Letting Sous-Chef Take the Wheel

I do 99.99% of the cooking in my house. So, when the husband-slash-sous-chef decides that he's going to make a meal, my insides get all antsy. Generally, this situation requires lots of coaching, with me taking over somewhere between halfway and three-quarters of the way through.

Therefore, when he asked me - ohsocasually - this afternoon how hard it might be to make bolognese sauce, I may or may not have audibly groaned. But, against my better judgement, I decided to go along for the ride - it was a weekend evening, after all, and if nothing else we had plenty of time on hand.

He decided on a mushroom bolognese, which I was pleased about - good meaty flavor and texture, but heavy on the veg. A quick trip the grocery store and we were ready to roll. In the end, I must admit that he really did most of the cooking on his own, which left me free to document it all. And the results were outstanding... read on.

Start with reconstituting a half ounce of porcini mushrooms for thirty+ minutes in hot water. Once the mushrooms have regained their pliability, drain them in a paper towel lined colander. Reserve the steeped liquid.

Next, get to chopping... three to four cloves of garlic, an extra large onion, the porcini mushrooms, and two ten ounce cartons of cremini mushrooms.

Heat olive oil in a dutch oven. Get the onion in the pan, along with a half a pound of ground pork, a good pinch of salt and freshly ground pepper. Cook until the pork just starts to brown.

Add the mushrooms and garlic to the pan and cook about fifteen minutes, or until the liquid is almost gone.

Now, it's time for the liquids - two tablespoons of tomato paste, half a cup of dry white wine, the porcini liquid, and a can of whole peeled tomatoes (you may want to cut these up a bit with kitchen scissors). Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for about half an hour.

While you're letting the sauce cook, if you're anything like the husband-slash-sous-chef, you'll like to do things like check your email and play "circus" with the cat.

Once the sauce has cooked down a bit, stir in a quarter cup of milk. Turn the heat to low and let it hang out while you boil the pasta.

Finally, peel a bit of good parmesan cheese and chop some flat leaf parsley for garnish.

Pour a nice robust red, and serve up the pasta and sauce. Top with the cheese and parsley. Enjoy!

Here's the best part... while this recipe has several steps and the prep is probably a little longer than you'd prefer on a weeknight, it's actually very straightforward and can be prepared to perfection by nearly any spouse-slash-sous-chef. So, go for it... you won't be sorry. It's delicious.

Round Up...

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.

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

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.

I Heart Winter.

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 Santana 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.

Wherefore art thou, delicious arancini?

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.

Molto squisito!

I am not much of a brunch-goer. Brunch was sadly ruined for me a few years ago by reading Kitchen Confidential by famed chef Anthony Bourdain. If you've read the book, you know why I am saying this. Bourdain reveals that brunch is the bane of chefs' existence and that they will basically throw any slop at you on Sunday morning that they can come up with from ingredients on the cusp of going bad. Yum. Based on this, brunch is usually something that I do only when it is unavoidable (friends or family in town for the weekend), versus something that I volunteer for. However, this year my birthday fell on the official day of brunch (Sunday) and we are scheduled for a "big" dinner next weekend (an overnight to the North Fork in Long Island for some wine tasting!); so, brunch seemed like a good, casual choice for today.

Well, if I am going to go to brunch, it needs to be someplace I really want to try. After tossing around a few options last night, my husband thought of a gem - La Morra in Brookline. La Morra is a small, two-story place on Route 9 with dark, rustic decor. It serves traditional Italian fare - not the red sauce stuff they overdo in so many establishments, but good, earthy meats, pastas, and risottos. We ate an excellent dinner at La Morra about two years ago and were scheduled to return for brunch there a few weeks later, but had to cancel last minute when I came down with the flu. So, this was a chance to make up for a lost opportunity.

When we arrive at 11:30 in the morning, we are the only diners in the restaurant, aside from a large party of about eight - also celebrating a birthday. Already steeped in my prejudice about brunch, I take this as a bad sign. I should not have been so quick to judge. Despite the thin crowd, service is a little slow at the beginning. However, after that it is very good. Our young waitress appears to be in training, as she comes over to our table with another waitress and defers several questions to her. But their tandem teamwork is seamless and they both answer my questions about menu with ease. [Interestingly, a little later, I notice the older waitress massacre the answer to the same question that I asked for the diners who fill the table next to ours.] I was also impressed that, after being told we needed to wait a few moments until noon for drink orders (hey, when you are over thirty, you need to start drinking in the a.m. hours), the waitress remembers our wishes without a reminder and promptly brings our cocktails at twelve. The drinks are wonderful - a mimosa for Paul with freshly squeezed juice and Prosecco, and a Bloody Mary for me with freshly crushed salt & pepper on top and tons of shredded horseradish. Also a nice touch was the coffee, served in huge pottery mugs, giving a homey feel to the whole meal.

I don't think that I have yet talked about one my total food obsessions on this blog. Doughnuts. [Or, donuts, as a true Bostonian would prefer to call them.] I love doughnuts; my absolute favorite is vanilla frosted with sprinkles. If you are eating white trash food, you might as well go all the way. So, when I see on La Morra's brunch menu "fried donuts with spiced sugar," we just had to try them. While I don't quite know what to expect, they are not what I envisioned - though tasty all the same. They are small little balls of fried dough, so light you barely know that you are eating them. They are coated in a dense layer of sugar and cinnamon and served with sweetened ricotta dotted with lemon zest. The only thing that falls short with this course is the berries - sparse and not especially fresh.

Deciding on an entree is not an easy task. Three items on the menu, including a wild mushroom, mozzarella, and caramelized onion frittata as well as baccala (cod) cakes with pancetta hollandaise and poached eggs, look especially good. However, I ultimately decide on "eggs in a basket" - eggs baked inside two squares of polenta. Paul vies for some serious foodie status by urging me to order this dish by saying, "you know you want to see how that's prepared." I did. [Another husband-foodie moment at the table included him mentioning the "bitter balance" the arugula gave his meal. Wow!] The eggs in a basket are excellent - fully cooked whites with a soft yolk, surrounded by soft polenta with specks of sage and a crispy crust. All of this was topped with strips of roasted red and yellow peppers, wilted swiss chard, and a healthy dusting of Parmesan. It was as beautiful as it was flavorful.

Paul ordered equally well with an open-faced steak sandwich topped with fried eggs and hollandaise sauce. It was outstanding. The bottom layer was a dense piece of crusty Italian bread, followed by thick slice of salty pancetta, crisp, spicy arugula, well-seasoned sliced flank steak, two fried eggs, and a just-right dollop of hollandaise. The combination of flavors was superb. The only criticism was that it was a little on the salty side; whether that was due entirely to the pancetta, or from a liberal hand with the salt on all elements of the dish, was a little unclear. The roasted potatoes on the side were simple, but prepared perfectly - finished in a fry pan to give them a nice crunchy skin.

I'd give La Morra at 48 Boylston Street (Route 9) in Brookline an A-. Next time that I have to go to brunch, I'll be heading back to La Morra.