Tatte – at least I believe that’s the name of the restaurant – was my saving grace in Boston. It gave me food that felt homemade and full of carbs. Warm, delicious and simple without any millennial hipster vibes thrown in. Tatte came into my life like a beacon of hope–it was the place I ran to after the disaster that was Pressed. It thrived on good ol’ fashioned breakfasts and pastries and made me drool as soon as I stepped inside. Please note, I was famished when I made my way in here so this cafe will probably get