierra Grille does something a bit different from other restaurants. If you decide to select one of their main entrées, then you get to decide on a sauce and two sides. Choosing their special compound butter to appropriately go with my duck, grilled asparagus, and grilled vegetables, I got a rather nutritious meal without getting totally confused.

Accompanying my frites and duck was a Duvel. Yes, it’s my favorite beer. Say what you want, but a restaurant that has Duvel already goes up a point and is getting a good rating unless I get a severed limb on my plate. That, or my duck comes out with its beak on. Alas, that didn’t happen and the crisp beer, was without any horrific side affects, so we can move on.

Duck, grilled vegetables, and my grouping of asparagus. All I need.

Unfortunately, since I can be selfish I didn’t take a picture of my date’s meal, a Spinach salad. Topped with chévre, or goat cheese, this wasn’t your average run-of-the mill, give me a plain salad, sort of salad. This was a serious salad. Around the edges of the salad was an array of grilled vegetables, topped with cheese and tossed in balsamic. A large for only eight dollars, or just four for a small, you can eat this salad as a meal no matter how hungry you are.

Overall, the Sierra Grille experience was one that will keep me coming back for more. With nothing pretentious about it, their beer and wine selection fit for anyone, service with a smile, quality food at a good price, this establishment as their focus in the right area. And if, for whatever reason you don’t have a voice, the smiles still come, and make sure you bring sticky notes as your main way of communication. It might get you another date, or at least by for the night.

I talk a lot. Or, write for that matter.

This is my first post on my new blog, Finding the Perfect Table.

When I went abroad to Paris and Belgium earlier this year,  I created a blog that had close to 1,000 views in two weeks time – rather impressive. That, is thanks to you all! So, in light of that I decided that since I had such a splendid time writing about traveling, food and sharing the occasional joke (probably bad), that I would create a new blog for a similar purpose. This one, though, is going to be based around food.

Since I’m located in Western Mass, and many of you who are going to be reading this are located in the same vicinity, I won’t be going into much of the “travel” part of this blog, but more of the food. On occasion I will have ventured elsewhere and maybe even a different country now and again. Making an appearance occasionally will be things to read! Books, articles, websites that will make you laugh, cry or f’ing hungry.

What I plan to do is simply offer foodie tips, restaurant/bar reviews and a background of the culture of the food, its origin and the possible varieties that go with it! Not only will I review restaurants, but I will also review cafés, too!

I, however, have a rule. I give a place two chances, if I’m not impressed and others around seem to have a similar outlook, then poof! You’re a goner. I’ll tear you apart.

As time goes on I will have guest bloggers who will contribute their own style and opinion to this site.

Obviously, any suggestions are welcome.

I hope you enjoy.

Bon Appétit and bon voyage!

Ryan