Tagged: Abbie Lin

Eatabl: The Maine Event

By Abbie Lin, Staff Writer

Nothing like tasty, succulent lobster./PHOTO VIA Abbie Lin

An excerpt from Eatabl: “This was no ordinary lobster roll. The vessel was a cross between a traditional hot dog bun and a steamed asian bao – it was lush and malleable and held in its arms all of that precious, succulent lobster meat. The lobster was topped with a brown butter vinaigrette (!) and petite scallion shards.”

To read more about The Maine Event click here.


Eatabl: 3 Scoops

By Abbie Lin, Staff Writer

So much delectable-ness in one ice cream concoction./PHOTO VIA Abbie Lin

An excerpt from Eatabl: “Pumpkin chocolate chip was a standout, with a lightly spiced base that freckled the light beige ice cream, with a smattering of small bittersweet chocolate chunks. As it melted it became even more a delight to swirl around with the hot fudge, whipped cream and sprinkles – an icy jumble of rainbow soup.”

To read more about 3 Scoops click here.

Eatabl: Penang

By Abbie Lin, Staff Writer

Mmm...curry./PHOTO VIA Abbie Lin

Mmm…curry./PHOTO VIA Abbie Lin

An excerpt from Eatabl: “It was a slippery, thin green curry populated with string beans, eggplants, peppers, and onions. Visually, the purple and green contrasting colors stood out against each other in the rusted tin bowl. The broth was a little thin for my liking, but had hints of sweetness from a coconut base that was cut by a biting underlying heat. ”

To read more about Penang click here.

Eatabl: Toscanini’s

By Abbie Lin, Staff Writer

Nothing can beat an ice cream sandwich with Iggy’s bread./PHOTO VIA Abbie Lin

An excerpt from Eatabl: “The menu is ever-changing and varying. I usually take a moment before I go to pray that they have my favorite earl grey and goat cheese brownie flavors. The textures and consistencies vary between the flavors – goat cheese brownie is thicker, denser than the slippery and melty salty caramel. ”

To read more about Toscanini’s click here.

Eatabl: Aquitaine

By Abbie Lin, Staff Writer

Something a little less dough-y than what we’re used to with cinnamon rolls./PHOTO VIA Abbie Lin

An excerpt from Eatabl: “On every college campus, there are a few inevitable restaurants that become every students’ involuntary stand-bys and most frequented waterholes, primarily for their proximity to campus and relative affordability. The best thing about BU, to me, is its inclusion in one of the greatest cities in the U.S. The Boston part of Boston University is truly never undervalued – one of the coolest parts of attending this school is the the chance to feel at home in the greater community of Boston. So as great as Sunset Cantina is… it’s time to find some new places to eat, y’all.”

To read more about Aquitaine click here.

Eatabl: Big Gay Ice Cream

By Abbie Lin, Staff Writer

Doesn’t this make you miss summer?/PHOTO via Abbie Lin

A week and a little bit more into classes and I’m already craving the sweet simplicity of summer. I was never one for hot weather, but when it means having an excuse to eat ice cream I can’t complain. I spent my summer in New York, home to – what seems to be – the US’s most prolific selection of ice cream, gelato, fro-yo and general frozen delicacies. Enjoy this post of my visit to NY’s hippest ice cream shop, Big Gay Ice Cream, as a sticky throwback to an easier time. I hope it’s a welcome distraction from commiserating with your roommates on your unfortunate new reality of homework.

To read more about Big Gay Ice Cream on Eatabl click here.


Abbie abroad: Fromagerie fiasco

By Abigail Lin

Stacks of cheese at my favorite fromagerie, Chez Virginie/ PHOTO BY Abbie Lin

Stacks of cheese at my favorite fromagerie, Chez Virginie/ PHOTO BY Abbie Lin

When I exit my 18th arrondissement apartment, I can walk three minutes in any direction and find: a fish market, an artisan butcher, a bakery whose line snakes out the door on Sundays, a wine cave, a tantalizing cheese monger, an exclusively frozen prepared-foods supermarket (!), various fruit and vegetable stands and my choice of a few big-brand traditional supermarkets.

When I first was surprised by the lack of fresh options at the supermarket, I asked my host mom where to find the best fruit. She practically scoffed as she responded that “No, I would never go to Marche Franprix (the big-brand supermarket).” Instead she directed me towards the fruit stand directly across from the apartment, citing their excellent, but expensive fruit.

The movement towards local food currently in the United States takes on a completely different meaning in France – the French skip big-brand supermarkets for the most part, and instead frequent specialized locally run stores to obtain the best product. An important part of each community and neighborhood, the venders who run these small stores are depended on to provide expertise in their field of food. Food shopping is a multi-stop excursion, rather than a single trip.

The unfortunate part of this, for me, is that there are infinitely more people I need to speak to, in French, while trying to forage supplies for dinner.

The fromagerie (cheese store) was the first place I dared to enter. Despite my fear of being laughed at, I couldn’t stay away from the tempting mounds of yellowed cheeses stacked upon each other in the window.  I left the fromagerie triumphantly, with my block of compte in its delicate white wrapping, and cradled it all the way home.

On my second trip to the fromagerie, I inquired about whether or not they took credit cards – and was met with a concrete “Yes, but only above 15 dollars.” On to the butcher I went. It being my first trip, I stared dumbfounded at all the different cuts of meats without any labels, but thankfully I knew the word for chicken breast. As I repeated the same question I asked the fromager, I was met with a quizzically cocked head. Slower, I repeated, “Prenez-vous des cartes de credit?” The butcher waved over one of his comrades, who gazed confusedly at me as I stated the same question, this time holding up my credit card.

As he gazed confusedly at me, I finally reverted to English, and stated even louder “Credit cards?” And the butcher vigorously nodded, increasing the volume as well, surely responded, “MUTTON CHOPS?” In horror, I made a frantic motion with my hands, while saying “Non, non!” Finally, the lady next to me repeated the exact question I had originally asked, and they burst into laughter – “Oh! Oh! No I can’t sell you credit cards,” they shouted while bursting into boisterous laughter. “Yes, we take credit cards for purchases over 15 dollars, they cried, while still laughing. As I mumbled a “merci,” I heard their laughter linger on my way home.

It took me two whole weeks to go back, but with a wad full of cash, it went off without a hitch.

Introducing: Abbie Abroad

By Abigail Lin

Abbie is a junior advertising major at Boston University and former photo editor of the Daily Free Press. She is spending the semester abroad in Paris while participating in the BU Paris internship program. She will be writing a series of weekly posts in which she explains her efforts to understand and adapt to the culture– which may not always be successful, but will undoubtedly be entertaining.


One of Paris’ most recognizable sites, the Louvre was one of my first stops in exploring the Parisian art scene/ PHOTO BY Abbie Lin

Grasping at the precipice between the cab and Paris, ravenously breathing in the gritty, damp air, one could imagine my excitement at having arrived in a new country to be called home for a whole semester. We passed by multiple people walking with oblong baguettes in tow, script-laden signs of corner cafes and brasseries, a huge open-air market teeming with Parisians and fresh fish in the north of the city.

Imagine my surprise when at the end of my ride, the cab driver turned around and said, “Cent euros, s’il vous plait.” Not sure if I had misheard or if my French knowledge of basic French numbers was even worse than I had anticipated, I asked him to repeat it. “Cent euros, madame,” he stated matter of factly, awaiting my payment. Feeling helpless in a new country, I handed over my 100 euro bill without a protest.

As I buzzed the apartment of my host mom, rapid-fire French was spit out of the intercom, and I somehow was able to manage blabbering out my name. After appearing, and introducing herself, she gauged from my wide-eyed response that I was having trouble and she asked if I understood French. Pleased that I understood, I uttered, “un peu” (a little). And by “un peu” I meant I had studied French on and off for eight years. Smiling sympathetically, she took me up to what was to be my home for the next four months.

Settling in, I ventured out of my bedroom to to go the bathroom. When I got there, I saw a washing machine, a tub with no curtain or mounted shower head, I was bewildered to say the least. Embarrassingly, I asked my host mom where the toilet was. She led to the next door over, and pushed it in for me. A tiny closet, it contained the toilet and nothing else. “Bof,” I thought (Bof= sound of exasperation uttered by French people on the daily).

As a part of my cultural experience, I take a visit to the aptly named "Freep Star" thrift store in the hipster quarter of Paris, the Marais./ PHOTO BY Shaman Kothari

As a part of my cultural experience, I take a visit to the aptly named “Freep Star” thrift store in the hipster quarter of Paris, the Marais./ PHOTO BY Shaman Kothari

Adjusting to the cultural norms of this country, not to mention navigating the nuances of the language have been at times frustrating, embarrassing, and downright tiring. Since then, I’ve been working on maneuvering the tricky balance between adjusting to French cultural norms, and coming to terms with my place in this crazy city.

It’s been two and a half months, and among the most notable things I’ve mastered include: looking stoic and/or angry on the metro so as to not attract attention to myself, avoiding the inevitable mounds of dog poop on the sidewalk, and having unnaturally low expectations of my prospect of viewing the sun on any given day.

Things I still haven’t mastered: the art of the French washing machines, as evidenced by the baby green cardigan I’m sporting today, how to get behind working until seven every day (the norm in France), and getting used to men holding Longchamp bags.

Follow me on my volatile relationship with the City of Lights through the end of April, and stay tuned for musings on croissants, full time internships in French, and my personal humiliation.

FreepOUT: Photo editor Abbie’s playlist

A track listing of Abbie’s chosen beats

If you’ve ever visited the sketchy Freep office, no doubt that I’ll be sitting in my torn up chair in the photo corner, under the tic-inducing flickering light. But today, I did a little more than my usual photo editing and crying myself to sleep due to hunger to present you all with a playlist I use to calm me down when everything else in the newsroom (hi news) is getting chaotic.
P.S. Justin Bieber 4ever.

-Abbie Lin, Photo Editor Fall 2012