Fenway Park, rendered in descriptions of smells:
The road to the Fenway Park is paved with aromas, in turn nostalgic, exciting, delicious and horrendous. To get the real fan experience, you first need to take in the musty stench of the Kenmore T stop and the fumes that rise from cars and trucks trolling the Massachusetts Turnpike as the happy crowd makes its way across the bridge pointing to the Citgo sign in the distance.
In just blocks, you inhale the first heady scent of Italian sausage, peppers and onions sizzling on the Sausage King’s grill. There are others; oh, yes, the area outside Yawkey Way is riddled with sausage stands vying for customers. Walking along, the smoke from steaks charbroiling at Burton’s Grill adds to the perfume. As do the burgers at Game On at the opposite outer corner of the neighborhood.
It goes on up into the park and through the game. It’s written by a woman, though, no trips to a men’s room that can’t smell good at all.
The weirdest thing about this is that it’s all runup to a couple of recipes for lettuce and herb bisque and salad nicoise, which the author suggests eating if you must watch Red Sox games at home.
I plan on watching the Red Sox and Yankees tonight. I’m not sure what I’ll be eating, but I’m guessing it won’t be salad nicoise.