TÖMMI
Anyone notice Tommy’s House of Pizza got Queer-Eyed over the break?
Sprucing up its understated décor with a pumpkin-colored menu that practically screams class—well, it definitely screams something—the venerable Mt. Auburn Street establishment has vaulted itself into the upper echelons of Square dining. Rialto, take notice.
The awkward counter stools of years past have been replaced by a noble slab of green marble, factory-issued bar code stickers still attached. Capping off the two—possibly three—figure renovations with faux-maple shutters perched above the open-air kitchen, Tommy has transformed what was once merely a house into a home.
(The American flag on the tip jar screams patriotism. Ain’t no terrorists in this house of pizza! Can’t say the same about the jihadists up at Noch’s.)
Customers looking for delicacies beyond the signature lukewarm slice can now find an unnervingly violent host of new offerings, including “regent bull,” “chicken bomb,” and “New England clam chowder.” Très chic!
If Tommy’s continues in this direction, a velvet rope and month-long waiting list may not be far off. MOZZ STICK!
—Michael M. Grynbaum and Zachary M. Seward
A WAVE OF GOOD WILL
Marshalling heaps of white guilt and whatever change happened to be under our sofa, the Harvard community shelled out $553,132 for victims of December’s tsunami in South Asia, according to the University’s official tally released last week. No small sum, to be sure, though we should note the Harvard College Fund expenses that much bread before lunch.
On the plus side, with student groups from The Crimson to the South Asian Association jumping on the benevolence bandwagon, undergrads found themselves besieged last month by more party invitations than a thirteen-year-old at a Jewish day school. Hell, it kinda makes you wish they’d have tsunamis more often.
—MMG and ZMS
A VALENTINE’S EPIC
And you thought that box of chocolates was sweet. Putting us all to shame, a Winthrop senior arranged a Valentine’s Day treasure hunt for her beau: a gift-giving odyssey through the fair Square. The quest included the Scylla and Charybdis of romantic tchotchkes: the Coop and Globe Bookstore, where tourists and snobs bond over remainder copies of Let’s Go!. Visits to Cardullo’s and other Square standards followed.
But there was trouble a-brewing in this Penelope’s paradise. On his way to the Widener stacks, the beau-in-question sheepishly revealed that his own gift wasn’t exactly the epitome of reciprocity: a sterling silver key chain. “But it’s a nice one, it’s from Tiffany’s!” he protested. How ho-hum. Bling or not, this boy’s babe got served.
—Meghan M. Dolan and MMG
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