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.

Food: Ten, Looks: Three

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.

Orinoco Flows

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.

Light My Fire

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.