Foodie's Guide to the Hub

Round Up...

2009-04-12T17:11:00.028-04:00

Recession? What recession? I've been eating out my fair share lately - you know, helping the economy and all. During my adventures in Boston's culinary landscape, I've had the opportunity to try a number of new restaurants (new to me, anyway). So many, in fact, that the prospect of writing a full review about each individual experience was simply too overwhelming. So... a round up was in order.

OM - I'd been looking forward to eating at OM for a good long while. It's been in Harvard Square for about three years and I've walking past it a number of times - always peeking in the windows and admiring the cool, zen interior. Plus, the Asian-inspired menu looked very promising. You know what they say about not judging a book by it's cover? Oh boy. It went badly right out of the gate. At OM they don't serve you bread or crackers to start, they serve you popcorn. Now, don't get me wrong, I like popcorn and this was particularly good, sprinkled with parmesan and thyme, but this is an upscale restaurant with an Asian vibe. It was just wrong - and that was just the beginning. The appetizers - a beet salad and mussels in a spicy tomato broth - were both tasty, but unremarkable. The entrees went from mediocre to terrible, including rare tuna served over bland, dry udon noodles and vegetables usually found in airline food, an underdone double-cut pork chop, and a stuffed trout that - while the best of the dishes - seemed oddly New England-y. Having been totally underwhelmed by the food, we opted out of dessert and headed to the Hong Kong for a scorpion bowl. This was undoubtedly the right choice.

I'd give OM, at 92 Winthrop Street in Cambridge, a C. Unless you are looking for more UM than OM, I'd skip it.

Estragon - I love tapas. Love, love, love. And I pretty much make it my mission to try any new tapas restaurant in Boston, so it was a no brainer that I had to get over to Estragon. Since I am fascinated with restaurant gossip, here's a little for you - Estragon is owned by Julio de Haro, the ex-husband of Deborah Hansen, the proprietor of Taberna de Haro in Brookline, which they founded together. Deborah and I are both graduates of Bates College in Maine. Wasn't that fun? Our own little six degrees of Kevin Bacon. Oh, you want to know about the food? Fine then... it was good, very good. Not the best (still Dali, in my opinion), but definitely flavorful, adventurous, and authentic. I went with a friend for Restaurant Week, during which they served each diner about five tapas - in reasonably small portions - so we were able to try quite a few things. Some of the highlights included the smokey, crunchy fried garbanzo beans seasoned with paprika, a salad of sauteed spinach sprinkled with toasted pine nuts and golden raisins (great sweet/savory balance!), crispy fried chunks of artichoke hearts served with garlicky aioli, and salt cod croquettes served with a smokey pureed tomato sauce. Some of the less impressive dishes included the cod cheeks which were too dry - though served with this mysterious amber sauce that was vaguely sweet and tangy and excellent - and the beef cheeks which were tough and chewy and served in an overly-salty beef gravy. We opted for a cheese course to end our meal and, sadly, I don't remember the particulars of what we were served. All of the cheeses were a nicely quality, but the portions were minuscule - an unfortunate side-effect of Restaurant Week, I fear.

I'd give Estragon, at 700 Harrison Avenue in the South End, a B. Definitely worth exploring, especially if you share my passion for tapas! Authentic Spanish nibbles served in a lovely Art Deco-inspired setting.

L'Andana - I did it! I made it to L'Andana! Now, this is where this blog comes in handy... after mentioning my seeming inability to actually drive to Burlington for a meal in an earlier posting, I had several suburban-dwelling friends contact me and assure me that, if I ever did get out there, they'd be happy to meet up. Apparently, that was just the inspiration I needed. The first thing I noticed about L'Andana was the size. I guess when you live in the city for too long, you just get used to things being small - real small. L'Andana has it's own huge parking lot, and the restaurant itself is roughly the size of a mall. Yikes! Luckily for L'Andana, it's beautifully appointed with dark, wood paneled walls, soft candlelight and low-lit candelabras, chic white tables and modern chairs. All of which keeps it visually in the same family as it sister restaurants in the city - and some of my favorites! - Mistral, Teatro, Sorellina, and Mooo. The menu at L'Andana focuses on Italian dishes, with predominantly grilled entrees. We chose classic Italian appetizers, including a rigatoni with a Bolognese-style sauce and an insalata caprese with fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, basil, and several thin slices of prosciutto. The insalata used exceptionally fresh ingredients and came together deliciously; however, the rigatoni was sublime. The meat sauce was thick and rich and the fresh pasta was dense and chewy. It would have been more than satisfactory as a meal on it's own. Our entrees, a grilled salmon with a sweet glaze and a 12 ounce ribeye served on a bed of arugula and parmesan, were both cooked to well and tasty, but a bit of a let down after the wonderful starters. Dessert, a cinnamon-apple crostada and a chocolate crema, are a nice sweet finish, but fairly predictable.

I'd give L'Andana, at 86 Cambridge Street in Burlington, a B+. For tried and true city-lovers, you get all the urban flair and high-quality eats that you need at L'Andana.

Wagamama - Last Friday evening, Paul and I found ourselves in the Prudential Center mall and starving. Being almost allergic to shopping in malls or big department stores, it had been ages since I'd been in the Pru. I had no idea what our food options were beyond the small food court, which was definitively not an option. Eventually we stumbled upon Wagamama. I heard all about Wagamama when the inaugural Boston outpost opened in Faneuil Hall, but I didn't realize that there were two others - one in Harvard Square and the one at the Pru. If you, like I did, read about Wagamama when it hit the scene a few years ago, you know it's a London noodle house and sort of a hipster scene. The Wagamama at the Pru keeps fairly true to these roots - it's a wide-open room with long tables, where everyone eats sort of cafeteria style. The multicultural, universally tattooed staff was attentive and friendly. Our waiter did a great job explaining the menu and pointing out some things coming out of the kitchen, so we got a sense for what to expect. After a reasonable amount of deliberation, we ordered edamame with chili-garlic salt (fairly standard, but with a nice kick from flavored seasoning), ebi gyoza (tasty dumplings stuffed with shrimp with a nice seared coating, but overall the wrappers were too chewy), the chili beef ramen (great flavorful broth and fresh veggies, but the beef was bland), and finally the teriyaki chicken (great, tender pieces of chicken in a sweet sauce served over soba noodles). I was sorely tempted by dessert at the end of the meal - especially the baked ginger cheesecake - but, ultimately, we were just too full.

I'd give Wagamama, at 800 Boylston Street in Boston (in the Shops at the Prudential Center), a B-. While the food isn't outstanding, the restaurant has a relaxed, metropolitan vibe and makes for a quick, fun lunch or dinner.

Union Bar and Grille - Just this past weekend, one of my favorite Boston artists - Chris Speakman - was having an opening in the South End. Since we were going to be in the area, we decided to grab a bite for dinner at the Union Bar and Grille. I have a friend who really likes Union for drinks, but to be truthful, I really hadn't heard much about the food. Turns out, there was a reason for that. First of all, it seems that we were not the only ones out there supporting the economy during these tough times - despite having an 8:15 p.m. reservation, we weren't seated until close to 8:45 p.m. We sat down with drinks that we were still half full from the bar and didn't intend to buy a bottle of wine, but our waiter easily convinced us when he let us know that we could take whatever we didn't drink home. I will give Union this - that's a great service and a terrific way to upsell. Reminiscent of "popcorn-gate" at OM, we were served cornbread in a small skillet as a starter. While cornbread is bread - sort of - it's a completely non-sensical compliment at a restaurant that isn't serving BBQ. So, another questionable start - and it didn't get a lot better. Paul ordered an appetizer of pulled short ribs over a bed of spicy coleslaw and topped with fried onions. The dense, saucy meat was nicely cut by the crisp slaw, but the onions were chewy and inedible. I ordered the gnocchi with duck confit and orange sections, which turned out to be overly salty with overcooked dumplings. For an entree, Paul ordered the hanger steak with buttermilk mashed potatoes. The meat was well-portioned and nicely cooked, but the potatoes were largely tasteless. I ate the prosciutto-wrapped cod with a side of white bean salad. The fish was dry and absorbed too much salt from the ham. Sadly, having finished an entirely passable meal, we opted to skip dessert and enjoy the remains of our wine at home.

I'd give Union Bar and Grille, at 1357 Washington Street in the South End, a C. That area is packed with great options for dinner. Union Bar and Grille is not one of them.

Phew... until next time! Though, with the current state of my bank account, the next review may feature the cuisine of Chez Scott-Howard. Not to worry, it'll get all As.

Fool Me Once...

2009-03-23T16:52:00.006-04:00

You know that morning after you've had one too many cocktails? Naturally, I am not speaking from personal experience here, but I've been told that the first thing you think to yourself is, "I am never doing that again." But, then the girls invite you to meet them out at your favorite bar and, well... I think you know the rest.

It turns out, I have a bad Restaurant Week hangover. If you are not familiar with Boston's Restaurant Week, the basic idea is that for two two-week periods each year (usually in March and August - traditionally times that hospitality businesses are a little slower), hundreds of participating restaurants offer a three course, prix fixe lunch for $20.09 (the cents reflect the year) or dinner for $33.09. I am not entirely certain when the tradition started - possibly as much as ten years ago - but, it's been enormously successful and it grows in popularity each season.

I love the concept of Restaurant Week, but the reality of it always seems to fall flat. In my mind, Restaurant Week should be about showing the best the restaurants have to offer, for a reasonably price, enticing you to return and pay full price. This never happens. The menus always feature uninspired, limited courses made with the cheapest, most abundant ingredients possible. The staff is never short of completely annoyed and totally unhelpful. I just don't get it. Restaurants, if you can't make Restaurant Week fun, engaging, and inspiring, DON'T DO IT.

Alas, no matter how many times I swear off Restaurant Week, somehow, I always get lured back in. When I do participate, I have one simple rule - make it worth it. Use the time to explore only the highest-end restaurants and get the most value from the offer. So, when a friend emailed and invited me and Paul to No. 9 Park for the first Friday of Restaurant Week, there was no question that we were going! Getting this reservation is akin to getting tickets to game seven during an ALCS series between the Sox and the Yankees. I was beside myself. Fool.

If you've never been to No. 9 (I hadn't), it's fairly small, with a ten-or-so table dining room to the right and a somewhat more boisterous bar and bistro-like area to the left. Frankly, aside from the slight hum of noise from the bar, there's little difference between the areas - this information will be important later. A lovely, sweet hostess seats us in the dining room, where our friends have already arrived and are settling in. Not long after we sit, the waiter arrives with menus. This is where things all turn south.

They are not Restaurant Week menus. My first thought is that we've made a mistake. To my memory, No. 9 has never before participated in the dinner offering during Restaurant Week, only lunch, and, even when they offer dinner, many of the finer restaurants exclude the weekends. So, naturally, we inquire with our waiter who asks us to wait a moment and shortly returns with the hostess. She explains that they are only offering Restaurant Week in the bar-area, not the "dining room" (God forbid!), and that she attempted to call and confirm the reservation, but was never successful in getting through live (my friend who made the reservation assured all of us that she did not receive a single voicemail).

Ok, here's where the staff had the chance to shine... a mistake was made, and it was unfortunate, but we were already sitting, it was nine o'clock at night, and the kitchen was turning out the Restaurant Week menu for diners ten feet away; make an exception and serve us in the dining room. Should they have done that, I assure you, we would have paid many more visits to the restaurant and happily recommended it to anyone that asked. But, no. Couldn't do that. Being courteous and accommodating would be the kind of thing that a staff that is not disgruntled about serving the riff-raff during Restaurant Week would do. Instead, we were ushered to the bar and asked to wait another hour for our table. I will admit that they served us a complimentary cocktail and bar snack while we waited. Frankly, it was the least they could do. But in the end, the whole experience was tainted all the same.

Are you even still interested in the food? It was superb. It's No. 9 Park, for goodness sakes. Foie gras seared to perfection, served with a tiny patty of duck confit that was one of the finest things I've ever eaten. Soft, tangy house-cured salmon served with micro greens, paper-thin onions, and creme fraiche. A monstrous portion of salty, smoky pork belly served over a bed of creamy polenta and dotted with rich, meaty mushrooms. We finished by sharing one of each of the exceptional desserts - bright fruit sorbets, dense chocolate gateau, smooth citrus tart, and a selection of artisan cheeses.

I'd give No. 9 Park, at 9 Park Street in Boston, an A for the food. Avoid Restaurant Week and go for a special occasion, when you don't mind blowing the bank on a meal. The food and service is sure to outstanding all other times of the year.

A Good Sport

2009-02-28T13:35:00.003-05:00

I started my first professional job about two weeks after I graduated from college. I was so excited to get into the world, make some money, and start my "real" life. Moron. If I'd only known then what I know now, I would have spent the entire summer at my parents' house, sleeping till noon and having my dad make me dinner every night. More than a decade later, I have a true appreciation for time off - especially when that comes in the form of playing hooky for the day.

Skipping work is just what Paul and I did last Monday. We thought that we'd make a day of it and head down to the waterfront, have a late lunch, and take in the Shepard Fairey exhibit at the ICA. When looking for a hooky-worthy lunch in the Fort Point neighborhood, there is only one destination - Sportello, one of the newest stars in Barbara Lynch's restaurant constellation. Lynch must feel that the formerly-all-but-deserted Fort Point area is pretty darn special - Sportello is only one of three establishments that she is now running there. The others include Drink, a sleek, modernist cocktail bar and 9 at Home, her catering business that she relocated.

Sportello is italian for "counter service" and, according to the restaurant's website, it's "a modern interpretation of the classic lunch counter." Well, if a lunch counter can turn out dense, handmade pastas, an exquisite, hand-picked wine list, and desserts worthy of a magazine cover, than, sure, this is a lunch counter. Sportello's design and atmosphere is pretty much just what you'd expect - a smallish room, with a white counter that snakes through the space, a long open kitchen, and a cooler in the back with takeout specialties and a case full of chocolates and dessert. Typical of Lynch's style, the restaurant is clean and bright, and almost austere. We arrived on the late side and we were able to snag stools at a corner, which made for easier conversation. While sitting at the counter was totally appropriate for lunch, I am not sure how it would translate for dinner - definitely not a good choice for a first date, that's for certain.

While we scanned the menu / paper place mat (in quintessential lunch counter style), I sipped a glass of superb Italian red whose name - regrettably - I can't recall. At lunch, there are only three varietals of red and three whites available by the glass. Though the list is concise, the server was very helpful in choosing something that matched my request. While choosing our meals, we were also treated to fresh, chewy bread served with a small pot of semi-sweet ricotta sprinkled with sea salt and a drizzle of honey, dotted with golden raisins. It was an unexpected pairing and quite tasty.

Out first was a large bowl of the spicy tomato soup with caraway grilled cheese. While I didn't find the soup remotely spicy, it was divinely creamy and smooth, with bright tomato flavor. However, the star was the sandwich served on the side - unbelievably thin slices of long Italian bread with a delicate filling of sharp cheese, grilled to crispy perfection. It was so good, I wanted to figure out how to fashion it into a spoon to scoop up the soup. For our entrees, Paul ordered a pressed sandwich with prosciutto, Gruyere, and a sweet-tangy pepper relish. The sandwich was fairly standard, but the relish gave it a unique pop of flavor. I ordered the rabbit with green olives, served over homemade strozzapreti pasta - 'cause, you know, if you're playing hooky - go big or go home. It was spectacular. The rabbit was light and meaty, nicely balanced with the briny olives. The pasta, bathed in a simple, broth-y sauce, was dense with the perfect al dente bite. And for $15, it was an absurd bargain. Did I mention that I am newly a big fan of lunch? It's a great way to go gourmet, but still watch your wallet!

Ok, the meal was great. I expected it to be great... I mean, it's Barbara Lynch, for goodness sakes. What I didn't anticipate was dessert. When you are skipping work for the day, you gotta get dessert, right? I ordered the caramel pudding cake, while Paul sampled a few chocolates from the dessert case. The chocolate was nice, but nothing remarkable. The pudding cake, however, was - hands down - one of the finest sweets that has ever met my mouth. The cake was moist and rich with an almost burnt sugar essence, topped with a drizzle of creme fraiche that kept it from being too cloyingly sweet. Sprinkled on top was salted toffee that finished the dish perfectly, balancing both the flavor and texture of the dish.

In the end, it turned out that the ICA is closed on Mondays and our day didn't quite come together the way we expected. But it didn't really matter... when you get to have lunch at Sportello, you have to consider it well-worth the vacation day.

I'd give Sportello, at 348 Congress Street in Boston, an A-. Remember, when you reach the pearly gates, you are never going to think to yourself, "I sure wish that I'd worked more." Take the day off. Treat yourself to lunch.

Truly Tasty Tacos

2009-02-15T19:43:00.004-05:00

These days, a Boston chef with only one restaurant is practically no chef at all. Having your own gastronomic empire is all the rage… Barbara Lynch is up to a whopping eight establishments, Michael Schlow has four under his belt, Chris Douglass added a third with the opening of Tavolo last year, likewise Scott Herbert with the reemergence of Marilave, and even the now-nationally-known Todd English still maintains five Boston eateries. So, it’s really no surprise that one of the Hub’s super-chefs, Ken Oringer, operates five restaurants in town.

Oringer is best known for the uber-upscale Clio, where, not incidentally, I spent the most memorable and most lavish New Year’s Eve of my life. But his kingdom has grown to include Uni, a high-end sushi bar, Toro, a cozy tapas joint, KO Prime, a temple of all things beef, and La Verdad, a Mexican taqueria. By and large, Oringer’s restaurants feature exquisite food with prices to match, making La Verdad a bit of an anomaly.

First off, La Verdad is located on Lansdowne Street – smack dab between Tequila Rain and Jillian’s, and, consequently, along the path of many a drunk 22 year old clubber and drunk 45 year old Sox fan. To say that La Verdad’s clientele is different from the well-heeled Brahmins that frequent its cousin Clio is the understatement of the year. But finding ourselves at Jillian’s pool tables around the dinner hour – on Valentine’s Day, no less! – it was an obvious choice to head downstairs and nosh on some tacos and throw back a few cocktails laced with tequila.

La Verdad is warm and casual, with dark red walls and playful décor featuring Day of the Dead figurines and Mexican wrestlers’ masks. Requisite for the area, there is also a large, well-stocked bar in the center of the dining room, and about a dozen flat screens around the perimeter – sort of Boca Grande meets Boston Beerworks. Given the night we were there, it was a light crowd and our friendly, funny, heavily-tattooed waiter lets us linger as long as we like over margaritas and Presidentes, which was a good long time in the end.

True to its name, this taqueria is known for its tacos – offering nearly 15 varieties – but the menu also has an ample list of appetizers, and a few dishes they call “big plates.” I was overjoyed when I spotted the grilled corn on the menu – having waxed poetically over this dish at Toro. It lived up to my memory, as a smoky-sweet delight served with a slather of garlicky cream and salty cotija cheese. Delish.

We also shared a small order of chips and guacamole, which also came with a dusting of the cotija cheese and green onions. The guac was simply flavored and chunky and served as an excellent cooling agent for the spicy tacos – though it was not prepared at the table, as advertised in the menu. My only gripe with the dish was the price – ten dollars seemed a little high for what was essentially chips and dip. The waiter also brought out a small serving dish with two types of salsa and a dish of pickled peppers (save the jokes about Peter). One salsa was almost pink in color and had the consistency of crushed tomatoes – it was fairly unremarkable. The other was a tomatillo salsa that was tangy and vibrant on the tongue – the clear winner of the pair.

Everyone at my table ordered the carne asada tacos, save me – I selected the pastor traditional tacos. All of the plates come with three tacos, a small helping of refried beans, and a light sprinkle of cabbage slaw. The carne asada tacos had nice chunks of grilled steak and sweet caramelized onions. While they also had a thin drizzle of guacamole, the salsa arbol on them was so spicy, it nearly killed your taste buds with the first bite. We needed to ask for a bit of sour cream to dull the fire enough to continue eating. The pastor traditional tacos came with slices of pork smothered in an adobo sauce, giving them a warm heat from the smoked jalapeños. The menu claimed that the tacos also featured pineapple – and there was a certain citrusy-sweetness about them – but there were no discernable pieces of the fruit.

The restaurant does offer a selection of traditional Latin desserts, including flan, dulce de leche, and churros, but we opted for another round of drinks in place of a sweet finish. We left with mouths still ablaze from our spicy dinners and stomachs full of yummy Mexican treats.

I’d give La Verdad, at 1 Lansdowne Street in Boston, a B. If you are amongst the under 25 set, the tasty take-out will make for a better than average way to soak up your sins from a night out at the bars. For those of us whose club days are in the past, the flavorsome Mexican is a natural pairing for ballgame or two.

C Minus

2009-02-12T23:33:00.003-05:00

It's probably not too much of a stretch that I use an ABC grading system to rate restaurants. I've admitted before in this blog that I am pretty much a nerd. I only received one C+ in my entire academic career; nothing less than that. Until now. Looking back at my 2008 Wish List, I only scored a 70%. The Shame. It was almost enough to abandon the blog. Almost. But, here I am - back and ready to write. After all, it's a new year and this list-lover has a whole new set of targets...

But first, I need to own up to my failures. I never did quite make it to Petit Robert Bistro (despite the fact that there's now about a dozen of them), O Ya (hellooo... who can afford $300 sushi in a recession?), or Summer Winter (I guess Burlington really was too far to go in the end). However, there were some highlights too! T.W. Food and Ten Tables both lived up to their local, organic, exquisite reputations. The classic, French-inspired cocktails at Beehive and Gaslight brought whole new game to the Boston bar scene. And new favorites were cemented in Myers + Chang and Orinoco. Also, 2008 was also the year in which Paul and I feasted on the most extravagant meal of our lives at Alex in Las Vegas. Let me just say, they gave me a footstool... for my purse. O My.

OK, now that that's behind us, on to 2009...

Sportello – First-rate restaurants have become so prolific in Boston that you could have a long healthy debate about the city’s top chef. One of the candidates would, no doubt, be Barbara Lynch. In fact, I’ll put it out there and say, if the competition was for the best female chef, there would be no need for the debate. The latest in Lynch’s empire of fabulousness include Drink, a high-end cocktail bar, and Sportello, a “modern interpretation of the classic lunch counter.” Having already spent a lovely evening sipping a custom gin concoction and some delicious nibbles at Drink, I am excited to move on to experiencing Sportello.

Marilave – Some evening, if you squint a bit at the reflection of the Pru on the Charles, you might just start to see the twinkling lights of the Eiffel Tower. French bistros are becoming as common in Boston as rim-ending potholes. Luckily for us, most of the former are considerably more enjoyable than the latter. To say that Marilave is “new” is a bit of a misnomer – the original restaurant was opened in the 1880s, but has reemerged on the scene. The menu, however, still features some classic New England specialties along with the French classics.

L’Andana – Putting L’Andana on my 2009 list is a bit risky. After all, I totally failed at making it up to Burlington for last year’s #2 target, Summer Winter. But, what is life without a little chance? Besides, Boston Magazine rated L’Andana – another Burlington star – as the best restaurant debut of 2008, as well as one of the 50 best restaurants in greater Boston. Hopefully that’s enough to get me on 93-North this time around.

Highland Kitchen – Despite myself, after having spent the last six years working there, I developed a certain fondness for Somerville. I’ll give you a second to collect yourself before I go on. I know, Somerville is not exactly the crown jewel of metro Boston, but you’d be hard pressed to not acknowledge that it has its fair share of cool bars, restaurants, and shops – a list that grows all of the time. Highland Kitchen’s laid-back, hipster vibe, and solid southern-inspired fare has already garnered a lot of attention. Is it five o’clock yet?

Persephone – Remember when going out to eat in the Fort Point district meant overpriced stuffed clams and overcooked steak at Anthony’s Pier 4 or Jimmy’s Harborside or… er, uh, well, that was pretty much it. Boy, have times changed. Fort Point got so hot so quickly, it practically jumped the shark before most people even knew it was there. No restaurant defines the new hip-upcoming-obscure nature of the area better than Persephone. Persephone is half of what is known as the “Achilles Project” – the other half is a chic boutique, Achilles. I’m sure that I'm not nearly young or trendy enough to be their ideal clientele, but having sampled Michael Leviton’s fabulous French cuisine at West Newton’s Lumiere, they can’t keep me away.

Sofra – Ok, so this one is a little bit of a cheat. Sofra is not exactly a restaurant, but more of an upscale café and bakery. However, it’s one of my top destinations for the year. Above all, Sofra was opened by the owners of Oleana, where I enjoyed one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten. Beyond that, Sofra’s opening had just slightly less press than the premiere of Twilight. All said, I can wait to try some sweet treats with Middle Eastern names that I can’t pronounce.

Estragon – It took me a few tries to get over the fact that the name of this restaurant is not Estrogen. Alright, I am not really over it, but that’s not going to stop me from trying the creative tapas at this new South End establishment. Estragon’s menu features cod cheeks to frog’s legs to pork belly, all sounding more delicious than the last. After dinner, diners can also check out Las Ventas next door, a gourmet Spanish food market.

Townsend’s – One of the most fun aspects of moving to Roslindale a few years ago has been getting to know some of Boston’s lesser known neighborhoods – Rozzie, West Roxbury, and Hyde Park. While terrific restaurants abound in Roslindale and West Roxbury, finding a good place to chow down is a bit harder in Hyde Park. With the addition of Townsend’s, launched by a husband and wife team and long-time Hyde Park residents, there’s finally a local joint that’s worth checking out. It shouldn’t be too hard to convince my British husband to tuck into an order of their fish and chips.

Via Matta – Remember that top chef debate? Another name that’s sure to be on the list is Michael Schlow. Schlow has never done me wrong at Radius or Great Bay, and I expect no less
of Via Matta. The restaurant is not new, but I’m sure that time hasn’t diminished the quality that Schlow is known for and, certainly, applies to its Northern Italian dishes.

Erbaluce – The buzz for Erbaluce was strong amongst the restaurant-obsessed on the popular website Chowhound. Mostly the discussion focused on when it would finally open. Their prayers were answered last fall when the restaurant debuted to many happy sighs. I owe a great debt to (or, perhaps was cursed by?) Erbaluce’s chef, Charles Draghi. Draghi’s last Boston gig was running the kitchen of Marcuccio’s in the North End – offering widely lauded, unconventional Italian cuisine. Paul and I spent our first Valentine’s Day at Marcuccio’s and I was hooked – both on my husband-to-be and on Boston’s exquisite fare. A foodie was born – and she can’t wait to pay a visit to her old friend.

This year, I’m going for a 4.0. Who’s with me?

An Oldie and a Goodie

2008-09-06T15:43:00.009-04:00

I absolutely adore that Boston has become such a foodie city… I seriously never tire of reading restaurant news, plotting out my next destination, and chatting with friends about the next big thing, what’s overrated, what’s undiscovered, and where they simply must go for the best steak in the city – a topic that’s easily more controversial than anything discussed at the recent conventions.

However, Boston’s booming restaurant business poses one very serious challenge: how can one keep on top of every hot new place in the city and still make time to give due to the Hub’s most venerable institutions? Some of which – let’s face it – put the newbies to shame. I have a somewhat shameful admission to make in this regard – though I profess to be a major foodie and something of an expert in Boston restaurants, I have not been to many of the places upon which our restaurant culture was built…Pigalle, No. 9 Park, Icarus, Hamersley's Bistro… the list goes on.

That’s why, when we somewhat inadvertently ended up at Oleana last night, I considered it a blessing in disguise. I am not sure that we can yet label Oleana as an “institution,” but it’s certainly not too far off. Oleana has been lauded by both the local and national press since practically the day it opened its doors in 2001. I think that due to the incredible volatility of running a successful restaurant, we should measure their years sort of like dog’s years. By that math, Oleana is nearly 50… institution here it comes.

I’ve always wanted to go to Oleana, but it’s not at all where we set out for last night. We’d intended to go to the new spot, the Hungry Mother, which is becoming increasingly popular for its southern fare. Now, I need to make another embarrassing foodie admission – I pretty much never remember to make reservations. No reservations, no Hungry Mother. Sad. So, I quickly tried to come up with something near the Hungry Mother’s Cambridge location and, thus, remembered Oleana. Having learned my lesson, I called before we drove over and was told it would be about a 45 minute wait for the patio – given that it was a gloriously warm, dry Friday night in September, I couldn’t help but feel like the gods were smiling down on us.

Oleana’s menu has heavy Middle Eastern influence and the restaurant’s interior décor reflects that, with ochre-colored walls and distressed leather chairs and bar stools, all making for a very pleasant environment to have a pre-dinner cocktail. Seats at the bar also provide a view into the open kitchen where, I was immediately stuck by an almost all female staff. Now Boston certainly has its share of female food luminaries with the likes of Lydia Shire, Barbara Lynch, and Oleana’s own Ana Sortun – but it was still awfully refreshing to see the tradition being carried on in her kitchen. No more than 20-25 minutes after arriving, the hostess came to collect us and bring us to our table.

Oleana’s patio has been named “best alfresco dining” in Boston at least 458 or 459 times. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but only by a little. Last night, I got the chance to fully understand why… the patio is nothing short of spectacular. A brick terrace dotted with bistro tables is softly lit with lampposts and spotlights, trimmed with tall grasses and delicate bushes, all set to the music of a small fountain. In my version of heaven, I would eat every meal in a place that resembled Oleana’s patio.

The only thing that outshined the ambiance of the patio was the menu. Now I am super biased on this front, as Middle Eastern cuisine is my absolute favorite, but there was not a single thing on the Oleana menu that I would not have eaten in a heartbeat. While generally very decisive, I must have read the menu a full five times before narrowing down my choices to two or three options. To complicate matters, there were also several specials to choose from. I ultimately ended up selecting the pork belly appetizer from the list of specials and the striped bass for my entrée; Paul opted for two “small plate” appetizers of deviled eggs and a bean-nut pate, and the restaurant’s signature lamb for his main course.

Let me be brief – every single dish was amazing. Incredible. Full of flavor, spice, and heat. Delicate plays of light herbs and scents, with more heavy-handed combinations of unexpected ingredients. It was truly fabulous. Again… this meal came within just a hair of being my first-ever A+ rating. Only a few elements of the experience fell short; unfortunately, one of them happened right out of the gate. We waited and waited and WAITED for our first course – a good twenty minutes. Considering that both of Paul’s appetizers were served cold, this seemed beyond excessive. Luckily, once they came they were sublime.

The pork belly was caramelized to sweet perfection, with a crispy coat and tender interior, served with a shot glass of yellow tomato-husk tomato gazpacho, which was smoky and smooth. It was also served with a small salad of cherry tomatoes, cilantro, green olives, sprinkled with almond slivers. The eggs were a star – with the yolks blended with tuna and a healthy dose of Moroccan spice, giving them great depth of flavor, but also brightness from the tang of the fish. The bean and walnut pate was very dense and almost sweet and made for a tasty spread for the fresh loaf of French bread we were served. Immediately I was impressed with the creativity and adventurousness of the food. I was definitely looking forward to our next course.

Happily, our entrees arrived in a much more timely fashion and were beautifully presented. My bass was served in a large pocket of parchment, artfully opened to reveal the fish. It was perfectly prepared to a moist, flakey consistency. It was served with a drizzle of tahini and topped with small pieces of salty, toasted pita, on a bed of peppers and onions, with a side of what resembled salsa fresca (the restaurant refers to it as spoon salad). While all of the elements of the dish were delicious, the peppers were simply too spicy for my liking. I have a moderately high tolerance for hot food, but this far exceeded my liking. This was the only weakness of the meal; first, I felt that the menu should have prepared me for the high heat and, secondly, I felt that the spice diminished the rest of the dish’s flavor. Paul’s entrée was excellent, with lamb cooked expertly, served with sort of a fava bean “mash” and moussaka, which was meaty and flavored with cinnamon.

When the waitress asked if we would like to see a dessert menu, I didn’t even need to. Earlier in the evening when we were being seated, I saw the baked Alaska being carried to a nearby table and knew I had to have it. Baked Alaska is a good dessert, but not one of my favorites. But it was such an unusual option the presentation of it was so impressive, we just had to go for it. Besides, for everything that’s been written about Sortun’s food, there’s been equal attention paid to the restaurant’s pastry chef Maura Kilpatrick. She’s considered one of the best in the city and recently opened her own bakery, Sofra. Yeah, dessert is a must at Oleana. And the baked Alaska didn’t fail to delight with an extra thick coating of darkly singed meringue, hiding a dollop of coconut ice cream on chewy bar of coconut and caramel, finished with pungent swirl of passion fruit sauce. It was the flavors of the Caribbean meets a dish named for the artic – fun (there might have been a moment where I was eating sticky meringue peaks off my fingertips), deeply sweet, and delicious. Paul was so full that he gave up half way through. I preserved and suffered the tummy ache. It was worth it.

I’d give Oleana at 134 Hampshire Street in Cambridge an A. Try to get there before the leaves turn and enjoy some of Boston’s freshest, hip tastes at a place pushing middle age.

dLicious

2008-06-15T21:45:00.006-04:00

A good friend of mine has recommended dBar to me at least a dozen times... he knew there wasn't much about it that I wouldn't like - it's reasonably close to my house, it attracts an upscale eclectic crowd, it has decent parking, not to mention that it also has a great reputation for both food and drinks. Somehow, however, I'd just never made it over there - until last night.

Now, heading to a bar that is especially popular with a gay crowd was definitely a bit of a risk on the night of the Pride parade - it could have been a total mob scene. However, being out in Dorchester seemed to actually work in our favor, as it was a mellow night at the bar, with dinner seating easily available. Despite a slight chill in the air, we opted for outside seating... in a rare moment of clarity before leaving the house, I'd grabbed a sweater and was ready for the weather. While the interior of dBar is perfectly lovely - with dark wood, leather banquettes, and Italian glass pendant lighting - the outside seating is divine. The small patio has a very Asian Zen feel, with modern chaise lounges, potted bamboo and tall grasses, and minimalist table settings. We had the area nearly all to ourselves, which was great.

The service at dBar adds to it's warm, yet hip, vibe. Our young male waiter was quick to give recommendations as well as to compliment our choices. He was attentive to our table, friendly, and lightly chatty, but not over the top - he mostly left us alone to enjoy our setting, which was just the right balance. He was particularly helpful in navigating the drink menu, which was not huge, but robust and enticing. His descriptions of the drinks, as well as his suggestions were right on the money. I started with the special cocktail of the night, the watermelon martini. This is a drink that is generally sticky sweet, with an "out of the bottle" taste. But on an early summer night, I was willing to to give it a go. It's clear from the first sip that dBar serves up a different kind of cocktail - it tasted like fresh pureed watermelon, with a generous dose of high quality vodka, not at all sweet, just full of flavor. My second drink was the Blueberry Basil Gin Fizz - muddled blueberries and basil topped with gin. It was a doozy, but also excellent - all of the herbs (including the basil) are grown in a rooftop garden over the bar.

It would be easy for the drinks at dBar to overshadow the drinks, but they absolutely do not. The food is equally terrific, if not even more so. We started the night with the "Ham and Cheese" assiette, a board with a selection of thin slices of French ham, an aged bleu cheese, a semi-dry Parmesan, caper berries, tiny cornichons, and sweet marcona almonds. Everything in the dish was full of flavor, but each was just a small serving, so as not to overwhelm. It was a light, delicious tapas-style start to the meal.

For our entrees, Paul had the burger, while I went for the seared scallops. I sneaked a bite of the burger and more than my share of his fries. While the burger was a bit overdone for my taste, the fries were literally the highlight of the entire meal - handcut and dusted with sea salt and rooftop rosemary. They were crisp and fragrant... I could have eaten an entire plateful. Luckily, my own meal was enough to distract me... my three large sea scallops were seared to a caramelized brown; perfectly tender and sweet. They sat on a delicate bed of thin risotto which has a strong essence of cumin, dotted with asparagus and cubes of carrot. The only weakness of the dish was that some of the carrots are underdone. The finishing touch was a swirl of a ramp-leek sauce on the plate, which gives it a bright, fresh punch.

Eager to draw the evening out a bit longer, we decided to stay on for dessert. We were most drawn to the creme brulee and cheesecake options, but our waiter gave a strong recommendation for the chocolate semifroid - essentially frozen chocolate mousse, served with a raspberry coulis and fresh berries. Let's just say that that was some good advice. The mousse was creamy and rich, cut by the tart, incredibly fresh flavor of the coulis. It was a perfect end to a delicious night.

I'd give dBar at 1236 Dorchester Avenue in Dorchester an A. Head to Dot on a warm summer night and soak up the atmosphere on the patio. Be sure to have plenty of nibbles to balance out two or three of their killer cocktails.

Make me a dinner I can't refuse...

2008-05-26T21:08:00.004-04:00

I love the North End, but I almost never go. It just seems like there are too many obstacles... it's absolutely no where near where I live, parking is awful, and the restaurants (while fabulous) are more concerned with maintaining the lifestyle of their waitstaff than serving their patrons - which, in fairness, is all very Italian of them. However, when you have an out-of-town guest, the North End is a no brainer - great food in a scenic old-school Boston neighborhood. So, when my dad and brother were coming in for a brief visit, I knew they'd enjoy a trip to Boston's Little Italy.

My brother's plane was due to arrive around 8:30 p.m. on a Wednesday night and I had in mind that we'd head right to the restaurant and get there around nine... would any place in the North End be serving dinner that late during the week? I called my two favorites, Giacomo's and Pomodoro, only to be told by both that they close sharply at 10 p.m. That certainly didn't seem like enough time for a leisurely dinner of catching up with my family.

Seeking a place that was open until eleven, I landed on Strega. Now, I have to admit that I had my reservations about this... I am a fairly regular watcher of the Phantom Gourmet and Strega frequently advertises on the program. If you've seen the ad with the owner, Nick Varano, all chummy with Vincent Pastore from the Sopranos, you'll instantly know the one I mean. It's kinda... creepy. Varano is this huge Italian guy who comes across like he's much more interested in photo ops with celebrities than whether or not his kitchen is turning out anything edible. So, needless to say, my expectations of Strega were limited. But, they were open on the late side and sometimes you need to make decisions on factors other than the food - sigh.

When we arrive at Strega, the decor and service do nothing to improve what I anticipate from the restaurant. With no host at the door, we are vaguely waived towards a table up the back which is free. Despite this slight affront, I feel lucky to get right in - even at the late-ish hour, the restaurant is still packed. The decor is - frankly - a complete fright. It seems to have a split personality between wanting to be hip and modern (a blinding wall of yellow acrylic panels and television sets line the back wall) and wanting to be delicately retro (with art nouveau-style figures painted on the walls). The tables are dinged up and the vinyl banquets are worn. Service remains spotty through the night, though the - mostly native Italian - staff is warm and funny, which helps to make up for long absences between courses.

The first dish out gives me a clue that Strega might offer more than just a chance for Varano to stroke his own ego. We've ordered the fresh bocconcini mozzarella wrapped in prosciutto on a bed of marinated red peppers. The simplicity of the dish, paired with the freshness and quality of the ingredients is spectacular. We also shared an order of the marinated grilled calamari over baby arugula. The calamari was tasty, but it was served in long, thick strips - making it a little chewy and tough. The lightly dressed greens made for a good pairing for the density of the squid.

For my entree, I selected the lobster and crab-stuffed ravioli in a pink sauce. I don't frequently order this dish, as I often find the lack of any discernible shellfish to be a disappointment. Not at Strega. The delicate pasta is jammed with lobster and crab and the sauce is creamy and mild, served with plenty of Italian bread to sop up every ounce. My dining companions ordered the cheese ravioli, veal parmesan, and the chicken alla romana. Based on the appreciative grunts and clean plates at the end of the meal, I'd say everyone enjoyed the dinner greatly. With the time growing later and bellies full of pasta and cheese, we opted to skip dessert and coffees and just enjoyed the remains of our wine.

Interestingly, at the end of the evening, the host finally appears to check on how we liked our meal... he could be a character straight out of a mobster movie at well over six feet tall and two hundred pounds, with a sizable tattoo on his neck. Having chosen to go to the North End to show our guests a little flavor of Boston, it's a fitting end to our night.

I'd give Strega, at 379 Hanover Street in the North End, a B+. Do your best to ignore the mobster movies flickering from the wall of TVs and focus on enjoying some terrific Italian fare. It's good enough to serve to celebrities.

Food: Ten, Looks: Three

2008-05-08T23:01:00.005-04:00

Val might have looked like the dumb blonde in A Chorus Line, but she knew a thing or two about the importance of physical attributes. Restaurants may not exactly have "tits and ass," but for a truly great experience, they still need to show a pretty face. There's a reason that Zagat's measures restaurants on four categories and one of them is decor.

The importance of atmosphere was highlighted for me by two dining experiences that I had this week. Ok, way to state the obvious, right? Of course, atmosphere is important. But what really struck me is how it influenced my opinion of the food.

First I met up with some girlfriends at Beehive in the South End. I'd been dying to go to Beehive, so I was very excited when it was suggested for our get together. Despite battling epic traffic and the horror that is parking in that neighborhood, when I finally came through the doors at Beehive, all was forgotten. The restaurant is located in what could be super awkward space within the Boston Center for the Arts. There's a sort of L-shaped dining room upstairs, one big cavernous dining room downstairs with a small stage at one end (Beehive is considered one of the best places in town to see new music acts), and an adjacent bar area which is sort of up on a platform. It could feel really disjointed, but the overall eclectic decor ties it all together in a fun, warm way. The upstairs dining room and bar have a sort of French brasserie feel with dark woods and light walls, while the larger dining room is old school cabaret - straight out of the film Moulin Rouge. Beehive is almost painfully hip and each patron that walks in is more chic than the last.

Matching the decor seamlessly is the cocktail menu... retro and vaguely French-inspired. I was drawn the champagne cocktails and I was a bit disappointed that they were unable to make the Violette, which sounded unique and delicious. I settled for La Vie en Rose, which was sparkling wine with a shot of lychee-infused cognac. It was superb. We decided to share a few appetizers, including mixed olives dusted with parmesan, house frites with sage and sea salt, and marinated Shy Brothers' goat cheese. I was particularly excited about the cheese, as I'd read about the Shy Brothers' Farm (two sets of twin brothers who make artisanal cheese as the third generation on a working farm... interesting, right?). The cheese itself was mild, but unremarkable, but beautifully served in a crock with a drizzle of olive oil and herbs.

For my entree I had the oven roasted chicken with brioche stuffing. I rarely order chicken when dining out, but the stuffing sounded terrific - and it was. It was the highlighted of the meal - sweet, moist, and herb-y. The chicken itself was nicely cooked, with a light, crisp skin - and the portion was huge. I didn't even come close to finishing it. My girlfriends ordered the flatbread pizza, the baked polenta, and the gyro salad (which looked both gorgeous and delicious!). I was also asked to specifically point out that one friend really enjoyed the polenta (served with ricotta and ratatouille).

Overall, the food was good, but nothing to write home about. But here's where the atmosphere thing comes in... part of the reason that I wasn't overwhelmed by the food, was that is was pretty simple - which in a way was perfect, in that it didn't compete with the rich decor. Despite food that was only ok, I am still eager to go back! It was such an intriguing place and I would love to hear some of the music (which we missed). Goes to show, a pretty face can make quite the impression.

Later in the week, I found myself at Stix Restaurant, again with some friends. I'd heard of Stix, but I didn't know much about it. I picked it for a meeting spot because it had a convenient location near both parking and the T, as well as a varied menu for fairly reasonable prices - also, from the photos on the website, it looked very chic and modern. It seemed like a good bet for a group.

As soon as I arrived, I was immediately struck by how small the restaurant was - only 20 or so tables in a long narrow space. And, more importantly, how plain it was. Instead of cool, minimalist, it was more boring, generic - light toned woods, black a-lined seating, and simple cylinder pendant lighting. There was nothing particularly offense about the place, but there was also absolutely nothing interesting or original. It's also worth noting that there were several huge flatscreen TVs around the restaurant, including one right behind our table, which was both an odd fit for the decor, as well as a major distraction.

The menu at Stix is broken into four main parts - the signature Stix dishes, small plates, full entrees, and side dishes. As a group we decide to go for all small plates and dine tapas-style. The waitress was very helpful in navigating the menu and offering some suggestions. We ordered an ample selection of the Stix plates - which are meats or fish cooked on an infused wooden skewer (or "sticks," get it?), and a few small plates and side dishes to round things out.

A few of the highlights included scallops on a ginger-mango skewer seared in orange oil and
sesame, maple salmon on a "mexican fiesta" skewer, and the mushroom ragu side. A definite lowlight of the meal was dessert - warm chocolate fondant, served with chocolate sorbet and a mini strawberry milk shake. The sorbet and shake were tasteless and the fondant was dry. Overall, the food was very good and the infused skewers - while a little trendy, with the potential for hokey - made for full-bodied, creative dishes. Like Beehive, the complexity of the food's flavors, matched with equally intense dipping sauces, might have been too much without the simplicity of the restaurant's look and feel.

Now here's the interesting contrast to Beehive, while the food at Stix was better - the experience will be forgettable, in large part because of the atmosphere. You can get good food at so many Boston establishments these days, a restaurant really needs to go above and beyond to secure a return visit. Stix did not. And I haven't even mentioned the odd way the staff literally started to "pack up" the tables (they fold into the wall) at about 10 p.m., making us feel like we were dragging things out too long and rushing us through dessert. Apparently Stix turns into a lounge/club at that hour. Who knew.

I'd give Beehive at 541 Tremont Street in the South End a B for food and an A for atmosphere. Make a late reservation for the cabaret area so you can catch a local act over a champagne cocktail. Order something simple and soak up your surroundings.

I'd give Stix Restaurant at 35 Stanhope Street in Boston a B+ for food and a C for atmosphere. Go early, so as not to accidentally get folded into the wall when the electronica starts to pound over the sound system. Stick with the Stix and you'll enjoy every bite.

Moons Over My Spare Ribs

2008-05-03T22:44:00.013-04:00

I went to college in mid-state Maine. It was the kind of place where you prayed that the snow would be melted for spring graduation, on Memorial Day weekend. Needless to say, we were far enough north that the selection of restaurants was limited at best. High-class dining was the Red Lobster and, if you wanted late-night diner food, you headed for Denny's. No matter the hour, one of my buddies always, always ordered Moons Over My Hammy. He just liked saying the name.

Since moving to Boston eleven years ago, I've wondered dozens of times what it would have been like to go to college here instead of the frozen tundra I called home for four years. I loved going to school in Maine, but there's no question that I would have eaten better here. I'll tell you one thing, if I needed some post-drinking diner grub as a Boston co-ed, I would not have had to be satisfied with rubbery scrambled eggs on toast - and that's because I would have had Myers+Chang.

I knew exactly two things about Myers+Chang before eating there. I knew that it served Chinese cuisine and I knew that it had some extra impressive owners - Christopher Myers, co-owner of Radius, Via Matta, and Great Bay, and Joanne Chang, of Flour bakery fame. While I didn't really have any expectations of the restaurant - aside from the fact that, with parents like that, it was bound to be good - it wasn't quite what I anticipated. The decor is urban and sleek, with maple-colored wood, earth-toned tiles, and mirrored walls, but it's irreverent too. The mirrored walls have grease paint graffiti all over them, the tables are unadorned with white Formica tops, the plush seats are covered in 70s-style vinyl, tea canisters on each table hold small paper menus and utensils (chopsticks only - so do your finger workout on the drive over), and kitschy Chinese decor cover every nook and cranny. The whole vibe is chic Asian diner. I love it.

The staff is pretty much exactly who you would imagine working at a hip SoWa restaurant - young, alternative, artsy. They help keep the casual, but stylish atmosphere going. Their one failing - though to no fault of their own - is that they are all wearing second-hand ("vintage") vests that have been hand-painted with Chinese characters. Maybe I am scarred from my evening at La Voile and the goofy busboy costumes, but I find that I am now vehemently opposed to putting waitstaff into outfits. It made them look ridiculous and it made the very cool Myers+Chang just a little less cool.

I think I might have been especially sensitive to the silly vests because they were so contrary to the demeanor of our waiter, who was funny, sarcastic, direct, and insightful. All of which was terrific, since we needed some heavy guidance on the menu. The menu at Myers+Chang is set up in a tapas-type style, with dim sum starters, dumpling plates, small plates, noodle bowls, and vegetable sides - all intended to be shared and all very reasonably priced at about $5-15 each. Our waiter recommended that we order between three and six items for the two of us - we could always get more as the plates came out. He also offered some input on the specialties of the house, how certain foods were prepared and meant to be eaten, as well as the finer differences between the noodle dishes. We ordered five different items and some cocktails - for me, a sake gimlet, which was delicious. It was dry and slightly sweet with a punch of lime.

The first dish out was the crispy spring rolls, which came to the table still sizzling from the oil. The tender-crisp wantons were wrapped around an abundance of scallions, mushrooms, carrots, and tofu pieces. The rolls were incredibly fresh and tangy, but the pungent vinegar sauce that accompanied them was overwhelming - I skipped it after the first try. The next dish served was one of the true highlights on the meal - braised pork belly buns. If you consider Myers+Chang to be a diner, this would certainly be their version of a burger. The tender, salty pork bellies were served on a traditional sweet Chinese bun (bao), smeared with hoisin sauce, with a slice of tangy and slightly spicy watermelon radish and lettuce. The combination of flavors and textures was outstanding.

Next up was the grilled prawns - whole shrimp on skewers with the head and shell still attached. Having eaten something similar at the China Pearl, I was not surprised by this serving method, plus the waiter had warned us when we ordered it. The entire shrimp is edible, though I do remove the heads. This method also makes the shrimp fairly "fishy" (much in the same way that serving meat on the bone can make it more "meaty"). The shrimp were coated in a tamarind-lime sauce, making them sugary and a little sticky. While good, they were somewhat unremarkable, making it the weakest dish of the night. It is worth mentioning that they were served with fresh, crispy fish chips sprinkled with hot red pepper which were delicious. If you've ever had the fish chips in a standard Chinese restaurant and wondered how exactly they were different from Styrofoam peanuts, having the fresh ones will make you realize what you were missing.

Unbelievably, two of the best courses were still to come. First, the tea-smoked pork spare ribs. From what I've read about Myers+Chang, this is truly its signature dish - a fact that was reemphasized by our waiter's enthusiasm when we ordered them. They lived up to their reputation - smoky and sweet, with meat so tender that it just falls right off the bone. The ribs aren't saucy - the earthy flavor was imbued in the cooking process and is enhanced by a light crust of peppercorns and tea leaves, which gives the dish a little bite of spice, as well as a nice textural contrast. We end on a bowl of beef and broccoli chow fun. I was more tempted to order the wok-charred udon noodles, but as soon as the waiter described the chow fun as "Chinese comfort food," I knew the battle would be lost to Paul (who began drooling at this description). I can't say what we might have missed with the udon, but the chow fun was spectacular. The thin strips of meat were nicely grilled, served in a deep bowl of wide rice noodles and long strings of broccolini, drenched in a salty, spicy brown sauce that gave great depth of flavor without being overpowering.

There is no dessert menu at the restaurant, which is just fine... the small plates are so tasty, you are better off just ordering more of them if your appetite is still lingering at the end of the meal. Plus, all diners are served a sweet treat from Flour just before the check is delivered. The night that we were there, it was a dense lemon mousse, sprinkled with coarse sugar and candied ginger. It was like licking the frosting off of a cupcake - creamy and delicious.

I'd give Myers+Chang, at 1145 Washington Street in Boston, an A-. Next time you are out on the town - behaving more like you are 20-something than 30-something - and you need something of substance, don't settle for a place that names it's eggs after old movies. Tuck into some bao and noodles at Myers+Chang and you'll recognize what you missed by not going to college in Boston. Your order is up.

Smooth Sailing

2008-03-16T21:21:00.004-04:00

Boy, oh, boy. Is there anybody out there still reading this? After a three week hiatus, it'll be a miracle if so! I have no excuse for not blogging aside from pure laziness... and what's especially shameful is that I had a perfectly lovely dinner at La Voile about which to write.

Out for the night with a few of my girlfriends, we did not have the intention of ending up at La Voile... One friend suggested that we check out 28 Degrees, a hip bar/restaurant in the South End, which was our first destination of the night. We cabbed it together downtown and arrived at 28 Degrees around quarter past eight. Only to be greeted outside the door by a guy who looked barely old enough to get into the place himself. Holding a clipboard and doing his best to look down at us he asked if we had a reservation (we didn't). Immediately, I thought to myself - "great, a long wait." Oh no... no wait. No reservation? No getting in - at all. Were they kidding? This is why we don't live in New York, thank you very much. Once rejected at 28 Degrees, another friend mentioned that she'd once had a great dinner at Masa around the corner. Off we went. At Masa, we were pleased to learn that you didn't need a reservation to get in to the restaurant. You did, however, need one to eat before 10 p.m. Sigh. Not wanting to wait that long, we put our heads together for a brainstorm. While dismayed by our twice thwarted dinner plans, it did make me realized what a serious foodie city Boston had become. Word to the wise? If you are going out on a Saturday night, make a reservation.

Collectively we decided to head towards Newbury Street and try our luck there. On the cab ride over, I used my trusty iPhone to do a little research and came up with La Voile - which also holds a spot on my 2008 wish list. I called en route and was immediately taken back by the gentleman's greeting on the phone, "Bonsoir et merci d'appeler a La Voile, may I help you?" All delivered in a flawless accent. I knew La Voile was a French restaurant (duh), but I didn't know the depth of their committment to authenticity - clearly the host was a native. My - once excellent - French is pathetically rusty at this point, so despite my temptation to do otherwise, I decided to explain our predicament in English. By sheer luck, they'd just had a no-show and could seat us right away. I told him that my name was Courtney and that we'd be there shortly. The cab sped along and we came through the doors of the cozy subterranean space within five minutes, to be greeted by a tall, elegant Frenchman, asking, "Courtney?" I felt like quite the celebrity. As promised, we were shown directly to a table and were sipping Kir Royals before we knew it.

La Voile means "the sail" in French and the restaurant has a sailing/ship theme, but in a generally tasteful way - a painted quote (about sailing) that runs along the border of the ceiling, some old models of sailboats, and antique prints of ships, knots, and marine flags. Unfortunately, they also carried the theme to the busboys, who were required to wear - prepare yourself - a sailor uniform of a striped boat-neck top and wide-leg navy trousers. It was - needless to say - over the top. Additionally, while I appreciate La Voile's committment to keeping true to its French roots, the restaurant also requires the waitstaff to punctuate their dialog with guests with French phrases (for example, when setting a plate: "pour vous, madam..."). This might come off ok if all of the waiters where French. They're not. Ours wasn't and his accent was, let's call it, challenged. Amongst the three of us sitting at the table, two of us have lived in France, so, frankly, a bad French accent is like fingernails on a chalkboard. I would have preferred that he simply addressed us in English. The whole thing gave a slightly fake effect to the restaurant - as though we were having dinner in the France Pavilion at Epcot Center. At any moment, I expected the staff to break into song and dance. The busboys were certainly dressed for it.

Luckily for La Voile, the food was fantastic - nearly obliterating all thoughts of a giant mouse in a beret. First, we started with a selection of amuse bouche, including a gougere (a pastry puff made with Gruyere) and a bite of pâte à choux wrapped around a small piece of sausage. Needless to say, I love when a restaurant brings out free nibbles and these were exceptional - light and savory and melt in your mouth. After some discussion around sharing appetizers versus ordering our own, we settled on the latter. One friend ordered a seared scallop salad and another ordered the endive salad - a bite of each showed excellent preparation (especially with the shellfish) and a nice balance of flavors. My appetizer order started as a bit of a disappointment as they were out of, first, the foie gras terrine, and second, the rabbit terrine. I struggled to pick an alternative option and our waiter jumped in and suggested the foie gras creme brulee. At first, I declined - it sounded heavy and weird. Then I thought, what the heck, I'll go with his recommendation. Good choice. I'd never had a savory creme brulee before, but it was delicious - the creamy custard was smooth and thick, imbued with a deep essence of the foie gras, and the crackly sugar shell perfectly complimented the sweetness of the liver flavor. It was rich, that's for certain, but it was inspired as well.

For an entree, I ordered the seared halibut. Again, the execution was superb - the fish was moist and flaky with a crisp, salty crust. It didn't hurt that it was served with a generous dollop of caviar on top. The fish was laid atop basil mashed potatoes that had a nice bright flavor which was a good balance for the healthy dose of sweet, rich buerre blanc that covered the plate. Again, while decadent, each element of the dish was exceptionally well done - creating a delicious whole. We ended the night with a glass of dessert wine - which we also had to order twice, due to them being out of our first choice - and the tarte tatin. The apple tart was, again, truly authentic with thin slivers of fruit and a delicate pastry crust. It was tasty enough, but no match to the main meal.

I'd give La Voile, at 261 Newbury Street in Boston, an A-. Before getting your heart set on anything on the menu, ask what they are out of, then ask Mickey & Minnie for a recommendation - those mice, they know a thing or two about terrific French food.

Orinoco Flows

2008-02-24T19:44:00.005-05:00

When dining out with friends, I try to not be too pushy about choosing a restaurant. Naturally, I always have a running hit list of places that I want to try, but you never want to be the person who puts up a big stink about where to go. However, when I made plans for a weeknight dinner with my oldest friend, I insisted that we go to Orinoco. First off, I figured that she's (mostly happily) put up with me through twenty years of friendship and that she would forgive me for my one-time foot stomping over where we needed to eat. Secondly, she speaks fluent Spanish and has lived in South America, so, if I needed any guidance navigating the Venezuelan menu at Orinoco, she was my girl.

Orinoco, like Gaslight, is located in the South End. Unlike Gaslight, it doesn't have the unique luxury of a parking lot. So it required three trips around the block to find a spot near the Shawmut Avenue address. Even once I squeezed my car into a tiny spot, I was still not certain that it was a legal space - at that point, I could have cared less. Needless to say, I was a little frazzled by the time I got there. As it turns out, that was not a problem. It seemed that every aspect of Orinoco is geared to put you at ease.

We arrived just as the restaurant was opening at six in the evening and we were given our choice of tables by a very affable young host. The restaurant was tiny and dark, lit only by the red votives dotting the tables and the diffused street lights coming in through the windows. We chose a snug table by the bar and, before I even sat down, I excused myself to go to the ladies room. This offered me a chance to walk through the entire restaurant and spy on the funky art work and distressed antiques that added to the decor, making for a cozy, but hip atmosphere.

As soon as I get back to the table we were greeted by our lovely waitress, who had a thick Spanish accent. She asked if we were ready to order drinks and I knew that I was going to have a glass of wine so I decided to choose quickly. I selected a glass of Torrontes, which is an Argentinian white that you don't often see on menus. The waitress tells me that it's light like pinot gris, which I actually know since I've had it before, but I appreciated that she helped give some orientation on the South American aspects of the menu - this guidance continued when she went through the specials, which is terrific. There is nothing worse than struggling through a menu of unfamiliar cuisine and feeling embarrassed about your ignorance. The staff at Orinoco know that eating Venezuelan is not an every day experience for most Americans and they seem happy to answer questions and encourage experimentation.

My friend and I decided to share both our appetizers and our entrees for the maximum tasting experience. For our first course, we went with the Palmito Ensalada and the Tequenos. The salad included several layers of flavors, including mixed greens, hearts of palm, endive, red onions, and bleu cheese in a tasty vinaigrette. Also dotting the plate are three dates wrapped in bacon, stuffed with a marcona almond - a perfect mouthful of sweet/salty and crunchy/smooth. The only culinary low light of the night was the Tequenos - guayanes cheese wrapped in dough and deep fried served with chipotle ketchup. I know what you are thinking - "fried cheese with spicy sauce, how could that go wrong?" That's pretty much the exact thought process that led me to ordering it, but it was a letdown all the same. The cheese was sort of lost in the bready coating and the ketchup, which I expected to have a homemade, chunky consistency with visual evidence of the peppers, tasted and looked like a cup of Heinz 57 with a dash of hot sauce.

Based on the advice of our waitress, we selected two of the specials for our main course. We decided to share each by eating half way through and then switching, so when they arrived, I randomly chose to start with the beef tenderloin. The meat is tender and well-prepared, but it was not the star of the dish - that honor goes to the crab picadillo. Fresh, creamy, smoky, and spicy... I could have eaten an entire plate of just that. This was served with several giant spears of asparagus - I prefer the small ones, but all the same they were prepared to a perfect degree of tender crispness. This dish was so delicious that I was a little sorry when it came time to switch. That's because I didn't know what I was missing. The other entree was lamb chops crusted in pistachios with a mixed salad. The salad was somewhat similar to the Palmito, so it was a bit overkill at that point, but it did not matter one speck. The lamb, served with a bright green herb sauce, was sensational - earthy, nutty, and unbelievably garlicky. It was so good, I thought about it all the next day.

We finished up by sharing (of course) an order of quesillo, which is traditional Venezuelan flan. I really like flan and this was as tasty as I've had - a little denser and more custard-like than a smooth, creamy Spanish flan, but still excellent. By the time we were scraping the last little smears of flan from our plate, the restaurant had literally filled to the rafters, with diners spilling out the door. Clearly, Orinoco had become a hot spot. Just as I was noticing how many people had poured in, the owner swung by our table to check in and see how we enjoyed our meal. We gushed about what we'd eaten and told him we'd be back. He mentioned that they'd become so popular, that they were opening a second location in Brookline Village. My first thought? Better parking.

I'd give Orinoco at 477 Shawmut Avenue in the South End an A-. Show up early and let your server guide your selections - you'll leave fantasizing about heading out on the next flight to Caracas.

Pretty Narcissus

2008-02-17T12:24:00.011-05:00

Blogging is a funny thing.

Right around the same time that I started this blog, we had our annual company summer party and, as the director of marketing, I'd hired a photographer to capture the event for our website. The photographer ended up with a number of pictures that included a friend of mine from the office. I asked if he wanted copies and he replied, "what me, narcissistic? Yes, please." I laughed at the time because I thought he was being kind of vain (if he's reading this now, he's going to be a little mad, but he'll recover...). But looking back at that incident, I realize that we're all narcissistic at times, it just manifests itself in different ways. I'd rather pour lemon juice into an open wound than look at photos of myself, but if someone compliments this blog? I'll preen for days.

It's been fun to get the kudos and even more fun to learn who's reading, especially when it's complete strangers. It makes me feel weirdly connected to the rest of the world. I have one friend who swears that her whole office is addicted to it. My uncle reports that a colleague of his (in California!) is most fond of my posts that refer to the Sox. My mom claims that she has all of her neighbors reading it. (But she's my mom, she has to say that.) Oh, and who can forget the incident when I learned that the actual chef I'd blogged about had read my entry when he e-mailed me. It makes you feel a bit like a celebrity and it's sickly thrilling.

Blogging can be viral - that's sort of the point, I guess - and when it is, it can be exciting, overwhelming, and even a little scary. As a self-labeled type-A, one thing I love to do is to check my blog's stats. I do this through Google Analytics, which is absurdly easy to use and offers more information than any weekend-blogger could ever possibly need. Late last week, I hopped on and checked out where my blog stood. I pulled up the main graph (which shows visits to the site) and I immediately thought that something was off. The graph was all out of whack. It had this giant spike on Friday. I played with the settings a bit, but I just couldn't figure out why the graph was all screwy. Then, I realized... it wasn't wrong. I'd gotten nearly two hundred hits that day. Now, in case you are thinking at this point, "why, Foodie, your blog is so compelling... you must get hundreds of site visits every day," let me assure you that, no, I don't. On an average day, I'll get between five and fifteen hits... and that seems like a lot to me!

After a little digging, I figured out that my post on Gaslight had been referenced on a site called Universal Hub and it directed a ton of traffic my way... at least for that day. I have no idea how the editors stumbled onto my blog or why they felt that my entry on Gaslight was worth reposting on their site (when, in fact, I feel like it's one of the weaker ones I've written...). This is what I do know... on Universal Hub, readers can comment on the content and comment they did - about me, about my blog, about my opinions. Gulp. Some were complimentary of my writing and agreed with my assessment of the restaurant (preen, preen, preen). Some disagreed and were even slightly insulting (jerks! meanies! dumba**es!). Whichever way they felt, it was clear that I was out there. Saying what I had to say and opening myself up peer review. And... all under my real name.

When I started this blog, I debated the name issue a bit. Should I include it? Was it wise to give out (even the most innocuous) details about my life - where I live, where I eat, what I do for a living - with my name attached? Isn't this exactly what all of those identity theft commercials warn you about?! I have a good friend who blogs about her family and her daily life and she uses code names for her husband and her daughter. The names are pretty cute - including one that she calls Cook. I'm dying to ask her the secret meaning behind them. It makes me wonder, if I'd gone that route, what names I would have given me and Paul? In my house, I guess I'd be Cook. Paul would be Sous-Chef. That's what I call him when we cook together. It's totally demeaning and it irritates him, which is, naturally, all of the incentive I need to keep doing it.

At any rate, obviously I didn't go that direction. I went ahead and used my name... I figure I'm out there on LinkedIn and Facebook, why not Blogger? I have a sort of informal rule, however, of only using my name and Paul's name (from whom I got explicit permission) - never any of the friends with whom we dine. I figure, knowing that I'll be reviewing the very food we're enjoying (or not) is pressure enough for one meal, much less feeling like they might be inadvertently thrust in the limelight (otherwise known as Universal Hub).

This is the six month anniversary of the blog and it's been an interesting ride. Despite all of the feedback (mostly good!), I really do still write it as much for myself as for anyone else. Though, I'd be remiss if I didn't admit that it's the anyone elses that make my heart skip a quick beat each time I click "publish post." It's true, I am pretty narcissitic about the blog. And what do I hope to see when I look at my reflection in the pool of water? Someone who is decent writer. Someone who can make others laugh. Someone who loves food so much that she tries to do the nearly impossible with it - put it to words and make it a story. A good one. I hope that, when you read the blog, you see a little of that too.

Thanks.

Light My Fire

2008-02-09T12:59:00.005-05:00

I knew that this list thing was a good idea. After a few failed attempts to find a night that we were all free, my two girlfriends and I finally settled on last Thursday night for a dinner of catching up, gossip, and, hopefully, some tasty food. Having been featured in an early blog entry in which I mercilessly mocked suburban chain restaurants, the girls very kindly offered to let me pick a place in the city! Using my list as a guide, I chose Gaslight - a fair bit of variety on the menu, mid-priced, and an up-and-coming location. And, above all, it had free parking. You did not read that wrong. A restaurant in the South End with free parking. How many times have you gone to dinner in the South End and nearly quit before you got to the restaurant because you were on your fifteenth trip around the block, looking for a place to stick your car? For us three ladies, all of whom would be driving to the restaurant, this perk sealed the deal.

Gaslight is partially subterranean and huge; much bigger and less intimate than I expected. On a Thursday night, it was packed to the gills with a noise level to match the two hundred or so diners in the restaurant. Happily, we had a reservation and were seated right away. The decor was all that is was promised to be - burnished mirrors, brass accents, black & white tile floor, antique Ricard bottles lined up on the molding. It would have felt authentic, if it wasn't so perfect. I'd give Gaslight a few more years of operation, allowing some dust and grime to build up, to really emulate a Parisian brasserie.

Our waitress greeted us soon after we sat and I immediately noticed how pretty she was. Not in an over the top sort of way, but more of a girl next door sort of way. As the night went on, it became painfully clear how much she needed her looks. Things were bad from nearly the first moment. She took our drink orders and returned with them fairly quickly. Great right? It would have been if one of them hadn't been dumped all over the table from a tray tipped so precariously, I actually saw the drink slide right off. Like any good girl next door, she was mortified and truly apologetic. These things happen and we were fully willing to move on without complaint. Well, everyone expect my girlfriend who's drink had been sacrificed to the table gods. We had to remind the waitress that she needed to replace the beer.

Things didn't improve from there. I am reasonably sure that she brought us the wrong dish, though we ordered one of two very similar dishes on the menu, so I can't be certain. We were asked twice if we were done with our half-eaten appetizers, though our plates were full and it was pretty evident that we were still eating. We needed to ask for refills on the coffee, even though we lingered at the table chatting long enough that it was clear that we were looking for an excuse to draw the night out a bit (I know what you're thinking, maybe they were trying to turn the table over... they weren't, the restaurant had substantially cleared by then). Sadly, despite all this, the worst infraction came in our very last interaction with her. Two of us put in cash for our portion of the bill and my second friend asked to put her portion on a card, clearly indicating the amount to the waitress. The credit card slip came back with the full amount of the bill, with the cash already pocketed. We had to have her correct the error and left the restaurant laughing about how my friend would need to check her statement to be sure she wasn't charged twice.

Ok, here I am more than halfway through this post and I haven't mentioned a word about the food. Does that tell you something? Maybe not what you think... the food was good, some of it was even excellent. The service was so bad it colored the whole experience. Unfortunately, just another reminder of how restaurants really need to have all wheels on the track, or the train is never getting out of the station, no matter how shiny the engine.

And Gaslight's engine was awfully shiny. We shared two appetizers, including the Gaslight Salade, which featured haricots verts, roasted pearl onions, and lardons, on a bed of frisee with a light lemony vinaigrette. Overall, the combination of flavors worked nicely, though the haricots verts and the lardons both could have been a little crisper. We also ordered (I thought) the fondue piemontaise, but were served the fromage blanc. Luckily, this dish was subperb! It was essentially a flat crock of melty cheese, dotted with thyme and coarse salt, served with big hunks of toasted baguette. Bread and cheese. What more could you want?

For my entree, I ordered the duck confit - hey, when you're going to go French, go French. The confit was spectacular - it practically came to the table still crackling from it's bath of boiling fat. Oh yeah... confit is not for the light of heart - literally or figuratively. The rich duck meat was served of a bed of shredded chard and orange sections, both of which (the spicy bite of the chard and the tang of the citrus) made for a great balance. The course was also served with roasted new potatoes which were unremarkable, but were a requisite starch, I suppose. The dish's only failing was a heavy hand with the berry sauce served with the confit. While a classic pairing for duck, it was cloyingly sweet and competed too much with the citrus.

We finished the meal with an order of the chocolate beignets to share. The little fritters were almost more like mini molten chocolate cakes and were served with a thimble of creme anglaise to cut the intensity of the chocolate. While the flavor of the dessert was relatively standard, the presentation was creative and it was a tasty enough way to close out the night.

I'd give Gaslight, at 560 Harrison Avenue in the South End, a B+. If you want a city dining experience without a city parking experience, it's a great choice. One word of warning? If your waitress looks like a girl that you wished your brother married, ask for a new table.

Making A List, Checking It Twice

2008-01-29T20:11:00.000-05:00

I am a classic type-A personality. Competitive, impatient, organized. Like any good type-A, I have a strong adoration of lists. I make lists for everything. Lists of things I need to do, lists of places I'd like to visit, lists of songs I want to download from iTunes, lists of wines I want to buy again, lists of artists that I am keeping an eye on, and, oh yes, list of restaurants I want to try. I love lists.

Happily, I am not alone in this passion. It seems like every media outlet on the planet is compelled to do their own restaurant lists. The Boston Globe Magazine, Boston Magazine, and the Phoenix (to name a few) have all recently published their lists of the "must trys" for the year. I figure that, in order to keep my blog's status amongst these fine publications, I probably need to produce my own list. So, here goes...

The Foodie's Guide to Places She is Dying to Try in the Hub in 2008 (You think these list titles should have some kind of word limit? I hope not. Oh yeah, and you know how they say, "in no particular order..."? Typical type-Bs. This list is in order.)

10) Beehive - The Globe called Beehive "the place to be (over 30)." Sigh. I guess at this point that pretty much describes the perfect destination for me. Beehive is probably better known as the South End's newest nightspot to hear a little music and, more importantly, see & be seen. But Boston Magazine promises "tasty, wallet-friendly" fare in addition to the entertainment. Sounds good to me.

9) Petit Robert Bistro - A friend of mine at work brought me a business card from Petit Robert Bistro more than a year ago. She implored me, "you have to check this place out." I never did and I have been sorry ever since. Every time you turn around some other reviewer is writing about this restaurant - and it's always favorable. The owners, who include a member of the venerable Maison Robert family, as well as a cutie-patootie young Frenchman, recently opened a second location in response to a booming business. Apparently, if you want to be mentally transported to the little Parisian bistro you discovered in your semester abroad, this is the place. Oh, and it's also affordable - what's not to like?

8) O Ya - This is the kind of place that makes me want to shut this blog down all together and simply post the following closing message: "I give up. Cool, fabulous, foodie-friendly places are opening in this city faster than Nancy Pelosi blinks. I can not possibly eat at them all, much less blog about them. Thank you for your patronage over these past five months." Ok, I know, O Ya was so June of 2007. I still haven't been! The Asian cuisine is supposed to be so good, the Globe quipped, "who needs Nobu?" Holy crap.

7) La Voile - I walked by the place destined to be La Voile on Newbury Street at least a dozen times while it was under construction. Each time, you could see a little more of this Mediterranean bistro take shape - like a tantalizing present being slowly unwrapped. Finally it's here and it's getting a lot of good buzz. Daily Candy called it "authentic" southern French fare. Having living in Aix-en-Provence, I can't wait to decide for myself.

6) Myers+Chang - I'll keep this simple. One of the owners, Christopher Myers, is also behind Radius, Via Matta, and Great Bay. If this place is even a fraction as good as Radius or Great Bay, I am there+there+there.

5) Orinoco - One of my best friends spent several years living in Bolivia, so when she told me that a restaurant offering South American cuisine is one of her new favorites in the city, I paid attention. Not long after that exchange, Boston Magazine recognized Orinoco's chicken arepa one of the 52 best things to eat in Boston. Two recommendations from sources I trust, how can I go wrong?

4) T. W. Food - Oh god... maybe I have worked in Cambridge too long (about ten years, if you add up the different stints). Here's where the list starts getting all, "eat local, love your Mother." I can't help myself... if the menu sources most of its food from within 100 miles of the restaurant, I am like a bee drawn to organic honey. Daily Candy oozed that T.W. Food "emphasiz[es] biodynamic wines, house-made charcuterie, and sustainably raised meats, every meal is kind to both planet and palate." I don't even know what some of those words mean. That makes me want to go even more.

3) Gaslight, Brassarie du Coin - Unlike O Ya, Gaslight is just starting to get noticed and still needs to prove itself a bit. But the early press is promising... Gaslight offers a true French menu that will give Eastern Standard a run for its money. Both the Globe and Boston Magazine promise an atmosphere and decor that is straight from the Latin Quarter.

2) Summer Winter - Ok, now this place better be good. Because if I drive to Burlington and it's a bust, someone is going to hear about it. You gotta figure it's a pretty safe bet - the restaurateurs behind Summer Winter also own Arrows Restaurant in Ogunquit, considered one of the best dining establishments in the country. And forget about food sourced from a hundred mile radius, Summer Winter grows all its own produce in a greenhouse that is less than a hundred feet from the kitchen.

1) Ten Tables - Yeah, it's all local. Oh, and mostly organic. It's a small business in a grassroots community. I might as well pull out the Birkenstocks and stop shaving my legs. Listen, I like to do my part for the earth, and I like that Ten Tables does its part too, but that's not what makes it my top destination for the year. I love the idea of it... only ten tables in the dining room, making for a cozy, family-style atmosphere, where the staff encourages you to linger all night. And the chefs? Heck, they're only making food for you and nineteen of your newest pals. They can pour all the love and dedication in the world into each beautiful dish (check out the photos on the website). It doesn't hurt that Ten Tables made every list this year. I'll be lucky to get one of those ten precious tables before 2009, but I tell you what - I'm going to do my best. And I will be sure to report back.

Boy, I've got my work cut out for me this year. This is a heady list, but I know I can do it. Type-As are nothing if not committed.

Luna, yes; not much to Love or much Good

2008-01-20T19:06:00.000-05:00

Oh boy, only halfway into January and I am already breaking resolutions. Specifically the one about keeping up with my blog... in my defense, not keeping up with my blog (or, more accurately, not eating out so much), is helping my keep another resolution which includes shedding a few pounds. However, that's barely an excuse for letting a whole week slip by before reporting on my experience at Bella Luna last weekend.

Looking for a fun, convenient place to have a bite to eat and some entertainment for a large-ish group, a friend recommended that we have dinner at Bella Luna followed by some bowling at its sister establishment, Milky Way. Given that both are located right in Jamaica Plain (and, really, how often do you get chance to knock down a few candlepins?), we readily agreed to the plan. Paul and I were the first to arrive and mistakenly headed first to the upstairs restaurant, which is clubby and cozy, with only a small handful of tables. The host, quickly recognized our reservation as the "party of eight," showed us downstairs to the bar/games/bowling area - what I assume is technically the Milky Way. While cold and a little dank downstairs, it had the funky atmosphere of a good dive bar with clientèle that was classically JP. Our friends arrived shortly and our waitress took our orders for beer & wine.

We spent some time catching up (as well as giving one couple directions over the phone - JP is such a quandary unless you live around here) and not looking much at the menu. The waitress did a few drive-bys to check on us and, while very attentive, seemed to eventually get a little frustrated with our lack of ordering. We finally decided on a few appetizers and everyone chose an entree - with selections as varied as a pulled pork sandwich, pasta, fish & chips, pizza, steak frites, and mac & cheese. For those that read this blog with any regularity, you might be sensing the red flag at this point. I always have concerns when restaurants try to do too much - offering a thousand options, to guarantee that everyone will find something they like, but then ending up with everything slightly lacking. Sadly, Bella Luna falls into this category.

We'd ordered fairly standard, pub grub appetizers, including a veggie quesadilla, fried calamari, and spinach artichoke dip, plus one friend ordered an arugula salad and another got a selection of soup. Having had a difficult time choosing between the soups, the waitress ended up bringing my friend a customized platter with a half cup of each type - totally redeeming my opinion of her service in the process. My friends indulged me in lots of tastes of their dishes. The tomato soup was thick and sweet with lots of fresh flavor and was the far superior soup, when compared with the Spanish chicken soup (I believe that's what it was). The chicken soup had an interesting back note of what I think was cumin, but had been made too early in the evening and had gotten a bit gummy with the orzo that it featured. The salad was simple with a few shavings of Parmesan and toasted pine nuts, but a little overdressed - losing the pungent arugula flavor in doing so.

The quesadilla was the clear winner amongst the shared apps. It was made with a hearty whole wheat tortilla and it was full of lots of fresh vegetables, cooked well, but not overdone. The calamari were tasty, if mostly unremarkable - though they were dressed with a tangy vinaigrette, which was a pleasant change from the standard marinara that often accompany this dish. The dip was lacking, in that it was too thin, with no discernible taste of the spinach, artichoke, or the cheese.

For my main course, I'd ordered the potato gnocchi with a sage-cream sauce. The large gnocchi arrived dotted with bits of ham and asparagus. The pasta itself was tender and well prepared, and the cream sauce made it a warm, filling dish - which was a good foil for the chill of the room. However, the sauce had virtually no sage flavor and the ham was slightly over processed and salty. My nibbles from a few other plates - including some fries from my husband's meal and a bite of the pulled pork - proved tastier than my dish and left me wondering if the secret to ordering at Bella Luna was to stick with more of the bar food.

At one point in the evening, this blog even became the center of conversation, which led to the inevitable, what would I review next? I revealed that I would probably be writing about the very meal we were eating, so naturally, at the end of the night, I found seven other heads turned in my direction asking, "so what did you think?" Gulp. I am not a professional reviewer and I mostly do this as a means of personal catharsis about my many eating experiences. Now, it seemed that what I thought of the meal somehow mattered and, I was a little nervous to say, what I thought was not that complimentary. I sheepishly muttered, "um, I thought it was ok." A chorus of groans and laughed ensued. "A 'B' or a 'B-,' not worse, I hope!," exclaimed one friend. Me, "uhhhh..." Another lightly chided me, "not every place is going to be L'Espalier!" Me, "I know! I know!" (I swear, I am not a total food snob... must we again discuss how $6 is a first-class ticket to mouth heaven at Taqueira La Mexicana?) Lastly, my friend who placed the reservation said (with what seemed like a tiny hint of guilt that she'd somehow chosen a sub-par restaurant), "I thought the bowling would be fun!" Oh gosh... let's stop talking about the blog and go rent some ugly shoes - this pressure is too much!

Here's the thing - all in all, what I ate at Bella Luna was reasonably passable, but it wasn't remotely important to me. The beer was great and the company was even better... and, I haven't even begun to start gloating about how the girls totally kicked a** in the first round of bowling! I love food and I love being wowed by a restaurant, but those things will never take the place of the rare night when a group of friends is miraculously free at the same time and can join each other in laughing, eating, and being reminded of why we dine out in the first place - to be together, with or without an 'A' meal.

I'd give Bella Luna at 403-405 Centre Street in Jamaica Plain a B-. Order some pub grub, eat quickly, and get right to the main event - shaming your friends at game that requires you make a total fool of yourself. Oh... and maybe don't mention that you're going to blog about it.

(P.S. Anyone that got the Harry Potter reference in the title, you're my new BFF.)

Great Food at Great Bay, Less Great Service

2008-01-06T15:59:00.000-05:00

I love food and I love dining out (way to state the obvious...), but I would never, and I mean never, want to own a restaurant. What a brutal business. Endless competition, cranky customers, unreliable staff, spoiled food, surprise inspections. Who would want to deal with that? Last night I was reminded - loud and clear - of the challenges of running a restaurant. Paul's parents were in town and love to enjoy fresh fish when visiting Boston. Over the years, we've taken them to a number of seafood restaurants - with mixed success. Generally when his folks are here, Paul is in charge of setting the agenda, so he did some research and selected Great Bay. I was impressed with his choice. Having had several incredible meals at Radius over the years, I was eager to try another jewel in Michael Schlow's crown.

Arriving for a seven-thirty dinner on a Saturday night, I figured that the restaurant would be hopping... given that it was the weekend following New Year's this was probably an unfair expectation. While not empty, there were very few diners there at that hour. Not knowing that this would be the case, we had a reservation and were seated right away. The restaurant is kind of long and skinny, which is further emphasized by what must be twenty foot ceilings. The bar/lounge area in the front has modern settees and low chairs for more casual get togethers. I was struck by the small size of the dining room - only about twenty-five or thirty tables. The cool, sleek atmosphere continued in this area with long, layered sheers in the windows, dark wood tables and woven chairs, as well as this bizarre Calder-esqe mobile that looked like silver Pringles potato chips, and this decorative fan-shaped light pattern on the wall. I thought the light design was a nice touch, in that it continued the logo of the restaurant, which is a repeating fan shape.

Our waiter was a young guy who was very affable and encouraged questions on the menu. I had a few and felt that he answered them well, if not with enormous detail or enthusiasm. He was similarly helpful, if not overly-engaging, in helping my father-in-law select a wine. We ordered cocktails and they were served quickly, along with rolls. The rolls were largely unremarkable, though they were served with these long curls of butter, which were beautiful. The specialty cocktails all have humorous names and super creative ingredients. I had the Trouble Hemsley, with grapefruit rum, maraschino liqueur, and a touch of Pernod, which gave it a great anise aftertaste.

And then the food... the gorgeous, gorgeous food. My three fellow diners (Brit and producers of Brit) all ordered shrimp cocktail appetizers... triple snooze. I ordered the mussels a saucy stew of red curry and coconut milk. The curry gave the dish a vague heat which was tempered by the sweet milk. The mussels were served with three grilled triangles of flatbread that made for a great way to sop up some of the sauce. The delicate flavor of the dish was fantastic.

My appetizer was so enjoyable, I lingered on it for a long time, but once I was done, the staff came around reasonably quickly to clear our plates and our entrees were served not long after. The entrees were nothing short of pure art. Served on large white, rectangular plates, the food was arranged for optimal visual appeal, stacked beautifully, with a swirl of sauce here and there. Really, just spectacular looking. The menu is printed daily, so there is always something fresh and extraordinary to try. Paul and I both ordered very seasonally. He got the venison loin, served on a bed of winter vegetables, which included beets, baby Brussels sprouts, and parsnips. The waiter recommended having it prepared medium rare and it was outstanding... tender and flavorful, without being gamey in the slightest. The deep taste was a great match for the earthy veggies.

I selected the monkfish, served on a bed of barley, shredded short ribs, and diced dried plums. When reading the description of the dish on the menu, I couldn't help but be curious about the combination of the red meat and the fish. The effect was spectacular... the rich intensity of the monkfish was matched by the beef, along with the hearty, sauciness of the barley. The balance of flavors, the quality of the ingredients, and the perfection of the presentation was simply wonderful... I was sure that it had finally happened - I was having my first A+ meal. And then it happened.

Or, better put, it didn't happen. Once we were done with our meals - and quite clearly so - we sat there waiting for our plates to be cleared for a good ten or so minutes. I frequently saw the waiter circle around (it's worth pointing out that the restaurant, at this point, had filled out considerably and most of the tables were full - however, the number of wait staff still seemed abundant), but he never came by to check on us. Observing the actions of the staff on the floor, the system became apparent to me - there were designated bus "boys" who were supposed to clear, however, they were infrequently in the dining room and the waiters seemed to feel that the task of clearing was below them. So, we simply waited... and waited... the A+ experience slipping slowly away as the minutes ticked by. It was a strong reminder of the challenges of running a restaurant - the food can be exceptional (and Great Bay's was), but if your staff is inconsistent, the whole experience is diminished. For a truly perfect meal, all cylinders must be firing at the same level - how many places can execute on that night after night? I'm exhausted by the mere thought.

Eventually, the dishes were cleared and we moved on to our final course. I have never been so impressed with a dessert menu. Each item was more creative and delectable-looking than the last. Unfortunately, after much consideration, I settled on the butterscotch pudding, which was the one item that was no longer available. However, I was happy enough to go for my second choice - a gingerbread stout cake, served with a dried slice of pear, a sugar-pear syrup, and Maker's Mark ice cream. Did you get that last part? Ice cream made with whiskey. Holy crap. How could that go wrong? It couldn't - the dessert was excellent. The cake was spicy and moist and the ice cream was subtly flavored. The slice of pear was paper thin and gorgeous. Sadly, the clearing of our dessert plates met the same fate as our dinner plates.

I would give Great Bay at 500 Comm Ave in Boston, a (sigh) A. Be patient with the service and just go and bask in the glory of perfect food.

I Heart Winter.

2008-01-01T21:21:00.000-05:00

That's a big, fat lie. I don't heart winter at all. I count the days down until it's over. And here we are... January. Sigh. There's the obvious weather issue, of course. This native San Diegan never quite got the hang of the cold. Then there's the driving. I love it when my brakes don't work. Mmm, and how about all the coughing and hacking in your office - isn't that part great? And, above all? There is no baseball. Don't get me wrong, I like the Pats well enough (16 and 0, baby) and I am starting to really get into the Celtics. But, let's face facts - they're no Red Sox. I just got my tickets for a Spring Training game in March and the schedule for our season package was just published... it's got me dreaming of the green grass at Fenway, fantasizing about what our bullpen might look like with Santa na in the mix (and, apparently, I'm not the only one...), and obsessing about their every move with friends, colleagues, strangers on the street, and basically anyone who breathes oxygen in the city of Boston.

Clearly, when totally starved of sunlight and ballplayers, there is only one way to get through this season. Eating. Ideally, eating well. That need for warm, wonderful, anti-winter cuisine has led me directly to Delfino Restaurant twice in two weeks. I blogged briefly about Delfino's in my round-up of Roslindale restaurants. It's a fabulous place. I just also wish it was one of our little Rozzie secrets. Not so much. The average wait for a table at Delfino's is ninety minutes and, no, they don't take reservations. It's worth the wait... and if you cozy up to the host, he's usually willing to call your cell phone when your table is ready if you go for a walk while you wait. Another good option is to head around the corner for a drink at Birch Street Bistro, where they make great seasonal cocktails.

Delfino's has a snug dining room with a partially exposed kitchen (late night you can usually catch the affable host donning a t-shirt and cooking up meals for the staff). The walls are upholstered with a simple vine-patterned tapestry which is unusual and pretty enough that you forgive the restaurant the cheesy fresco on the upper portion of the wall. In addition to the host, the wait staff is generally attentive and very sweet (both nights we were treated to cute, young Italian guys with thick accents). They have a good mastery of the menu and are not afraid to make recommendations.

Delfino's wait staff enjoying a late night dinner.
The restaurant has a pretty traditional Italian menu and all of standard menu items are excellent. The pappardelle bolognese and the open face lobster ravioli are particularly good. I would also give kudos to the antipasto platter - we ordered it on both visits. It has some of standard items, like prosciutto, olives, and roasted red peppers, but also some more unusual offerings like goat cheese, white bean spread, and an eggplant tapenade. One night that we were there, we also ordered the fried calamari appetizer. The small rings of calamari were tender and fresh and served on a huge bed of arugula and other mixed greens with a champagne vinaigrette. Aside from the unnecessary and distracting fried potato strings sprinkled on top, the dish was superb.

I don't tend to order specials a lot. I know that I should. It would be the true foodie thing to do. They are sure to have the freshest ingredients and the most love - since it's something the chef actually wants to be making. So I am not sure what possessed me to order the special on the first of our two trips to Delfino's, but it just sounded so darn tasty. Let's just say, I made the right choice - my fellow diners looked longingly at my meal all night long. The first night, the special was slow-cooked beef short ribs served over polenta with a demiglace sauce and a side of grilled asparagus. I love polenta and Delfino's was simple and unadorned with any notable spices or herbs, but it was soft and creamy and delicious - especially as it absorbed the sauce. The short ribs were incredible, with meat that literally fell off the bone and a deep savory flavor.

Still swimming in my delicious memory of the short ribs, I was especially attentive to the list of specials on our second visit to the restaurant. Again, I was the only one that ordered one and, again, I was the source of much envy at the table. I selected the veal osso buco served on a bed of saffron risotto (do I really have to go over my feelings for risotto again?) with some mixed roasted root vegetables. While this dish did not appeal to me quite as much as the short ribs, it was still outstanding. The veal was spectacularly tender and came with a tiny sterling spoon to scoop out the marrow from the center bone. The risotto, while not terribly flavorful, was well prepared and a good base for the osso buco.

As much as I have tried, I've never actually made it to a dessert course at Delfino's. The portions are enough for three meals and even when you take home a huge pile of leftovers, you are stuffed to the gills. So, sadly, I can't comment on this aspect of the restaurant - but, based on my general experiences, I would guess that they can execute some terrific Italian treats.

I would give Delfino Restaurant at 754 South Street in Roslindale an A-. Next time you need a break from the cold, head to Rozzie and order a big, meaty dish from the list of specials. Your full belly will keep you warm all the way home.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

2007-12-22T14:41:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's that I live in Boston and some little part of me harbors a "Cheers" fantasy. I have a secret desire to go to the same restaurant enough times that I become a regular. The host greets me by name, the bartender starts making my drink when he sees me come in, the waiter lets me know that my favorite special is on the menu that night... Naturally, in my dream, this place is right in my neighborhood (not more than a walk on a warm summer night) and I get to know the other local regulars and, each time I go in, town gossip immediately ensues ("I know, did you see the new sign at the florist? So gaudy."). Here is the problem... Boston has become such a foodie town, there are hundreds of great places to eat and I can never quite justify eating at the same place again and again, when there are so many tempting options to try. However, I think that, if I was going to have such a place in my life, it would be Geoffrey's Cafe in Roslindale Village.

Geoffrey's is new to me, but it has a long-ish history in Boston and a loyal following of diners (if you don't believe me, Google it... I've never seen so many blogs, postings, consumer reviews of a neighborhood joint). The original cafe opened in 1990 and has made its home in the Back Bay and the South End, before finally landing in Rozzie Square. I am not quite sure what brought the owners here, but I feel lucky to have a such a chic little place in our own backyard. Apparently, I am not the only one that feels that way either. In my two visits to Geoffrey's - both on "quieter" nights, a Sunday and a Wednesday - the place has been packed.

Let's get one thing out of the way right up front - the food at Geoffrey's, while very reasonably priced, is only ok. However, the food is not really the charm of the place. It's a small restaurant with a bar area in the front and snug dining room in the back. The paint colors are earthy and retro Italian prints adorn the walls, with a few cool, creative touches sprinkled throughout - like a "polka dot" series of mirrors in the dining room. All of this, however, pales in comparison to the staff. Everyone at Geoffrey's is warm, friendly, and attentive. You feel so welcome by them, it almost doesn't feel like service, but rather like you are a guest in their home. It makes you want to go back every night. At one point, I dropped my (paper) napkin on the ground and, as I reached down for it, our waiter scurried over and took it from me and then insisted on getting me a new one. That's more impressive than what you might experience in some of the city's four star establishments.

Having said that the food was only ok, it's worth clarifying that everything I've eaten there in my two visits has been tasty, well-prepared, and well-presented, if not overly inventive or, what I might call, excellent. The menu is certainly punctuated by a few terrific options. On my most recent visit, I started with a blueberry martini with a squeeze of lemon. They make the blueberry vodka on-site and it was like a big taste of summer in the middle of the snow and ice. We were out to dinner with a couple we didn't know especially well, so we talked a lot before even touching the menu. The waiter was patient and gracious as he checked in a few times to see if we were ready. We finally settled on an appetizer of the grilled sausage, which is homemade by Tony's Market, the little shop just next door to Geoffrey's. The sausage was full of good fennel and anise flavor, and served with a dollop of whole grain mustard and carmelized onions.

Both guys ordered the ribeye steak from the list of specials, which was served with sides of mashed potatoes and grilled zucchini. Again, not terribly inventive, but kudos to the server for offering suggestions on how to have it prepared - both looked perfectly cooked. Hands-down, the best looking entree was a ginormous bacon-cheddar burger served with homemade potato chips. Based on the mere crumbs that were left on the plate at the end of the meal, I would guess that it tasted as good a it looked. I ordered the seven-vegetable couscous "stew." Couscous is my favorite starch and I generally love middle eastern food, so this seemed like a good bet. The stew's broth was mildly-spiced, with a hint of saffron that gave it a great color, but the vegetables were largely indistinguishable. One of the almost tasted a little pickled, which was not a good pairing for the dish. The couscous was fluffy and well-made and was a great way to soak up some of the broth.

I tried to be intentionally good in ordering the vegetarian dinner, in that I knew before we even walked in the door, that I would be ordering a giant slab of cake for dinner. Last time we were at Geoffrey's we have Devil's Food cake with buttercream icing. I'd been dreaming of it ever since. I hogged nearly the whole piece for myself, giving Paul only the most cursory of bites. As I remembered, the icing was to die for - sweet, thick, and smooth. The cake was a little on the dry, crumbly side from having been refrigerated, but I was willing to forgive it for its heavenly topping.

I'd give Geoffrey's Cafe, at 4257 Washington Street in Roslindale, a B. If making your way in the world today takes everything you've got, head to Geoffrey's. Order a burger and bask in the warmth of the servers doting on you. Oh, and tell Sam I sent you.

Spoiled...

2007-12-16T17:30:00.001-05:00

You know how when you have a big-ish task at hand, it can sometimes completely paralyze you? That is the current state of my blog. I have to admit, I've been rather spoiled lately in that I've had three terrific meals in the past two+ weeks. However, the mere idea of writing about each experience has stunned me into complete inaction, leaving my poor blog unattended-to and unloved. In an effort to correct this, but also make it manageable, I am going to write just a brief review on each meal.

New Year's resolution #257: Keep up with blog.

Now that that's out of the way, on to the (mini) reviews...

My first meal was a business dinner at The Independent in Union Square in Somerville. Union Square is one of those cool areas in Boston that is very up and coming, with lots of unique shops and some fabulous food (at some point, I will dedicate a whole blog to one of my food obsessions in the city: TaQueria La Mexicana). Even amongst this fabulous little area of Somerville, The Independent is a standout. I've eaten there a handful of times over the years and the upscale bistro-pub style offerings never fail to delight. One summer night I had a tri-colored beet salad there that I still think about on a regular basis (this is what foodies do... reminisce about courses that were inspired... sad, but true). The Independent is clearly split into two - the bar and the restaurant, though you can get the full menu in either area. I usually opt for the bar, which is small, but cozy and the bartenders tend to be attentive and friendly (and cute[!]... oops, did that slip out?). However, since I was there recently for a semi-serious professional chat, we opted for the quiet restaurant area, which was perfectly serviceable, if lacking the better character of the bar.

Skipping an appetizer, we instead enjoyed a nice Pinot Noir from California and some robust Tuscan bread with spiced olive oil before our entrees arrived. My main entree was risotto (oh, how I love risotto....) punctuated with porcini mushrooms and pearl onions. Though there were too many onions in the dish, it was warm and filling and lovely on a cool winter night. The real star of the night, however, was the upside down pineapple cake with a buttery, perfect crumb cake and a drizzle of dulce de leche. Oh my.

I'd give The Independent, at 75 Union Square in Somerville, an A-. Head for the bar and flirt shamelessly with the bartender. And if beets are on the menu, get them - you won't be sorry.

About a week following my meal at The Independent, I had the fortune to dine at another small neighborhood star - though clear across town. Last Friday night, Paul and I headed to the Ashmont Grill in Dorchester for a friend's birthday. This was a second annual gathering at the Ashmont for this particular event, and it was terrific both times. The Ashmont, started by chef Chris Douglass (of Icarus fame), is a beautiful place that predominantly features new American classics. The restaurant is a real symbol of some of what is happening in Dorchester, including the gentrification of many neighborhoods and running a green business, while staying true to cultural roots of the area by exclusively hiring locals for both the kitchen and wait staff. [Sidebar: When Paul and I were house hunting, I was a big advocate of moving to Dot. Without fail, every time I brought it up, there would be a murder in the area within days, leading Paul to totally veto the idea. Whenever we eat at the Ashmont, I am sorry that I wasn't able to be more persuasive!]

If you've ever tried to get to Dorchester for 6 p.m. on a Friday night, you'll understand fully why my first order of business when arriving was to request a cocktail. Following the birthday girl's lead, I had my first of two tangy pomegranate margaritas - yum! Our large party shared apps that included steamed mussels (tasty, though unoriginal), a cheese plate with a delicious, crumbly Tomme de Levezou, and the (fabulously-named) Train Wreck fries with melted jack cheese, bacon, jalapenos, sour cream, scallions (do I really even need to comment?). For a main course, I ordered the beer-braised beef brisket with sauteed spinach and garlic mashed potatoes - good, but nothing particularly remarkable. However, being with a large, kind group of fellow foodies, much sharing ensued... showing that the overall competence of the Ashmont Grill to be excellent. Hands down, the best thing I sampled was the pork chop sourced from a New England cooperative. Last time I dined at there, I had a similarly delicious course that featured Niman Ranch pork - it seems to be what the Ashmont does best. We all shared just a bite of toffee bread pudding for dessert - leaving me yearning for more and ensuring a return visit.

I'd give the Ashmont Grill, at 555 Talbot Avenue in Dorchester, a B+. Order the pork with a side of the baked macaroni and cheese and fantasize that home cooking was really this good in your own house growing up.

Last but not least, I returned earlier this week to L'Espalier for Cheese Tuesday... those that read this blog with any frequency will remember how I waxed lovingly over my experience at Wine Monday this Fall. Cheese Tuesday follows an identical format to Wine Monday with the only exception being an extended cheese course (seven samples, as opposed to three). Having had such a terrific experience at Wine Monday, I entered L'Espalier with confidence and excitement for a great night - and it lived up again. For this meal, my friend that is a devotee of these nights had organized a large group of us, several of whom were regulars - which helped, because Cheese Tuesday includes activities. We were encouraged to write "cheese sayings" on a huge sheet of poster board with oversized magic markers and, at the end of the night, we all sang a version of Pink Floyd's The Wall set to cheese lyrics while the staff pulled out electric guitars and punk wigs. Seriously, people, L'Espalier is considered to be the most refined restaurant in the city. How could you not love this?

Oh yeah... and there was food! Good food, naturally. On the whole, I enjoyed the courses at Wine Monday a bit more, but the execution of the Cheese Tuesday meal was still exceptional. We started with grilled, smoked quail with beets and lemon creme fraiche. The quail was tricky to eat with its small bones, but the smokey-tart balance on the meat with the lemon cream was well-done and nicely paired with the bright flavor of a Pomelo Sauvignon Blanc. That was followed by a roasted Scottish salmon with rutabaga risotto, paired with a fresh, easy-to-drink J. Wilkes Pinot Blanc. This was the only course that was a little lacking in how underdone the fish was, though the earthy, warm risotto was wonderful. The third course of Shepherd's Pie was paired with a Montinore Pinot Noir from Willamette Valley in Oregon (a region I am partial to after a visit there in 2005). The Shepherd's Pie with large chunks of braised beef, fresh peas, a pillowy crust of potatoes, topped with sprinkle of slab bacon was outstanding.

And the cheese... if you love cheese, you must, must, must make it to one of these dinners in the New Year. It is glorious. The seven cheeses were spectacular and, like the wine, the restaurant cheese director described each of them and gave a little detail about their provenance as we sampled them. Since the menu I brought home doesn't give tremendous detail on the source of each cheese, I am not going to list them all. Just know this: some of them were so good, I did a little "cheese dance" in my seat. I can not wait to go back.

I'd give Cheese Tuesday at L'Espalier at 30 Gloucester Street in the Back Bay, an A. Though I found that a few of the courses did not live up to the perfection of my meal at Wine Monday, the cheese is so incredible, you'd still give it an A even if they served up dirt and worms for the earlier part of the meal. God bless lactose tolerance.

O Christmas Apps...

2007-12-05T22:54:00.000-05:00

It's officially December. A full month of cocktail parties - drinking too much, eating too much, kissing the cheeks of people you barely know. How many do you count on your calendar? I have four at the moment, with the possibility of a few more... a friend from work has nine. NINE! Including one he plans to host himself. To help him get through the season as unscathed as humanly possible, I offered to "serve up" (pun fully intended) a list of a few of my favorite party appetizers.

I love to cook, but I tend to be a little lazy about it, so virtually all of these are simple, quick to prepare, and include ingredients that are easy to find. Plus, they can all be prepared in advance - an absolute requirement for me whenever I am entertaining. You'll also see some patterns in what I like to eat, including ethnic foods, seafood, healthy & organic food (when possible), and savory balance in everything - even the sweets.

Thai Crab Cakes with Cilantro Peanut Sauce
These are a really cool take on a classic. Plus, they sound and look way more complicated than they are to prepare - the bright flavors are what will fake out your guests. If I can Betty Crocker-out on you for a second: I actually won a potluck award with this recipe one time.

Spiced Walnuts
This recipe is very close to one that my mom makes every holiday season, so it's a sentimental favorite for me. Everyone loves these... they'll be the first thing gone, I promise.

Spinach-Artichoke Dip
I made this for the first time for Thanksgiving and it was really yummy - it's a good replica of what you might order in a restaurant. My sister-in-law ate the leftovers for breakfast the next morning. I served it with tortilla chips. An added bonus: it travels well.

Camarones con Hierbas y Citricos (Citrus-Herb Shrimp)
This is a Latin recipe that is really more intended for the summer, but it's so good, I think it would be a success any time of year. Again, a great twist on the traditional shrimp cocktail. To make this even easier, buy the prepared shrimp at the grocery store and follow the recipe from there - the flavor will be just as good.

Crostini with Gorgonzola, Caramelized Onions, and Fig Jam
This is the only thing on this list that is a little "fussy" and labor-intensive, but it's well worth it. The blend of earthy flavors in this is spectacular. The fig jam might be a little hard to find - try a gourmet shop, Trader Joe's, or Whole Foods. Try to assemble these no more than about an hour before serving them - you can quickly broil them if you want them to be hot.

Pretzel Turtles
Ok, I have to admit that I haven't made this yet... but I am going to for my next function this coming week. There is a candy on the market called Take 5 which is a perfect sweet-salty balance and these sound like a great homemade version! The recipe makes fifty, but I'm going to seriously double it. Who doesn't want to eat these?

If just reading this makes you want to hide under a pile of wrapping paper, rather than prepare dishes for a slew of parties, go for the bottle a wine - it's sure to be a hit and a heck of a lot less work! I find that the following are always crowd-pleasers:

Ravenswood Zinfandel
Argyle Pinot Noir
Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc
Kris Pinot Grigio

Have a happy, well-fed, tasty holiday season! 2008 will be here before we know it...

JP is cool, but James's Gate will leave you cold.

2007-11-29T21:25:00.000-05:00

I know it's probably inappropriately immodest for me to say so, but I am truly a human database for Boston restaurants. Having had evening plans with a colleague cancel at the last minute, I found myself heading home tonight with no plan for what to have for dinner. Spending a good chunk of my commute on the Jamaicaway (not to mention dodging rubber-neckers checking out the "Christmas House"), I thought that it might be fun to grab a meal in JP. On route, I called Paul and checked in - his request? Fish & Chips (how a foodie married a Brit who thinks ketchup is its own food group could the subject of its own blog). Well, the ones and zeros whirred away in the mental database and spit out its input - James's Gate. We'd had dinner there once before with some friends. I didn't remember much about our meal, but I did remember that it had a good pub-y atmosphere, so it seemed liked a sure bet for decent fish & chips.

I really love JP. It's diverse and urban and full of good range of people. Plus, there's tons of great little places to eat. However, tonight, JP was testing my last nerve. I was a little on edge already after a stressful day at work. By the time we circled three times for street parking and ended up parking four blocks away on a chilly night, the edge had become a cliff. So James's Gate had a tall order to get me mentally back on track. On the first pass, it failed... the bar is totally mobbed and there are no available tables. Luckily, we can see that across the bar is more of a restaurant area with open tables. Strangely, you need to actually exit the bar and walk to a separate entrance to get there. Once inside, my mood brightens considerably - the host is friendly and attentive and the warm-hued interior is decorated with local art.

I should have known that the food was going to be a challenge as soon as we got the menus. There were two. The pub menu and the restaurant menu. Some of the same items appeared on both, but largely they offered two completely different styles of food. Strike one: I am totally confused and overwhelmed by the options. I seriously don't get how restaurants don't understand a simple fact: If your kitchen staff doesn't rival the ranks of the armed forces, keep your menu to a manageable few items that you can do really well. Sigh.

The quiet, but sweet waitress takes our drink orders quickly and I am soon fortified by a really good glass of Huia Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand. My feelings continued to improve as we are brought a basket of hearty, crusty wheat bread and a dish of dozens of Kalamata and Spanish olives in a spicy olive oil. I loooove olives. We ordered the "Gate Plate" for an appetizer (my fail-safe strategy when I am menu-challenged is to order the "signature dish") and it arrives quickly. The Gate Plate is a sampling of smoked salmon, smoked trout, rare pepper-crusted Ahi tuna strips, served with slices of tomatoes, red onions, fresh mozzarella over a bed of mixed greens and sprinkled with capers. It also came with a side of sour cream and mustard. Ok. This is perhaps the weirdest combination of food I've ever eaten at one time and I would not say it exactly "worked" all together, but the individual elements were tasty and well-done. The smoked trout, in particular, was a standout.

While I was enjoying the appetizer well enough, the course ended on a sour note. Strike two: The chef brought our entrees out while we were only mid-way through our appetizers, and stood there staring at us (as they always do when this happens) as if to say, "um, these are hot, could you hurry along?!" We were forced to move our own dishes out of the way to make room for the unwelcome next course and, naturally, none of the appetizer plates were cleared away since they were still full of food. This is, hands down, one of my biggest restaurant pet peeves. Seriously, people, you are a professional establishment for serving dinner. How about you actually check out where the diners are with their previous course before heading out with a new pile of food? If I wanted meals timed this poorly, I could have stayed home.

Paul, of course, got an order of fish & chips. I had selected the pork shank braised in Magners. Seriously, pork & hard cider, how could this go wrong? Oh, James's Gate. First of all, the shank was huge! However, I was assured by the chef that - aside from the bone not being a good option to bring home to my dog (um, ok? I don't have a dog.) - the meat would just "fall right off the bone." Hardly. The meat was dry and tough, fatty and tasteless. The Magners sauce was fruity and would have been a nice compliment to good pork. Too bad. The mashed potatoes and roasted root vegetable sides were fine, but unremarkable. The fish & chips fared a little better, with salty, dark brown fries and flaky moist fish. But even this dish suffered from an overly thick - almost tempura-like - batter, as well as lifeless cole slaw.

Once we'd eaten enough of our dinners to confirm definitively that they were not good, we put our silverware to the side to indicate that we were done. Strike three: And then we waited. And waited. A good ten minutes later, our plates were finally cleared by a busboy and, a few minutes more still, our waitress came by to inquire, "all set? Should I bring the check? Oh, did you want dessert?" Double sigh. I was done with James's Gate, but unable to quench my foodieness, I succumbed to at least looking at the dessert menu. Nothing. Not a single thing that even tempted me. Not even the "chocolate carrot cake." Huh? Yeah, I didn't think so.

I'd give James's Gate at 5-11 McBride Street in Jamaica Plain a D. Want good Irish fare? The database says, head to Matt Murphy's in Brookline.

Can Someone Say "Resolution?"

2007-11-25T19:36:00.000-05:00

What more could a foodie want than an entire holiday dedicated to feasting? I do love Thanksgiving. However, being a foodie is nothing short of a huge liability this time of year... road trips mean being forced to eat foods prepared under Golden Arches, travels to small towns to visit the in-laws where dining at nine o'clock is considered eating in the middle of night, daily treats brought to the office by co-workers, and huge family meals with no end of childhood favorites to choose from. It leaves me in a constant state of flux, between being disgusted with my food and picking at overcooked, overprocessed options, to being constantly stuffed by refusing to leave the dinner table without at least trying a bite of each dish.

How will I make it through the next four weeks? New Year's can not come soon enough, with resolutions certain to include healthy eating, moderation, and dropping some pesky pounds. Until then, bring on the figgy pudding.

A list of what I sampled over the last five days:

Apple Cake
Artichoke-Spinach Dip
Beer, beer, beer
Biscuit
Bite of Snickers Bar
Buffalo Wings
Cheeseburger
Chicken Fingers
Chocolate Chip Pie
Coffee, coffee, coffee
Corn
Cranberry Sauce
Cucumbers & Tomatoes
Diet Coke, Diet Coke, Diet Coke
Egg Sandwich
French Fries
Fried Stuffing Ball
Fruit and Yogurt Cup
Gravy
Green Beans
Ham Sandwich
Handful of Salted Almonds
Leftover Grilled Chicken & Salad
Mashed Potatoes
Mashed Sweet Potatoes
Onion Rings
Parsnips
Pita Chips
Pumpkin Pie
Pumpkin Pie Whoopie Pie
Ritz Crackers
Roast Turkey
Shrimp & Spinach Salad
Shrimp Cocktail
Spaghetti Squash
Steak Sandwich
Stuffing
Sweet Potato Fries
Three Rolos
Toast with Butter and Jam
Tortilla Chips
Turkey Sandwich
Vinegar Chips
Wine, wine, wine
Yorkshire Pudding

Wherefore art thou, delicious arancini?

2007-11-18T13:41:00.000-05:00

Last night, Paul and I found ourselves in the rare position of heading to an event in an area of Boston that we almost never get to. We went to see Dane Cook at the TD Banknorth Center (the Gahden, for the traditionalists) - man, that guy is filthy, but hilarious. I could barely breathe I was laughing so hard. At any rate, not being much of a follower of the Celtics or the Bruins, I never spend any time in that North Station neighborhood and I know almost nothing of the restaurants down there. A quick Google search proved that I wasn't missing much - as you might expect, the area is abundant in sports bars, but little else. While I generally love pub grub, it just wasn't what I was craving last night. A little off of the main drag of Causeway, Friend, and Canal Streets, Google served up a little Italian trattoria called Nebo - just a few blocks from the North End, it seemed like a promising bet.

Though it's a short walk from the Garden, Nebo requires a fair bit of committment to get there - it was a little difficult to find and the weather was less than forgiving (winter, it seems, is officially here - sigh). More than once I was tempted to give in and settle for a burger at Beerworks. As soon as we get to Nebo, I am glad that we persevered. The restaurant is smallish, with great chic decor - dark wood, small spotlights, and an accent wall in brick. Unfortunately, there are already many diners there when we arrive, leaving only seats by the window open. It's both colder and less cozy by the window, but still nice. Plus our section has a helpful, attentive waitress which improves my opinion of our table.

Nebo has a lot of delicious looking options on the menu, but it's a little difficult to decode. Half of the menu is made up of "smaller" plates including antipasti, salads, and bruchette, the other half is more standard pastas and pizzas. What I found confusing about the menu is that the waitress recommended that we do more of a "tasting" and order two or three of the small plates for each of us. While I generally don't balk over the price of food, I was dissuaded from doing this since the small plates were ten to twenty dollars each! As faithful blog readers will recall, I love small plate eating, but I am used to paying for tapas that average about seven dollars each, so I opted for more traditional dining at Nebo. Both Paul and I ordered one selection from the antipasti and a pasta entree.

With my meal, I also had a lovely glass of Italian red (a varietal I've never had before and, now, don't remember the name). I thought it was a great touch that the wine menu came with tasting notes (I went for "a mellow blend of balsamic and cherry flavoring"), but, again, I was surprised by the prices - glasses ranged from eleven to fourteen dollars each. For a place that bills itself as a "pizzeria," this seemed on the high side.

Based on the waitress' suggestion we ordered the meatballs and arancini for appetizers. In particular, she insisted that the arancini were the "signature" dish of the restaurant. Now, I will admit to having some suspicion around this. I love arancini, but I am consistently surprised by how poorly they are executed at restaurants. During a recent Restaurant Week, I went to Ivy Restaurant specifically to try their much-touted arancini and walked away completely disappointed. My interest was certainly piqued by the rice balls at Nebo, as they are stuffed with porcini mushrooms and finished with a chestnut honey sauce. Unfortunately, even these unique flavors couldn't save this dish. In my mind, perfect arancini are dense balls of risotto lightly coated in breadcrumbs, which - when you bite into them - ooze a bit with the creaminess of the rice and a healthy dose of melty mozzarella. The arancini at Nebo had a thick, fried crust with dry rice that fell apart as you ate it, and barely any filling. I will admit that the earthy mushrooms and chestnut flavor was offset by the honey, creating an unusual and tasty flavor combination. Nevertheless, the quest for delicious restaurant arancini continues.

The meatballs did not fare much better. While flavorful, they were dry with too crunchy of a coating. The red sauce in which they were served was an embarrassment to the restaurant's proximity to the North End. It tasted as though the chef simply sent a few tomatoes through the food processor and poured the contents into the serving dish. It was flavorless and thin. I was sorry that we'd ordered the grilled bread (not complimentary at Nebo) to be able to sop up the sauce, though the bread itself was well done - smoky and crisp.

At this point, I had pretty much written off Nebo. I should not have been so hasty. Our main courses arrived, well portioned (not too much and not too little) and beautiful-looking. Before my first bite, I knew that the pasta would be exceptional - it looked thick and dense and misshapen, as all homemade pasta should be. It was outstanding. Paul had ordered tagliatelle with a mixed mushroom-marscapone cream sauce. Again, the dish hit just the right sweet-earthy balance with the cheesy sauce and mushrooms. Together with the pasta, it was warm and filling and delicious. I had ordered the ricotta gnocchi with sausage and broccoli rabe. The gnocchi were chewy, but not overly doughy, and topped with the nice spicy-bitter flavors of the sausage and rabe. The whole dish was mellowed by a very light chicken stock sauce.

Riding on the high of the exceptional entrees, plus with more than an hour still left until show time, we decided to stay for dessert. Wrong choice. Even considering the lackluster antipasti, dessert was the biggest disappointment of the night. We ordered the warm molten chocolate cake, served with cappuccino gelato. The cake lacked any punch of cocoa flavor and was beyond dry, especially considering that there was no discernible "molten" center. The gelato was the strongest point of the dish, with great coffee flavor and smooth texture. It also came in a heaping portion - a whole bowlful served with the cake.

I'd give Nebo, at 90 North Washington Street in Boston, a B-. Nebo seems to have forgotton the importance of first and last impressions - while the homemade pasta makes this spot a standout around North Station, the starters and desserts make it impossible to enjoy your meal all the way through. Next time you are heading to the Garden, stick with beer & nachos. Next time you are craving Italian, walk the extra few blocks to the North End.

How Many Ways Can You Serve Fried Taro?

2007-11-10T17:46:00.000-05:00

It's been one of those months. You know the ones where you are so busy - running around, trying your best to manage your job, your relationship, your friends, your zillion activities without letting any of them down - that, before you know it, you look up and four weeks have zoomed by? Yeah, it's been one of those. So, when a few old friends from grad school e-mailed and asked to get together for dinner, I was happy to - as long as they told me exactly where and when to show up and I didn't have to do any planning. Kind friends that they are, they did just that and, earlier this week, I joined them at Aneka Rasa, a Malaysian place in Allston.

When I graduated from college and moved to Boston, my roommate and I had one major criteria for an apartment - that it be cheap. Remember being 22? Wow. We were so thrilled to find a place that we could afford, we barely noticed that we'd landed in grimy, gritty Allston-Brighton. In fact, since the area was so affordable, there were young, recent grads everywhere we looked (including many old friends from school) - we felt like we'd hardly left campus. I still remember the horrified looks on our mothers' faces the first time they saw our apartment.

Well, it's been years since we've lived there, but navigating Harvard Ave. for a parking space brought back a lot of memories. While many of the store fronts have changed over time, the types of shops and clientele are still the same. Aneka Rasa is one of the new places since I'd left the neighborhood. From first glance, it looks very promising - a big, modern space that, from the street, looks packed with patrons.

As soon as I got inside, I had to laugh. The hostess has been quite ingenious in her seating plan - all of the tables in the front window are full - giving the outside appearance of a hopping joint - but they were the only ones with diners in the whole place. Granted, it was a Tuesday night, so certainly one of the slowest nights of the week. My friends had already arrived, so I join them at their table. Since we are - of course - by the window, it was freezing in our area of the restaurant and I end up with my coat on the whole night.

The menu is an absolute tome of at least 50 or 60 possible entrees. I know very little about Malaysian food, having only tried it on two other occasions, both times at a place in Brookline that - if I am not mistaken - is no longer there. It was very good. However, that was years ago and I don't remember what I ate or what might be considered a specialty of the region. So, when faced with the number of options at Aneka Rasa, I feel a little lost. A few things on the menu that look tasty, are unfortunately crossed out (I assume, meaning not available?). Amusingly, they are clearly crossed out on the computer before the menu was reprinted - as opposed to simply deleting them!

One thing I find unusual about the menu is that quite a few dishes are served with some form of fried taro. Taro is a root vegetable, a little like potato. I didn't know that this was an ingredient frequently used in Malaysian cooking, but it appears that way. Interested by this phenomenon, we order butterflied shrimp, battered with taro and fried, as well as chicken satay, for appetizers. Service is quick and friendly, though they are a little aggressive with filling our water glasses and getting an explanation of a few items on the menu is a challenge due to a language barrier. At one point, my friend and I literally drop our forks on the floor at the same moment and our waiter is immediately to the table with two replacements, without even being asked.

Our appetizers arrive quickly and I go first for the shrimp, eager to try the taro. I should have been more patient. The taro is bland, tasting only of the oil it was fried in, and the small shrimp are mealy and lost in the mush surrounding them. The plum sauce that accompanies them is overly sweet and too thin. The satay is far better. Thin strips of juicy grilled chicken, served with an ample pot of chunky, spicy peanut sauce. I am a sucker for nuts and I love the crunch that the large pieces of peanuts give the dish.

For our main courses, one friend chooses a simple stir-fry served in - what else - a fried taro "basket." My other fellow diner selects a saucy, green curry pot and I order Rendang Beef, described on the menu as "pieces of beef simmered in coconut milk and exotic curry spices." We also ask for a side of coconut rice for the table. Despite choosing a wide variety of entrees, each dish shares one thing in common - they all lack any character or unique flavor. My beef is tough and a little stringy and barely has any punch of taste or spice. At first I worried that the coconut milk of my meal and the coconut rice might result in an overly sweet experience. I needn't have given it second thought. Neither dish has any identifiable coconut taste, which is a shame, since I love that flavor. The curry pot is equally bland and full of odd, mismatched vegetables. The stir-fry ends up being the safest choice for its simplicity and is somewhat tasty - if you avoid the taro.

I'd give Aneka Rasa at 122 Harvard Ave. in Allston, a C-. While Malaysian restaurants in Boston are in short supply, there are plenty of places turning out delicious pan-Asian fare - stick with those. And if you see taro on the menu? Skip it. Trust me.