Eloise Bernstein is a columnist for the features section of the Daily. She is a first-year combined-degree student who is interested in majoring in fine arts, economics and film and media studies. She can be reached at Eloise.Bernstein@tufts.edu.
Five hours is a long time to do almost anything: to watch TV, to cook or to hang out with friends.It is especially a long time to spend in class — even if that class is a studio art course.
My friend Maddie tends to spend a lot of time with my roommate Lucine and me — either wedged into a chair in Tisch Library where we take turns locking in while the others spiral into meaningless conversations, or sprawled on our floor scrolling while Lucine and I stay half-buried in our beds pretending we’re about to start our work. She’s always welcome to let herself in.
My roommate hears it far too often. It usually comes sometime after midnight, when I’m in bed, scrolling instead of sleeping. When I blurt it out, she tends to either laugh at me or immediately agree, blaming me for the suddenly developing craving.
When you picture the perfect date-night restaurant, you probably imagine a classy interior. Maybe white tablecloths, maybe candles, maybe dim lighting … you’d go to the kind of place where tables are spaced just far enough apart to give couples some privacy, and where you can make a reservation ahead of time so you and your date don’t have to awkwardly hover by the door waiting to be seated. You’d go to the kind of place that feels especially fitting for big romantic occasions, say, Valentine’s Day.
As a New Yorker, I was raised to believe that our city does everything better. We walk faster (seriously, move over if you’re walking slowly, I’m begging you), talk louder and eat like it’s a competitive sport. There’s food from every corner of the world within a 10-block radius, and somehow, it’s all good. There are corner delis that are still open at midnight and cheap, delicious pizza by the slice that tastes better than it should. From family-run spots to high-end Michelin-starred restaurants, we have it all.
Before midterms last semester, I desperately needed to get off campus. My body and soul were begging for a change of scenery — anything but my usual rotation of Tisch, Fletcher and my dorm. My mind, on the other hand, knew that if I stopped studying, I would no doubt fail every test. As my pent-up energy started to leak out in the form of aggressive pacing, unnecessary snacking and snapping at my well-meaning friends, I came up with a solution: convincing my friend Kellan to escape with me to anywhere outside of Medford or Somerville. My goal became to simply find a place where I could buy an overpriced (but absolutely necessary) coffee and actually lock in.
On Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I had the pleasure of giving a friend of mine, Sae, a tour of Tufts. It was a perfect day to tour campus since it had snowed the night before, blanketing everything in a shining layer of white. The tour went great, but by the time we got back to Mayer Campus Center, we were both frozen to the bone. In a moment of genius, I pulled her onto the shuttle to Davis Square, promising her warm food just one bus stop away. With faces bundled into scarves and hands shoved into gloves, we made the trip to Yume Ga Arukara.
When I was making my Parents’ Weekend restaurant lineup, one task felt particularly daunting: finding the perfect brunch spot. I wanted something cozy and classic but still interesting, somewhere that I could force someone to share a sweet and a savory dish with me so I could get the best of both worlds. After scrolling through enough Google reviews to qualify as research, I landed on Rosebud Bar & Kitchen, a Davis Square classic that was reborn in recent years to have a new twist.
Even the best dining halls at Tufts can only do so much, and, after over a month of the same options every day, I’m desperate for something new. (Sorry, Dewick-MacPhie Dining Center!) Even Hodgdon Food-on-the-Run, my beloved, can get tiring after having salads or Chipotle-style bowls for almost every meal during the week. As much as I want to get the most out of my meal swipes, there is no way I’m setting foot in a dining hall this weekend while my parents are in town.
