Sometimes the menu just writes itself. This is one of those times. I've been thinking a lot about the dining influences in my life and how they have affected me. This one has endured from when I was probably 12. My Dad and I visited Boston together, and because our last name is Micucci, we ate in the North End, a colorful Italian neighborhood. That day, the festival of the Feast of St. Anthony had filled the streets, and Dad and I wove through the crowds to find a little hide