A Beer and a Burger in Boston’s Oldest Brewery.

I arrived safely in Beantown, skipped the beans, and went directly for the hops…

My husband and I love to drink beer…and we love to eat burgers…so whenever we hit a new city, we skip the touristy destinations and head straight for the local brewery or dive bar for the local eats.  Our philosophy on travel is “do as the locals do.”  Getting to the local pub where LOCAL people go, gives you the opportunity to put your finger on the pulse of the city, meet local city dwellers, and get the locals’ perspective on the best of what to see and do while in their city…IF you’re lucky enough to get their attention. Most locals love to give advice and learn as much about you and your city (after all, you are a foreigner to them) as you do about them and their city.

Now, don’t get me wrong – we DO visit some of the obligatory tourist sites – I mean, you HAVE to do the Freedom Trail while in Boston, but we don’t let ourselves get overwhelmed with running here and there and everywhere trying to see and do it all.

As this was my first solo trip up North, I didn’t want to break the beers and burgers tradition…so I set out from the hotel to find the closest watering hole.  After a brief consultation with the concierge, or more specifically, after a brief consultation with the 3-page pre-printed list of restaurants that the concierge handed me, I quickly eliminated the chain restaurants and headed out on foot to Lord Hobo, “…known for its extensive beer selection.”  That sounded like a ringing endorsement to me!

This day was particularly hot with temperatures hitting the 90’s in Boston.  Couple the heat with inevitable dehydration that resulted from the airline flight, my throat was feeling like the Sahara and I hadn’t even began the 1.5 mile trek from my hotel to the pub.  With my trusty Google Maps App loaded on my iphone, I walked…and walked…and walked….WHERE the $%^& WAS this place?!

I’m sure if I would have continued walking, I would have gotten there, but as my blood sugar free-falled, it seemed to me that I perpetually had 0.2 miles to go.  Sorry, Lord Hobo, it was a no-go.  I quickly assessed my immediate surroundings and found that I was standing in what appeared to be a very architecturally hip area of town.  Kendall Square.

A vision appeared like a mirage in the desert…could it be? ..an Irish Pub?  An Irish Pub! Oh, yeah!! Beer and burger, fo’ sho’.  As I made my way to the hostess’ podium, I was awestruck by the little gem I saw peeking out from behind the Irish pub…wait…was that….a BREWERY?!  Now, THIS was a mirage…it had to be….but, nope…I had stumbled upon The Cambridge Brewing Company.  It was real.  And it was REALLY good!

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