March 7, 2014

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

Sky Restaurant

March 7, 2014

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

One of my favorite things about enjoying a drink in a top-notch cocktail bar is being able to talk with the person who made it. Having the chance to hear a skilled mixologist explain why he or she uses one liquor brand over another, or what modifications they’ve made to a traditional recipe, can be fascinating. I especially enjoy those occasions when a bartender inquires after my preferred spirit and then crafts a drink based on that. Under such circumstances, I often don’t even bother looking at the drink list and instead rely on their judgment and recommendations. It doesn’t happen all the time, but with so many excellent cocktail bars in Boston, it’s not an uncommon experience.

Admittedly, it’s not a dynamic I was expecting to find 30 minutes south of the city in the town of Norwood. But then again, there’s a lot about Sky Restaurant that’s unexpected.

Most people in Massachusetts know Norwood as the home of “the automile,” a stretch of Route 1 dominated by auto dealerships and punctuated by strip malls and fast-food restaurants. There’s more to the town than that, of course, but cruising down Route 1 doesn’t usually prompt anyone to say, “Hey, we should really come here sometime for dinner and drinks.”

This monotonous landscape of commerce makes Sky stand out all the more. Endeavoring to offer upscale, city-like dining in a casual, suburban environment, Sky is a huge restaurant with two separate dining rooms and a second floor with function space. But the stylish cocktail lounge is what makes Sky a true suburban destination.

There’s a long, L-shaped bar with 15 comfortable leather seats; candles dot the polished wooden surface, casting an intimate glow. Beyond the bar is a spacious dining area with a fireplace. Dark red and mahogany colors give the lounge a traditional, conservative look, but funky, modern lighting fixtures contribute to a more casual, relaxed atmosphere.

The cocktail menu is fairly expansive, featuring original concoctions and creative twists on some of the classics. What really sets Sky apart, though, is its growing array of liquor infusions. Now, infusing alcohol is nothing new; at plenty of bars, you’ll see the obligatory glass dispenser loaded with fruit and vodka. But it’s rare that infused liquors figure prominently into a bar’s nightly offerings.

“We had a pineapple vodka infusion and a green apple one for a long time,” says Nadine, one of Sky’s four bartenders. “And we thought, what else can we do?”

Get creative, that’s what. Unsatisfied with merely soaking pineapple rings in a gallon of vodka, Sky’s bar manager, Kyle, teamed up with head chef Andy DiPace to develop infusions with greater complexity and character. They started small and played it safe, infusing vodka with a combination of golden, red, and green apples and adding cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla extract. The result was not only a better-quality infusion but a new signature cocktail – the Apple Orchard.

Representing everything that a well-conceived vodka infusion can be, the Apple Orchard quickly took off among Sky’s customers. Simple and approachable, but with complexity and balance on account of the apple blend, it’s like a fresh slice of apple pie in a glass. A cinnamon stick garnish adds a spicy aroma to every sip.

The drink’s popularity inspired further experimentation and bigger risks, like a vodka infused with poblano peppers, onions, tomato, garlic, and peppercorn, which features in the house Bloody Mary.

Emboldened by their early successes, Kyle and company then took a much more daring leap – infusing whiskey.

With even the most cursory understanding of the differences between these spirits, you can see the problem here. The best vodka is odorless and tasteless; that makes it ideal for infusing, since it easily takes on the flavors of whatever you put in there. Whiskey, with its complex flavor profile, is quite another matter. “There’s a different range of things you can put in bourbon,” Kyle says. “Things like bananas, nuts, and spices work well with it,” he explains. “Pineapple and bourbon, probably not.”

Those challenges are not lost on customers, some of whom are inclined to be skeptical. “Some people, when they hear we’re infusing whiskey, they say you just can’t do that,” Kyle admits. “But they try it, and most of them are surprised.”

It’s hard to imagine even a whiskey purist not appreciating the Maple and Rye, which infuses rye whiskey with banana, crushed candied walnuts, and Vermont maple syrup. The flavors are well balanced; the banana is prominent but not overpowering, and there’s only a touch of syrup, so the final product isn’t overly sweet.

The Bourbon Smash takes on the warm, earthy flavors of figs, apricots, golden raisins, and orange peel. Bourbon and citrus are long-time friends anyway, but the sweetness of the fruit and the depth of the bourbon make this luxuriously smooth and eminently drinkable.

“A lot of it is trial and error,” Kyle says of the whiskey infusions. “And they don’t always come out the same way, depending on the state of the fruit.” He discovered that green bananas and riper, brown bananas, for example, yield very different results in terms of both flavor and smoothness.

Not all of Sky’s drinks are infusion-based, but that same spirit of innovation and experimentation permeates the entire cocktail list. On the first of my two recent visits, Kyle asked whether there was a particular spirit I favored and seemed pleased when I mentioned bourbon. He recommended the Fashion Nut, a smart variation of an old fashioned that he devised after seeing something similar on a cooking show. Combining bourbon, brown sugar, and black walnut bitters, it’s an exceptional cocktail with a mild, molasses-like sweetness and a nutty, smoky essence from the bitters. An orange twist provides the requisite citrus.

The Lavender Honey Sidecar offers another modern interpretation of a classic. A traditional sidecar recipe made with Remy VS cognac, Cointreau, and fresh lemon juice, the addition of honey and lavender make it soft and floral, with muted sweetness and a hint of vanilla.

Even a comparatively simple drink like a margarita benefits from a couple of unique touches. A house-made sour mix cuts down on the usual sweetness, and a rim coated in black sea salt is visually striking.

It is the culture of creativity behind the bar that encourages such novelty and nuance. As explained to me by J.C., a mellifluously voiced mixologist working alongside Kyle, all four of Sky’s bartenders contribute ideas and drink recipes, thriving on the sense of friendly competition. Their passion for mixology is evident as well, especially when J.C. explains that the unusually large chunk of hand-chipped ice cooling my drink is leftover from a 300-pound ice block they used during a recent whiskey event. When I mention to Kyle a whiskey he hadn’t heard of, he pulled out a notebook and jotted it down. I have to admire anyone who keeps a whiskey notebook.

The innovative spirit that infuses the drink list extends to the food menu as well. You could probably make a meal just out of the extensive appetizer list, with items as diverse as lobster sliders, lettuce wraps, and baja egg rolls.

Deviled eggs are jazzed up with smoked bacon, blue cheese, and micro arugula. The crab cake trio is accompanied by a trio of tangy sauces – pineapple salsa, sweet chili, and a traditional remoulade.

The dinner menu is stocked with traditional Italian dishes, seafood, and a host of classic comfort foods with modern twists (I’ll admit to feeling a slight pang of regret in not trying the apple bacon pear pizza). The delicious winter vegetable spaetzel, one of several seasonal offerings, is a hearty combination of roasted brussels sprouts, kale, turnips, sweet potatoes, and heirloom carrots, topped with a rich demi glace.

Frutti del Mare, which translates to “fruits of the sea,” was one of the evening’s specials. This outstanding dish was a mix of haddock, calamari, and shrimp stuffed into fresh, house-made raviolis, tossed with sautéed spinach, and served in a sherry cream sauce.

When dinner arrived, I asked Kyle if he could suggest a cocktail that would go with my meal. Given my new appreciation for the challenges of pairing food and cocktails, I realized this was no simple request. Kyle responded admirably, though, with a drink combining Nolet’s Silver gin, St. Germain, ginger liqueur, peach bitters, and a splash of pineapple and cranberry juice. One of Nadine’s recipes, it was a vibrant drink with a sweetness that nicely complemented the creamy sauce.

It may be hard to justify dessert after two appetizers, a filling meal, and a few drinks, but Sky’s “minis” make it easy to allow for a little post-dinner sweetness. These artful, sample-size desserts made by the restaurant’s pastry chef are served in individual glasses, and a few bites of apple pie, key lime pie, and strawberry cheesecake are manageable even if you’re full.

The chocolate fondue, on the other hand, is the very epitome of decadence. If there was one thing we didn’t need right then, it was a chocolate fondue with marshmallows, cookies, and cake pieces for dipping. But one of Sky’s regular customers insisted my wife and I try it – then ordered one for us and put it on his own tab.

It was wonderfully generous, and our benefactor’s enthusiasm was entirely justified; the fondue was delicious. Granted, being rolled out to the car a few minutes later was not my most dignified exit.

Last Call

It’s tough for any suburb to compete with a city when it comes to nightlife. Boston will always have more bars and restaurants, and thus more variety, than any of its distant neighbors. But even in a city with a preponderance of cocktail bars, finding a staff with the same talent, enthusiasm, and good nature as the one at Sky is not always a given.

My visits were as illuminating as they were entertaining. The creative and competitive spirit that fuels the Sky’s cocktail menu is also evident in the animated dynamic behind the bar, with liberal amounts of witty banter, verbal jabs, and bickering over things like the proper way to arrange a place setting. It makes for a relaxed environment conducive to conversation and exploration – something I find more valuable than simply placing an order. To that end, Kyle, J.C., and Nadine seemed genuinely happy to discuss the finer points of the cocktail menu and offer helpful suggestions.

And they listen, too. Not long after Nadine and I had a chat about rum, she surprised me with a drink that she’d just made up. “It’s kind of a rum sidecar,” she explained. Combining Gosling’s rum, cognac, peach schnapps, and orange bitters, garnished with an orange twist, it was fruit-forward but with considerable depth and complexity from the cognac. I was impressed with both the cocktail and her attentiveness. “It’s not every day that someone says they like Nadine’s drinks, so it’s good for morale,” Kyle noted dryly.

As for Sky’s liquor infusions, the experiments continue. Tonight they’re unveiling a tequila infused with jalapeno peppers, avocados, and limes, which will feature in their new Angry Sombrero cocktail. That sort of inventiveness and originality makes you wonder whether city bars will start taking cues from the suburbs for a change.

Address: 1369 Providence Turnpike Highway, Norwood

Website:http://www.sky-restaurant.com/

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February 21, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

New Year, New You – A Cocktail Dinner

February 21, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

Pairing food and drink is a time-honored practice, and one most closely associated with wine. In a typical wine pairing dinner, a chef prepares several courses, each accompanied by a different wine; done properly, the ingredients in your glass complement those on your plate, making the sum of your meal greater than the whole of its parts. More recently, the availability and complexity of craft beer have brought beer pairings into vogue. They may occur at gastropubs instead of five-star restaurants, but the principles are the same.

Cocktail pairings are comparatively rare. That might be surprising, especially in light of the culture and popularity of modern mixology. But matching cocktails with food presents a number of challenges. One obstacle is that the drinks themselves may already contain a complex mix of liquor, bitters, and herbs. Common mixers, such as citrus, don’t get along well with certain dishes, and some liqueurs may be so bold as to overwhelm your palate. Alcohol content poses another problem. Cocktails are by their nature more potent than beer and wine, and if you end up hammered before the second course even arrives, you’ll probably inhale your food just to soak up the booze – which defeats the purpose of eating deliberately and enjoying the flavor interactions.

Difficult though it might be, it’s no surprise that Cambridge’s Moksa would embrace the challenge of a cocktail pairing. No stranger to hosting creative events, the Central Square Pan-Asian eatery and cocktail lounge hosted a “New Year, New You Cocktail Dinner” in late January, pairing a three-course meal of small plates with cocktails designed by beverage director Noon Summers.

An intimate crowd gathered for the festivities, which began with a champagne cocktail.

Complete with a tea-smoked sugar cube, it was a light, elegant drink that lent itself to some engaging pre-dinner conversation among the dinner guests.

We also got a plate of edamame to snack on.

And with that, the pairing officially got under way. The first-course cocktail was a classic – a Martinez, made with Edinburgh gin, sweet vermouth, and allspice dram. Even by itself, the drink was outstanding. Noon described it as “food friendly,” which it certainly was.

Dry, with a hint of sweetness at the end, it matched well with the first dish – yellowtail sashimi with ginger, chive, and a sake-yuzu soy drizzle. The dry and bitter elements of the Martinez didn’t dominate the mild flavor of the fish, and the aromatics brought out the flavors of the citrusy, spicy soy sauce.

The next cocktail would warm the heart of anyone who’s endured this horrendous New England winter – a hot toddy. With distinct floral and herbal notes, Noon’s hot toddy combined whiskey, Grand Marnier, tea that she brought back from a recent trip to Thailand, and spices, including a hibiscus flower syrup. The tea flavor was strong but not overpowering, and the drink was served at the perfect temperature. “I didn’t want to overheat it,” Noon explained. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t taste the whiskey.” (This may be why every hot toddy I’ve made at home has been disappointing.)

Accompanying the hot toddy was a dish called Chow Fun – a roasted mushroom blend served with Asian greens and shrimp. As someone who doesn’t love mushrooms, I was a bit leery going into this one. But of all the evening’s pairings, this may have best demonstrated how flavors can work together to create something bigger than the individual components. The herbal flavors from the tea and hibiscus brought out the earthy essence of the mushrooms, which in turn took on the rich flavors of the vegetables and spices. The orange flavor of the Grand Marnier paired beautifully with the shrimp.

The evening ended on an appropriately sweet note. The Radiant Orchid cocktail, named for the 2014 color of the year (you’ll just have to look that up), combined Grey Goose vodka; Noon’s “farmhouse cordial,” made from freshly grown herbs; Concord grape juice; and Lambise, a cocktail beer.

Served alongside it was a smooth, creamy panna cotta made with Concord grapes. It was a simple yet masterful combination. Grape was clearly the central flavor, appearing in both the cocktail and the dish. But the tartness of the lambic and the herbs in the farmhouse cordial provided balance, resulting in a well-rounded dessert pairing that was fruity but not overly sweet.

I spent the entirety of the evening enjoying the splendid flavor combinations and happily discussing the meal with the other guests. It was only later that I came to fully appreciate the forethought and expertise that made the night so successful. There were some obvious relationships between the food and drink ingredients, like the grapes that featured in both the Radiant Orchid and the panna cotta. Other connections were more nuanced, like the spices in the Martinez accentuating the yellowtail dish. No matter how pronounced or subtle, identifying those key flavors ahead of time and knowing how they’ll behave is critical.

What’s more, Noon’s carefully selected cocktails prevented us drinking too quickly and not appreciating the accompanying dishes. One would be hard-pressed to chug a Martinez; with such dry and bitter liquors, it’s a sipping cocktail if ever there was one. Likewise, no one gulps down a warm drink like a hot toddy. The drink portions were also smaller than usual, which made them well suited to the small plates.

It seems inevitable that cocktail pairings will grow in popularity, and as “New Year, New You” demonstrated, the possibilities are enticing. But the success of such endeavors depends on the right balance of creativity, skill, and restraint. And it doesn’t hurt to have a mixologist of Noon Summers’ caliber at the helm.

This also wasn’t the last such event at Moksa. Tonight, in fact, they’re hosting a decadent chocolate-themed pairing, with items like warm cocoa nibs whiskey punch, spicy scallops with white chocolate and wasabi drizzle, and a house-made chocolate Irish cream.

Yeah, that doesn’t sound too awesome or anything.

Address: 450 Massachusetts Avenue

Website:http://www.moksarestaurant.com/

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February 4, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Ward 8

February 4, 2014

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

In a city that has seen its share of colorful political figures, Martin M. Lomasney may lack the name recognition of a Kennedy or the notoriety of a James Michael Curley. Maybe that’s because, despite a 50-year career in which he did hold a number of public offices, his substantial political clout was largely cultivated in his unofficial capacity – as a ward boss.

A ward boss was the de facto leader of a political machine, a fixture of municipal politics in America’s Gilded Age. Political machines were organizations that influenced elections and dominated other local affairs through a system of political favors and patronage. Unsurprisingly, allegations of corruption and voter fraud were frequent and widespread.

But in a political system vulnerable to abuse, Lomasney was widely respected for his integrity and generally revered by his constituency. Unlike other ward bosses, Lomasney was quick to embrace immigrants, even greeting them on the docks upon their arrival in Boston. Granted, this was more about political expediency than genuine benevolence. But in a climate of fierce nativism, he treated immigrants in his ward the same as he did his other constituents (provided they could vote, of course).

Not that Lomasney should be considered for sainthood. Plenty of his methods were ethically questionable, and his motives may have been entirely self-serving. But the fact remains that while many political bosses were rightly accused of cronyism and graft, Lomasney is remembered for fostering a sense of community. Nowhere was this more evident than in the old West End neighborhood he presided over – known on the Boston voting map as Ward 8.

Political bosses are a thing of the past, and the boundaries of Ward 8 have been redrawn multiple times since Lomasney’s day. But more than 80 years after his death, Lomasney’s legacy of community building lives on in a new bar that honors the old name of his district.

“This area needed a neighborhood place,” owner Nick Frattaroli tells me. “So many people work around here, and you see them pouring out of their offices at 5.”

He’s right – Ward 8, which opened last December, sits on the outskirts of the North End, a block or two from the TD Garden. Populated mostly by office buildings, it’s an area people tend to pass through en route to Italian restaurants or sports pubs.

But for Nick, “neighborhood” is more about attitude than geography. “I wanted a place with neighborhood energy,” he explains. “Approachable” is a word he uses often, and his desire to engender a friendly, welcoming atmosphere is evident throughout Ward 8, from the menu to the reasonable prices – even the infrastructure. “That’s why we have a 30-seat bar,” he says of the large, wraparound rectangular bar that is the focal point of the restaurant. “People can see each other and talk; they’re not looking at bottles and labels.”

The gorgeous marble bar is a modern touch in a room that evokes vintage Boston. The hardwood floor and subway-tile columns have a throwback look, and the exposed brick wall, with “Ward 8” painted in floor-to-ceiling characters, is visually striking. A set of tables look out onto the street, and a separate dining area offers a quieter alternative to the bar.

The dim, candlelit ambience may recall intimate North End dining, while the plaid-clad staff and lively crowd give it the casual vibe of a Canal Street sports bar. But Ward 8’s menu offers thoughtful alternatives to both Italian food and typical pub fare. Described by Nick as “approachable, with a twist,” there’s a raw bar and selection of mouthwatering starters like butternut squash bisque and lamb meatballs. Comfort food staples like a burger, lobster roll, and mac and cheese are all given a modern spin by executive chef Kenny Schweizer. But the “Snacks & Sharing” menu is where you’ll find one of Ward 8’s most popular dishes – maple chili duck wings.

Delicious but absurdly messy, the wings are sweet, spicy, and tender, with meat falling right off the bone. You might want to ask for a few (hundred) extra napkins, but they’re worth the trouble.

The bacon cashew caramel corn is just as good as it sounds. Sweet, nutty, and smoky, this is pure stick-to-your-teeth decadence.

But the food menu isn’t the only thing that distinguishes Ward 8 from its nearby peers. “There aren’t a lot of places around here with this kind of cocktail program,” Nick notes.

That cocktail program is headed by bar manager Mike Wyatt, late of Eastern Standard. His drink menu is mostly arranged by type of spirit – Agave, Gin/Vodka, Rum, Whiskey, and Brandy. Beneath each heading is a mix of what Mike calls classics and modern classics. “We wanted to start with a foundation of classic drinks,” he explains. “Some places make all these crazy ‘craft cocktails’ but can’t make a Manhattan. We teach the bartenders to make the classics.”

Cocktails that date back to the Gilded Age share space with tiki drinks and more contemporary concoctions. The Corpse Reviver, a blend of cognac, Calvados apple brandy, and sweet vermouth, is strong and smooth, with a mild bitterness.

The Painkiller is fruity and potent. A mix of Pusser’s rum, pineapple juice, cream of coconut, and orange juice poured over crushed ice, it's served in a ceramic coconut cup and topped with a dusting of nutmeg.

The Maharaja’s Revenge combines Old Monk rum, Apry (an apricot brandy), and fresh lime juice. With the vanilla flavor from the rum, the apricot, and the zing from the lime, this modern tiki drink is at home among the classics.

The cocktails have their share of twists and innovations, but Mike uses Nick’s word to describe them: approachable. “It’s not like we’re making Martinezes or anything,” he says, referring to the bitter gin-based cocktail that has yet to enjoy the same resurgence in popularity as martinis and Manhattans.

And yet the biggest hits are the drinks that might be considered the most daring. “The egg drinks are flying out of here,” Mike notes with surprise, referring specifically to the Pisco Sour and the Rye Flip. The Pisco Sour seems to be increasingly in vogue in Boston bars, and it’s easy to see why. Ward 8’s version, which combines Macchu Pisco, lemon juice, sugar, and egg white, is sweet, tangy, and creamy. Angostura bitters are decoratively swirled on the foamy top.

The Rye Flip, made with Bulleit rye whiskey, a whole egg, sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg, is perfect for a cold winter night. With a creamy texture from the egg, a little bite from the rye, and seasonal spices, all that’s missing is a roaring fire.

Customers’ willingness to try uncommon cocktails may be due in part to the approachability of the bar staff and the emphasis on presentation. “A lot of these drinks spark interest,” Mike says. “We use glass mixing jars, so people can see things like the egg cracking. They ask about the ingredients.”

Few drinks elicit more conversation and questions than the Oaxahan Old Fashioned, which offers an exciting twist on one of the oldest drinks in the book. Ward 8’s version, based on a recipe by Death & Co., trades whiskey for a combination of tequila and mezcal, making for a strong, smoky drink. “Some people don’t even know how to pronounce it,” Mike says. “But they ask, and it sparks conversation. People ask about the difference between mezcal and tequila. And they really like the flaming orange,” he admits, referring to the match-lit orange peel garnish, which contributes a smoky citrus essence (I lament not capturing the momentarily flaming peel, but I was too mesmerized to operate the camera).

The Moscow Mules, unfortunately, inspire not just conversation but larceny – the traditional copper cups they’re served in tend to disappear. “We got hit pretty hard last weekend,” he says with a sigh.

If you're in the market for some copper mugs, Amazon.com is a good place to start. With buying options to fit any budget, there’s no need to pilfer Ward 8’s inventory.

A small selection of House Cocktails is separate from the spirit-driven categories, but the plan is to eventually have a single, unified list. I’d say the original concoctions are already strong enough to stand alongside the traditional favorites. The Il Pompelmo is bright, tangy, and sour, with its combination of No. 3 gin, Campari, St. Germain, and grapefruit bitters.

The New England Daiquiri, as its name would suggest, interprets the traditional Caribbean cocktail with regional ingredients – Berkshire Mountain Distillers rum and Vermont maple syrup. A mere half-teaspoon of syrup means the maple flavor doesn’t dominate the rum, allowing for a fairly restrained sweetness.

And of course, no exploratory venture to Ward 8 would be complete without trying its namesake cocktail. The story behind the drink named for Lomasney’s neighborhood is a blend of history and legend, and its accuracy is subject to debate. But the generally accepted version goes something like this: on the eve of Lomasney’s 1898 election to the state legislature, his supporters, assured of their candidate’s victory, gathered at the Locke-Ober restaurant to celebrate. They asked the bartender to create a drink to commemorate the occasion. The resulting cocktail, a mix of rye whiskey, grenadine, lemon juice, and orange juice, was named for the district that ultimately tipped the election in Lomasney’s favor – Ward 8 – and was the signature cocktail of the Locke-Ober until it closed its doors in 2012.

So how does Ward 8’s version stack up to the original? Mike responds with a now familiar refrain: “It’s more approachable.” The most obvious difference is swapping out the traditional, spicy rye for the softer bourbon, but other changes are more subtle. “We use freshly squeezed juice and a house-made grenadine,” he explains. “It might not seem like a big deal, but we make [the grenadine] here and it’s not as sweet.” The result, he says, is a bit closer to a whiskey sour. “It’s fruity, not too tart. You don’t have to be a whiskey fan to enjoy it.”

That’s especially fitting for a neighborhood bar built on the concept of approachability. Inclusiveness for Martin Lomasney may have been little more than a means of shoring up votes and securing political advantage, but Nick’s intentions seem genuine. “Anyone can come here,” he proclaims. “Foodies, sports fans, cocktail drinkers. There’s something for everyone.”

Last Call

Ward 8’s excellent cocktail list is not static; I’ve seen several additions and subtractions just in the past few weeks. But if you get attached to a particular drink and it goes missing from the menu, don’t fret – Mike assures me that the small crew of well-trained bartenders can still make it for you.

If cocktails aren’t your bag, there’s also a respectable offering of microbrews on draft and more in bottles. The draft options, like this smooth Left Hand Milk Stout on nitro, are served in chilled beer steins.

And true to Nick’s word, there is indeed something for everyone.

Prices are eminently reasonable. Drinks will run you $10 to $12, which is pretty standard for craft cocktails. Entrees range between $15 and $24, and there are plenty of good deals on the Snacks & Sharing menu.

The bar can get a little loud, particularly in the after-work hours. But then again, Ward 8 is a place that’s supposed to have neighborhood energy. And who’d want to live in a dull neighborhood?

Address: 90 N. Washington Street, Boston

Website:http://www.ward8.com/

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December 3, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Carrie Nation Cocktail Club

December 3, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

She was about the last person you’d ever want to see walking toward your bar. An anti-booze crusader with a hatchet in hand and the Lord at her side (or so she insisted), Carrie Nation made a fearsome name for herself in the early 20th century by terrorizing saloon owners and promoting the message of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union through high-profile acts of vandalism and at least 30 arrests.

From about 1900 to 1910, this imposing, six-foot-tall Kansas woman brought the temperance movement to violent, radical heights by storming into bars and smashing fixtures and liquor bottles with a hatchet. Her initial targets were saloons that violated local laws prohibiting the sale of alcohol, but Carrie’s “hatchetations” expanded to any establishment selling liquor, legally or not.

She might not seem like the most obvious figure to name your bar after. But apparently the Carrie Nation Cocktail Club appreciates history and irony in equal measure.

Having opened in Beacon Hill this past spring, Carrie Nation (the bar) is everything that Carrie Nation (the person) would have abhorred. With its flapper-era drink list and opulent décor, Carrie Nation is a modern-day tribute to the 1920s – an era that would have inspired both celebration and consternation in its namesake.

No doubt, Carrie would have applauded the ratification of the 18th Amendment, had she lived to see the day (she died 9 years before Prohibition went into effect). But there weren’t enough hatchets in the world to destroy all the illegal bars that sprung up in its wake. And not even Carrie herself possessed enough self-righteousness to shame all the cops who accepted bribes that allowed such establishments to operate, or the judges and politicians who benefited by looking the other way.

Carrie sells a would-be drinker on the merits of an ice cream cone.

But Carrie Nation isn’t just another Prohibition-themed bar serving up old-school cocktails. It captures the Roaring Twenties in all its glitz, glamour, and legendary style.

The notion of drinking in the 1920s may provoke images of makeshift, backroom speakeasies, but Carrie Nation, with its mammoth size, evokes the palatial luxury hotels and dining establishments that reflected the decade’s gaudy extravagance.

There’s a large, open dining room with round tables and comfortable leather booths.

Long, red velvet drapes and a handsome dark brown and cream color scheme hearkens back to a time when people donned their finest duds for a civilized night out on the town. Ornate hanging lamps cast a warm glow over the whole area.

The Beacon Room, a second dining area, is separate and smaller, but still spacious and grand.

A long, beautiful bar – an improbable sight in the 1920s – seats 17, while five tables round out the bar area.

While the décor offers a glimpse of the gleaming luxury of the Jazz Age, Carrie Nation’s cocktail list largely recalls the unsavory side of the 1920s. The drinks are categorized under headings like Drys & Wets, Politicians & Power, and Enforcers & Instigators, conjuring images of Treasury raids, gangland hits, and crooked cops. Yet Carrie Nation’s cocktails are garnished with a distinct local flair – many are named for early 20th-century-era Boston icons, and drinking your way through the list is like stumbling into the grittier corners of the city’s history.

And Boston certainly had its share of drink-worthy figures, as I discovered a few weeks back when I stopped into Carrie Nation with a handful of coworkers. With me were my friends Andy, Jen, Keena, Jen, John, Katie, and a few others (there won’t be a quiz).

In the annals of Boston history, it would be difficult to find a more colorful and controversial character than four-term mayor and one-term governor James Michael Curley. Few Boston politicians are so equally identified for their popularity and corruption – he even won an election while serving a prison term. Curley was known as the Rascal King, and the drink bearing his unflattering epithet combined spiced rum, brandy, peach schnapps, and lemon. Peach was the dominant flavor in this one, but the brandy gave it depth and the rum provided some bite.

Martin Michael Lomasney didn’t have Curley’s reputation for graft, but his political clout remains unrivaled in Boston politics. The boss of Boston’s Ward 8 for nearly 50 years, Lomasney was nicknamed “the mahatma” for his influence over all matters affecting the old West End. The Boston Mahatma is Carrie Nation’s take on a Rob Roy, combining Glenfiddich, Punt e Mes, Maraschino liqueur, and Angostura bitters. A little heavy on the Punt e Mes, this one was too bitter for my liking.

Of course, politicians weren’t the only public figures known to loosely interpret or even outright break the law. Boston police officer Oliver Garrett, whose lavish lifestyle far exceeded his $40 a week salary, was known as the Million Dollar Cop. Garrett was widely suspected of padding his regular income by accepting bribes from the speakeasies and brothels he was supposed to be shutting down, though he was never charged with a crime. Katie ordered the drink named in his honor, a mix of Hendrick’s gin, lemon, Chambord, egg, raspberries, and champagne.

By far the prettiest drink of the night, the Million Dollar Cop was rich in its own way – bursting with raspberry flavor, the egg gave it a creamy texture, and the bubbles added a sense of luxury that Garrett no doubt would have appreciated.

Al Capone was the most notorious gangster of the 1920s, and even now, his name is synonymous with organized crime. But Boston had its own big-time mob boss – Charles “King” Solomon. A prominent nightclub owner, Solomon was also a racketeer who controlled bootlegging, gambling, and narcotics rings in and around the city. Carrie Nation’s King Solomon, ordered by Andy, was a vibrant mix of barrel-aged tequila, house-made limoncello, mint, and ginger.

With an up-front honey essence and a strong tequila bite, Andy described it as “explosive,” which seems appropriate for a drink named after a mob kingpin.

Tempting as it might be condemn the actions of an underworld boss, we all know who keeps those guys in business – and in the 1920s, that was anyone wanting a drink. We were, as historian Ken Burns noted in his PBS Prohibition series, a “Nation of Scofflaws.” The term scofflaw, incidentally, was coined after the Boston Herald sponsored a contest to give a name to this new class of common criminal (two Boston residents came up with “scofflaw” and split the $200 prize). The Nation of Scofflaws cocktail combined rye whiskey, Lillet Blanc, pomegranate grenadine, and lemon. The pomegranate grenadine was a little intense, but it was good overall.

While the 18th Amendment banned the production and sale of intoxicating liquors, it was the Volstead Act that specified which liquors would be prohibited, which would be allowed, and how the law would be enforced. How appropriate, then, that the Volstead cocktail was difficult to swallow. Made with extra dry rum, yellow chartreuse, maraschino, a house lemon cordial, and grapefruit bitters, it was dry and sour – a lot like Prohibition. The bitters doubled down on the grapefruit, making this one a little tough on the palate.

Not all of Carrie Nation’s drinks are inspired by those who flouted the law. The Archers Evening Law, in contrast, pays tribute to the founder of nearby Suffolk Law School. When Gleason Archer, Sr., opened Suffolk in 1906, it was one of the only law schools in the country to offer night classes. Jen ordered the drink named in his honor, a fresh and fruity mix of blueberry vodka and a house lemon cordial, garnished with a fragrant leaf of basil.

Along with their many thematic concoctions, Carrie Nation also has a selection of straightforward, time-honored cocktails. John opted for the “Old Fashioned, Old Fashion.” The name might seem redundant, but considering the ghastly incarnations this poor drink has suffered through, it’s worth pointing out that this is a traditional recipe – rye whiskey, bitters, simple syrup, and a lemon peel. No splash of soda, no graveyard of muddled fruit; just a faithful rendering of one of the oldest cocktails on record.

Keena kept the classics going with a vodka Martini. She reveled in the three huge olives while I averted my eyes (I despise olives).

While the Old Fashioned and the Martini can trace their origins to the 19th century, the Orange Blossom was actually a product of Prohibition. That’s when bartenders started employing heavier mixers to mask the horrendous taste of poor-quality, homemade spirits. Though typically made with gin, orange juice, and sweet vermouth, Carrie Nation’s Orange Blossom uses Ketel One Oranje in place of the gin and Punt e Mes for the vermouth. This one was a bit challenging; I think the orange-flavored vodka was overkill.

If none of the 20 offerings on the cocktail list appeal to you, the bartenders seem more than capable of whipping up something on the spot. One of the best drinks of the night arrived when Katie asked for advice on what to order. After inquiring about Katie’s preferred spirits, our bartender served up an excellent drink made with Hendrick’s gin, Prosecco, St. Germain, and lemon, with a cucumber garnish.

An elegant conclusion to the evening, Katie’s drink was a combination of elements you’d be hard-pressed to find in the 1920s – legal, top-shelf liquor, made with fresh ingredients by a knowledgeable bartender. It is a stunning irony that an era flush with exciting new freedoms – the mobility afforded by automobiles, the luxury of hearing a baseball game on the radio, the purchasing power of the average citizen – is remembered more for what you could not do. Big cities pulsated with dazzling sights, sounds, and diversions, and yet Americans were forced underground – often into basements and stockrooms – if they wanted a beer.

This paradox was not overlooked by the people at Carrie Nation.

While the main room is awash in Gatsby-esque splendor, you only need to turn the corner and head toward the long, burgundy curtains at the end of the hall if you want to immerse yourself in the boozy underside of the Roaring Twenties. And you don’t even need a password to get in.

Carrie Nation’s backroom “Cocktail Club” has all the glamour we associate with a speakeasy and, thankfully, little of the reality – no sawdust on the floor, no bathtub gin, no chance of getting busted.

Still, it exudes that shadowy sense of intrigue that we associate with an illicit bar, and it stands as much in contrast to the main restaurant as the illegal bars of the 20s did to their glittering surroundings. Considerably darker and more intimate than the main area, the windowless speakeasy is dimly lit with antique, tassled lamps.

There’s a smaller bar with 13 plush, burgundy chairs.

Ten stools sit opposite the bar, with plenty of shelving for your drinks if you’re hanging around and chewing the fat. Beyond that are large but cozy seating areas, handsomely outfitted with leather couches, loveseats, and chairs.

There are even two pool tables.

Slinking into the speakeasy about a week after my visit to the front room with my coworkers, I grabbed a seat at the bar and was immediately struck by the more casual, laid-back atmosphere. The old-school jazz playing in the dining room gave way to a playlist of 80s music, signaling a shift from the buttoned-down formality of an upscale eatery to the nonchalance of a neighborhood tavern. Case in point – when I declined a food menu, the bartender, Kristina, responded “Just drinks? Good; I like that.”

I could tell right away I was in good hands back here.

Returning to the “Classics” section of the cocktail list, I opted for a drink that dates back to at least 1916 – the Aviation.

"I’ve been drinking those a lot lately,” Kristina mentioned.

I was encouraged to hear this.

Even better – when I said I’d never tried one before, her response was swift and confident: “Ohhhh, I’ll make you a good one.” And that she did.

This mix of Beefeater gin, Maraschino liqueur, crème de violette, and lemon was fantastic. The crème de violette, difficult to find and thus often omitted from modern versions of the drink, was smooth and subtle, lending it a floral essence and a pale blue complexion.

I requested Kristina’s counsel on what I should order next, and she recommended one of the oldest drinks in the book – a Gin Fizz. Made with Tanqueray gin, simple syrup, lime, egg white, and soda, this was a worthy follow-up to the Aviation. The egg white gave it a creamy texture, but the soda countered with a pleasant crispness. A Luxardo cherry served as a classy garnish.

A visit to the speakeasy was the perfect way to round out my Carrie Nation experience. I’d been finding the cocktails a little uneven up until that point; some were really good, while others focused too heavily on bitter ingredients (though in all fairness, I should probably just stop ordering drinks with chartreuse and Punt E Mes, since my reaction is nearly always the same). But the best cocktails were the oldest ones; the no-frills Old Fashioned, along with the Aviation and the Gin Fizz deftly made by Kristina, prove that no matter how dizzying the heights of modern mixology, the classics are sturdy enough to endure anything – Constitutional amendments, passing fads, evolving tastes, the general passage of time.

Even hatchets.

Address: 11 Beacon Street, Boston

Website:http://www.carrienationcocktailclub.com/

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August 30, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

Centre Street Sanctuary

August 30, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

[Note: I'm sorry to say that Centre Street Sanctuary has closed its doors. I'm even more sorry to say that I never made it back for their brunch, which sounded incredible.] Adam Rutstein is grinning, and it’s understandable why. Emerging from the Centre Street Sanctuary’s kitchen on a recent Saturday morning, he’s been testing an updated version of one of the signature items on the brunch menu – the Elvis. The grilled peanut butter, bacon, and banana sandwich already sounds decadently delicious, but Rutstein isn’t entirely satisfied. “We use Teddie peanut butter, and it’s a little dry,” he explains, “so we added bourbon maple vanilla syrup.”

Syrup is only the latest in a long line of creative solutions Rutstein has employed in making his unique bar a reality. Wanting to open a restaurant in Jamaica Plain focused on small-plate comfort food, Rutstein shopped around for properties and found an affordable option in an unlikely spot – the former rectory of the Blessed Sacrament Church, which closed its doors in the mid-2000s.

A church rectory might not be the most conventional of settings for a bar and restaurant, but a good deal is a good deal. And instead of distancing his new venture from the building’s previous function, Rutstein doubled down – he decided to outfit his new bar with reclaimed wood and used furniture from area churches.

So where does one look for used church fixtures? The internet, of course. And in further proof that there’s a market (and a website) for everything, Rutstein found a site called usedpews.org, which connects sellers of used church furniture with prospective buyers (keep this in mind the next time you need an altar for…whatever). Thus began a months-long crusade in which he accumulated pews, stained glass, and a host of other relics from independent sellers throughout the state.

The church pews now serve as benches in the dining area.

Stained glass windows from various local churches flank the bar area. Cabinetry from a church in Charlestown was re-cut and used as shelving in and around the bar.

An old pulpit doubles as the hostess desk.

Only one thing was missing – the bar. And since most churches don’t have bars, finding one that fit the theme wasn’t an option. But in a true case of thinking “outside the box,” Rutstein’s architect spotted a choir box on one of their pilgrimages and said “there’s the bottom of your bar.” With a bit of creative carpentry, it became exactly that.

The wood from the choir box was cut into the bottom portion of the bar, complete with an angular curve that makes for a classic L-shape. For the surface of the bar, they used a couple of 800-pound oak doors found at a lumberyard. The wood was so thick, it had to be cut with a saw normally reserved for slicing cement. Wood leftover from the doors was then used for some of the tables in the bar area.

Although cobbled together from disparate parts, the resulting décor is cohesive, tied together by gleaming hardwood floors and warm, orange-brown walls. It’s an inviting atmosphere; and even though there are no confessionals, you might find yourself opening up after a few strong drinks.

The night before I met with Rutstein, I visited Centre Street Sanctuary with a good-sized crew – my sister Kelly, my cousin Adam and his girlfriend Danielle, and later my other cousin John and his friend Vanessa. We perused the cocktail menu and enjoyed a complimentary bowl of crispy, hand-cut chips.

Centre Street’s drink list is divided into three sections – Sangrias, Drinks, and Martinis and Manhattans. Danielle and Kelly began with two of the sangria options. Danielle’s Nectar of Life was made with white wine, rum, jasmine liqueur, mango puree, orange juice, cranberry juice, and ginger beer. The mango puree stole the show and lent the drink a deep yellow hue.

Kelly’s appropriately named “Short but Sweet” combined port wine, blood orange liqueur, and ginger beer. The port made it a little sweeter than your average sangria, but it was the ginger beer that gave it a truly unusual dimension.

Adam opted for the Mug o’ Grog from the Drinks section – rum, fresh lemon and lime juice, St. Germaine, peach bitters, orange juice, grapefruit juice, and soda water. The citrus components seemed to elevate the already prominent rum flavor, while the St. Germaine softened the drink and lent it a floral essence.

I, of course, headed right for the Martinis and Manhattans and ordered the one with the best moniker – the Drink From the Grave. Presumably named for its blood-like hue, this lugubrious drink was made with Angelica liqueur, Maurin Quina, brandy, triple sec, lemon juice, and bitters. The flavor was deep and complex, with forward notes of cherry and cinnamon from the Maurin and Angelica, respectively.

With the chips long gone and the alcohol gradually making its presence known, we needed a little food while we waited for John and Vanessa. First up was the modestly named “Fries and Gravy.” I say modest because Centre Street should call this what it is – poutine.

Now I don’t use that term lightly or inaccurately, especially given the many poutine imposters served throughout the Boston area. (If someone gives you “poutine” with melted cheese instead of cheese curds, you need to walk away.) But as a veteran of 15 Montreal Jazz Festivals, I feel qualified to call this version authentic. Maybe a strict poutine-ist would quibble with the bacon, but this mix of French fries, brown gravy, cheese curds, and scallions is the real deal. No need to be humble, Centre Street Sanctuary. Your poutine holds its own against the best.

As we devoured the poutine (there, I said it again), we were joined by John and Vanessa. John dove in with the boldly named Drink’s Boss – a mix of amaretto, Kina L’avoin d’or, Cynar, port, cherry bitters, and cola. Led by a powerful punch of amaretto and cherry, it was eerily reminiscent of a Dr. Pepper. A highly potent Dr. Pepper, that is.

Vanessa opted for the Hyde Square Shandy, a seasonally appropriate blend of Sam Summer, lemonade, pomegranate juice, St. Germaine, and grapefruit bitters. Perfect for a summer evening.

Finally, with all of us pew-ed up, it was time for dinner. Centre Street Sanctuary’s food menu features mostly small plates, though there are also steaks and a handful of other entrées, highlighted by a tempting seafood etouffee. Adam and Kelly went the entrée route, with Adam opting for the delicious hand-rolled gnocchi.

Continuing her uneasy truce with seafood, Kelly ordered the fish and chips, which she described as flaky and mild (she meant that as a compliment, though it sounds weak now that I’m writing it).

The rest of us stuck to the small plates. Danielle chose the rather substantial stuffed pepper, filled with quinoa, cheddar, and tomato fondue.

John got three impressive looking sliders, topped with muenster cheese and house-made bacon.

Vanessa got curried mussels, topped with peppers and onions, spiced up with cilantro and coconut milk. A slice of grilled bread on the side added a little crunch.

I went with the duck spring rolls. These were fantastic – crispy on the outside, filled with duck confit, cabbage, onion, and shaved carrot. A spicy Asian BBQ dipping sauce put it over the top.

We wrapped up dinner and ordered another round of drinks. Like Vanessa, Kelly got the Hyde Square Shandy, which was quickly emerging as the hit of the night. Danielle went with the Honey Pot Smash – honey tea bourbon, mint tea simple syrup, lemon juice, and soda water. She found it a little too sweet; no surprise, given her notoriously sour demeanor.

I closed out with the Ward 10 Manhattan – rum, Punt E Mes, simple syrup, chocolate mole bitters, and cherry bitters (they seem uncommonly fond of cherry-infused drinks here). I’d always been curious about rum-based Manhattans, and this was intense and slow-sippin’. While nothing tops a traditional Manhattan for me, I liked this as a change of pace. The chocolate mole bitters worked especially well with the rich sweetness of the rum.

When the check came, I almost expected it to show up on a collection plate. It might have been funny if it had, but one of the things I like about this place is that they don’t beat you over the head with the motif. The focus remains not on the décor but on the food and drink, as it should. I guess even an owner who’s willing to build his own bar out of a choir box knows when something is just good enough.

Closing Hymn

When I think of Jamaica Plain bars, I think small, cozy, and a little quirky. Places like Brandon Behan’s, the Haven, and Tres Gatos come to mind. Even newer entries tend to have a well-worn, neighborhood kind of feel. Centre Street Sanctuary, by contrast, is big, shiny, and new, but owner Adam Rutstein understands the essence of Jamaica Plain establishments. “We just want to be a neighborhood restaurant,” he tells me. “People might look in and think it’s pretentious. It’s not,” he insists. “There’s something on the menu for everybody.”

He’s right. Centre Street Sanctuary feels right at home in JP – good service, good food, and good prices. And any bar with church pews for seating fulfills the quirk quotient.

The drinks were pretty good, though none elicited a Hallelujah chorus. Some of them just had a little too much going on in them. But the Shandy was a favorite among the table, and my Ward 10 Manhattan was complex and intense.

It’s too bad we didn’t avail ourselves of the beer selection, because it’s excellent. There are a dozen draft options, plus many more in bottles, cans, and even “22-Ounce Bombers.” It’s a broad, varied mix of local favorites and microbrews from around the country.

Prices are definitely reasonable. Cocktails ranged from $8 to $10, which is pretty standard. The small plates averaged about $10, and the portions were fairly generous. The entrées were in the $12 to $13 range, which is also not bad.

Oh, and the brunch menu looks fantastic. I don’t typically do brunch reviews (though that’s in the works), but there’s a slew of bloody marys and other tempting brunch cocktails.

Uh, can I get an amen?

Address: 365 Centre Street, Jamaica Plain

Website: http://centrestreetsanctuary.com/

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August 16, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, Somerville

Backbar

August 16, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, Somerville

Sometimes you walk by a bar, peer into its big, picture windows, and think “Oooh, that place looks cool; I should check it out sometime.”

You will never have this experience with Somerville’s Backbar.

Backbar isn’t the sort of establishment one simply happens upon. Even if you’re looking for it, finding Backbar can be a little tricky. You arrive at the address, which is down an alley-like side street in Union Square. The entrance is almost completely unmarked, save for a small, plain sign; if it were any subtler, the owners would have jotted “Backbar” down on a Post-it note and stuck it on the door.

So you spend a minute or two looking around, perplexed, wondering whether you’re in the right place. Finally you pull open the unmarked door, hoping nobody yells “hey dumbass, that’s the service entrance, go around front!”

You then walk down a long, featureless hallway that gives you the impression you’re heading to the HVAC room of an industrial building. At the end of the hallway is a heavy, steel door with a helpfully illuminated “Backbar” sign, so at least you know you’re headed the right way. Still, the door offers no clues as to what lies beyond. Is the place busy? Is it even open? Is it a room full of plumbing and heating equipment?

Rest assured, there is indeed a bar on the other side. But while the interior isn’t nearly as drab as the entrance, it’s not exactly like stepping into Oz, either. Beyond the door is a small, sparsely appointed room with concrete flooring and walls. There’s a small bar with a black surface and eight chairs. Long sectional couches with thin, gray cushions and red pillows surround plain iron tables anchored by blocks of wood.

There are no windows; the only natural light comes in from the glass panels on the ceiling above the bar, and they’re partially painted over. Caged lights hanging from angular metal fixtures add to the industrial effect.

Some cool artwork on the walls and a huge black-and-white mural make the space feel a bit like one of those buildings in South Boston that house art studios.

Honestly, part of me was expecting the owner of the building to storm in, discover that someone had set up a bar in the basement of his property, and say “What the hell is going on in here?”

All told, it’s is a decidedly modest setting for one of the very best cocktail lounges in the Boston area. And whether its minimalism is by design or dictated by the existing space, the scant décor keeps your focus right where it should be – on the drinks.

Backbar’s been concocting some of the finest cocktails in the city since December 2011. I finally got to sample their wares a couple of weeks ago with my sister, Kelly. We arrived early on a Saturday evening, before the small room got packed, and grabbed a couple of seats at the bar. We were treated to a complimentary bowl of Backbar’s signature spicy caramel popcorn, which we promptly devoured while perusing the drink list.

Backbar displays creativity and agility with a cocktail menu that offers modern renderings of lost classics, original creations, and a few rotating specials: a drink of the day, a drink of the week, and a milk punch (!) of the season. And if you’re feeling a little adventurous, there’s the “bartender’s choice” – tell them your spirit and fruit of choice, and they’ll whip up something special just for you.

Our guide for the evening was Joe, a soft-spoken mixologist who, despite making complex drinks for a gradually swelling crowd, managed to find time to explain the composition of each cocktail and offer suggestions if we needed them. Behind him was a collection of potted plants and herbs, from which he’d occasionally pluck leaves for muddling or garnishing drinks. Fresh ingredients are essential to craft cocktails, and it doesn’t get much fresher than that.

Kelly inquired about the drink of the week, which turned out to be something called the Dino’s Downfall. An update of a cocktail known as the Missionary’s Downfall, it was made with pineapple-infused rum, apricot-infused brandy, lime juice, and mint syrup, and gets its “Dino” moniker from the enormous mint leaf used as a garnish. It was a pleasantly fruity drink, tempered by the brandy, with an overall sense of freshness from the mint.

I began with the Barrel-Aged Palmetto. A comparatively simpler drink, Backbar calls this mix of white rum, vermouth, and bitters “a rich, old, rum Manhattan.” Served in a chilled glass, it made for a cool, slow-sippin’ start to the evening.

With Round 1 in the books, Kelly turned next to one of Backbar’s “modern inspirations” – the Pavlovian Response. This mix of Bison Grass vodka, fresh lemon, caraway-infused honey, and muddled Russian sage made for a fresh, herbal cocktail that was most certainly worth drooling over (Pavlov would approve). The caraway contributed an anise-like bitterness that was nicely balanced by the sweet honey. The glass was beautifully garnished with flowers of the Russian sage plant, which added a pleasant, lavender-like aroma.

My next move was the milk punch. Now there’s a good chance you’ve never heard of milk punch before, and an even better chance that you just read those words and said “GROSS” to yourself. I only became aware of it when a mixologist-pal of mine posted a fairly detailed milk punch tutorial on her Instagram account. I’ve been curious about it ever since.

It’s an odd drink, and an old one – there are even recipes proffered by the likes of Ben Franklin. In a nutshell, you make milk punch by heating milk until it curdles and then combining it with liquor and spices; after straining the curds, the resulting mixture barely resembles milk.

While milk punch is enjoying a resurgence among the local cocktail cognoscenti, it’s still a fairly obscure drink…so of course Backbar not only has one on the menu, but even has a rotating milk punch of the season.

Despite all this buildup, I didn’t really love the milk punch. Made with cherry-orange shrubb, bourbon, and lemon juice, it certainly had some bold flavors. But I found it a little too sour for my liking, probably on account of the vinegary shrubb. I’ll give it another shot, though. And since Joe told me the milk punch “of the season” is really more like a milk punch “of the month,” given how quickly they go through the stuff, I’ll soon have another chance.

Now that we were a couple of drinks in, Kelly and I were ready for something a little more substantive than our long-since-exhausted bowl of popcorn. Backbar’s food menu is a lot like the bar’s décor – minimal. No entrees or sandwiches here, just a few snacks, small plates, and some platters, like charcuterie.

The servings are enough to sustain you on your cocktail journey, but they won’t necessarily fill you up. Kelly and I split two small plates. First up was the “Pig & Fig” jam, made with pureed figs and bacon, served with crispy, house-made crackers. The earthy sweetness of the fig paired well with the smoky awesomeness of the bacon, and the seasoned crackers contributed a savory touch.

We followed that with Pork Buns – tender pork belly, topped with daikon slaw (made from a type of Asian radish), wrapped in a soft, doughy, steamed bun. It’s the sort of dish that’s hard to ask for without giggling, but it’s worth it. Sweet, smoky, and spicy, these babies were phenomenal.

Finally it was on to the last round of the evening, and needless to say, we both opted for the bartender’s choice. Joe dutifully inquired about our respective liquors of choice and any types of fruit we favored (or reviled). Kelly expressed a fondness for St. Germaine cocktails, and Joe made her a drink called A Whole New Word – a mix of St. Germaine and jasmine tea-infused gin, served in a chilled glass. (There’s a reason why it was a called Whole New Word instead of Whole New World, but I forget what it was.) Neither Kelly nor I have ever been big fans of tea-infused cocktails; personally, I feel like the tea often dominates the other ingredients. But this was perfectly blended – the tea flavor was delicately balanced with the St. Germaine and the gin.

I told Joe that I’m traditionally a whiskey guy but have been on a rum kick as of late. I didn’t have a strong preference in this case, but I trusted his judgment. He gave it a little thought, cracked some ice, and started mixing and vigorously shaking the mystery ingredients. Then, much to my delight, he retrieved one of the funky ceramic parrots I’d been eyeing all night and presented me with a drink called the Jungle Bird.

This classic Tiki drink combined Jamaican rum, Campari, pineapple juice, lime juice, and sugar. The natural sweetness of the rum and the fruit juices was kept in check by the bitterness of the Campari, making for a refreshing, well-balanced drink. For me, the Jungle Bird was the high point of the night. Then again, anything served in that colorful, bird-shaped cup would have made me pretty happy.

Last Call

As Stephanie Schorow describes in her excellent book Drinking Boston, the local craft cocktail movement didn’t begin in a big, fancy bar in the middle of the city. It started at the now-defunct B-Side Lounge in Cambridge; and before that, in the apartments of a circle of friends who experimented with classic recipes, updated them with the freshest ingredients, and sampled and refined their work until they got it just right.

Nowadays, nearly every bar in the city has a “craft cocktail” menu. And that’s to say nothing of the sleek new cocktail lounges that have opened in recent years, some of which are long on style but short on substance.

In that sense, Backbar recalls those early, formative days of modern craft cocktails, when the whole thing was a smaller, more personal affair. New bars keep increasing in size and grandeur, yet Backbar maintains a humble, unassuming atmosphere. And in an age of relentless marketing and promotion, Backbar is more of a word-of-mouth kind of place. I find this deeply refreshing.

People’s willingness to seek out places like Backbar tells me that whether you run the fanciest bar in Boston or one built in unused basement space, what matters most is the quality of the drinks and the skill of the people making them. There’s no gimmickry here – just an appreciation, shared by staff and discerning patrons, for top-notch, innovative drinks.

Our cocktails were all $10 or $11, which is pretty typical. The Pig & Fig jam was $4, and the Pork Buns (hee hee) were $8; pretty reasonable. You can get a full order of the spicy popcorn for $3 ($8 if you want to add bacon), and the platters, if you’re sharing with a few people, range from $15 to $18. Most enticingly, there are house-made ice cream sandwiches for dessert; regrettably, we passed on those.

Like the ingredients kept behind the bar, the drink list stays very fresh. Even the non-rotating options have changed since I was there, and that was just a couple of weeks ago. But if you have your heart set on drink that isn’t on the list, I’m sure someone can whip it up for you anyway. After all, Backbar is one of those rare establishments where the people behind the bar seem as excited about making cocktails as you are to drink them.

Address: 7 Sanborn Court, Union Square, Somerville

Website: http://backbarunion.com/

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May 31, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

Dueling With an Ancient Spirit – Licor 43

May 31, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, CAMBRIDGE, Events

Every classic cocktail has an origin story. There’s the yarn about Winston Churchill’s mother commissioning the recipe for what would become the Manhattan. There are competing tales about the first Sidecar. Here in Boston, the Ward 8 is thought to have emerged from a particular episode of 19th century backroom politics. Seldom do these stories hold up under scrutiny. Most have benefited from decades’ worth of boozy embellishment and exaggeration, while others are complete fabrications. Even the most plausible should be taken with the proverbial grain of salt.

That’s what happens when a cocktail that was first made a century ago survives through modern times. The older the drink, the taller the tale. But unless you have a great grandfather who claims to have mixed up the first Singapore Sling, historical accuracy isn’t all that important. Colorful legends behind a drink’s conception add a little depth and character, but mostly serve as trivia to share with someone over a potent, well-made beverage.

That said, few legends of liquor are quite as compelling as the one behind Licor 43.

The story of this Spanish liqueur supposedly begins more than 2,000 years ago. In 209 B.C., the Romans captured the city of Quart Hadas – what we now know to be Cartagena, Spain. Amid their conquest, the invading army happened upon a gold-hued, aromatic liquor infused with local fruits and herbs. Despite taking a quick liking to the liquor, the Romans’ suspicions were aroused by its unique flavor, unknown ingredients, and rumors of its unusual properties; thus, they banned its production.

Unsurprisingly, the locals kept making the stuff anyway, but in secret; even less surprisingly, the Romans became increasingly enamored of it, and its popularity grew – if somewhat discreetly – among the Roman elite. They called it Licor Mirabilis – the “marvelous liqueur” – and eventually had it exported to other Mediterranean cities.

The recipe remained a tightly held secret that was passed down through many generations until 1924, when it was purchased by a Spanish family with the surname “Zamora.” They eventually rechristened the spirit “Cuarenta Y Tres,” or Licor 43. The name derives from the number of ingredients that constitute the liqueur, and apparently only three people – from three generations of the Zamora family – currently know the recipe.

Maybe you’re captivated by the story, or perhaps you’re more inclined to raise an eyebrow at historical plot holes being glossed over for the purposes of a modern marketing campaign. But again, the accuracy of a back story is much less important than the quality of its subject. And Licor 43, with its rich, amber hue, warm vanilla essence, and surprising notes of citrus, is worthy of a tale or two.

Licor 43 is still made in Cartagena today, and while the Zamora family doesn’t want anyone to know what’s in their product, they’d be appreciative if more people knew about their product. “Never heard of it” is the response I get whenever I mention this stuff to someone. Our ignorance is understandable; while the liqueur is not new to the U.S., the vast majority of its sales have historically been in Europe, with a particular concentration in Spain (obviously) and Germany. What’s more, the flavor profile of Licor 43 was thought to be challenging to mix with other ingredients; so even in bars that carried it, the bottles tended to collect dust on a back shelf.

All of that’s changing. Sales of Licor 43 are growing all over the world, with a landmark 500,000 cases being moved in 2011 (just to put the global market in perspective, Captain Morgan sold 10 million cases last year). And in 2012, the Zamora family partnered with W.J. Deutsch to improve distribution in the U.S. – where, as you might have noticed, specialty cocktails have become all the rage.

So how do you spread the word about an ancient liqueur that’s been shunned or forgotten by most bartenders? Easy. Gather up six of Boston’s top mixologists, give them some Licor 43, and ask them to do what they do best – create drinks. Oh, and just to make things…interesting? Put a little money on it.

That’s exactly what went down at the “Tonight’s Secret Ingredient” bartender contest, a cocktail death match hosted by Moksa Restaurant in Cambridge. The rules were simple – come up with a drink that incorporates Licor 43, submit it for the appraisal of the judging panel, and make a bunch of samples for a small but thirsty crowd of spectators. Winners get cash prizes and local bragging rights. Losers get their drinks thrown in their faces by disgusted judges and suffer the scathing taunts of their peers.

Before the throwdown got under way, attendees were treated to passed hors d’oeuvres and a couple of Licor 43-based drinks. First up was the Mini Beer – 1.5 ounces of Licor 43 in the world’s smallest beer stein, topped with a splash of heavy cream to mimic a foamy head. The result looks exactly as its name would imply – like a mini beer – but any similarity ended there. The sweetness and texture of the cream were perfectly suited to the vanilla flavor of the liqueur, making for a small but decadent liquid appetizer.

That was followed by the Key Lime Pie Martini, the name of which gave me a shivery flashback to the plague of pseudo-martinis that we had to endure a few years ago (I’m getting nauseous just thinking about the tiramisu martini I once sampled). It’s exactly the sort of drink I’d never order, let alone trumpet on my website, so I’m glad it was free – because it was sinfully good. The flavor was so eerily similar to actual key lime pie that I assumed there must be some hideous, bright green, chemically induced additive, but no. The drink was a fairly basic mix of Licor 43, vodka, half and half, and lime juice. I still can’t imagine asking a bartender for this, but if someone were to purchase one on my behalf, you know…I suppose I’d be OK with it.

As the crowd’s anticipation and inebriation swelled, the master of ceremonies announced that the contest was finally about to begin. The judges, Fred Yarm (author of Drink & Tell: A Boston Cocktail Book), Heather Kleinman (Executive Editor of DrinkSpirits.com), and Jerry Knight (Director of Marketing at Deutsch Family Wine & Spirits), took their places at a table on the stage. Their dour expressions cast a pall over the room; I would not want to be the bartender who served them an inferior drink.

The champions, meanwhile, were split into three groups of two opponents each – in other words, three mano a mano duels for the right to advance to the finals. The first two combatants paced anxiously behind the bar, each guarding their ingredients like a tiger protecting her young.

The first contestant was Taso Papatsoris from Casa B in Somerville. His drink, called Jardin Dorado, combined Licor 43 with gin, a Spanish sherry, Angostura bitters, and pimento bitters. It was a splendid cocktail. The gin provided a dry backdrop for the vanilla and citrus of the Licor 43 and the nutty flavor of the sherry. Garnished with an orchid, this may have been the most beautifully presented of all the evening’s drinks.

On the other end of the bar was Jason Kilgore of Catalyst in Cambridge. Whereas Taso’s drink had a light, floral essence, Jason’s “Three of a Perfect Pair” was heavier and more intense. This one mixed Licor 43 with gin, rye whiskey, freshly made rhubarb syrup, lemon juice, and a barspoon of Fernet Branca. I thought whiskey and gin sounded like a fearsome combo, but the vanilla notes softened the flavor, and the rhubarb syrup contributed an earthy sweetness.

Each bartender approached the stage and made his case to the judges, who sampled the concoctions and took some notes. And with that, Round 1 was officially in the books. Round 2 pitted Amber Schumaker, from Eastern Standard, against Oronde Popplewell, defending his home turf of Moksa.

As if the evening’s stakes weren’t high enough already, Amber had the added challenge of filling in at the last minute for Eastern Standard’s Kevin Martin. Though she was working with someone else’s recipe and had little time to prepare for battle, Amber rose to the occasion with the Verano Deseen – Licor 43, lime juice, Amaro Nonino, rye whiskey, and Regan’s orange bitters. The flavor of the rye and the sweetness of the Licor 43 were up front in this one. Beyond that, the Amaro gave the drink even more depth, while the lime and orange flavors ensured that the Verano Deseen lived up to its name – it translates to “Summer Wish.”

I asked Amber why she chose rye over bourbon, and she met my query with a stony glare. “You don’t bring a knife to a gunfight, son,” she growled.

Her opponent, Oronde, whipped up one of the stranger-looking cocktails of the evening. The Straw Ox combined Cachaça, Licor 43, strawberry vinegar, lemon juice, and simple syrup, and was topped with “Licor 43 Foam,” which looked like a glob of Cool Whip. I moved in to ask what it was, but Oronde’s eyes told me not to even bother.

With its pale violet glow and cryptic garnish, the cocktail was as intriguing in appearance as it was in taste, though there was a mild sourness that I didn’t care for.

As Amber and Oronde appealed to the judges, the Round 3 champions moved into place. Josh Taylor of West Bridge (which sounds like a town, or maybe a specialty furniture store, but is actually a cool-looking restaurant in Cambridge) created the aptly named Backyard Cocktail, a summery mix of Licor 43, rhubarb shrub, fresh strawberry and lime juices, and club soda.

Sam Gabrielli of Russell House Tavern countered with 43 Elephants, a drink that mixed Licor 43 with Amarula, Fernet Branca, an egg white, and Angostura bitters. If Josh’s Backyard Cocktail captured the flavors of summer, Sam’s evoked more of a wintry mood. Amarula, an African cream liqueur with hints of caramel, matched well with the vanilla notes in the Licor 43, and the egg white further enhanced the drink’s creamy texture.

Six up, six down; now it was up to the judges to decide who would continue in the tournament. Music played, guests mingled, and more Licor 43 Mini Beers and Key Lime Pie Martinis got passed around.

The frivolity of the crowd was in stark contrast to the savagery on the other side of the bar – jittery contestants snarling at one another, heaving appalling insults, and hurling accusations of ingredient tampering. Clearly, these people didn’t like each other.

Suddenly a hush fell over the room as the judges delivered their verdict – Sam Gabrielli, Oronde Popplewell, and Josh Taylor would advance to the finals, while the bell tolled for Taso, Amber, and Jason. The crowd erupted, a mix of delighted applause and hateful jeers. Before returning to the bar to make their drinks one more time, the three remaining warriors solemnly raised barspoons to their vanquished foes – a time-honored gesture of respect among those in the cocktail trade.

As the now restive crowd settled in for another grueling wait, the mood turned dark. Alliances shifted among the spectators, and loyalties were openly questioned. A woman approached me and asked if I was “Team Josh, Team Oronde, or Team Sam.” I laughed. She didn’t.

Whispered accusations of intimidation and bribery caused some to question the honor of the finalists. “The guy from Catalyst got screwed!” yelled the guy from Catalyst. The smoldering look on Amber’s face made me wonder whether her earlier knife/gunfight remark was a metaphor or a warning.

As the simmering hostility approached a full, violent boil, the microphone crackled with the voice of the emcee – the judges were ready to crown a winner.

Silence descended again upon the expectant crowd, punctuated occasionally by isolated gasps and muttered prayers. The bell tolled first for Sam, who ushered his 43 Elephants back to Russell House Tavern. It rang again for Moksa’s Oronde and his Straw Ox. That left Josh Taylor of West Bridge to raise his Backyard Cocktail in triumph amid a deafening ovation.

Josh’s victory was richly deserved. He got a handsome cash prize while those of us in attendance were treated to another round of his award-winning cocktail. And while all the drinks were impressive, I’d have to concur with the judges – this was the drink of the night. The vanilla of the Licor 43 paired beautifully with the strawberry juice, while the rhubarb shrub kept it from being overly sweet. The lime juice further brought out the citrus notes of the Licor 43, and the club soda introduced just the right amount of dryness. Positively refreshing, and ideal for a backyard barbecue on a hot summer day.

Victory belonged to Josh, but the night belonged to Licor 43. Whether this very old spirit will become the latest thing, I don’t know. Nor can I say whether its fascinating origin story is true (but if there really are only three people who know the recipe, I hope at least one of them has the good sense to jot it down at some point). But even if its history has merged with legend, the liqueur’s quality requires no exaggeration.

Nor does an event like this – even though I may have added a few teensy-weensy embellishments in my retelling. In truth, the night had the tone of a friendly competition, and not a drop of blood was spilled (that I know of). Personally, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to watch six cocktail experts at work. It was especially instructive to see the similarities and differences in how they approached a given ingredient, and each cocktail was distinct in its composition and presentation.

If you want to try your hand at making the winning drink, the recipe follows.

The Backyard Cocktail, crafted by Josh Taylor of West Bridge in Cambridge

1 1⁄2 oz Licor 43

3⁄4 oz Rhubarb Shrub

1⁄2 oz Fresh Strawberry Juice

1⁄2 oz Fresh Lime Juice

Club Soda

Combine the Licor 43, rhubarb shrub, strawberry juice, and lime juice and shake lightly. Strain into a highball glass over ice. Top with club soda and serve with a straw.

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March 15, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

Forum

March 15, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

The Back Bay is quite possibly the most fashionable neighborhood in Boston. Successful Bostonians occupy the historic brownstones. Visiting celebrities stay in the Back Bay’s 5-star hotels. Professional athletes dine in the neighborhood’s fancy restaurants. Tourists and locals alike flock to the high-end shops and boutiques that line Newbury Street. Of course, the Back Bay draws more than just tourists and the well-to-do; and when it comes to food and drink in the area, there’s something for every taste and budget. But the heavy hitters, unsurprisingly, are the ones that reflect and cater to the Back Bay’s affluence and glamour.

That said, it would be easy to make assumptions about Forum.

Without a doubt, it looks like the sort of upscale, trendy lounge that would be right at home among the Back Bay’s most attractive and exclusive destinations. Leather couches and armchairs overlook Boylston Street through floor-to-ceiling windows. A white brick wall adorned with artwork from local galleries stands in sharp relief to the sleek, dark, wooden walls and hardwood floor, all softly illuminated by chandeliers from above and recessed floor lighting from below. Metal racks suspended above the bar display top-shelf liquors in between flat-screen TVs – modern amenities amid a tasteful minimalism.

But beyond Forum’s trendy aesthetics is a refreshing sense of depth, personality, and casual charm. Granted, it’s not the kind of place you’d stumble into late at night for one last PBR before you catch the T. But it’s also devoid of the pretension you might expect of a contemporary Back Bay bar.

Upscale but approachable, Forum occupies two floors and offers its guests the best of both worlds – a vibrant bar scene downstairs, an intimate dining atmosphere upstairs. While the first floor has a lounge area in the front and a few tables for dining, the highlight is the massive, angular, island bar. Candles along the dark wood of the surface cast a warm glow, and the 45 cushioned chairs surrounding the bar ensure that even on a Saturday night, getting a seat isn’t too difficult.

Such was the case when I visited last weekend. There were about 20 people at the bar when I arrived around 7 p.m., but given how spacious it is, it didn’t feel terribly crowded.

I began perusing the cocktail list, which is divided into three sections – one with some Forum originals, one with house-infused liquors, and a handful of timeless classics. As usual, I was immediately drawn to the latter, and got things under way with a drink I’ve always yearned to try – a Blood & Sand. Named for a 1920s-era bullfighting movie, this mix of Dewar’s scotch, cherry liqueur, sweet vermouth, and blood orange made for an exceptional blend of dry, sweet, and tart flavors.

Sipping my Blood & Sand, I looked over Forum’s menu, which is composed primarily of new and traditional American cuisine – plenty of steak and seafood options, with a few mouthwatering standouts like lobster ricotta gnocchi. But it was the bevy of interesting “starters” that really caught my eye, with options that are considerably more fun and inventive than what you might expect in an area known for its fairly conservative dinner menus. I debated offerings as varied as short rib dumplings, hog wings, and duck confit puff pastry before settling on prosciutto-wrapped scallops. Now, I’m something of a connoisseur of bacon-wrapped scallops (if I were ever offered a last meal, they’d be the first course). But I’d never had them wrapped in prosciutto, and this was a simple yet inspired twist. These babies were delicious and surprisingly filling.

I could have stayed at the downstairs bar all night. The friendly bartenders, the steady soundtrack of classic rock, and the general energy of the bar area combined to create a lively atmosphere. Plus, I was intrigued by the beer setup. I saw that Forum wisely uses generic black tap handles instead of colorful brand taps, which would stand out amid the mostly black-and-white color scheme. More interesting, though, were the towers that housed the taps. They looked like they were made of a white ceramic, which again would fit the décor. But upon closer inspection, I discovered they were actually coated in ice.

I knew a beer coming through those lines had to be mighty cold. As if that isn’t awesome enough, one of the bartenders told me that when they take pint glasses out of the dishwasher, they stand them by the icy towers so that they can properly cool before being put back into circulation.

For this, Forum gets my undying respect; one of my biggest bar-related pet peeves is when a cold beer is poured into a glass still radiating with the heat of the dishwasher. Bravo, Forum.

But I digress. As much as I was enjoying the downstairs vibe, I could no longer resist the allure of the cool, illuminated staircase that led to the second floor. Those frosted taps would have to wait.

The same atmosphere of casual elegance that characterizes the first floor continues at the top of the stairs, where you’ll pass by a glass display that holds a portion of Forum’s 1,300 wines. Upstairs is where you’ll find Forum’s beautifully appointed dining room, along with an eight-seat martini bar.

It was only about 8 p.m. or so, and while the dining area was gradually filling up, the upstairs bar was empty. I shifted to the “Forum Fusions” side of the cocktail list and ordered a drink called Larceny. This wintry cocktail was made with Larceny bourbon infused with apples, cinnamon, allspice, and cloves, blended with vanilla cinnamon syrup and apple juice, and garnished with an apple slice. The spiced apple and vanilla flavors were bold and prominent, making this a good seasonal choice for a cold night.

I got talking with the bartender, Matt, who, in addition to being a nice guy with a very cool name, clearly had an expansive knowledge of cocktail composition an obvious pride in making quality drinks. He asked me if I had a preferred liquor or cocktail, and I described my fondness for whiskey and Manhattans. He then proceeded to whip up one of the most inventive variations of a Manhattan I’ve ever encountered. It was made with Old Overholt rye whiskey, Campari, sweet vermouth, and most intriguingly, a liqueur called Root – a pre-Prohibition-era spirit that ultimately evolved into root beer. It would have been lost to the ravages of time and the temperance movement were it not for an enterprising artists’ group in Pennsylvania that re-created it.

Now distilled in California, it’s a liqueur made with allspice, anise, and a host of other herbs and spices; and yes, it has a natural root beer taste, too. It made for a remarkable addition to my cocktail. Oh, and on top of all that? Chocolate mole bitters. Matt explained that this wasn’t his recipe but that of a mentor of his, but I wasn’t even listening anymore. I was just enjoying this incredibly complex drink.

Emerging from my reverie, I mentioned that I was also into gin, and after discussing the merits of various brands, Matt mixed me a a Corpse Reviver #2, made with gin, lemon juice, Cointreau, and Lillet, in an absinthe-coated glass. The anise flavor of absinthe, which I’m ordinarily not a huge fan of, was subtle, and it contributed nicely to the drink’s tartness. We both lamented the fact that while some classic drinks become trendy again, others, like the Corpse Reviver #2, exist only in the pages of a dusty recipe book beneath a bar. Stoddard’sis one of the few places in Boston where I’ve seen it available; it isn’t even on Forum’s menu.

Although I was still full from the scallops I’d had downstairs, I felt I’d be remiss if I didn’t try one more appetizer – the stuffed meatball. I figured the only way a ball of meat could be exceeded in its inherent awesomeness is by stuffing it with cheese. This mammoth meatball was made of pork, beef, and veal, and was stuffed with ricotta. I could try to describe it further, but either you’re already drooling or you’re a vegetarian.

I returned very briefly a few days later, because there was no way I could skip a beer from those icy taps. Forum’s dozen draft beers consist mostly of standards like Guinness and Sam Adams, along with some regional microbrews like Clown Shoes and Wormtown.

The bartender who served me was named Dave, and in the course of about two minutes, he excitedly told me about the variety of Forum’s beer list, their efforts to maintain the tap lines, how regularly they swap out the kegs, the frosted towers, and how they keep their beers at the proper temperatures. And he graciously noted that despite Forum’s efforts to serve quality beer in the best way possible, I could get a High Life for $3. If Matt upstairs was the craft cocktail guy, Dave seemed like the beer guy.

Quickly perusing the beer list, I saw that they had something from Harpoon’s Leviathan series, which I’d previously tried at the Harpoon Brewery Beer Hall . So I asked, “What Harpoon Lev-“

I didn’t even finish saying “-iathan” before he had a sample of the Imperial IPA in front of me. Sure enough, the beer was ice cold. The fact that Forum keeps their glasses chilled in a freezer beneath the bar didn’t hurt, either.

It was about 5 p.m. on a Wednesday, and there were only a few customers at that point. So as I sipped my beer, I listened while Dave talked about all things Forum – the food, the drinks, the beers, the music, the prices, the clientele, the management, the atmosphere, you name it. The funny thing? I hadn’t even told him I was writing about Forum for BBH. He just seemed genuinely excited about the place.

That sort of enthusiasm can be infectious, and you don’t find it just anywhere. Yet in an area with so many attractive destinations, it’s just one more way that Forum distinguishes itself.

Last Call

The owners of Forum also run The Tap, which is a beer bar near Faneuil Hall, and Griddler’s, a burger and hot dog joint on Cambridge Street. Both are pretty casual, to say the least. And maybe that would help explain why such an upscale-looking place in the Back Bay has such a down-to-earth soul.

Regardless, Forum is equal parts comfortable and elegant. And in an area of town where cocktail lists rarely get more daring than martinis and cosmos, Forum’s drinks are innovative, authentic, and fun.

The prices are pretty decent. Entrées cost a little less than what you’ll find nearby, and the appetizers are not only fairly priced – $8 to $16 – but come in surprisingly large portions. Cocktails are fairly typical at $10 to $12, and draft beers are eminently reasonable at $5 and $6.

The beer offerings rotate pretty frequently, and the cocktail list has already changed since I was there; so take all my reviews with a grain of salt. But if Forum maintains the same fresh, inventive approach to their cocktails, you can count on their drinks being among the best on Boylston Street. And as long as the ice doesn’t thaw on those taps, they’ll have the coldest beer in town.

Address: 755 Boylston Street, Boston

Website:http://www.forumboston.com/

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March 8, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, CAMBRIDGE

Park

March 8, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, CAMBRIDGE

A softly lit, basement-level room in Harvard Square. Exposed brick ceilings and a dark, aged-looking hardwood floor dotted with area rugs. Leather-upholstered furniture. Maps and chalkboards on the walls. Bookshelves lined with literary classics. If there were a tweed jacket hanging on a doorknob and a hint of pipe tobacco in the air, the setting might be the office of a distinguished professor at one of the preeminent universities in the world. But while the décor might recall the rigorous pursuit of academia, the most esoteric conversation you’ll have at Park will probably be about the exotic-sounding ingredients in some of their drinks, or maybe one of their excellent craft beers.

The same people who run the nearby Russell House Tavern opened Park last year, and there are plenty of happy similarities – a moderate-sized list of well-conceived cocktails, a killer beer list, and a menu of comfort food classics that are creatively updated and beautifully presented. Its subterranean location even recalls the downstairs area of Russell House. But where the latter feels like a cool, upscale lounge, Park is more akin to a cozy den, replete with floor lamps, leather couches and armchairs, even a fireplace.

The intimate atmosphere extends over a deceptively large space, which is divided into four areas. There’s the dining room, with big red leather seats and long wooden tables.

There's a fireplace in the classroom, and the walls are covered with maps and chalkboards.

The appropriately named “den” is where you’ll find that comfortable furniture and the bookshelves.

And there’s a back room that’s…well, a back room, but with cool circular booths.

Each area has its own slightly different atmosphere, though it’s all tied together by vintage photos and artwork on the walls.

At the center is a large, horseshoe bar that accommodates 20 to 30 drinkers who have an impressive selection of cocktails and microbrews to choose from. That’s where Melissa and I started when we came in for drinks and an early dinner on a recent Saturday.

Our evening began with cocktails, and Park’s list doesn’t disappoint. Mel opened with the 1919, which she ordered in honor of the birth year of two of her late grandparents. It was a potent mix of rye whiskey, rum, Punt e Mes, Benedictine, and most intriguingly, mole bitters (as in the sauce used in Mexican cuisine, not the rodent). Personally, I’m not a fan of Punt e Mes, a bitter vermouth, but the drink overall was bold and complex.

What I am a big fan of is rum, which was paramount in my Private Dancer, made with amber rum, lime juice, Melete Amaro, allspice dram, and Velvet Felernum (a sweet syrup; and yes, I had to look several of those ingredients up). While Mel derided it as a “sophisticated chick drink,” I did at least manage to finish it; the 1919 ultimately proved too much for a certain someone.

Our attention turned to the dinner menu, which is composed largely of traditional American cuisine with some fresh innovations. Nowhere is this more apparent than on the appetizer menu, which has playful entries such as the “Bacon 3-Way.” As we perused the options, our waitress brought over a plate of Vermont cheddar cheese topped with a port wine reduction and the biggest, most elaborate crackers I’ve ever seen. Cheese and crackers just don’t get fancier than this.

We ultimately settled on the charming “Tasting of Toast.” Elegantly served on a wooden board were six pieces of toasted cocktail bread with three varieties of toppings: duck pastrami with whole-grain mustard and pickled shallot; cheddar and apple butter; and chilled crab and cucumber salad. All three were delicious, but be warned – the toppings don’t adhere all that well to the bread, as Mel discovered when her crab and cucumber salad slipped from the toast and plummeted unceremoniously to the floor. The five-second rule, of course, does not apply in bars.

The bar area was quickly getting crowded as we wrapped up our toast tasting, so we moved to a table for dinner. We were seated in the den area, and there the cocktails continued. I ordered the Fireside Poet, no relation to the summery Wandering Poet at the Parish Cafe. Maybe I have a soft spot for drinks that evoke my English degree, but this mix of bourbon, Creole Shrubb, Santa Maria al Monte, maraschino syrup, and whiskey barrel-aged bitters was easily my favorite drink of the night.

Mel’s choice was the Sheldon Highball, which, like so many of Park’s drinks, was made with a bunch of things I had to look up – Cynar (a bitter liqueur), Becherovka (a gingery liqueur of Czech origins), Barenjager (a honey liqueur), house-made ginger beer, and lemon juice. On the heels of the bitter 1919, the Sheldon Highball was especially bright and vibrant; the house-made ginger beer wasn’t too sweet, and the lemon juice gave it an unexpected zing.

Finally we made our way to the entrée menu. Amid a broad offering of reinvented classics, what truly stands out is Park’s “meat pie of the day,” served with mushy peas. I’d love to report back on this fun, unique offering, but for better or worse, my eyes never made it past the top item on the menu – slow-roasted brisket served with white bean cassoulet and caramelized vegetables. Fork-tender, almost like stew beef, the brisket was bursting with flavor and practically melted in my mouth.

Melissa opted for the phenomenal chickpea-lentil burger, which was spicy and rich. As a carnivore and burger purist, I typically only consume veggie burgers under duress. This one, I would actually order for myself – which, respectfully, is the highest honor I can bestow upon a burger not made of meat.

We were pretty well satisfied after dinner, but I couldn’t leave without trying something from Park’s top-notch beer list. There are about a dozen or so microbrews on draft, plus a cask option, and a similarly eclectic selection of bottles and cans. I chose the locally brewed Portico Sett Seven Scotch Ale, which I’d been curious about since seeing it on draft at Flash’s Cocktails. Dark, complex, and smooth, it was a fine way to round out the evening.

Of course, with a beer selection Park’s, it’s a shame to only try one. So I returned a few nights later to check out a couple more options. I was giddy to learn that the cask option was one of my favorites – Ipswich Oatmeal Stout. But as the bartender started pouring it, he noticed that it seemed a little “off” and might be the dregs of the cask (they change it every Thursday). He gave me a sample so I could judge for myself, but he was right. Disappointed as I was to miss out on the cask offering, I really appreciated the bartender’s warning; he could have just poured me a glass and I’d have thought “ugh, Ipswich on cask really sucks!” Instead I ordered the Boulder Beer Company’s Mojo IPA on nitro, one of Park’s most recent arrivals. Crisp, dry, and smooth, with a creamy head, it tasted as good as it looked.

I then challenged myself to inquire about the Thunderhole Brown Ale without giggling or snickering about the name (I failed). Kindly overlooking my immaturity, the bartender described it as lighter than most brown ales and suggested I might prefer something more traditional – St. Botolph’s Town, a “rustic” brown ale from the ever popular, Somerville-based tenant brewers, Pretty Things. He gave me a sample before I committed, and it was excellent.

The bar was much quieter on my weekday visit than it was on Saturday night (in other news, the sky is blue). It gave me a chance to look around a bit, and there’s plenty of neat little historical oddities, like old typewriters, sewing machines, and lots of photos from the 60s and 70s on the wall. And I noticed that the tap handles are affixed to a reclaimed iron plumbing pipe, similar to what I recently encountered at Granary Tavern.

I also had an opportunity to speak with Justin, the manager, and of course I had to ask about the name of the bar. Why Park? He told me the bar is named for the Harvard Square parking garage, with which it shares space in the lower, basement level. A most inauspicious muse, in my opinion. But Justin explained that in an area with so many bars and restaurants, the people behind Park wanted it to be a place where you could go for drinks and stay for a great meal, and thus park yourself for the night. Fair enough! I’ll be sure to park here again.

Last Call

With a beer list that’s not only expansive but constantly in flux, Park is well suited to a busy, eclectic neighborhood like Harvard Square. The beer selections rotate often, and a new cask is tapped every Thursday. The dinner menu shifts periodically as well, and even the cocktail list had changed in the few days since I’d been there.

Prices are pretty standard, even a little low in some cases. Our Tasting of Toast was reasonably priced at $10, and sandwiches and entrées range from $10 to $23. The drinks were $10 and $11, and the beers cost what you’d expect for such a diverse selection – $5 to $9 for the draft brews.

Even with so many options in Harvard Square, Park’s a pretty popular place. On Saturday the bar filled up within minutes of the doors opening, though the space is big enough that the crowd wasn’t overwhelming. And while the exposed brick and wood on the walls and ceiling make for an attractive décor, they also result in some pretty rough acoustics; you might struggle to be heard when it’s busy. But on my weeknight visit, things were much calmer – ideal for sitting at the bar and having someone knowledgeable recommend a good beer.

Address: 59 JFK Street, Cambridge

Website:http://parkcambridge.com/

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March 1, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

Flash's Cocktails

March 1, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

UPDATE: I'm sorry to report that Flash's Cocktails closed a few weeks back. No reason was given. Those of us who loved it will miss it terribly. If you never went, I hope you'll read this post anyway; I think you'll agree that the city lost a true gem.

If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to start this week’s post on a personal note. Today is the 1-year anniversary of Boston BarHopper’s first official post. The ensuing year has been a journey marked by exploration, experimentation, and meeting new people, and I’d like to thank everyone who’s been part of it. Maybe you told me about a bar I should check out, waited patiently while I photographed your food and drink, edited a post or a picture, helped me resolve a technical issue, asked me where you should take your friend from out of town, made me a fantastic cocktail, subjected yourself to an interview, shared one of my posts on Facebook or Twitter, gave me a push when I was lacking in motivation, or simply visited my site and read a few posts. Your contribution may have been great or small, obvious or unheralded; but it was not unnoticed. I’m afraid I lack the skill to adequately convey my heartfelt appreciation. Instead, I’ll just promise you another year’s worth of drinks, discoveries, and shenanigans, and I would be honored if you would join me.

With that in mind, the circumstances surrounding the subject of this week’s post seem rather fortuitous. Because after a year of visiting all manner of fun bars, from humble dives to glitzy trendsetters, there is still no greater pleasure for me than wandering into a bar I know nothing about, having no expectations, and finding myself utterly surprised and completely charmed.

I stopped by Flash’s Cocktails on a whim – in part to find out whether it even existed. I’d never been there and didn’t know anyone who had. When I’d mention it to people, I’d invariably get a quizzical look and the same comment: “Never heard of it.” The only reason I’d ever “heard” of the place is because it would periodically show up when I was looking for something on Google Maps and clicked on “Search nearby.” That’s actually how I ended up there on a recent Tuesday evening after work: I was headed to another bar that wasn’t far from this semi-mythical Flash’s Cocktails, and I figured I’d at least do a walk-by.

Not that I had terribly high hopes for the place. I’d looked it up online, and while there was a respectable drink list, the red and blue colors of the website seemed kind of kitschy – more 1950s diner than modern cocktail bar. But I was in the area and had a little time to kill before my next stop, so I poked my head in to see whether it would make for a good post someday.

I never made it to the other bar.

Upon walking in, I was warmly hailed by the bartender, and I’m pretty sure she called me dude; I should have known right then that I was there for the night. And my surroundings were not at all what I’d expected. My all-too-hasty glance at the website, coupled with the retro font of the neon sign outside, made me think I’d encounter black and white tiled floors, a bar that looked like a lunch counter, and loud colors throughout. Like a Johnny Rockets with a liquor license. Instead I found the interior to be entirely contemporary – fairly basic in its layout and décor, but comfortable and attractive nonetheless.

There’s a horseshoe bar with about 20 seats, along with 10 or so tables in a room that feels small but is in fact fairly spacious. Large windows look out onto the streets of the Back Bay. Lights above the bar and strung along the walls create a cool glow, and funky artwork on the walls gives the place a very modern vibe.

It was about 6 p.m., and things were quiet; only 10 people or so. As I found a seat and gathered myself, I overheard the bartender singing along to a Third Eye Blind song that was playing. A small detail, I know; but when the next song started and was abruptly skipped in favor of another, I realized the evening’s soundtrack was coming from the bartender’s iPhone. It made for a very casual, comfortable atmosphere, almost like having drinks at a friend’s house (a friend who makes really great drinks, that is; and then makes you pay for them).

I quickly began sizing up the cocktail menu, which was both extensive and conveniently organized into categories such as Classic Cocktails, Straight Up, Frozen, On the Rocks, Bubbles, and Smashing. This being no more than a scouting mission, I aimed to keep things simple, and opted for a Sazerac. The bartender seemed delighted to make it, professing a fondness for the New Orleans classic, and proceeded to whip up a strictly traditional version with Old Overholt Rye, Peychaud’s bitters, and sugar in an absinthe-rinsed glass, capped off with a perfect lemon twist.

Impressed as I was with the drink, I still wasn’t planning on staying at Flash’s. Not that I was in a hurry; it was a snowy, rainy night, and I figured there’d be no harm in downing a beer before venturing out into the elements. The draft beer selection was small but impressive, populated solely by well-chosen microbrews – local favorites like Slumbrew, Jack’s Abby, and Portico, along with some excellent choices from California, like Lagunitas Cappuccino Stout and Backlash. The highlight was the hard-to-find Founders Breakfast Stout, which I’d previously sampled at Stoddard’s. That’s what I chose, and again the bartender again endorsed my selection. A robust beer with a coffee flavor that was subtle and not overpowering, it would serve to fortify me against the cold outside.

But as the Sazerac and the beer worked their not-so-subtle charms on me, and the bar’s eclectic playlist shifted among 90s hits, alternative, and classic rock (with liberal song skipping), my other plans gradually began diminishing in importance.

Then a funny thing happened. I’m sure you can relate to the experience of having a really obscure song stuck in your head, something you haven’t heard in years. Well, all day, my internal iPod had Jimi Hendrix’s version of “Mannish Boy,” from the posthumous “Blues” album, playing on repeat. The 1994 album is a hodgepodge of previously unreleased live tracks and studio outtakes, and unless you’re more than a casual Hendrix fan, it’s probably not in your collection. Even if it is, you could be forgiven for overlooking track 6. But there was “Mannish Boy,” on a loop in my mind. And guess what the next song at Flash’s was…

Needless to say, I wasn’t going anywhere else.

I got chatting with the bartender, Laura, who seemed as interested in my notebook-scribbling and picture-taking as I was in the cocktail list, particularly some of the traditional entries. I noticed that their Manhattan was made with Jim Beam, of all things. Now, I appreciate an adherence to classic ingredients, but Jim Beam seemed a little…austere. That led to a conversation about whiskeys and bourbons and what works best in a Manhattan; and whenever I find myself in a discussion like that, it’s fair to say I’m having an engaging evening (though she scoffed at my preference for Maker’s). So I asked Laura to make me one according to her preferred specifications, and I was rewarded with a fantastic Manhattan with Bulleit bourbon and both sweet and dry vermouth. She even wrote down the ingredient measurements in my notebook.

Since I was staying, that meant I was eating. The dinner menu isn’t terribly extensive, mostly a small collection of some sturdy comfort foods – burgers, mac and cheese, and a few other standards. Laura insisted I try Flash’s signature item, the fried chicken sandwich, with chipotle aioli and a side of garlic fries. The sandwich was delicious; crispy on the outside, topped with Swiss and cheddar cheese and bacon, with a nice kick provided by the chipotle aioli. It was a little dry on the inside, but I didn’t care. And the garlic fries stole the show.

Along with that I got the Slumbrew Attic & Eaves, a toasted brown ale, which Laura called her favorite (I think she has a lot of favorites; I can relate). It was a dark, nutty beer that paired well with the spicy sandwich and made for a satisfying conclusion to the evening.

I returned the following Saturday, on yet another raw, rainy night. I was pleased to again find Laura steering the ship and ordered up one of the oldest and most classic cocktails there is – an Old Fashioned. It’s a drink that’s been unnecessarily and unfortunately embellished over the years, but Flash’s version is refreshingly simple. I’d never had one served with crushed ice, which made for a nice variation.

Next up was a Singapore Sling – a mix of gin, cherry brandy, Cointreau, Benedictine, lime, orange, and pineapple juice. For the first time, Laura’s response to my order seemed more diplomatic than enthusiastic. She graciously pronounced the drink “very fruity and delightful,” but I know a polite smile when I see one. Just the same, I was pleased with my choice. The Singapore Sling was like a Mai Tai made with gin instead of rum, so it had an unexpected dryness amid the pineapple and citrus flavors.

Having mowed down most of the “Classic” drink list, I asked Laura to recommend something from one of the other categories. She suggested the Cucumber Smash, which I’d been eyeing anyway. Cucumber vodka, lavender syrup, muddled cucumber, and lime juice made for a crisp, fresh, summery drink that belied the dreary conditions outside.

Inside, the atmosphere was warm and laid-back. I was there early that night, and there weren’t yet many people at the bar. The music was again kicking ass until some dunce insisted on playing songs from the jukebox, which nobody enjoyed.

As my evening started winding down, I figured I could use something light for the road. So I asked for “the champagne of beers,” the absurd and ironic slogan of Miller High Life. “The champagne of beers, eh?” Laura responded, smirking. Yes, that’s what I wanted. “The champagne of beers,” she repeated. I could see the gears turning; which, you know, seemed unnecessary in the context of retrieving a bottled beer. She disappeared and quickly returned with a champagne flute and a large plastic cup filled with ice. “Since you ordered it that way,” she said before pouring the High Life into the flute, with great ceremony, and resting the bottle in the makeshift ice bucket.

You know, over the past year of barhopping, I’ve had some pretty hysterical experiences. This may have topped them all.

Last Call

My visit to Flash’s Cocktails left me grappling with the obvious question – why the hell had I never heard of this place? I mean, if it had just opened, that would be one thing; but it’s apparently been around for more than a decade, so I have to assume it’s fairly popular. Regardless, my ignorance serves as a reminder of how much I still have to learn and discover.

Speaking of learning, if I’d taken maybe 10 seconds to read the website instead of just looking at the colors, I’d have known there was a poignant story behind the throwback theme. The space that houses Flash’s Cocktails was previously a neighborhood diner – run by a Greek guy named Flash – that served breakfast and lunch for 20 years before closing its doors. The new owners kept the name when they renovated the space a couple of years later, maintaining a sense of continuity with what was a long-running and apparently much-loved local business. They also managed to re-create the easygoing vibe that no doubt characterized the diner, giving Flash’s Cocktails the personality of a casual neighborhood bar (even if many of their Back Bay “neighbors” are ritzy hotels).

The prices are pretty typical. My cocktails were all $9 or $10. The beers were $7.25, which is maybe a little above average, but this was also a pretty unique offering of microbrews. My majestically presented High Life was only $4, so you’ve got options if you’re feeling thrifty. The chicken sandwich was $13, which seems to be standard for the area.

From the drinks to music to the friendly service, Flash’s made for an evening of pleasant surprises. I don’t know how I missed the boat on this place, but I won’t pass up an opportunity to return.

Address: 310 Stuart Street, Boston

Website:http://www.flashscocktails.com/

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February 22, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Granary Tavern

February 22, 2013

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

If you walk into a building that was once used for grain storage and your first thought is “You know, this would make a really great bar,” you either have a vivid imagination or you drink too much. Possibly both. Either way, Granary Tavern isn’t the first bar in the Boston area to use historical infrastructure as inspiration for modern design – in a town as old as this, you can enjoy cocktails in a former prison, beers in what was once a bank, and Southern comfort food at the site of a 17th-century printing press. But of all the bars that channel the spirit of their prior tenants, I’d have to say Granary Tavern does it best.

As the name implies, Granary Tavern is housed in a former granary built in 1816 on the outskirts of what we now know as the Financial District. Iron machine gears and burlap sacks adorn the exposed brick walls, conjuring images of 19th century laborers happily threshing and bagging wheat and barley all the livelong day.

It’s a big, open room with a light brown, hardwood floor, and a ceiling of exposed wooden beams that are vestiges of the original building. The effect is almost barn-like, which makes sense – the owners of Granary Tavern actually purchased a 19th century barn in Vermont and repurposed the wood for use throughout the bar. The structure absorbed nearly two centuries’ worth of New England sunrises, turning the wood a deep amber hue and giving this months-old bar a sense of age and character.

But amid the rustic backdrop are all the right modern amenities – two floors’ worth of craft cocktails, microbrews, comfort food classics, and a few mammoth TVs. The floor-to-ceiling windows, which offer a beautiful view, open up in the warmer months, and there’s an outdoor patio as well. A brick wall divides the upstairs space into two large rooms, each with plenty of tables, and a 12-seat bar extends into both rooms. Hanging pendant lights create an industrial vibe, and the whole place is bathed in an orange glow.

I’d been wanting to check out Granary out since it opened last fall, and I finally visited a week ago. It’s popular – there was already a crowd of about 50 people when I arrived around 5:15, but in a place that can accommodate 250, it didn’t feel too congested.

What was congested on this particular Friday evening was Storrow Drive, delaying the arrival of fellow barhoppers Kelly and Melissa. Troubled by their plight as I was, I considered abandoning the bar and waiting outside, suffering with them in solidarity, despite the miles that separated us. Instead I perused the drink menu.

Like so many places these days, Granary Tavern offers a bevy of craft cocktails. But the options here have a distinctly personal touch – each bartender contributed at least one original drink recipe, and the current menu is in something of a “tryout” phase. The most popular concoctions stick around longer, so there’s a spirit of friendly competition among some of the bartenders. The winner, of course, is those of us on the other side of the bar.

I began the evening with a Revolver, made with Bulleit bourbon, coffee liqueur, blood orange bitters, and an orange garnish. It was kind of like a coffee-infused Manhattan, which definitely isn’t a bad thing. I’ve been noticing Bulleit in a lot of drinks recently, and I can see why discerning bartenders like using this bold, spicy, and smooth bourbon in their cocktails.

Next up was the Tavern Sling, an exquisite mix of Hendrick’s gin, St. Germain, mint, simple syrup, and fresh lime juice, with a splash of soda. I recalled from my intense studies at the Hendrick’s Cocktail Academy what a good pairing Hendrick’s and St. Germain can be, and this was no exception. The mint and lime, along with the sweetness from the syrup, naturally made me think of a mojito. But the gin gave it more bite, and the St. Germain contributed a soft, floral warmth. “That’s one of the ones we’ve had from the beginning,” the bartender, Colleen, told me. I can see why.

It was a little after 6 when Kelly sauntered in, and by then the whole place was pretty full. Kelly ordered the Granary Smash, a recipe contributed by another of our bartenders, Tiffany. This one combined Patron Silver, St. Germain, orange juice, and fresh lemon juice. It was the first time I’d encountered St. Germain mixed with tequila, and not surprisingly, it worked well; I’m beginning to think St. Germain works with pretty much anything.

Every drink on the menu sounded appealing, particularly some of the seasonal options, like Granary’s version of a hot toddy. Unable to decide, I asked Colleen for a recommendation, and she chose the Winter Sangria (one of her own recipes). It’s funny, but in looking at the menu, I skipped right past this one. For some reason, the name gave me the same feeling I get when I see “white” in front of “zinfandel.” I’m glad I took the suggestion, though, because this was one of the highlights of the evening.

Merlot, cinnamon simple syrup, and a cinnamon stick made me think of a chilled mulled wine, well suited to the winter weather, while lime juice and soda provided subtle hints of the warmer months ahead.

After a leisurely two-hour drive, Melissa finally graced us with her presence around 7 and ordered a glass of Malbec.

I prepared for the worst when we put our name in for a table, but despite the crowd, the wait was only an hour (not bad at all for a Friday night). We ordered some appetizers to take the edge off while we waited.

First up was a bowl of garlic chips and dip. The crispy chips were homemade, garnished with divine slices of garlic, and doused in oil. With a delicious, spicy dip on the side, these babies totally hit the spot. (There were enough chips to share among the three of us, and enough garlic to share with everyone we encountered over the subsequent 24 hours.)

To that we added “chicken fried chicken,” and no, I don’t know how it got that name. What I do know is that the chicken was crispy outside and tender inside, and it came with more of that rockin’ dip.

With a little food to sustain us, another round of drinks was in order. Kelly opted for the elegant Ginger Rogers, made with vodka, ginger liqueur, freshly squeezed lemon, mint, and a splash of ginger ale.

Melissa went with the Cinnamon Toast Crunch, the flavor of which bears an almost eerie similarity to the cereal you remember from your childhood (if you’re still eating it as an adult, no judgment). This creamy concoction was made with Patron Café, vanilla vodka, Baileys, and cinnamon syrup, and was again the handiwork of Tiffany. Sinful, decadent, and delicious.

I, meanwhile, was happy to explore Granary Tavern’s fine beer selection and settled on a Lagunitas. There are 10 beers on draft and plenty of bottled offerings, with a good selection of microbrews and an emphasis on local fare.

We’d been waiting less than an hour when the hostess told us there was a table available downstairs. The lower floor is a little smaller and a bit less crowded than upstairs. It has its own bar, with a dozen stools, and features a custom tap built from old iron plumbing pipes.

The ambiance is similar to that of the main floor, but with its stone walls and concrete floor, the downstairs feels more like a cave (albeit a really nice cave). And that stonework isn’t just for aesthetics; it’s the original sea wall, still in place from the 1800s.

We settled in for dinner and ordered up a bowl of spiced popcorn while acquainting ourselves with Granary’s sandwiches, flatbreads, and comfort food entrees, all made with locally sourced ingredients and jazzed up wherever possible. The cheese fondue made with Harpoon IPA was particularly tempting, as was the chicken and waffle.

Kelly went with the fish and chips, which has become her customary order despite her complex relationship with seafood.

Melissa opted for the roasted beet salad, which she loved; the goat cheese and pumpkin seeds sounded like inspired additions. Given my hatred of beets, however, I’ve made the picture as small as possible. Which is too bad, because it was cool-looking, too.

I got the blackened catfish sandwich, which was spicy and tender and came with more of those delicious homemade potato chips.

Dinner was a pretty relaxing affair. Kelly ordered a Tavern Sling, which I’d recommended from upstairs. And since I can almost never resist it when I see it on draft, I closed out with the smooth, smoky stylings of a Kentucky Bourbon Ale.

We hung out for a bit after we ate, soaking up the cool downstairs vibe and enjoying the excellent soundtrack of Modest Mouse, Franz Ferdinand, MGMT, and the Killers. After months of wanting to come here, I was really glad this place didn’t let me down. I’ve been in plenty of new bars that use their style and popularity as a license for pretension; I got no sense of that here. The atmosphere was very casual and we had great service all night. There’s a lot at Granary that will change – I’m told the menu will fluctuate with the seasons, the drink list will always be in flux, and the respectable beer list will rotate frequently. But there’s a fresh, friendly, even humble attitude here that I hope will stay exactly the same.

Last Call

The food’s good, the drinks are great, and the setting is incredibly cool. What really stands out about Granary Tavern, though, is that it conveys the spirit of a small operation. And that’s unexpected; nothing about it is small, and I’m not just talking about the impressive size of this two-floor bar. It’s owned by the Glynn Hospitality Group, which runs seven or eight other bars in Boston. Call me cynical, but with that kind of corporate backing, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Granary felt prepackaged and rigid.

Instead, I detected the energy and enthusiasm I’d normally associate with a newly successful, homegrown business. From the hostess to the bartenders to our waitress, the staff seemed earnest and genuinely friendly. The bartenders, perhaps by virtue of participating in the drink design, exhibited pride and a sense of investment in their cocktails. Every time I ordered another drink, the person who made it would come by and ask what I thought of it. That’s a small thing, but it says a lot. I also appreciated Granary Tavern’s general manager, Nikki, taking time to meet with me and tell me more about this very cool place.

Granary’s prices are fairly typical. The cocktails were all $10, which is pretty much the going rate, and most of the beers were $6 or $7. Sandwich and entrée prices are a little high, but not outrageous. My catfish sandwich was $15, Melissa’s roasted be*t salad was $9, and Kelly’s fish and chips were $17. Snacks and appetizers are reasonably priced – $3 and $4 for the popcorn and garlic chips, respectively, and $10 for the chicken fried chicken.

Whenever I’ve mentioned this place to someone, particularly its being built in a former granary, I get some variation of “Oooooh, that sounds cool.” Yes, it does sound cool; the concept is enough to lure you in at least once. But Granary Tavern rises above the novelty of its setting and seems poised to thrive.

Address: 170 Milk Street, Boston

Website:http://www.granarytavern.com/

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December 10, 2012

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

The Gaff

December 10, 2012

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, The Burbs

One of my most depressing bar experiences occurred a few years ago when I met my friend Brian on Moody Street in Waltham for a few drinks and what we’d hoped would be an engaging game of billiards. A simple plan – and one that would have been more feasible were there a pool hall in the area. Determined to not let such a mere technicality diminish the promise of our evening, Brian and I made our way to Robert’s Pub & Grub, a small dive bar that, despite its ramshackle appearance, was supposedly in possession of a pool table. (I cannot say with confidence that that was its actual name; it was also known as Robert’s Restaurant and Bar, and Robert’s Grub, Pub and Pool. The bar has since passed into shadow, and I cannot confirm its true moniker.) Stepping into Robert’s on that particular Saturday evening was like entering a funeral parlor; a somber organist would not have been out of place. Brian and I were the only two souls in there, aside from the bartender, who looked surprised to see us. In the very strictest sense, Robert’s did have what qualified as a pool table…but it was more like the ghost of a pool table. Its faded green felt had accommodated too many damp beer bottles over the years, had had too many drunken players scrape their pool cues across it. Brian and I stuffed a few quarters into the slot, and out rolled 13 balls (for those of you counting at home, that’s two short of a full set, not including the cue ball).

The drumbeat of indignities continued. The pool cues were so warped, we would have been better served by going outside and looking for a couple of sticks or fallen tree branches and playing with those. And the table was crammed into a space that was only slightly larger than the table itself; the walls were so close that for some shots, you had to hold your cue or tree branch at a 45 degree angle.

As we began a game with hastily modified rules, I went to the bar to see what they had on draft. “We just have bottles,” the bartender said, before I even asked. “Bud Light and Coors Light.”

On the plus side, Robert’s did have a good jukebox, in proper working order. And there was no wait for the pool table.

I don’t bring up the now-defunct Robert’s simply for the purpose of kicking its corpse. Rather, I offer it as an example of the kind of establishment that once characterized Moody Street.

If you’re new to the area, that might come as a surprise to you. But Moody Street, and downtown Waltham in general, has seen its share of highs and lows over the years. Moody Street was a happenin’ place back in the 1940s and 1950s. There were department stores, movie theaters, dance halls, and an overall a lively vibe. That began changing in the 70s when shopping malls started popping up, attracting most of the stand-alone businesses, and leaving Moody Street a ghost town of vacancies and dives like Robert’s. Not exactly a destination.

But the Waltham City Council stepped in and took steps to revitalize the area, and gradually, signs of life began returning to Moody. Lizzy’s started churning out homemade ice cream, Watch City Brewing started churning out original craft beer, and customers started returning. The Embassy Cinema opened, new businesses refurbished old buildings, and Moody Street began evolving into the bustling center of diversion and diversity that it is today.

And no establishment better epitomizes Moody’s transition from its moribund past to its vibrant present than the Gaff.

Handsome, distinguished, but casual, the Gaff is a modern bar with classic charm and a genuine sense of character. Having recently celebrated its third anniversary, the Gaff is still a relative newcomer to Moody Street – yet it feels much older. The crisp black and white color scheme, with beautiful dark wood and a light-colored hardwood floor, look brand new and well cared for, but its personality is more akin to that of its longer-tenured peers. Maybe it’s the classic, throwback cocktails they make so well. Or maybe it’s the laid-back, personable staff who seem kind of like next-door neighbors. It just feels like a new bar with very deep roots.

The Gaff is a cozy little place. There are two comfortable and highly coveted leather couches by a large window that looks out onto Moody Street; a bar with 15 chairs that aren’t as uncomfortable as they look, despite their odd, short seatbacks; and about six small tables. The “Local Art Gallery,” a series of framed black-and-white photos on the wall, contributes to the ambience, and a large chalkboard details the Gaff’s extensive and ever-shifting selection of microbrews.

My most recent visit to the Gaff was with Melissa and Kelly on that traditional must-go-out-for-drinks night, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. We got there around 6:30 and beat the crowd, snagging three seats at the bar. A bowl of free popcorn appeared, much to Melissa’s delight, and we casually began perusing the drink options.

I’ve always been deeply impressed with the Gaff’s beer list; having Gritty’s Black Fly Stout on draft was what initially lured me in several years ago. But a Boston mixologist whose opinion I hold in high regard urged me to check out their cocktails, and I’m glad I did – their drinks are absolutely a cut above everything else in the vicinity. There are faithful classics, smart updates of traditional cocktails, and more than a few contemporary innovations.

I began my night with a sazerac. Made with Old Overholt rye whiskey, Pernod, simple syrup, and Peychaud’s bitters, the Gaff’s version remains true to the celebrated New Orleans cocktail. I…might have gotten a second one.

Melissa opted for a Wild Night Out – tequila with pomegranate liqueur, freshly squeezed lime, and club soda. Mel said it was pretty good, but didn’t blow her away; or maybe she just wasn’t ready for a wild night out.

Kelly outdid both of us with her Vesper Martini. A cocktail that James Bond would surely approve of, this mix of Hendricks gin, Ketel One vodka, and Lillet Blanc was dry and elegant.

As the Thanksgiving Eve crowd began trickling in, we sipped our drinks and took a look at the food menu. The Gaff offers a broad array of comfort food that goes beyond the basic bar staples like wings and nachos. We started with fried pickles – or, as they’re called on the menu, “frickles.” We placed our order and then proceeded to gleefully repeat “frickles” among ourselves for the next five minutes. (You know you’re saying it in your head right now.) Hand-breaded, deep-fried, and served with ranch for dipping, they made for a light start to our evening.

If the frickles (frickles! frickles!) were amusing, the cherry bombs were intriguing. Melissa wondered aloud what exactly constituted a cherry bomb, and the bartender, who apparently has bat-like hearing, swooped in and said they deep fried cherry peppers with cheese, accompanied by a sweet chili sauce for dipping. He described their heat as being similar to that of jalapeño poppers. I’m not sure what kind of poppers he’s been popping, but these babies were intense. He later confessed to being a lover of really spicy food and preferring his Gaff wings with “atomic” sauce, so his barometer might have been somewhat skewed. They were tasty nonetheless, and quickly resolved any sinus issues we may have been experiencing.

Like the appetizer menu, the dinner options offer time-honored bar basics with some modern twists – like the avocado dog. Only a chef with a solid appreciation of irony would take something as nutritionally maligned as a hot dog and pair it with an avocado. Needless to say, my mind was quickly made up. A quarter-pound hot dog with bacon, caramelized onions, and avocado, served with fries, it was delicious. And healthy! (The avocado makes it healthy; this is known.)

Kelly opted for the Gaff burger, topped with bacon, cheddar, and a fried egg over easy. She’d never had an egg on a burger and was a little unsure about the concept; but the bartender allayed her fears, and I recounted how I’d had something similar at the Intermission Tavern and that she was in for a treat. (I left out the fact that the volume of food would probably render her groggy.)

Our appetites satiated, we turned our attention back to drinks. All tuckered out from her Wild Night Out, Melissa opted for a glass of sangria, which the Gaff spruces up with tequila, St. Germaine, and pineapple juice.

Kelly got a Moscow Mule, which was well made and served in a classy copper cup that reminded me of my experience at Stoddard’s.

If the cocktails, excellent as they are, fly under the radar, it’s because the Gaff’s beer list gets most of the attention. And justifiably so – with about 20 beers on tap and many more in bottles and cans, the Gaff boasts one of the best selections outside of Boston. They offer an extensive and varied selection of microbrews, along with plenty of old favorites.

First up for me was Kentucky Bourbon Ale. I’ve been hooked on this slow-sippin’ beer since I first tried it at the Tip Tap Room, and I was excited that the Gaff had it on tap. I followed that up with the lighter High & Mighty Beer of the Gods.

As if the beer selection wasn’t already stellar, the Gaff also has a cask option. Cask conditioned beers are uncommon enough in Boston, let alone outside the city. The cask beer while we were there was Haverhill Commuter Ale, which Kelly got.

By 9 p.m., Thanksgiving Eve at the Gaff was in full swing. I found myself reflecting on how much I like the place and how happy I am that it’s so been successful. I’m further glad that Moody Street itself has grown into a neighborhood that maintains a sense of character. It could just as easily have become overrun with bland chains like Applebee’s. Instead it’s populated mostly by independently owned businesses, the way it was back in its glory days. The result is an eclectic mix of cocktail bars, Irish pubs, tapas restaurants, ethnic grocery stores, retail shops, sports bars…and yes, a few divey relics of the 70s and 80s. But those humble, townie bars that remain simply represent more choices in an area with tremendous variety. And it’s good to have a few of those places; as I learned when Sadie’s shut its saloon doors, it can be hard to say goodbye to some of them.

Maybe that’s what inspired Kelly and me to close out our night with a couple of classics.

Old beers in a new bar – one that helps chart a new direction for Moody Street while honoring its past.

Last Call

Maybe my perception is influenced by the pictures on the Gaff’s Facebook page of the new owners demoing the previous site and building a new bar, but this place feels like someone’s pride and joy. I get the sense that it’s a product of original ideas and a lot of elbow grease – not some prefabricated bar or restaurant assembled overnight by a soulless corporation. It feels very personal.

Nowhere is that pride of having built a successful bar from ground up more evident than in the enthusiasm of the staff. They get excited about getting a new beer on draft. They get excited about their fun regular events, like nights devoted to 80s music, soul music, and trivia, along with periodic comedy and open mic nights. And I don’t know exactly what constitutes the Gaff’s “midweek drinkers club,” but I feel like I should look into joining.

The prices are a refreshing change from Boston. Our outstanding cocktails ranged from $7 to $9, and the microbrews were around $6 (the Schlitz and the PBR, $3.50). The frickles (!) were $5, the cherry bombs $6. My awesome avocado dog was a mere $7, and Kelly’s burger was $11, which was a good deal considering it encompassed both breakfast and dinner. Both are available more cheaply if you forgo the accoutrements (but why would you?).

I stopped in very briefly on the following Saturday afternoon. As expected, it was pretty quiet, with just a handful of customers; but the atmosphere was still surprisingly upbeat. The bartender regaled me with an amusing tale about his aversion to caffeine, then put on some Motown tunes, which resulted in most of the six patrons singing quietly to themselves (and the bartender singing not so quietly). It again made the Gaff feel very familiar, like drinking in a bar that your friend opened. That seems appropriate – as noted on their website, “gaff” is Irish slang for home, as in “Let’s go back to the gaff for a pint!”

I haven’t been there enough to call it home. But I’ll stop in for a drink and a laugh anytime.

Address: 467 Moody Street, Waltham

Website:http://www.thegaffbar.com/

October 23, 2012

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Shōjō

October 23, 2012

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

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I very rarely find myself in Chinatown; which is odd, given its proximity to my office and my fondness for Asian cuisine. Upon reflection, I attribute the infrequency of my visits to three factors. First, the paucity of bars in the area means that Chinatown normally isn’t part of the “where should we have drinks tonight” conversation. It’s somewhere you go almost exclusively for lunch or dinner.

That brings me to my second issue. While some neighborhoods may suffer from a lack of viable eateries, the reverse is true in Chinatown – there are almost too many options. It’s a densely packed area with dozens upon dozens of restaurants, and unless I’m headed to a particular destination, the prospect of simply picking a place to eat is overwhelming.

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Finally, my lingering memory of those few occasions when I have dined in Chinatown is of being squeezed into an absurdly tight space in an already crowded restaurant. The neighborhood’s popularity, combined with the small size of some of the restaurants, often means you’re standing outside while waiting for a table. And when you do get a table, you might find yourself squished into a corner near the utility closet (as once happened to a friend of mine). It can make for a chaotic dining experience.

Then you have Shōjō – which does everything differently.

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A first glance alone reveals Shōjō to be distinct from its neighbors. Amid a throng of red and yellow signs advertising dumplings or “exotic” cocktails, its exterior is subtle and understated – a black and white sign against a gray wall, with a row of tall bamboo separating the entrance from the sidewalk. And as soon as you step in, the differences between Shōjō and every other place in Chinatown quickly become apparent.

Shōjō is spacious, refined, and serene. There’s a small, L-shaped bar and 10 or 12 tables, nicely spread out, each with chopsticks wrapped in thick black napkins at the place settings.

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The look and feel is equal parts rustic and modern – which, as one of the managers told me, is very much by design. Gleaming wooden tables with handsome black chairs and a shiny gray concrete floor reflect modern-day craftsmanship, while aged-looking exposed brick, a bar made with reclaimed wood from the 1700s and 1800s, and Shinto bar stools recall a sense of tradition. High ceilings and hanging caged lights give the entire space something of an industrial feel.

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Painted on the far wall is a mural depicting the journey of the restaurant’s namesake, Shōjō – a Japanese mythical figure, half-man and half-monkey, who scours the world in search of a never-ending river of sake. (I hope he finds it and makes a detailed map.)

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It’s an upscale place that could be very serious in tone, but the atmosphere instead seems relaxed. Shōjō was even decorated for Halloween when I was there, cobwebs and spiders adorning light fixtures and walls, making things feel casual and playful. Plus, when the cornerstone of the décor is a monkey man looking for a river of sake, how uptight could a place like this be?

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I sought out Shōjō on account of its reputation for well-made cocktails. Again, Chinatown doesn’t come to mind as an obvious destination for drinks, so the idea of a craft cocktail lounge in the neighborhood seemed pretty novel.

I visited on a recent Saturday with fellow barhoppers Kelly, Kat, and Tracy. The bar was full when we arrived at 7 p.m., but only a few of the tables were occupied and we were seated immediately.

We could tell we were in good hands as soon as we sat down. Our waiter, Justin, was one of the friendliest, most helpful servers I’ve had in ages. Whenever we ordered a drink, he inquired as to whether we’d had it before, apprised us of any unusual ingredients, and suggested modifications for us to consider.

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Now I freely admit – despite my having heard good things about Shōjō’s cocktails, I was expecting scorpion bowls and Mai Tais, or at least very upscale tiki drinks. What I found instead was a small, well-conceived cocktail menu that put an Asian twist on classic drinks while offering a few unique creations. There’s also an extensive selection of sake (Shōjō himself would approve), including one brand that comes in a can.

I began the evening with an Aberdeen Swizzle – house citrus-infused gin and coconut crème, beautifully garnished with a basil leaf. It had the dryness you’d expect of gin, but the citrus contributed a natural sweetness; the coconut was subtle but gave the drink a certain smoothness, and the pleasant aroma of basil was evident in every sip.

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Kat’s selection, the Chairman’s Painkiller, was the most visually striking, served in a funky-looking ceramic tiki cup. Made with Chairman’s spiced rum, coconut crème, and orange, it was a creamy concoction with a subdued tropical flair.

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Stoddard’s may make the best Moscow Mule in town, but Shōjō puts its distinct stamp on the drink by swapping vodka for citrus-infused gin and using a house-made ginger beer. The resulting Gin Gin Mule, as Kelly discovered, is a worthy variation on a classic, with the citrus and a little simple syrup mellowing out what could have been a harsh combination of ginger beer and gin.

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Tracy’s drink was probably the most elegant selection of the first round. The Lisboa is made with Oolong-infused gin, Lillet blanc, orange bitters, and grapefruit. At Justin’s suggestion, Tracy swapped out the gin for Oolong-infused vodka and seemed pretty happy with the result.

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As we sipped our drinks, we began perusing the menu. Aside from only serving remarkably fresh, locally sourced food, the chefs clearly aren’t playing by any strict culinary rules. A word like “fusion,” while applicable, doesn’t do Shōjō justice; combining French and Italian techniques with modern Asian cuisine, the menu is constantly in flux, depending on the availability of local ingredients. The results again distinguish Shōjō from so many of its neighbors. How else would you explain their offering turkey meatloaf with miso gravy as one of that evening’s specials?

Turkey meatloaf? In Chinatown?

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French fries are another item you might not expect to see on a Chinatown menu; and even if they were an option…why would you get them? But as we began ordering appetizers, Shōjō’s duck fat hand-cut fries stood out as an enticing, if offbeat, option. Served with a creamy dipping sauce, they were hard to resist.Next up was barbecue pork rib, topped with a crisp Asian slaw. The meat was tender and fell right off the bone.

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Shrimp fritters were available on special, but they were going fast and Justin had to consult the chef before offering them to us. With a crunchy exterior and accompanied by a tangy chili sauce, I can see why they were in demand.

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With that we moved on to dinner. Tempting as the turkey meatloaf was, I opted for a different special – braised rabbit served with handmade tagliatelle, mustard white wine sauce, and smoked bacon. I don’t have rabbit that often, so I don’t have much to compare my entrée to, but it was tasty and tender (and yeah, pretty much tasted like chicken). But the pasta stole the show. Made on site, these were the thickest, richest noodles I’ve ever had.

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Also on special was a roasted half-chicken with smashed potatoes, smoked bacon, red wine sauce, and beech mushrooms. Tracy went for this and said the chicken pretty much tasted like rabbit.

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Kelly got honey barbecue pork ravioli, another creative combination of disparate elements. The flavor of the meat reminded me of marinated pork right off the grill; wrapped in more of that house-made pasta, it was delicious.

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Kat settled on steamed mussels in lemongrass broth, from the appetizer menu. In hindsight, I’m surprised Kelly didn’t get these, given her professed dislike for seafood and contradictory tendency to order it whenever we go out.

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Needless to say, a second round of Shōjō’s excellent cocktails was in order.

I was most intrigued by the Reiko Greene, made with Hendricks gin, green chartreuse, lime, and – get this – cucumber ice. Justin called it a “two-part drink,” because its complexion gradually changes as the cucumber ice melts. That’s if you sip it slowly, which was a challenge given how good it was even as a one-part drink. Sure enough, the flavor and character evolved as the cucumber slowly permeated the cocktail.

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Kelly got the Ding How cocktail, which is Shōjō’s take on a French 75. Made with Hendricks gin, lillet rose, bitters, simple syrup, and lemon juice, and finished with rose champagne, it was dry and effervescent with just a hint of sweetness.

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We also got to see the Shōjō bartenders shift into improvisational mode when Tracy shifted into diva mode and demanded a special cocktail be made just for her. Undaunted, the bartender crafted Tracy a drink with champagne, ginger, and an orange peel. Simple and refreshing, it calmed Tracy down and made me look forward to coming back and sitting at the bar, trying whatever new cocktails are on the menu, or just telling the bartenders what I like and seeing what they come up with. Judging by what I’ve seen by Shōjō already, I’m sure the results will be impressive.

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As we began wrapping things up, one of the managers, Brendan, came by to ask about our meals and to make sure Tracy didn’t have another “make me a drink” outburst. He told us more about his interesting restaurant, which has only been open since August but appears to be thriving. I sensed he and the staff had a lot of pride in Shōjō, and they should. As a one-of-a-kind bar in Chinatown, I hope it enjoys a bright future.

Last Call

You know what bugs me most about my complete lack of knowledge of where to go in Chinatown? The fact that everyone I talk to knows “some little place” that’s a hidden gem. I always hear “Oooh, I know a place in Chinatown that makes the best dim sum,” or “I know a place there that makes the best Vietnamese sandwiches.”

Well now I can finally chime in – I know a place in Chinatown that makes the best drinks.

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Shōjō not only finds a way to stands out in this busy neighborhood; it stands tall. If you’re looking for traditional Asian cuisine or colorful Polynesian cocktails, you won’t find them here. What you will find is an innovative approach that seamlessly combines elements of Japanese, Korean, and Taiwanese cooking, and doesn’t stop there. Even characterizing the food as Asian seems limiting; the menu might be better described as a collection of thoughtful, creative dishes tied together by a distinct Asian thread.

But more important than the type of the cuisine is how wonderfully fresh it all is. Relying only on locally available ingredients forces the chefs to stay creative, and the results are delicious, beautifully presented, and anything but predictable.

That same sense of freshness and creativity influences the cocktail menu as well. Little things, like infusing their liquors and crafting their own ginger beer, mean Shōjō’s bartenders are working with highly customized ingredients. As a result, even the simplest drink here is unique.

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The prices are totally reasonable. Our drinks were $10 each, which is standard for cocktails of that sort. Entrees ranged from $16 to $18, and the appetizers were between $6 and $8.

And as I mentioned, the service was outstanding. Justin was helpful and good-natured (he confessed to being the artistic force behind the Halloween decorations). Even though most of the tables were full by 8:45, we got the same level of attention as when we arrived at a much quieter hour. That, along with Shōjō’s peaceful ambience, made our evening in Chinatown casual and comfortable.

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And much better sharing a corner with a utility closet.

Address: 9A Tyler Street, Boston

Website:http://Shōjōboston.com/

October 5, 2012

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Stoddard's Fine Food & Ale

October 5, 2012

Matthew Maslin

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Back when Boston BarHopper was in its infancy, and I’d talk with people about cool bars, craft cocktails, and the reasons why I was writing a blog, the establishment that was most consistently recommended to me was Davis Square’s Saloon. And with good reason – devoted to pre-Prohibition-era America, Saloon transports its customers back to the early 20th century with faithfully re-created drinks, food, and décor. I can understand people’s enthusiasm.

What is less clear is why I so rarely hear people raving about Stoddard’s – a Downtown Crossing bar that also pays homage to the American saloon era. And to great effect.

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Stoddard’s certainly isn’t obscure – on the few occasions I’ve been there, it’s been at least respectably busy, and sometimes totally packed. And Boston Magazine named Stoddard’s’ Moscow Mule one of Boston’s 30 best cocktails last year, so it’s not like the place has somehow gone unnoticed. I just don’t hear about it that often. And I know I’m not the only one – most people I mention Stoddard’s to either haven’t heard of it or are only vaguely familiar with it.

Maybe it’s the location. Nestled away on a Downtown Crossing side street, it’s not terribly visible. Or maybe it’s the name. “Stoddard’s” sounds kind of…stodgy. Old fashioned.

It’s old fashioned, alright. Similar in some respects to Saloon, Stoddard’s vividly recalls an age gone by. But while Saloon is painstakingly crafted to look like a bar from the turn of the century, Stoddard’s has the street cred to back up its historical milieu.

Stoddard’s is housed in a building that dates back to the late 19th century. It survived the Great Boston Fire of 1872, which wiped out a huge swath of the downtown area, and was the site of various retail shops that sold, among other things, corsets, sewing machines, and cutlery. (In fact, Stoddard’s Cutlery, for which the bar is named, operates to this day in a Boston suburb.)

The people behind Stoddard’s are more than aware of their building’s long, colorful past, and have designed the bar – from the décor to the food to the drinks – with that history in mind. There are vestiges of turn-of-the-century Boston everywhere, along with specific nods to the building’s former tenants – which explains the framed corsets on the wall (originals from the shop that sold them) and the odd sewing machine here and there. Railings from the original Filene’s store in Boston cordon off various areas of the interior, and the foot rail at the bar is supposedly a piece of the original trolley track from Park Street station.

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As I would envision any late 19th century bar or restaurant to be, Stoddard’s is very dimly lit. The only natural light comes from a couple of windows near the front door, and the black wooden floor makes for a decidedly nocturnal atmosphere. Most of the lighting inside comes from, of all things, antique lampposts. Squint a little and you might even mistake them for the gaslight street lamps that illuminated Boston evenings in the 1800s.

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The lampposts aren’t the only remnants of a bygone era. The bartenders are nattily attired with vests and ties, recalling the more formal dress that was once standard. You might imagine the large wooden barrels on the floor to have once held whiskey or beer. And they double as makeshift tables, something you might have seen a few decades later in a speakeasy. The walls of exposed brick contribute to the classic appearance, and candles on the bar and tables evoke a sense of intimacy.

And then there’s the bar.

My friend John put it best: “The first time I came in here, I just stood there for a few minutes, staring at the bar, like a dork.”

Actually, there’s nothing dorky about it. The bar at Stoddard’s is spectacular. A vision. Imported from England, the bar itself is 30 feet long, with about 15 or 16 seats. Evenly spaced along its dark wooden surface are 20 shiny silver taps that hold Stoddard’s’ excellent selection of mostly microbrews.

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Behind it, a 15-foot-high mahogany structure, reaching from the floor to the top of the high tin ceiling, holds a vast array of liquor bottles. It makes for an impressive sight, to say the least. I wasn’t able to get a good picture of it, mainly because Stoddard’s is so dark. Even in good light, though, I doubt I could capture its grandeur; and it’s the sort of thing best experienced in person. In fact, everything about Stoddard’s seems to say “drinking here will be an experience.” And it is.

John was one of the first people to tell me about Stoddard’s. Homebrewer and co-founder of the wildly successful Brew Dudes blog, John’s a beer aficionado who would be naturally drawn to a place like Stoddard’s, given the caliber of its selection and the beautiful presentation. You might remember him from my post on TRADE, where he closed out our fairly elegant dinner with a can of Pork Slap Ale.

John and I stopped in on an early-September day after work. The bar was pretty quiet when we got there around 5 p.m., but there were about 30 people in the bar area within the hour. As is his custom whenever the situation presents itself, John set his sights on the cask offerings. In addition to its 20 microbrews, Stoddard’s has up to five beers on cask at any given time, which is pretty uncommon around here (it’s generally considered a coup when a place has one cask-conditioned beer available). John went with Haverhill Commuter Ale, a light, crisp beer that set a nice tone for the evening.

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I had decided on my first drink even before I arrived. As I mentioned earlier, Stoddard’s’ Moscow Mule is lauded as one of the very best in the city. It’s no wonder why. The presentation alone is like a clinic in great cocktail making. The process starts with the bartender chipping away at a house-made ice block – another throwback to the old days. Then comes a classic copper cup, which keeps that hand-crushed ice intact and, of course, your drink nice and cold. Watching the exterior of the metal cup gradually frost over is one of the subtle delights of drinking a good cocktail. And of course, there’s the drink itself. I enjoy Moscow Mules, but I’ve always found that if the mix is even slightly off, the sharpness of the ginger beer can really overpower the flavor. Stoddard’s version was perfectly balanced – Russian Standard vodka, top-quality ginger beer, and just enough lime. Without question, the best I’ve ever had.

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One pleasantly strong round in, and it was time to check out the dinner menu. Not surprisingly, the food menu is stocked with traditional American favorites – chicken pot pie, steak, pork loin, and a few seafood offerings. Out of sheer amusement, we considered ordering the “pot of pickles” on the appetizer menu, and we were intrigued by the ballotine of Vermont rabbit – boneless rabbit stuffed with rabbit mousse and wrapped in house bacon. In the end, we played it fairly safe. John ordered chicken, which he said reminded him of the kind his mom used to make. (With a little prodding, I confirmed that this was a compliment.)

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I went with the Stoddard’s burger. Made with fresh ground Meyer Ranch beef and topped with aged cheddar cheese, it was an excellent, generously sized burger.

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Meanwhile, we kept exploring the extensive cocktail menu. Stoddard’s separates their drinks into three sections – Classics, Contemporaries, and Puritans (nonalcoholic), and each drink has a date to indicate the year or decade in which it was most popular. True to historical form, Stoddard’s draws inspiration for their drinks from the quintessential guide to cocktail making – Jerry Thomas’s “How to Mix Drinks, or The Bon Vivant’s Companion,” first published in 1862. The recipes have been updated a bit, by necessity, but when you look at a cocktail menu and see terms like “slings” and “flips,” it’s clear that someone’s gone to great lengths to ensure that the character and essence of saloon-era mixology is not forgotten.

Good friend of the blog that he is, John went with the most intense drink he could find – the Zombie. It was a potent mix of Appleton rum, Demerera rum, absinthe, 151 proof rum, grapefruit, Falernum, grenadine, “Don’s secret mix,” and Stoddard’s own house-made bitters. Just watching the bartender mix up this concoction was a treat. The result was sweet and strong, with a pleasant spice that we couldn’t quite identify. I’m guessing that had something to do with the aforementioned “secret mix.” We asked our bartender, Dan, if he’d divulge the secret, but he wasn’t having any part of that.

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I opted for a Fogcutter – white rum, gin, brandy, lemon, lime, and simple syrup. A drink that combines gin and brandy might sound pretty intense, but the citrus flavors made it seem surprisingly light. Like the Zombie, the Fogcutter is the sort of drink you’d typically see on the menu at a Chinese restaurant. But John appraised Stoddard’s’ version as “much better than that; it doesn’t have the burn of alcohol,” and I got the sense he was speaking from experience. A painful experience.

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We closed things out with a couple of beers. John ordered one of my all-time favorites – Gritty’s Black Fly Stout. Any bar that has this on draft is a winner in my book, and Stoddard’s serves it on nitro; as if it could get any better. And since I wanted to try one of the cask-conditioned beers, I opted for Harpoon Summer. It was the first time I’d ever had my favorite summer beer on cask. Well balanced and not overly citrusy, I treated it as an unofficial farewell to summer.

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Before we left, Stoddard’s drink coordinator, Jamie, came by to introduce himself. He offered us samples of Founders Breakfast Stout, a keg of which they’d just tapped earlier that day. It’s a rich imperial stout with notes of chocolate and coffee, and Jamie’s exuberance at having it on draft was understandable. He called it “a mouthful of awesomeness”; I might not have phrased it as such, but I wouldn’t disagree.

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Needless to say, any bar with a beer and cocktail selection as extensive as Stoddard’s’ requires a couple of return trips. One thing I learned on my subsequent visits is that for a place I tend not to hear a lot about, Stoddard’s attracts quite a crowd. I’ve been lucky to even find a seat on the couple of times I’ve gone back. Fortunately, it’s a cool experience even if you don’t find yourself sitting at that magnificent bar. Standing beneath a lamppost, resting my beer on a wooden barrel, surrounded by exposed brick, I always get the sensation that I’m drinking outside when I’m here. Looking up at the balconies where they store kegs of beer kind of makes the place feel like an alley (a really nice alley, of course).

I’d love to give you a rundown of all different the beers I’ve tried at Stoddard’s, but I rarely get past the Gritty’s Black Fly Stout on nitro. I make no apologies for that. But I have managed to work my way through some of the cocktails.

As a lover of Mai Tais, I was eager to try Stoddard’s take on this Polynesian-style classic. Served in a tiki glass that gave me visions of Greg Brady falling off a surfboard during an incident-plagued trip to Hawaii, and garnished with a lemon peel and a Luxardo cherry, the Mai Tai was delicious. And that hand-chipped ice just seems to make every drink better.

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Next up was the more serious Savoy Blackthorne, made with John L. Sullivan whiskey, dry vermouth, bitters, absinthe. I was a little skeptical; I have an uneasy relationship with both dry vermouth and absinthe. But the Savoy was a surprisingly smooth, slow-sipping drink that felt well suited to the atmosphere.

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Throwing back weighty cocktails like that calls for a little sustenance. Deviled eggs? Don’t mind if I do! Stoddard’s’ deviled eggs are pretty good and surprisingly numerous; most places just give you three halves, but here you get three full eggs. I held off on the pot of pickles, although I giggle every time I see it on the menu.

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And of course, because I can scarcely resist ordering cocktails with interesting names, I closed out my last visit with a drink called Blood of My Enemies. An appropriately red-hued cocktail that combined Rhum Clément, aperol, grenadine, blood orange, bitters, and lemon peel, it was sweet and sharp with a nice bite.

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As I sipped it, I pictured a mountain, with me on top, lemon yellow sun, arms raised in a V...

Last Call

Stoddard’s has so many of the qualities I love in bars. It’s dark, a little hidden, and steeped in one of my favorite eras of American history. More importantly, their attention to detail is exceeded by an obvious love for top-notch beer and cocktails. The beer selection, which rotates frequently, is clearly chosen by someone with an understanding and appreciation for high-quality microbrews. And with regard to cocktails, the bartenders really know their stuff and clearly enjoy their craft.

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The food prices at Stoddard’s are by no means cheap, but you don’t have to let them break the bank, either. John’s chicken was $19, and most of the other entrees are about $20. My burger was $14; that’s a little high, but I admit it was a pretty big burger and a delicious one. Appetizers are very reasonable, though. I spent $4 for a generous portion of deviled eggs, and there are a couple of other inexpensive bar bites. Most of the other appetizers are $10 or so, and with options as varied as beef tartare and lobster scallion hush puppies, they’re definitely worth a try. If you’re in the mood for something more basic, a dozen wings will run you a very fair $10.

Drink prices are right on the money. Most of the beers are $6, but you can get a PBR for $3 if you’re feeling especially thrifty. Cocktails range from $9 to $12, most averaging about $10.

There’s a lot to discover here. Whether it’s a new craft beer or a very old cocktail, every drink at Stoddard’s is made or poured with tremendous care. And from the opulent bar to the repurposed relics from Boston’s past, a trip to Stoddard’s is almost like a history lesson.

With drinks!

Address: 48 Temple Place, Boston

Website:http://stoddardsfoodandale.com/

July 20, 2012

Boston BarHopper

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, Somerville

Saloon

July 20, 2012

Boston BarHopper

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, Somerville

At this point it’s an understatement to say that Boston’s become a craft cocktail kind of town. I’ve already talked about Scholars, Church, Marliave, Emerald, Russell House Tavern, and a few other places that make wonderfully innovative drinks.

Then there are heavy hitters like Drink, Brick & Mortar, Eastern Standard, and many others that I either haven’t been to yet or haven’t had a chance to write about. And I can’t even begin to count the bars, well-renowned or not, that proudly display impressive menus devoted to superior concoctions or have highly skilled bartenders who can craft you a customized drink on the spot.

It seems fitting, then, that at a time when cocktails have experienced such a resurgence in the Boston area, we have a place like Davis Square’s Saloon – lovingly devoted to an era when cocktails were something special and required a particular skill to create.

Saloon is a well-conceived and beautifully executed tribute to pre-Prohibition American drinking establishments. From the cocktails, to the décor, to the food, to the snazzy outfits worn by the bartenders, walking into Saloon is like slipping into an early 20th century period piece – a time when, as Saloon’s website says, drinks were “serious and uncomplicated.”

Saloon captures one of the golden ages of cocktail making. Drinks may have been fairly simple back then, from the perspective of having fairly basic ingredients, but there was still a level of artistry involved in their composition.

That nuanced approach was greatly diminished with the onset of Prohibition. When the foolish Volstead Act outlawed the purchase and sale of intoxicating liquors, those who plied their trade on making drinks left for places like Paris and London, where their skills were still appreciated and, more importantly, legal. Or they stayed in America and were reduced to working illegally in shabby, makeshift “bars,” with far inferior ingredients.

Saloon hearkens back to those pre-Prohibition days, serving the sort of drinks that went out of style but shouldn’t have. True to the era they aim to emulate, Saloon’s signature cocktails are built on the basics – whiskey and gin. They’re not advertising chocolate martinis or colorful cosmopolitans, though I imagine they’ll make you whatever you want.

It is doubtless for all these reasons that, on a near-weekly basis since I started this blog, people have asked me “Have you been to Saloon yet?”

Yes, I’ve been; and there’s plenty to say. So toss a few ice cubes in a glass, pour yourself a generous serving of bourbon, and join me for a trip to a time when drinking was an art form, jazz was still young, and a night out was a formal affair.

Even though Saloon pays tribute to the days before Prohibition, it possesses elements of the speakeasies that started popping up when serving alcohol became a crime.

For starters, just finding Saloon can be a bit of a challenge. The first time I went, I walked right past it, even though I knew exactly where it was supposed to be. My sister Kelly, with whom I went most recently, had a similar experience, as have others. Saloon’s presence is indicated only by a small, illuminated globe bearing its name, and its nondescript, unmarked door tends to blend in with its surroundings.

Once you’ve located the door, you descend a long flight of stairs into a dark, subterranean bar with no windows, almost giving it an air of the secrecy that marked illegal drinking establishments back in the 1920s.

But any similarity to a sawdust-on-the-floor speakeasy falls away with one look at the subdued opulence of Saloon.

Kelly said it made her think of a library in a mansion; her imagination is expensive but accurate. Saloon’s interior has a very distinguished, elegant, old-money appearance. Exposed brick walls with cherry wood accents, dark-paneled wood on the ceiling, and worn-looking stone floors covered with Oriental rugs contribute to an atmosphere of reserve and maturity.

Dark red leather seating in the booths and well-stocked liquor cabinets on the walls paint a portrait of turn-of-the-century high society.

Chandeliers, wall sconces, and floor lamps make the good-size room feel cozy and intimate. The luxurious bar seats about 20 people, and there are maybe 30 tables or so for dining. Fresh ingredients adorn the bar, so you know you’re getting a quality cocktail.

Stepping into Saloon makes me feel like I’ve been invited into the den of some titan of industry for a snifter of brandy while we negotiate some back-room deal that will net us both millions. If only...

The owners of Saloon left few stones unturned in their efforts to evoke a classic American early 20th century mood. Big-band jazz plays at a comfortable level that doesn’t inhibit conversation. At times, it almost sounded like a band was tuning up in the next room; whether that’s because of the acoustics, or whether I was just swept up by the atmosphere, I’m not entirely sure.

The bar staff is decked out in spiffy duds with suspenders, providing an air of formality. The menus are printed on crinkly paper and affixed to clipboards (I don’t know what menus looked like a century ago, but since I’m guessing they weren’t all glossy and laminated, this is probably a faithful re-creation).

And there are no TVs. When’s the last time you were in a bar that had no TV?

That’s all well and good, but this is a bar, not a museum. So with that, we turn to the cocktails, the real star of this historical fantasy.

A cocktail was originally defined by just a few ingredients – spirits, bitters, water, sugar. Saloon’s drinks aren’t so severe, but they also don’t stray far from that formula. Their cocktail menu is divided into three sections – Bespoke (“mixed expressly for this establishment”), Strained, and Cubed. Whiskey and gin dominate, as they did back in the day, but Saloon offers a stunning array of spirits if you don’t feel like fully immersing yourself in tradition.

On my first visit I started right at the top of the drink list, ordering an Americana – bourbon, brown sugar, J. Thomas bitters (don’t ask, I have no idea), and sparkling wine. The sweetness of the sugar tamed the bite of the bourbon, and the sparkling wine gave the drink a pleasant, lively effervescence. A fine start to the evening, and a worthy introduction to Saloon.

Of course I had to try my favorite cocktail – a Manhattan. I figured that this most traditional of drinks would be handled deftly by a place so steeped in tradition, and I wasn’t disappointed. Bourbon, sweet vermouth, a dash of bitters, and a maraschino cherry. No more, no less.

Yet Saloon managed to surprise me. As I sipped it, I thought…what the hell kind of bourbon is this? So I asked the bartender “What the hell kind of bourbon is this?” He told me it was made, much to my surprise, with Old Granddad – the source of a long-running joke between my brother and me, and as bourbons go, not what you’d call top-shelf.

But then again, it’s exactly the sort of brand they’d have used back in the day, before there were so many domestic and imported options at our disposal. The drink was excellent, and once again, I was impressed with Saloon’s attention to detail.

On my second visit to Saloon, Kelly and I arrived around 5:30 to find about 15 patrons, mostly at the bar. I began my night with a Hamilton Daiquiri, a refreshing mix of rum, maraschino liqueur, lime, mint simple syrup, and tiki bitters.

With plenty of ice and garnished with a mint leaf, it was a delightful summertime drink.

Kelly opted for the descriptively titled “Vodka Drink” – vodka, sage simple syrup, limoncello, and soda. Clearly her favorite selection of the night, Kelly said the Vodka Drink was like gulping sipping a lemonade and couldn’t get over how simple it was (I guess the name was well chosen). Both that and the Hamilton Daiquiri provided much-needed relief after coming in from the broiling July heat.

Kelly’s next move was the Repo Man. I’m glad she got that one, because any drink that combines tequila and grappa isn’t high on my must-try list. She said it was intense (no kidding) but refreshing in its own way – I suppose the yellow chartreuse, St. Germain, lemon, and grapefruit bitters kept things in line. “This one has to go down more slowly,” she wisely added.

Since Kelly took a risk with the Repo Man, I couldn’t allow myself to be outdone. That said, a Gibson (a martini with a cocktail onion in place of an olive) might not sound terribly adventurous, but since I rarely order martinis on account of my dislike for dry vermouth, it at least qualifies as moderately bold. I was intrigued by Saloon’s “Another Gibson,” served with house-brined cocktail onions.

As I debated its merits, Kelly pointed out that it was also made with chive-infused gin…the novelty of which, I quickly decided, easily outweighed my disdain for dry vermouth. It was excellent – crisp and dry, with an understated sweetness that I attributed to the delicious onions. This was, hands down, my favorite drink of the night.

Two serious drinks in, it was time for some food. While we perused our dinner options, we settled on a couple of appetizers. First up was my favorite – deviled eggs, served on top of a spicy Russian dressing.

Alongside that we got beer-battered pickled peppers, stuffed with Boursin cheese and accompanied by a Ranch dipping sauce.

With a little food to even things out, we moved onto the house punch – a “Kentucky punch” for two, served in a flask. It seemed fitting to follow up my savory Gibson with something sweet, and the fruity taste paired nicely with our spicy appetizers.

I’m not exactly sure why they serve it in a flask, though I suppose it’s a nod to the days of Prohibition that would follow. But on behalf of Saloon and all those who appreciate the novelty of being served a cocktail in such a manner, please…don’t steal the flask. The bartender, Mona, mentioned that they had stopped serving the punch via flask (for a while, anyway) because people were stealing them. A fine flask like that will run you about $5 at the Container Store; if you need one that badly, please make a trip there and leave poor Saloon alone.

Unsurprisingly, Saloon’s dinner menu also pays homage to a bygone era. Among its old-time options are Bubble & Squeak (roasted sausage, mashed root vegetables, shaved Brussels sprouts, winter leeks, and onion gravy), Ploughman’s Platter (mustard and brown sugar roasted ham, cheddar, pickled onions, a hardboiled egg, a Branston pickle, and crusty bread), and cottage pie. Kelly and I played it a little conservatively.

I opted for maple-braised pork belly with baked beans and toasted brown bread, while Kelly went with fish and chips, served in a brown paper bag. The pork belly was deliciously tender, and the baked beans were rich and thick. Kelly enjoyed her crispy fish and chips, but found the bag to be cumbersome.

The food here is a lot like the drinks – simple and traditional, with a modern twist, and prepared with great care.

Sufficiently full and looking to close the night out with one more round, Kelly moved onto a Scaflaw Hiball – rye, vermouth, lemon, grenadine, bitters, ginger ale. She was unsure whether she’d like the rye (this is the same girl who earlier didn’t bat an eyelash at tequila and grappa), but she happily pronounced it “nice and light, not overly sweet.”

I saw that on the bottom of their drink menu, Saloon notes “We are always serving whiskey drinks – Manhattans, old fashioneds, sazeracs.” I really love that this is what they consider their baseline, their signature. Since I’d already tried their Manhattan, I figured I’d check out that other venerable cocktail, the New Orleans original, a sazerac.

Mona asked if I was looking for any particular ingredients. I said I wanted something very traditional, and she told me that sazeracs, while commonly made with rye, were originally made with cognac. So I went the cognac route and was pleased; it was a very slow-sipping drink, perfect for rounding out the night.

On both occasions I’ve been here, Mona’s taken good care of me. From providing a little history with my order (like that nugget about cognac in a sazerac), to staging cool pictures for me, to, you know, making awesome drinks…Mona clearly knows her stuff.

Not only that, but clearly she wants her customers to enjoy their experience. Case in point: a woman next to me ordered an old-fashioned. Mona not only asked if she wanted a particular kind of whiskey (she didn’t) but also whether she was looking for a drink in a particular price range. Liquor options and price options? Nice.

Basking in the luxury of Saloon, Kelly and I closed out our night with strawberry rhubarb shortcake, served on an almond biscuit. Light, sweet, and delicious, it was an elegant conclusion to an evening of indulgence.

Last Call

The Saloon experience was pretty incredible on my first visit. As I was headed over for the second time, I thought, As much as I like the place, I wonder whether it’s the kind of bar I’d frequent if I lived in Davis. Since the concept sets such a specific tone, I thought it might be somewhere you’d only go when you’re in a certain mood.

How many times can you appreciate the novelty of it? After a while, wouldn’t you feel like you were just watching the same theatrical performance over and over again?

Absolutely not.

If Saloon was all scenery and no substance, it would be the Rainforest Café of bars. They could sell themselves primarily on the décor, have a menu of four or five cocktails with gimmicky names that fit the pre-Prohibition theme, and serve some below-average, overpriced food.

Instead, Saloon goes all out.

Someone not only did their homework, finding cocktails that recall the spirit of early 20th century America, but made sure they were good drinks, too, crafted on a nightly basis by highly skilled mixologists. The drink menu isn’t rigid – it changes seasonally, and the recipes are far from inflexible.

Plus, the bartenders are doing more than just following directions; they ask what kind of liquor you want in your drink and even, if you’re unsure, how much you’d like to pay for it. And while I haven’t directly tested their cocktail knowledge, my understanding is that they can make you pretty much anything you ask for, no matter how obscure.

What’s more, with the fancy drink and upscale food menu, Saloon could easily be pretentious. The sort of trendy place where the staff acts like it’s your privilege to be there. Instead, the bar has a casual, friendly, and vibrant feel. Kelly and I were greeted warmly by the hostess upon our arrival, and on both occasions I’ve been here, I’ve found the bartenders to be very friendly and helpful – always conducive to a good drinking experience.

For a place that’s oddly difficult to find, Saloon is also pretty popular. Kelly and I were there on a Tuesday, and by 6:30, the bar was fully occupied; by 6:45, the entire place was rapidly filling up. I haven’t been on a weekend night, but I’ve heard it gets packed.

The prices are a little on the high side, but not outrageous for the quality and novelty of the food and drink. (After all, where else can you find Bubble & Squeak?) If you’re on a budget, you can get some mileage out of the appetizers. Most of the cocktails are $10, give or take a couple bucks and depending on your choice of liquor. The flask of punch is $15, but that’s for two.

If cocktails aren’t your thing, Saloon has an extensive selection of draft, bottled, and canned beer – one departure from the pre-Prohibition theme that I doubt anyone would complain about.

Speaking of which, a guy showed up as we were getting ready to leave and ordered an Amstel Light. Kelly quietly groaned and muttered, “Why not just go to Sligo [the dive bar down the street]?” I concurred; why would you come to a place like this and order something like that?

But it also challenged my notion about whether this is the kind of bar I’d just pop into for a casual drink. No, you don’t have to be into old-fashioned cocktails or have an appreciation for the historically accurate décor to enjoy Saloon. At the end of the day, it’s still just a bar.

And thus, probably not bad place to stop in for a beer.

Address: 255 Elm Street, Somerville

Website: saloondavis.com

June 30, 2012

Boston BarHopper

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Russell House Tavern

June 30, 2012

Boston BarHopper

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, CAMBRIDGE

I knew Russell House Tavern was my kind of place was when I had to use the restroom.

Bear with me.

I went to Russell House Tavern for the first time a couple of years ago, with Melissa, my friend Brian, and Brian's wife, Malika. We were wandering around Harvard Square one evening and happened upon Russell House, which I think was fairly new at the time. The girls went inside to look at the menu (because as long as they had food and beer, Brian and I would have been cool with it) and deemed the dinner options acceptable; more importantly, there was no wait.

While the food was great and the beer selection was even better, the atmosphere didn’t make much of an impression on me. It kind of reminded me of a kitchen. The décor was very bright, with white walls and a black-and-white tiled floor, and the room was a little loud. There were four long, rectangular tables with stools, surrounded by smaller tables with booths and chairs, and a bar off to one side. I mean, it wasn’t bad, not by any stretch; just…nothing special.

As the four of us finished up, I asked about the location of the restroom and was directed downstairs. Assuming I was just headed to a basement level with restrooms and storage, I was stunned as I made my way down a large, oak staircase into a completely different bar, far removed from the hustle and bustle of upstairs.

I found myself in a spacious, cool room with exposed brick walls, dark wood, and stone flooring. A large, marble-topped bar with about 25 seats was the focal point, along with a dining area that was much more intimate than the upstairs. Lamps on the bar and lighting fixtures on the walls contributed to a relaxed, living room feel.

The contrast in atmosphere could not be more striking. If upstairs was like a noisy kitchen, downstairs was like a quiet den. If upstairs was the crowded kids’ table at Thanksgiving, downstairs was where the grown-ups sit, with more comfortable chairs and a few bottles of wine.

A couple of years after that first trip, the downstairs bar at Russell House Tavern has become one of my favorite places to eat and drink in Harvard Square. Brian and I usually have a excellent meal here, matched with a few craft beers, then head across the street to Whitney's for darts, a couple of PBRs, and some local color. (Not a bad night, if I do say so myself.)

Regardless of whether you’re sitting upstairs or downstairs, you can count on creative modern American cuisine and a well-thought-out beer selection. But whenever I’m downstairs, I find myself mostly in the mood for Russell House’s fantastic cocktails. Maybe it’s the lounge-type feel, or the snazzy vests and ties that the bartenders wear. Or maybe it’s just that their drinks are so damn good. While there are plenty of bars to choose from in Harvard Square, Russell House Tavern is the only one I know of in the area that makes the kind of inventive craft cocktails that have been cropping up in Boston these past couple years.

Their cocktail list is presented in two sections – Quintessential Classics and Current Conceptions. On Brian’s and my most recent visit, we sampled from both sections.

Of the classics, we tried the Vieux Carre and the Southside. The Vieux Carre seems like a cool variation on a Manhattan. Old Overholt Rye, sweet vermouth, and Angostura bitters are joined by cognac and Peychaud’s bitters, providing a nice twist on a classic. A sophisticated, slow-sipping cocktail.

The Southside, in contrast, is the kind of drink you might inadvertently quaff down in two gulps. I didn’t even taste the gin, so I felt like I was drinking lemonade, with the mint simple syrup giving it a subtle earthy freshness. It would be a refreshing summertime cocktail – and a dangerous one.

The Current Conceptions section hosts a number of libations fit for summer. The Always Sunny strikes me as an ideal drink for this insanely hot weather we’ve been having as of late. Made with Privateer Silver Reserve rum, lime, strawberry simple syrup, Angostura bitters, and house-made ginger beer, it was an easy-drinking cocktail with a tropical flair.

And the Crimson Crow was like a raspberry lemonade, with vodka, lemon juice, and raspberry simple syrup.

As Brian and I perused the dinner menu, we shifted our attention to Russell House Tavern’s top-notch selection of microbrews. There are about eight or nine beers on draft, along with a rotating cask option. Whenever a bar has cask-conditioned beer, I feel compelled to try it...partly because I imagine my friends at Brew Dudes giving me a mildly reproachful look that says I’m really passing on a unique beer-drinking experience if I don’t try the cask offering.

Last time I partook of Russell House’s cask, they were serving High and Mighty Beer of the Gods.

It was crisp and floral, an enjoyable beer whether you’re drinking it out of a bottle or a cask. The waiter told me they had just tapped the cask that afternoon, along with representatives from the brewery, who were suitably impressed with the cask-conditioned version of their fine beer.

Russell House Tavern also serves one of my all-time favorite beers on draft – Gritty’s Black Fly Stout. Gritty’s is brewed in Portland, Maine, and finding this smoky, creamy dark beer in Boston can be a challenge.

You could easily come here just for the drinks, but the menu is no less satisfying. Appetizers range from salads to crab cakes to oddities such as beef tongue meatballs, and there are “small plates,” with even more daring choices like hickory smoked lamb’s belly toast, crispy pig’s head cake, and grilled prime rib knuckles.

I'd love to tell you more about Russell House Tavern’s dinner menu, but the only thing I've ever ordered is the grass-fed burger with cheddar, bacon, and caramelized onions. Served on an English muffin, this is without question one of my favorite burgers in the Boston area. I still remember my very first bite. It was one of the juiciest, best-prepared burgers I'd ever had. The English muffin gets a little unwieldy once you get about halfway through, leaving you with quite a mess on your hands. No matter! I would eat this thing with my hands tied behind my back if I had to.

Oh, and the last time I ordered it, the waiter asked if I wanted fries or salad on the side…or a little of each. Now is that perfect or what? I get offered a salad and think “I should be good, go with the healthy option,” but I know nothing goes better with a burger than fries. A little of each? Russell House has got you covered.

I unapologetically order the burger every time I’m here. And it's almost too bad, because there are some great options, like the local Berkshire pork trio (loin, belly, smoked shoulder), a variety of seafood dishes, and even a raw bar menu. There’s also a pizza selection, which is Brian’s domain.

On our last visit, he got the Angry Queen, with marinated roasted tomatoes and basil. His assessment: “It got better the more I ate of it. It seemed a little bitter at first. But maybe I’m just drunk.”

What I wouldn’t give to express myself so succinctly and poetically.

Last Call

In an area with so many bars and restaurants, Russell House Tavern manages to stand out. Upscale but casual, the downstairs area would be a great place for a date. And I don’t mean to judge the upstairs too harshly. Now that the warm weather’s here, the big windows that look out onto the square are open, giving it a nicer vibe. There’s also a small section of outdoor seating.

I usually find the downstairs bar to be a little crowded in the after-work hours; most of the 25 bar seats have been occupied the past couple times I’ve been there, but getting a table has never been much of a problem. Russell House doesn’t seem to draw a lot of students, which distinguishes it a bit from other establishments in the area. That might be because the prices are a tad on the high side. My burger and Brian’s pizza were both $12, and the entrees average around $20. But I’d say such creative cuisine warrants a little extra. And that burger’s worth every penny. The cocktails range from $8 to $13, which is pretty standard for well-made craft drinks, and the draft beers are $5 and $6.

Oh…and the restrooms are pretty nice, too.

Address: 14 John F. Kennedy Street, Cambridge

Website:http://www.russellhousecambridge.com/

June 7, 2012

Boston BarHopper

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Emerald Lounge

June 7, 2012

Boston BarHopper

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

A few months ago, I got wind of a Boston cocktail competition called Movers & Shakers, and I thought it would make for an interesting blog post. But I couldn’t make it. Last Friday, the local Bully Boy Distillers held a speakeasy party to celebrate their first anniversary. That sounded like a cool event and the basis of a good story. But I was previously engaged and could not attend.

I was honored to be invited to the Marie Brizard USA Cocktail Challenge Boston Semifinal this past Monday. The winner would have the chance to compete for a national title in New Orleans. Which local mixologist won? I don’t know…because the competition was during work hours and I couldn’t go.

I could almost hear voices from the blogosphere cackling at me: “Keep skipping all those fun events! Stick with your oh-so-important previous engagements! It’ll catch up with you, Matt...and your little blog, too!”

And that’s when a chance at redemption presented itself via my Twitter feed. Emerald, a sleek new bar in the Theater District’s recently opened Revere Hotel, was hosting a social media event in advance of its public debut…and I was not going to pass this up. I was short on time – had to pack for a trip to Florida – so my visit was brief, and this post will in no way do Emerald justice. But it’s probably a good thing I had a commitment – otherwise I think I would have tried every intriguing cocktail on the menu and ended up paying for a room upstairs.

Walking into this upscale cocktail lounge, you might be forgiven for momentarily thinking you’d just been swept away to a land beyond the rainbow. Which makes sense – Emerald’s theme is based on the Wizard of Oz. You definitely won’t feel like you’re in Boston anymore – I’ve never seen a bar like this, here or anywhere else.

This place is absolutely beautiful. It’s a large, spacious cocktail lounge with two bars on two floors. The bar on the lower level seats about 15, and there’s a central area with comfortable couches and lounge-type seating.

True to its name, Emerald is illuminated mostly by emerald green lighting, with splashes of red here and there. Large mirrors on the walls and cool mirrored tables reflect the colors and give the space incredible depth. Modern sculptures of tornadoes contribute to an already fascinating décor, and while they aren’t exactly ruby slippers, waitresses sport red high heels.

The drink menu is divided into two sections – Craft Cocktails and Wicked Libations. Tyrese, the bartender who took great care of me, told me that the Craft Cocktails were designed by Emerald’s bartenders over the course of several months and vetted by “corporate.” These are original cocktails or highly innovative twists on classics. The Wicked Libations are your standards – Manhattans, Mojitos, Cosmos, things of that nature, but with some modest customizations.

Already feeling like I was in Oz, I had to start with the Emerald Punch – Stoli Orange vodka, Hennessey VS Cognac, Blue Curacao, ginger beer, orange juice, simple syrup, and if that wasn’t already over the top…fresh grated ginger.

I could drink this baby all night (and at some point would imagine I saw flying monkeys). The coloring would lead you to think that all sorts of overly sugary liqueurs were thrown in to make it green, but the cocktail was nicely balanced and just sweet enough. And it did taste like punch, but a mature, refined punch.

Next up was the Boston Shandy – Buffalo Trace whiskey, honey syrup, apple cider, and Shipyard Export, topped with a shaved apple chip that had been dried for two days and cured slightly with brown sugar.

They could have just given me the apple chip and I probably would’ve been content. But what a blend of ingredients! The sweetness of the honey and the cider worked surprisingly well with the whiskey.

Watching Tyrese whip up his concoctions was an experience.

A cocktail wizard, he was obviously excited about the drinks he was making, and about the bar itself. In fact, there was a palpable sense of enthusiasm from the entire staff. It seems like they’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.

And why wouldn’t they? This place looks phenomenal, and with its unique theme, Emerald will undoubtedly attract a curious crowd. Fortunately, this place offers much more than just a clever motif. Emerald joins a distinguished group of Boston bars that offer well-conceived, inventive cocktails. It will be an excellent late-night destination with friends when you want a fancier evening while maintaining a degree of intimacy.

As thrilled as I was to be here, I had to make my visit a short one. But I will most certainly return, because Emerald deserves a much more detailed post. I’ve only tried a couple of the specialty cocktails, and there’s a mouthwatering menu of small plates to complement those exquisite drinks. I’m also dying to see this place later in the evening, when the lights are low and the green glow permeates the whole space.

Until then, I’m off to the Florida Keys for a much-needed long weekend (because, you know, Memorial Day weekend was just so long ago). Hopefully I’ll have a colorful, tropical-themed post for you when I get back, with some semi-coherent Facebook updates and tweets in the meantime.

Address: 200 Stuart Street (in the swanky Revere Hotel), Boston

Website:http://www.reverehotel.com/#emerald

June 1, 2012

Boston BarHopper

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Church

June 1, 2012

Boston BarHopper

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants

[Church has closed.]

When someone tells me there’s a bar called “Church,” certain images come to mind. I kind of expect a hipper-than-thou club in some lesser-known corner of downtown or the Financial District; an area that would be deserted after hours. It would feature a DJ with a moniker like “the Reverend” and would probably attract a black-clad, neo-goth crowd ordering drinks from waitresses dressed as slutty nuns. The inside would be very dark, save for creepy red lighting, and there’d be a $20 cover.

So when my sister Kelly told me there was indeed a bar called Church in Boston, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was nothing like I expected. To begin, it’s not down some dark alley in downtown Boston – it’s in a residential area near Fenway Park. And it’s not an uber-trendy club – it’s a very cool cocktail bar and restaurant that manages to maintain a neighborhood feel.

Still, I might expect a place with a name like Church to be heavy-handed with pseudo-religioso décor. Again, no. There are some cool stained-glass windows, a stone floor that I suppose could be reminiscent of a medieval cathedral, a black granite bar illuminated by dark orange hanging lamps, and softly glowing votive candles on the tables, on the bar, and even amid the liquor bottles. But the golden-brown walls provide a warm, modern contrast, the candles are battery-powered, and the staff is so friendly – there’s no way this place could be as somber as a gothic church. OK, there might be a framed picture or two of a gargoyle.

The bar and restaurant side of Church (there is indeed a club side, too, but we’ll get to that later) is a moderate-size space. There are about ten seats at the bar and six small tables in the immediate area. In between the bar and the dining section is a set of couches that you can snag if you’re lucky. The dining area, with a dozen or so tables, looks onto a quiet residential street through large windows framed with thick, burgundy curtains.

I would call Church a very chic but highly casual bar with upscale comfort food, an amazing staff, and some excellent drinks.

Oh yes…the drinks.

I was impressed with this place even before I opened the cocktail menu, but when I did…well praise the Lord! Not only does Church contribute to elevating the art of mixology, it describes its drinks in one of the most interesting manners I’ve ever seen.

Church’s specialty cocktails are divided into two biblically themed sections: Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. A drink for each sin, and one for each Horseman.

Let’s pause a moment and consider the coolness of this, shall we?

The description of each cocktail is like a short story unto itself. And in some cases, there are only hints as to what ingredients are in the drink. Check out Church’s description of “War,” under the Four Horsemen heading:

The armor of war has been torn asunder. In its place lies an unknown heart, with an unknown taste. With this cocktail we give it form once again with the heart of an old New Orleans classic, but the taste of something completely new. Welcome whiskey lovers…

Yeah, that’s awesome. If you know a few things about New Orleans and whiskey, you can probably deduce that War is Church’s version of a Sazerac. If you don’t bring that knowledge, even better. I mean, seriously – who describes a cocktail like that? Some places merely list the ingredients in their drinks; some boast that theirs is the best in the city. At Church, they’re establishing a mood, evoking an image, piquing your curiosity.

What’s the worst that can happen? Maybe you end up with a drink that has an ingredient you don’t care for, but it’s part of the adventure. You’re in Church, after all; have a little faith!

I’ve been to this bar on three occasions. The first was on a Saturday evening with Melissa and our friends Jack and Jenny. The second was a brief visit by myself, and the third was with Melissa and Kelly. Over the course of those visits I’ve ordered or tried nine of Church’s eleven specialty cocktails, had dinner, ordered a slew of appetizers, and indulged in a few desserts. So make yourself comfortable while I spread the Good News.

We start, of course, with the drinks.

On my first visit, with Melissa, Jenny, and Jack, I made a beeline for the Seven Deadly Sins. I started with Sloth (no snickers from the peanut gallery, thank you). Sloth is Church’s version of a Manhattan, and they stay true to the classic recipe. The menu advises you to take it slow with this one. I find few cocktails more relaxing than a well-made Manhattan, but I admit this one disappeared pretty quickly.

Jack went for Wrath, though it would be difficult to stay angry with a smooth drink like this in your hand. This one was made with New Orleans-style Sazerac rye, fantastically seasoned with allspice, basil, and peppercorn. The allspice stole the show here, giving the drink a rich, unexpected flavor.

Jenny opted for Conquest, of Four Horseman fame. When you think of tequila and strawberries, you probably think of a margarita. This was nothing like a margarita. Church uses dark, bourbon barrel-aged tequila, mixed with rhubarb (I figure you really gotta know your mixology to properly put that in a drink) and agave nectar, topped with fresh, sliced strawberries. The dark tequila, more complex in flavor than white as a result of the aging process, truly distinguished Conquest, and the way the flavor worked with the strawberries was beyond words.

As she drained the glass, Jenny stood up, drew an imaginary sword from an imaginary scabbard, and declared herself a forgotten daughter of Cortez, the blood of a conquistador flowing hotly in her veins. Tequila affects people in different ways, I’ve found.

In addition to their regular cocktails, Church features rotating drink specials. Melissa went that route, getting a drink called Prairie Rain – vodka, maraschino liqueur, ginger beer, and rhubarb bitters (I’ve gone from never encountering any sort of rhubarb flavoring in a drink to seeing it twice in one night!). It may have lacked the thematic moniker of our other drinks, but it was no less satisfying; the crispness of the ginger beer and the freshness of the rhubarb bitters gave this a truly unusual and refreshing flavor.

My tour through Christianity’s dark side continued on my subsequent visits. I was in the neighborhood by myself one early Saturday evening, and I kindly stopped for Death. I’d been intrigued by this most solemn of the Four Horseman when I read about it on my initial visit:

With this cocktail we have dressed Death in velvet, walked her down the cobbled streets of Toledo, where to this day she dances with the “la fee verte”, locked in a perpetually effervescent prison. The key is yours now.

Yeah, that’s awesome too. I was expecting a thick, dark drink, but Death never looked so elegant and peaceful. The effervescence came from Champagne or Prosecco; unfortunately there was a licorice flavor in there, which I loathe, so it’ll be a long while before I dance with Death again (I hope).

By the time of my third visit, with Melissa and Kelly, I almost felt like a regular Church-goer. We came on a Tuesday night at about 5:30 when the Sox were out of town – which of course, you must always account for when coming to drink in this part of the city. The place was pretty much dead at that hour, so we made ourselves comfortable at the bar. The slow night gave us a chance to talk to our bartender, Tara, and watch with reverence as she artfully crafted our cocktails. Tara took great care of us and was a good sport when it came to talking about the bar and her approach to making drinks.

Kelly opened the proceedings with Greed – Hendricks gin, St. Germaine, diced cucumber, a pinch of white pepper, garnished with a salted cucumber.

Anything with Hendricks is good, but this drink was crisp and invigorating. You’d get a sense of the cucumber whenever you took a sip, and the pepper enhanced the cucumber aroma.

Melissa took a page out of Jenny’s book and went for Conquest (minus the imaginary sword bit…which, honestly, didn’t really happen). I also felt like going another round with the Horsemen, so I ordered Famine – probably my favorite drink of the night. This combination of Guatemalan rum and walnut liqueur was rich and naturally sweet, but not cloyingly so.

One of the benefits of being in a sparsely populated bar with a friendly and attentive bartender is that when she overhears you contemplating your next order, she can help you make your choice. Kelly was thinking about giving Vanity a try, and since Tara was mixing up a batch for a few other customers, she offered her a sample. As I’ve noted before, getting a cocktail sample is much rarer than getting a beer sample. You really don’t encounter this kind of service in a lot of places, and I want to make sure it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Vanity was exquisite. A cocktail of Champagne, vodka, freshly squeezed ruby red grapefruit, and lemon twists, this baby was sweet, tart, and dry all at once.

While Melissa sampled Church’s wine selection, Kelly and I closed out our nights with Envy and Gluttony, respectively. Envy is a delicious vodka drink with diced kiwis – when’s the last time you had kiwi in a drink?

And Gluttony was aptly named. It was very much a dessert-type cocktail, with rum, bananas, Thai coconut milk and – are you ready for this? – topped with a cocoa-dusted mint leaf. Good Lord! A sinfully decadent way to close out a night.

Now you can drink all these amazing cocktails ‘til kingdom come, but if you don’t have some food to accompany your libations, you’ll be on your knees praying to a different type of god, waking up with a hangover of biblical proportions. Thankfully, Church’s food menu is as satisfying as its drink options.

Church has an impressive variety of appetizers and dinner options. After a brief wait (not bad for a Saturday night when the Sox were in town), Melissa, Jenny, Jack, and I got a table for dinner. Unfortunately, I’m a little short on food pictures from that night – as it turns out, the light of a votive candle doesn’t exactly provide ideal shooting conditions.

So, in short – we were all impressed with the food. We started with the novel grilled cheese sliders, complete with a bowl of spicy tomato soup for dipping, and crabcakes with chipotle aioli. Mel, Jack, and Jenny all hail from the Chesapeake Bay region of Virginia, so their expectations of crabcakes are snobbishly high. Forget the lighting – they disappeared before I could even turn my camera on.

Our entrees were even more satisfying. While I tend to avoid pulled pork at non-BBQ restaurants, I was very pleased with Church’s pulled pork sandwich, which came on a crunchy roll. Jenny, rattling her imaginary saber, boldly and loudly declared her fish tacos “fit for a daughter of Cortez,” Jack dug his tuna steak, and Mel was as pleased with her salad as one could be with a salad.

When I returned with Kelly and Melissa, we contented ourselves with appetizers at the bar. I’m a fan of any place where you can be wholly satisfied with a few apps, and that’s definitely the case at Church. Mel immediately went for the grilled cheese sliders, since they were such a hit on our previous visit. Add to that sloppy joe sliders and a spring herb hummus, and we were three happy customers.

Oh, and how about this for exemplary service – when Tara noticed that we ran out of pita chips before we finished our hummus, she had a waitress bring us a new plate of chips. (This may have had something to do with Melissa licking the hummus bowl.)

Next up was a country fried chicken appetizer. It was pretty good, but an odd combination of flavors. The fried chicken came atop a waffle, and was drizzled with a green, savory garlic gravy. Mel wasn’t digging it, but that meant more for Kelly and me (and Kelly was full at that point, so it was pretty much mine all mine).

Our final appetizer was our most daring choice – tuna tartare. This was raw tuna served on half an avocado. Phenomenal. The flavors worked perfectly together, and a freshly squeezed lime put it over the top.

Insert your own “gluttony” joke while I regale you with our adventures in dessert. With Jack and Jenny, we ended our evening with bread pudding and a strawberry rhubarb crostada (rhubarb! Yet again!). Both were sinfully delicious, but the bread pudding took the prize.

And since Kel, Mel, and I passed on entrees, we felt justified in ordering Church’s flourless chocolate cake. Now this isn’t something I’d ever order; I hear “flourless” and think “flavorless.” But Tara gave it high praise, so Mel ordered it. For a flourless cake, it was surprisingly moist and dense. It wasn’t overly sweet, but it drew a rich, balanced sweetness from the cherries, cream, and cherry syrup on top. Not what you’d expect from a flourless cake, and I’d recommend it. It was a perfect end to our evening.

Amid the great drinks, delicious food, and friendly atmosphere, I had forgotten that question I first asked myself – why the hell did they call this place “Church”? Because there are a couple of stained-glass windows and come cleverly named drinks? If the bar was housed in an abandoned church, I could understand it; but as far as I can tell, that’s not the case.

But when I think of church as a community place, a neighborhood destination where people come together in celebration of a common cause…it makes sense. Local and friendly, upscale but laid back. It’s actually the kind of place I’d consider going once a week…even if it’s not on Sunday.

Closing Prayer

As I noted in my review of Audubon Circle, just finding a place in the Kenmore/Fenway area that doesn’t exist solely for the purpose of attracting game-day Red Sox fans is rare. And to happen upon a bar as unique as Church is akin to having an epiphany.

Church would be an ideal location for a date. It’s a bit on the fancy side, so you’d impress your partner; but the atmosphere is undoubtedly warm, casual, and intimate. The drink menu itself is a conversation piece, and once you lubricate the conversation with those excellent cocktails, you’re all set. Or if you haven’t got any hot dates planned but are coming with a group, try calling ahead to reserve the couches.

Price-wise, it’s a little high, but not too bad for the city. Entrees range from $11 to $25, but most of the appetizers are $10 or less, and all those cool drinks are an even $10. There’s even a parking lot out back that’s free when the Sox aren’t in town.

As I mentioned, there’s even more to Church than innovative cocktails and comfort food. Although part of the same building, there’s a separate room for live music where local and touring rock bands play. The cover charge varies depending on the band playing there, but if you get in before 8:15, you should avoid the cover altogether. And if I understand correctly, there’s no cover on Tuesdays. I haven’t been to the music side yet, but it sounds pretty casual – pool tables, TVs with the game on. I can’t wait to get there soon and write a follow-up post.

Address: 69 Kilmarnock Street, Boston

Website: http://www.churchofboston.com/

April 17, 2012

Boston BarHopper

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Scholars -- An Update

April 17, 2012

Boston BarHopper

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

If I had a nickel for every time I ordered a particular beer and was told that the bar had just run out of it, I could buy a round for everyone reading this blog (and since there are only 15 registered followers at the time of this writing, myself included, we could probably get a round of shots, too). Now, if I had a nickel for every time I was declined a drink because the bar was out of kumquat, I would have exactly $0.05. Thus begins the tale of my most recent stop by Scholars.

Last week, I read that two of Scholars’ bartenders, Amber and John, were entered in Movers & Shakers, a cocktail competition at the Boston Center for the Arts. I gained a deep appreciation for Amber’s cocktail-making skills during my last visit to Scholars and, while I wish I could have made it to the event, I had a previous commitment. Still, I made a mental note to stop in and check out their entry, which, if I understand correctly, was a combination of Bully Boy Whiskey (made right here in Boston), ataulfo mango, black pepper, and somehow, bruleed kumquat.

Later that same week, I discovered that, completely unbeknownst to me, Scholars had reposted the blog entry I wrote about them on their Facebook page. Thank you, Scholars! I am truly honored.

So to show my appreciation for the shout-out and to inquire about this intriguing cocktail, I stopped in Friday after work. I sought out Amber and expressed my interest in her and John’s creation, but she couldn’t make it for me…because the bar was out of kumquat.

You just don’t hear a bartender – or anyone, for that matter – speak these words very often.

I got over the lack of kumquat pretty quickly, though, when she offered me in its place a drink that hasn’t yet made it onto the Scholars menu – the Cubano Nuevo, an update of the classic Old Cuban. An Old Cuban is typically made with rum, lime simple syrup, Angostura bitters, a mint leaf, and a splash of champagne. Amber spices up this fine drink with such imaginative additions as ginger simple syrup, tiki bitters, and basil. There are a few other intriguing twists she puts in there, but I really don’t know whether she wants me broadcasting her recipe.

When I think of Carribean-themed rum drinks, I tend to think of light, sweet drinks like mojitos, Cuba Libres, daiquiris, that sort of thing. Scholars’ Cubano Nuevo was far more elegant and sophisticated. If a daiquiri is what you’d drink at a bar by the beach, the Cubano Nuevo is what you’d drink on the rooftop lounge of a 5-star resort. It was a lively combination of flavors, each ingredient working off of another. Amber apologized for it looking like a girly drink; maybe she read about the relentless teasing I endured at Marliave.

What really impresses me is how much work goes into devising a cocktail of this caliber. It’s pretty clear to me that this drink – probably like every other one on the Scholars menu – was the culmination of a process, and the artists take pride in their accomplishment.

And I don’t think it’s an overstatement to call this artistry.

Places like Scholars, Drink, Eastern Standard, and others elevate the process of making cocktails. When you get a mixed drink at a typical bar, what do you tend to say about it? “Oh wow, this is really strong!” or “I don’t think there’s any Captain in this.” It’s rarer to find yourself noticing, say, how the basil interacts with the lime and the ginger, each flavor enhancing the other.

But I’m beginning to experience it more often. After all, just the mere fact that there is a cocktail-making event in Boston shows how many exciting opportunities there are to partake in this intoxicating art.

March 16, 2012

Boston BarHopper

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

Marliave

March 16, 2012

Boston BarHopper

All Posts, Bars and Restaurants, BOSTON

On the heels of my cocktail adventures at Scholars, I figured my next post should focus on something a little more run-of-the-mill. A simple bar where I could have a few beers, split a couple of appetizers with my wife Melissa, and call it a night. But our first destination was too crowded to allow for good pictures, and let’s just say the service didn’t inspire us to wait until the Friday after-work crowd died down. So we hopped on over to Marliave for what turned out to be a surprisingly fun and interesting evening – resulting in another cocktail-heavy post. My previous two trips to Marliave had been a mixed bag. While I liked the bar and loved their concept – serving Prohibition-era cocktails – my experiences there had been a little inconsistent.

But my third visit was like a cool, smooth chaser, quickly taking the sting out of the prior bitterness and leaving me with a new appreciation for this fairly unique bar.

Similar perhaps to the era it endeavors to recapture, Marliave is tucked away at the end of an alley in Downtown Crossing. It was originally opened in 1885, and while it hasn’t been in continuous operation since then, the modern version stays true to its late 19th century roots. The exterior is elegant but simple: a black and white façade with wrought-iron accents, gold lettering, and a classic hanging sign.

The interior is upscale yet understated – a low-lit black and white décor, nothing to grab your attention except the glorious collection of liquor bottles. The long, marble bar hearkens back to a time when going out for cocktails was the centerpiece of a very special evening.

There’s a surprising amount of space for what feels like an intimate environment. Marliave has two floors, each with its own bar, and a separate dining room upstairs. The upstairs area was full when Mel and I arrived at 7:15, but we managed to find two seats at the downstairs bar.

I’ve never eaten at Marliave, and since I’d filled up on appetizers at the previous establishment, I didn’t sample the culinary offerings on this visit (for what it’s worth, I’ve heard the food is excellent). Not surprisingly, though, the cocktails are the main event. The drinks are inventive but largely built on the traditional liquors you’d expect to find in the 1920s – whiskey and gin.

As I would at any establishment that has a menu devoted to specialty cocktails, I debated my options for a good 10 minutes. I finally settled on the Ulysses S. Grant. It’s Svedka vodka, Plymouth sloe gin, cranberry juice, seltzer, and lemon. It sounded like a solid, classic, old-fashioned drink. Unfortunately, it looked like this:

Yes, I know what you’re thinking…pink lemonade. Frankly, that’s what it tasted like, too. You know who would never drink this? Ulysses S. Grant. Don’t get me wrong – it was delightful, but my enjoyment of it came at the expense of ribbing from Melissa (thankfully, our other friends hadn’t arrived yet).

While I casually sipped my sophisticated cocktail (read: quickly sucked down my girly looking drink to quell the teasing), Mel and I noticed a small cask behind the bar. As we debated whether it was merely decorative or actually contained something, the bartender told us that inside was 6-week oak-barrel-aged Old Overholt Rye for use in their Manhattans – which, once the choir of angels in my head concluded their divine song, I ordered.

Marliave’s version of the Manhattan is called the Jennie Churchill, named after the mother of Winston. (Legend has it that Ms. Churchill created the Manhattan cocktail, but there’s some dispute to that. Regardless, it makes for a good story.) Combined with the oak-aged rye is Vya sweet vermouth, house-made (yeah, you read that right) cinnamon bitters, and cherries imported from Italy.

Please…I need a minute.

The Manhattan is my favorite cocktail, and I think the best ones are the most traditional, with no extra ingredients or variations. Marliave honors that tradition, the only departure being the cinnamon bitters; they weren’t overpowering, but were enough to distinguish the Jennie Churchill from other versions. And the imported cherries? Molto Bene! How I’ll ever go back to just a plain ol’ Maraschino cherry, I don’t know. I am forever spoiled.

Melissa was especially intrigued by the cherries and was clearly angling to have mine once I’d drained my Manhattan. Being the ever gracious husband, I…offered to split it with her. Fortunately, my half-hearted attempt at generosity was not lost on the bartender, who settled the issue by giving us these:

It was at about this point that I realized how astute and talented our bartender, Brian, was. While Melissa was contemplating her next order, Brian suggested the bar’s most popular cocktail: the Tres Curieux, made with Hendrick’s gin, St. Germaine, lime, grapefruit, Prosecco, and a cucumber garnish. Mel was unmoved by its apparent popularity, so Brian made her a sample. You know, it’s not uncommon to see beer samples handed out; but a cocktail sample? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that. I mean, that requires some work!

The sample, of course, made Mel feel obligated inclined to order the full cocktail…which was exquisite. I’m a recent convert to Hendrick’s gin; it paired perfectly with the fruit and the Prosecco for a strong drink with natural sweetness. The cucumber garnish added a burst of freshness.

With Mel all set for the next half hour or so, it was time for my next choice. I probably could’ve stayed with those Manhattans for the rest of the night, but with so many other intriguing options on the menu, and a bartender who was clearly devoted to the art of the cocktail, I felt there were new frontiers to explore.

Thus, after more careful consideration, I went with the Waterloo – Bombay gin, Champagne, and lemon. The dryness of the gin, the bubbles from the Champagne, a subtle contribution from the twist of lemon peel…pure alcoholic bliss. Of course, I was again derided for having a girly looking drink.

Maybe it was the cocktails, maybe it was the thinning post-work crowd, but at this point the evening turned decidedly social. All night we’d been sitting next to a guy who appeared to be a regular, given his rapport with Brian. Our neighbor’s name was George, who, as fate would have it, went to Suffolk University and now teaches in its English department. Since I’m also a Suffolk English department alumni, we hit it off pretty quickly.

George is indeed a regular at Marliave, and once he learned about my little project, he was only too happy to expound upon some of the bar’s lesser-known features. For example, at one point he said, “Hey, want to see something cool for your blog?” and asked the bartender for “a Coke with no glass.” My first thought was that Brian and George had worked out a routine whereby Brian would take the hose for the Coke fountain and fire the contents directly into George’s mouth from the other side of the bar. In fact, they were merely demonstrating that Marliave uses old-fashioned Coke bottles in order to stick with their classic theme (this is a pretty neat detail on Marliave’s part, eschewing fountain drinks for glass bottles; but I confess I was slightly disappointed at not seeing the hose trick I’d envisioned).

Catching up on Suffolk times, engaging in enlightened conversation, learning more about Marliave – this was all great, but George’s best contribution to the night was his knowledge of off-the-menu drink specialties. He implored me to ask Brian for a “smash.” This is Marliave’s version of a whiskey smash, with, as I understand it, Brian’s and George’s customizations. It’s made with Blanton’s single-barrel bourbon, lemon juice, water, agave syrup, with muddled mint leaves and another of those delectable cherries.

This baby was a work of art (and very manly looking).

But George wasn’t the only one to impart some knowledge of craft cocktails. Shortly thereafter, I heard the woman next to me ask Brian whether he could make a Moscow Mule. He responded in the affirmative, of course. You don’t exactly need a Ph.D. in mixology to stir up ginger beer, vodka, and a lime. But then she threw him a curveball – “Do you guys serve real Moscow Mules?” I missed the rest of the exchange, but it was clear that Marliave couldn’t satisfy her request.

I was intrigued by what constituted a real Moscow Mule. She told me that in Lebanon, where she’s from, the drink isn’t made with ginger beer – it’s done with muddled ginger, combined with orange juice or soda, a cucumber, and of course, vodka. If I was accustomed to drinking that version, I too would sneer at the more common ginger beer imposter. She mentioned that this version of the cocktail is pretty much impossible to find around here (which is kind of weird; it certainly isn’t hard to get your hands on fresh ginger). To his credit, Brian said that although he was lacking the key ingredient, he’d look into getting it.

Resigned to not having her authentic Moscow Mule, my new friend was stuck on the menu and couldn’t decide what to get. I recommended she start with the Tres Curieux. She was on the fence, but I told her that it was so good, if she got it and wasn’t completely satisfied, she could put it on my tab. She got it and, of course…loved it.

It was around this time that our friends Mario and Scott showed up and joined the festivities (which were pretty festive at that point). It was around 10:15, Motown music was filling the room, and there were only about 10 people at the downstairs bar (upstairs was full, though). Mel, me, and the girl from Lebanon persuaded Mario to get a Tres Curieux, which he did.

Mario has a knack for getting into conversations with most bartenders, so it wasn’t long before he was chatting with the amiable Brian. They talked about Mojitos – specifically, the proper amount of mint to include.

Mario was soon drinking one and declared that it was one of the best in Boston. And dear readers, Mario hails from Puerto Rico – home of the Bacardi distillery, and where they know a thing or two about Mojitos.

The night started winding down around 11, and the bar was pretty quiet at this point. I rounded out my night with a beer. Marliave doesn’t have any beer on draft; however, they have a small but respectable selection of bottled beer. I went with a Konig Pilsner – a light, crisp conclusion to the evening.

Mel closed out her night with a Jennie Churchill, and Brian thoughtfully included two cherries. Does it get any better?

Last Call

Marliave takes its Prohibition-era cocktails seriously. It’s clear that some hard work went into these recipes, even the simplest ones; you can get a great Manhattan anywhere, but try finding a bar that makes its own bitters and imports cherries from Italy. Being served by a bartender who knows his stuff and clearly enjoys the process of mixing an exceptional drink makes a huge difference.

Marliave isn’t the sort of place you’d go for a few beers. Some might consider it more of a “special occasion” bar. And the drinks aren’t cheap, though at $10, they’re about what you’d pay for craft cocktails anywhere in Boston. But with thoughtful drink recipes and bartenders skilled enough to execute them, each Marliave cocktail feels like a special occasion unto itself.

Address: 10 Bosworth Street, Boston

Website:http://www.marliave.com/home/