Mass Ave

Those of you lucky enough to score tickets, remember to come dressed in your best librarian or literary-character outfit!

Each bag mimics the shape of a bicycle seat, with a pouch on the underside and a wide strap.

The new way to add color to your wardrobe.

Almost as soon as Bakersfield opened in early March, the eat-drinky with the subhead “Tacos Tequila Whiskey” enjoyed quite a following, having transformed the old harlequin-themed Bazbeaux location into a warren of rough-hewn, amber-lit nooks.

This year’s tire art was unveiled on First Friday this month, May 3, in conjunction with the usual art gallery openings. Two winners in the al fresco art show were announced, with Global Gifts taking the top judged honor for its owl display.

Arie Luyendyk Jr. is in the driver’s seat, and he calls the shots for us as to where one should take a date and what to do there.

Three years of work came to fruition today for Indy Reads with the 11 a.m. opening of its new bookstore on Mass Ave. A modest crowd filled the beautifully designed interior of the spot to take a look at the first bookstore to grace downtown since Borders left last year.

Tini’s Raintini is made of Absolut acai berry vodka, violet liqueur, limoncello, lime juice, and muddled blueberries, paired with head-bopping Beyonce vids.

New to the Mass Ave corridor is a vodka-meets-video concept that fills a gap in the city’s bar scene. Tini (717 N. Massachusetts Ave., 317-384-1313) opened on Dec. 13 to much buzz from those who can’t get over the idea that “Video Killed the Radio Star,” which is, not coincidentally, the first music video that owner Brad Kime played. The visuals are colorful and lively, of course, and the rest of the room complements those video clips, which skew evenly across classic and current. You’ll get both your Bruce Springsteen and your Beyonce here.

The homemade pickles on the plate in front of us weren’t exactly the ones our grandmothers made us as kids. There were cucumbers, yes, though mostly to support the lightly brined stars: hunks of crunchy daikon radish with a subtle bite of kimchi; a beet-pickled egg blushing pink. A single slender ramp—a wild leek foraged in spring—snaked around to a glistening dollop of peanut spread. Was this the new wave of pub grub, or just some quirky concoction dreamed up by a pregnant chef? And just how did the folks at Black Market, the much–buzzed-about, long-awaited nouvelle comfort-food spot tucked at the end of the Mass Ave restaurant district, expect us to approach it? “People eat it all kinds of ways,” said co-owner Ed Rudisell, smiling from behind the bar where we sat sipping glasses of wine. “We don’t tell customers how to do it.”