Boundry or Making It Rain?

I spent about $60 on one meal at Boundry a couple weeks ago. It may not seem like a lot (or it might, actually, during the current economic situation), but as a student, I can’t roam the town throwing down Benjamins for meals that often. So why did I spend so much money? Was Boundry OMGWTFantastic enough to warrant spending so much on one meal? No, not really. Drinks really add up on the tab. Vodka tonics help numb the pain of bad food and improve the taste of satisfactory food. But now that I look back, I could’ve just taken that $60 and gone to Deja Vu and made it rain dollar bills. It wouldn’t have been as filling, but seeing strippers getting rained on by bills would’ve been equally way more satisfying. (Note: I’m not a pig, I just like giving back to the community).

I’d heard of Boundry through the gastronomic grapevine in the past year or so while living in Nashville, and I live only a couple blocks away, but I’d never eaten there until a couple weeks ago. I had no idea what kind of food they served, and to be honest, I still don’t have a solid idea of their cuisine even after looking over their menu. It could probably be described as American Fusion, or trendy–two things that frankly aren’t on the top of my “To Eat” list. The menu has daily specials, which is an admirable endeavor; I can’t even dress differently every day, let alone think up of new dishes every day. However, they also had tapas, pizzas, and entrees, a confusing mishmash of items and cuisines ranging from Italian to Korean. Hm.

I could now go on a tangent about the qualities of fusion cuisine and pan-anything cuisine. But I won’t.

Anyways, after a vodka tonic and a good look-over, I chose the special fish of the day, whose name now escapes my memory (it’s what lots of drinking and lots of studying does to you). However, before I talk about the fish, I must talk about their complimentary bread and service.

Bread. They always serve bread before meals. This basket came with a variety of glutenous items, such as biscuits, sourdough, etc. Being in such close vicinity to Loveless Cafe–THE biscuit place–I expect Nashville to have some bomb biscuits (moist, buttery, soft). The biscuit I had was none of the aforementioned adjectives. It was the contrary. Biscuit fail.

However, we did enjoy the sourdough bread and the flavored butter. It was just too bad that every time we asked for more sourdough, the busboys/waiters brought out not-sourdough bread. Let’s take a step back and look at this: I ask for sourdough for my friends, and they bring out something else. Now, I know that my restaurant work experience is different than others, but if I was running a restaurant that served a somewhat nice clientele, and charged $30 entrees, I would have a lot of expectations of my employees. Sure, they can describe what’s on the menu, and even memorize what’s in the specials, but can they tell what different ingredients are? I don’t believe our waiter was the perpetrator, but even busboys should know this right? Or maybe I was just too demanding; two vodka tonics (one of which was made with the wrong vodka) could do this to a customer I guess. Eh. Rant mode off.

The fish was pretty good though. I think it was Red Snapper with cherry tomatoes, leeks, and potatoes(?) in a wine sauce. The fish tasted fresh and was cooked to flaky consistency, and all the veggies really mixed well together with the fish and sauce. Then again, I already had two drinks and I was feeling good (in my head). I probably would’ve preferred to try one of their regular entrees, just to see if the place warrants return visits. I can’t really describe more because my brain is muddled from reasons said previously. This positive note is probably a good place to end the post, so let’s just let it end here. Um. Yay?

Boundry

911 20th Ave S

Nashville, TN‎

(615) 321-3043‎

Post Test: Mental Winter Vacation Starts Now

“I ordered a large pizza and ate it by myself.”

That’s how my friend celebrated after finishing the test. My weekend was also similarly exciting, but sadly, it didn’t involve eating whole pizzas in one sitting (that sort of pick-me-up belongs in the week leading up to the test–I did eat three pies by myself in the few weeks before the test). No, this weekend was split up into blocks of eating, drinking, and recovering from the ginormous bouts of intense pain after eating and drinking. Many of my friends also merrily suffered through the same tortuous post-test weekend, but let me recount what I ate this weekend.

Friday. I don’t remember what I ate. I do remember drinking copious amounts of free beer at Sam’s and then Buffalo Billiards. Sort of. I will NEVER drink Bud Light Lime ever. Again. Even if it’s free. And now that I’m recalling that painful night, I’m pretty sure we went to McDougal’s for dinner. That fried chicken probably helped dampen the alcohol poisoning.

Saturday. I woke up with a headache. I sat up with an even bigger headache. And then I stood up and probably had a subarachnoid hemorrhage. I sat around drinking Gatorade until the pain dampened. Then I went to the Asian Cultural Festival with Noi. For some reason, I expected a lot of people my age there, basically something similar to a party without alcohol. And then I remembered that in the outside world, people outside of the 18-30 age range exist. I’m glad I didn’t show up inebriated.

I wanted to go because I thought it would be a good opportunity to sample food from different restaurants, effectively killing 10 birds with one stone. And while there was food, they were all homecooked, so I can’t really buy this food when I want, unless those families are reading this and willing to deliver homecooked food in return for compensation. Any takers? I sampled a lot of meats on sticks, a couple versions of rolls, and a stew–all from different Southeast Asian Nations. It’s all a mishmash now, but I did enjoy the “chic on stick.” It’s almost as good as Hotdog on a Stick.

The afternoon eating Asian foods was followed by another night of more drinking. Surprise, surprise.

Sunday. I woke up in the hurt box again. My experiment seeing if beer or liquor caused more pain ended in a draw. They both hurt. But it didn’t matter. Sunday was gonna be big: Noi was hosting a Thanksgiving potluck, and from what we talked about Saturday, I knew it was going to be a proper feast. I at a granola bar and hot pocket for lunch. At dinner, I knew I was going to probably consume an excess of 4000 calories.

The spread of food was quite impressive: two turkeys, one ham, cornbread dressing, sweet potato casserole, etc. Thanksgiving staples, for sure. However, we had appetizers first before we could eat dinner. There were dips galore–artichoke and cheese, and cheese and rotello–and bruschetta with cucumber and hummus.

The food was glorious. I love Thanksgiving; it’s my favorite holiday of the year. It’s even better when I can have multiple Thanksgivings. I gotta give big props to the Noi and the Barton house for putting on a delicious meal.

I know I didn’t talk about how the food tasted, but that’s not the purpose of this post; there’s not point talking about the merits of homecooked dishes if you can’t go out and buy it, right? Meh. I’ll talk about Boundry if you want to know how food tastes. I’m gonna go lie down and drink some more water.

Pies and Tests

I spent 10 hours in the library yesterday. I’ll probably be in there again for another 10 hours today. And by Friday, the total will probably be up to at least 60 hours. An interesting phenomenon manifests after 10 hours of reading in the library, only taking short “breaks” to eat: I lose all ability to be eloquent, socialize, or even hold a conversation. At least with people outside of class. I could probably discuss cardiomyopathies for hours, but that’s besides the point.

Edit: Wait…scratch that; I couldn’t even hold conversations with classmates yesterday.

Besides “Hi” and “How’s it going?” my mind is numb after a day of studying. If I had enough brainpower at the end of the night, I’d be pretty disgusted with myself.

And I am a little disgusted. Oh well, at least there’s pumpkin pie. Is it depressing to say that pumpkin pie keeps my spirits lifted during these tough times? Maybe. But I don’t care; I look forward to Fall every year because of pumpkin pie. I’d still eat it regardless of test stress or not. I LOVE PUMPKIN PIE. See how there are no slice marks on the pie? There’s no need to make slices if you’re eating a pie for yourself. Just a spoon. I’m on my second pie already. I’ve already eaten a 10 inch sweet potato pie from Kroger’s. Now I’m eating a Mrs. Smith’s Pumpkin Custard Pie. It’s delicious. The custard filling is like soup straight out of the oven–sweet pumpkin pie soup.

Maybe one of these days I won’t be completely brain dead and will be able to hold a conversation with someone. And maybe I’ll find a friend to enjoy pumpkin pie with. But then I’ll have to share my pie. Crap!

I’ll just buy a bigger pie.

New, Permanent Cafeteria – Vanderbilt University Hospital

This is my new home. Come say “Herro.”

I’ve already spent the last year and a half here–its old and temporary manifestations, to be precise–and have eaten approximately 200 meals. Two. Hundred. Marginal. Meals. I’ll be spending the next two and a half years eating here, too, so I better appreciate my new kitchen. I’ll be eating another couple hundred meals here in the future (Will there be no mercy on my tastebuds?). And thus, the long-awaited first impressions of NEW PERMANENT CAFETERIA! (cue trumpet fanfare)

I don’t have a picture of the actual grand opening, but this is pretty much it–although there was a giant (un-sneezeguarded) chocolate fondue fountain where everyone could get a dipped dessert; I chose not to partake because I would still like to remain free from MRSA and other nosocomial infections. My friend Luke, though, did take a dessert. He loves dessert. And, well, I guess his currently-enlarged cervical lymph nodes containing millions of viral particles reminded me that I made a good decision in skipping the fondue.

As per the actual cafeteria, it’s basically the same as it was before, except with a shiny new look and more walking room. The old cafeteria induced claustrophobia on a daily basis. Now, I don’t have to worry about going crazy from the crowds. I’ll still probably go crazy eventually, just not so soon. I won’t be smacking people with my backpack, either. I feel like a better person already.

However, despite making more walking room, the cafeteria failed to add in more stations to distribute food, so said walking room really becomes waiting-in-line room. I’m still waiting in long lines for food, and somehow, despite adding more registers, am still waiting even longer to pay. Renovation fail.

They also took away the “salad of the day” station, where Amy, the salad lady, would make awesome salads which always had tons of chicken for my naturally pseudo-Atkins-diet-craving tastes. What did they do with Amy? They replaced her with Starbucks machines. DAMN YOU STARBUCKS. They also didn’t do much to improve the other food. It still tastes the same. And in case you don’t know, same = crap. Usually I’m not this harsh (well, actually I can be haha), but I’ve had enough experience to judge the food here. Take, for instance, what I had on this particular day: tilapia with pineapple salsa, greens, and corn pudding. The fish was dry and lacked flavor. The salsa had no trace of pineapple flavoring. The corn pudding was not corny and not sweet. The greens were ok though–I do enjoy a nice batch of potlikker juice! Food at the cafeteria is usually a hit-or-miss usually. The only difference that’s occurred is that food is more expensive now because the hospital has to cover the costs of the renovation. AW CRAP. If it weren’t for the sake of sparing my brain from another hour of mind-numbing lecture, I would actually prefer to take free boxed lunches at lunch lecture. Almost.

I’ll still pay the money for food from the cafeteria. I’ve learned that lunchtime is more about socializing and *gasp* gossiping more than it is about eating. As long as my stomach stops growling at the end of the meal, I’ll be satisfied. Plus, I’m gonna be here for another couple of years, I might as well get used to it. But at least I’ll say this in closing:

New look, same taste.

Everyone can finally wear those “I survived the renovation” shirts for real now!

The Pub at Vanderbilt – Overcup Oak

The food at the pub is satisfactory–it’s marginally better (and more expensive) than what we eat everyday at the hospital cafeteria. They have typical lunch/bar fare: burgers, wraps, paninis, and hot wings(!). The pub, being what it is, does serve beer at lunch, which is also a plus. But really, the pub, as a restaurant, doesn’t stand out too much. I wouldn’t go out of my way to eat there, normally.

But I do take the 10 minute detour to go to the pub every Friday for lunch. Why?

Because it’s so much more than just food. Overcup Oak is located on the undergrad campus, you see. Going there for lunch at the end of a grueling week is a vacation; it’s a breath of fresh air; it’s an escape from the dredges of medical school. Being among undergrads always brings back fond memories of undergrad at USC. Not being around our other peers is also a relief because we can be as rowdy and inappropriate as we want without threat of being overheard (we don’t really care what undergrads think anyways (actually, I can only speak for myself, I don’t represent “da group”)). Most importantly, the trek to and from the pub–especially on warm, sunny days–is worth the trip alone. The walk always yields a bounty of eye candy; the pub is located at the center of campus, where all the undergrads congregate for lunch. It would probably be a terrific place for a future surgeon to pick up girls. However, for some reason I think we’ve all been misled: I don’t know why my parents keep warning me about gold-diggers; even with my white coat and scrubs on, none of the undergrads I see would give me the time of day.

It’s still nice to get away from school at the end of the week.

Overcup Oak

Sarratt Student Center

Vanderbilt University

McDougal’s

Sometimes I have an urge to eat fried chicken. When I say sometimes, I mean a lot of times. I could regale you with professions of my love for fried chicken–especially chicken fingers–but I’ll keep this post pretty basic. My brain has hit its mental capacity and can’t turn out any more dry wit. Well, it’s usually a hit or miss anyway.

I tried to stay healthy–well, as far as eating fried chicken goes, anyway–by ordering a buffalo chicken sandwich with a side of fries. The pickles and lettuce make me feel like I’m only gonna suffer a single bypass rather than a quadruple bypass in the near future. In the past, I used to order their chicken finger basket, which came with three chicken fingers, fries, and Texas (read: buttered and fat) toast. Not a single shred of vegetable matter.

Anywhoo, the sandwich was a little hard to handle, as trying to eat it with one hand (the other one was busy chasing each bite with fries) only allowed me to grip one of the two chicken fingers. Having the other strip plop out wasn’t too bothersome, though. What I like about the chicken here is that they manage to fry up thick strips of white meat without drying the chicken out; and the chicken isn’t kept moist from grease, either. It might actually be a subtle amount of chicken juice keeping the meat moist. Mmm…chicken juice.

I’m not a big fan of the fries, but the chicken makes up for it; I’m not that fond of side dishes anyway.

They also gave us free frozen yogurt afterwards, which can do no harm.

McDougal’s Village Coop

2115 Belcourt Ave

Nashville, TN‎

(615) 383-3005‎