ROBERT NADEAU

Gran Gusto

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 20:30:51 GMT

A well-kept secret . . . But not for long
Gran Gusto is an Italian delight located as close to the middle of nowhere as it gets in North Cambridge.

YOU’RE FIRED: Gran Gusto’s grilled squid has the right balance of flame and seafood tastes.

Gran Gusto is an Italian delight located as close to the middle of nowhere as it gets in North Cambridge, in the Brickyard office building opposite the former city dump (now a park). As such, it’s a sleeper, and it needed a sleeper strategy to replace the previous occupant of the space, Tartufo at the Brickyard. (Tartufo was a branch of a successful Newton red-sauce palace; it went into a death spiral of sporadic crowds and kitchen and service gaps.)

Gran Gusto, shifting the emphasis west from Abruzzo to Naples and the province of Campania, established itself with notable thin-crust pizza. That’s great, but Gran Gusto has a real chef who also has a real talent for seafood, house-made pasta, and even desserts. You can have a luxury dinner here for moderate money, and increasing numbers of diners in-the-know have done so, despite a lack of full-length reviews of the place.

Unfortunately for those patrons, my job is to spoil their private paradise and let readers in on the secret. Bearing that in mind, my first tip is: order the grilled squid ($11). Most of the grilled squid in Boston is deliberately undercooked to keep it tender. Gran Gusto grills the squid a little past that point, so the wonderful taste of fire complements the mild seafood. The chef also scores the bodies in rings and arranges the tentacles very prettily on the plate.

If you still want your calamari tender, have the deep-fried baby octopus and calamari ($11.50). (Octopus is popping up all over in Boston restaurants, which probably says something about the price of local squid.) Both are nicely fried, with a tasty salad underneath. Other options include a frutti di mare appetizer ($11.50), which mixes mussels with littleneck clams in a garlicky sauce without — for once — too much salt, and salmon carpaccio ($11.50), which is cured, I think. It holds together better than raw carpaccio of salmon, and works well with an arugula salad with bits of oranges and sweet dressing.

Privius Lounge

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 21:06:22 GMT

Sashimi for the dancing set
I thought I had Privus figured out based on what owner Jarlath Quinn had done with his popular bar, The Kells, located right next door.

Photo credit: Brook Griffin

I thought I had Privus figured out based on what owner Jarlath Quinn had done with his popular bar, The Kells, located right next door. After watching parties leave that watering hole mid-evening in search of Chinese food, Quinn hired a Chinese chef so that the bar’s patrons could have their lobster in black-bean sauce along with another round of Guinness. Then, when I heard Quinn had hired a chef from Ginza for his new nightspot Privus, I thought, “Okay, parties were leaving for sushi and he figured the same trick would work twice.”

Privus
617.787.7483 |165 Brighton Avenue, Allston | Open daily, 5 pm–1:30 am | AE, MC, VI
Full bar | No valet parking
Sidewalk-level access

I couldn’t have been more wrong. Yes, Privus is a lounge, and it does have quasi-martinis with funny names, and sometimes it has music, but basically this is a serious Japanese-Korean restaurant. The bar is in the shape of a boat. The private booths have ocean-wave-like barriers to make them extra private. The whole place is done up in very techno Japanese black, white, and brown. And chef Jin Kim is the real deal, with the budget for airmail seafood and even imported Japanese mayonnaise.

As the waitress recited the specials of the day — seafood with Japanese names and English translations, available either as sashimi or sushi — it occurred to me to try them all by ordering the “Chef Jin’s special selection” (market price; recently $50). The chef started me off with a cup of miso soup ($2 à la carte). This is thinner, less salty, and more broth-like than other white miso soups, and that’s terrific in my book.

For real connoisseurs, it’s all about sashimi (raw seafood without the rice). Bearing that in mind, Jin took all the special seafood items and put them on a spectacular plate of sashimi. A large Pacific pen shell held thin slices of tairagai (the scallop-like pen shell) interleaved with thin slices of lemon.
Alternating distinctive and light flavors, the next item counterclockwise was four California sea-urchin roe on a leaf of shiso in a tall glass. These were the most deeply flavored uni I’ve ever tasted. Next was yellowtail, a mild white fish. It was light enough to use the accompanying wasabi-ginger-soy dipping materials. O-toro, the richly marbled bluefin tuna belly, was almost as rich in body and flavor as the sea urchin. Next to that were very thin slices of horse mackerel, some decorated with black caviar. Finally, there was Hawaiian wahoo, slices of a fish that seems to lack flake or grain, like tofu but with a lot of taste even when raw.

Benatti

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 22:15:57 GMT

Off the charts, off the map
Even a slice of zucchini makes you want more . . . zucchini. You are perhaps vegan? Order two of these and sneer at the carnivores of the world.

TRIPLE THREAT: A trio of sea scallops wows.

It’s always a gamble to put a good restaurant in a bad place. The bet is that your food will attract people no matter the location. If it pays off, customers will fork over South End prices while you shell out only East Cambridge rent.

Now, Andrea Benatti’s food is wonderful enough to attract people anywhere, and it rightfully commands top dollar (maybe a little less if you stick to the house-made pasta, and many will do just that). But his choice of locale — east of Inman Square, between Midwest Grill and East Cost Grill — is a little dangerous. Fans of those excellent restaurants might notice that some of the bottles of wine at Benatti are, like, quadruple retail. That kind of mark-up requires not only legendary cuisine, but a remote location. (I know a stretch in West Roxbury that would not only fit that bill, and is a lot closer to my house.)

What Benatti (the restaurant) does have in its favor is the undivided attention of Benatti (the chef) and his Brazilian partner Anna Encarnacao, who possibly marks up the wine and chats with the neighbors, and certainly picks outstanding Brazilian background music. By undivided attention, I mean that not only does the chef actually cook, but he painted the art on the wall, talks with the patrons, and fixes anything you don’t like.

For us, other than an undercooked steak and some heavy salt, there was nothing we didn’t adore. Food starts with Tuscan bread and dip in superior extra-virgin olive oil floating on excellent balsamic vinegar. These are also the condiments for the evening’s first masterpiece, a simple appetizer of grilled vegetables ($11). Simple is a deceptive term, because each item on the platter may be the best I’ve ever tasted. This level of grillwork cannot be delegated. Benatti’s grilled red bell pepper is so deeply flavored it could be an entrée. His slice of grilled eggplant is all richness, no bitterness. His two pieces of grilled asparagus redefine the term. His grilled slice of fennel is symphonic — no, operatic. Even a slice of zucchini makes you want more . . . zucchini. You are perhaps vegan? Order two of these and sneer at the carnivores of the world.

Twelve patties, no cake

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 20:52:07 GMT

A burger safari
Can one revive something that is, unlike barbecue, universally American, and steeped in personal nostalgia?

HOMETOWN HERO: The King-Kong Burger at Eagle Deli is a winner.

I love revivalist barbecue joints, but what about revivalist burger palaces? Can one revive something that is, unlike barbecue, universally American, and steeped in personal nostalgia? The first principle of hamburgers was enunciated by Calvin Trillin when, in 1970, he casually told Life magazine that Winstead’s, in his native Kansas City, served the best hamburger in the world. Pressed on this point in a later interview, he explained that “Anyone who doesn’t think his hometown has the best hamburger place in the world is a [now politically incorrect term for an effeminate male].” Of course, after a generation, a revivalist burger place becomes a hometown place, so in 20-odd years or so, someone writing in this space might proclaim B.Good to have the best hamburger in the world.

Now, my own hometown burger place no longer exists, and my objective judgment over many years is that Mr. Bartley’s serves the best burger in Greater Boston. But on my recent burger safari, covering lots of other highly regarded local burgers, things did fall rather neatly into three categories. (I ruled out super-yuppie burgers, Kobe beef burgers, and non-beef burgers.) My standard order was a cheeseburger, cooked medium if asked, and served with French fries, except for one instance in which Mrs. Nadeau arrived first and ordered me sweet-potato fries.

Hometown burgers
Boston isn’t my hometown, so I borrowed writer, electronic-crime expert, and drum-and-bugle-corps revivalist Peter Cassidy, who grew up in my present neighborhood, Jamaica Plain. It quickly emerged that Peter’s rosebud would not be a hamburger, but a meatball sub consumed during a drum-corps rehearsal break. (Ah, meatball subs! Readers are invited to e-mail suggestions for a future safari.) But in fact Peter did have fond memories of SIMCO’S ON THE BRIDGE (1509 Blue Hill Avenue, Mattapan, 617.296.3800), a place known mostly for its hot dogs. Off we went, then, toward Mattapan Square. Simco’s is strictly take-out, so we ate the cheeseburger and fries ($6.52) in Peter’s car. It was a very decent burger: double patty, both well done, with a good balance of beef and char flavors, white processed cheese, white sesame bun, and nothing to interfere with the ketchup, onions, and beef. What impressed were the French fries, which were crusty in a way that suggested the double-frying pommes-soufflé technique and had a custardy smooth inside. The hot dog ($2.86), alas, is apparently not what it used to be.

Jo Jo Taipei

ROBERT NADEAU — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 20:00:39 GMT

Seldom enjoyed; thoroughly enjoyable
The contemporary cuisine of Taiwan, for its part, is influenced by Chinese, Spanish, Dutch, and Japanese colonists.

STEAM DREAM Xiao long bao (steamer of dumplings) is like Peking ravioli with super-juicy insides.
Photo by Brook Griffin.

Taiwan’s culinary situation is as wonderfully confused as its history and politics. It’s part of China, but it is not. Over the past century, Taiwan/Formosa has spent most of its time as a colony of Japan; the second-most time as part of China, but outside the control of the government of China; and the third-most time as the recognized government of China, without actually governing anything on the mainland. For 30,000 years, there were no Han Chinese in Taiwan. Today, they outnumber the indigenous population.

The contemporary cuisine of Taiwan, for its part, is influenced by Chinese, Spanish, Dutch, and Japanese colonists, and most recently by the 1949 immigration of the pre-Communist officials and their cooks, from all the provinces of China. There used to be an argument over whether Taiwan had the best Chinese food; today, there is food that is distinctly Taiwanese. And even that has rapidly changed. Of the characteristic dishes of Taiwan on the menu at Jo Jo Taipei, I could find only one in my trusty 1969–1979 volumes by Fu Pei Mei, the Julia Child of Taiwan at the time.

I started tracking these changes when a helpful reader, Ju Chien Hsu, e-mailed me some pointers after I reviewed one of the first Taiwanese restaurants in Chinatown, 13 years ago. “You must try the Crispy Smelled Bean Curd,” she wrote. “This is uniquely Taiwanese and definitely an acquired taste. (I consider tofu to be the cheese of Chinese cuisine; think of this as one of the rank ones.)” All these years later, I finally found a restaurant that featured the dish on an English-language menu, and took advantage of the suggestion. (Although Jo Jo Taipei has translated almost everything, there is a little blackboard with about six specials in Chinese. Once we ordered enough exotic food, our excellent waitress attempted to explain what they were.)

Each table at Jo Jo Taipei starts with a small dish of Spanish peanuts, and another of a sweet-hot lightly pickled salad, mostly cabbage. Then a waitress comes with a tray of potential appetizers.

Shabu-Zen

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 22:23:03 GMT

The soup is definitely on
A new generation of Japanese water-fondue restaurants has won me over.

TABLE BROTH: The wagyu beef, boneless short-rib, and Seafood Supreme are cooked to order.

I am a reluctant convert to shabu-shabu. My initial reaction to the Japanese version of the Mongolian hot-pot was that boiled foods are bland, and that boiling food at the table is even worse than cooking at home. But a new generation of Japanese water-fondue restaurants has won me over. Not only have these newer places improved the blandness of the broth with flavored pan-Asian choices and sharper dipping condiments, they’ve also increased the complexity of the raw materials.

Plus, I’ve finally mastered the eating and cooking techniques involved. The secret is that the broth at the end is superb, so you want to use the protein and vegetables from the entrées as appetizers, then sate yourself with the soup mixture from the boiling water. Before I learned this trick, I would leave the broth bubbling away on the table cooker. Now I ask for a container to take it home.

With its second location — the first is in Chinatown — Shabu-Zen has refined the process with ceramic heating elements (no fumes) at each table, and added choices in the protein area. Its food selection and presentation is still a bit behind the Chinatown Kaze, but there is much to enjoy here, and this huge space fills up with Asian families even on a weeknight.

If you want formal appetizers, there are dozens, and some are choice and well-priced. Light eaters could skip shabu-shabu altogether. Seaweed salad ($2.50), for instance, is sesame-rich and delicious, as well as healthful. Sautéed baby clams ($6.50) are a wonderful plateful of small calico clams in a gravy-like sauce with some meaty and spicy elements. Baby octopus ($3.95) in a light tomato marinade is tasty. As are “Berkshire sausages” ($5), presumably made from the heritage Berkshire swine. These are four scrumptious breakfast links on a leaf of Napa cabbage, served with mustard.

You could also have a bit of sashimi, but the hamachi (yellowtail) ($6) was served barely thawed. The effect of the cold hamachi was that its fat content registered as a waxy texture. I suspect much of the food here is partially frozen to make easier and neater slices. Indeed, cubes of soft tofu came to the table frozen, and had to be cooked in the soup.

The Publick House

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 21:57:33 GMT

Grab a drink while you wait
The true focus here is the far frontiers of craft brewing, especially the many styles of Belgian ales.

BEER NECESSITIES: Moules frites are just one example of the fine cuisine á la biére.

After hearing that the owners of the Publick House are opening a large barbecue palace a block up away from their current venture in Brookline, I went to check it out. Work on that project is continuing. Meanwhile, the original bar-restaurant is going great, with its unusual menu of Belgian specialties focused on French fries (as are most Belgians) and cuisine à la bière. The true focus here is the far frontiers of craft brewing, especially the many styles of Belgian ales. Those are served promptly in the manufacturer’s glassware, while food can be slow. The Belgian dishes we had were awkwardly flavored; most patrons were enjoying either the excellent frites or more typical pub food, especially in the key of fried.

To start, then, with the draught brews (of which there are 36, along with more than 100 bottles), we tried Affligem Blond ($7), which is actually an amber Belgian ale. I think it’s supposed to be served a little warmer, but it was clean, with the wine-y and unusual flavors of the Belgian style. At seven percent alcohol, it creeps up on you. For the true blond (if somewhat cloudy) pour, I preferred Unibroue Éphémère, a “white ale” brewed with some boiled apple juice. By keeping the alcohol down to 5.5 percent, this Quebec microbrewery gets a cider aroma and flavor, warming to pear and spice.

There are really only two appetizers: Monk’s Frites ($6) and moules frites ($7/appetizer; $14/dinner). These are made with hand-cut Yukon Gold potatoes and served in a paper cone, as they would be in Belgium, with various dips. Some fries are crisp, some are not, and all have wonderful potato flavor. The smaller portion served with the mussels is served in a drinking cone. The mussels are leaner than their shells would imply, which is the norm for the season. There is a choice of five different “pots” for the mussels; we had pot Number 2, based on Affligem Blond, Asiago cheese, tomatoes, spinach, and garlic. We were licking the shells to get all the cheese, then using them for spoons to have the broth. The ale gave it a bitter finish, perhaps best with the grilled garlic bread provided.

Estragon

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 21:39:07 GMT

And you thought Taberna de Haro was authentic . . .
A divorce and new partners have put Julio de Haro in the position to open Estragon, a larger restaurant with a 1930s-tapas-bar theme. Nostalgia deepens authenticity, no?

If you thought Brookline’s Taberna de Haro was an authentic tapas bar, you weren’t wrong. However, a divorce and new partners have put Julio de Haro in the position to open Estragon, a larger restaurant with a 1930s-tapas-bar theme. Nostalgia deepens authenticity, no? So does a line of Basque-type specialties and a gourmet store next door, should you want to try this at home. Estragon has Spanish pop music playing, old family photos on the walls, and as much noise as a Madrid tapas bar at midnight — everything but shells on the floor.

Perhaps most remarkably, they serve the real Spanish bread, in paper bags: miniature, pointy-ended loaves that are softer than, though just as flavorful as, genuine French bread. You can have it with the complimentary platter of olives (including giant, ripe red ones never before seen in Boston) and the excellent extra virgin olive oil with tarragon leaves marinating in the bottle.

The menu is all small plates: some are more clearly the bar-snack “pinchos” or “tapas” (literally “lids”), while others are more like appetizers or units of entrées. For snacking, don’t miss the fried garbanzo beans ($4). Although it’s just a little plate, each chickpea has a kick of paprika and garlic. With a catchy name like “Catalan Popcorn,” this could be huge. Another small plate you’ll want several of is the classic tortilla ($4), a slice from a thick potato omelet, here served with a lemony homemade mayonnaise. Asparagus soup ($5) is creamy, full of chopped asparagus, and topped with shredded Manchego cheese. I also liked a special dish of broiled chili peppers ($8), full of concentrated flavor; a couple of the peppers were a bit spicy, too.

To fill up, get something with a sauce, such as the spiced tripe and chorizo ($8), a richly flavored tomato-based stew in the tradition of French tripe à la mode de Caen. Or try the littleneck clams ($14), eight clams in a loaf’s worth of onion-garlic-clam-broth sauce that just won’t quit. Another gravy-bearing stew is squid rings ($9) with Basque blood sausage (better than it sounds; rather like scrapple); the rings were nearly as tender as fish. Marinated mussels ($8) were actually pickled with peppers, carrot, and onion.

Tashi Delek

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 18:22:56 GMT

Fine Tibetan cuisine — freed from Chinese influences
The total Tashi Delek experience is larger than the food or the room, or even the caring service from the lone mid-week waitress.

As I’ve written before, I am a fan of Chinese food, and I am also a fan of Tibetan spirituality. But not so much vice-versa. Let me put it this way: I would be quite willing to give up a trip to Beijing and any chance at an Olympic gold medal. (Admittedly a very slim chance for a fat restaurant critic. My shot at a medal depends on the temporary incapacitation of everyone under 80.) But give up the suan la chow show at Mary Chung’s? Well . . . maybe in a future life. Speaking of which, what are the reincarnation possibilities for a restaurant critic? Jackal? Vulture? Magpie?

Maybe I could move up the reincarnation ladder and become a woodpecker if I admit that Tibetan restaurants in Boston are getting better, and that Tashi Delek is such a nicely decorated room, with such reasonably priced food, that it makes a very good alternative, even in restaurant-saturated Brookline Village. In fact, there’s an item at Tashi Delek that I think all chefs should check out — the “Tng Mo” ($3/à la carte; also included with dinner entrées). The menu description is “steamed wheat bran buns,” which strongly understates the case. These are whole-wheat breads with the texture of Chinese steamed buns, folded in beautiful wave-like patterns like Parker House rolls. Someone is surely going to e-mail me that these Brookline tng mo are pale copies of the ones you get in a particular backstreet café in Lhasa, and that they don’t count without yak butter. But I have to tell you that a basket of these with unsalted cow butter is a very convincing illusion of earthly pleasure incarnate.

Like most Tibetan restaurants, Tashi Delek serves momos ($6.50/appetizer; $14–$15/entrée). You get a choice of four fillings, either steamed or fried. The classic filling is of course yak, for which beef and vegetables are the American substitutes. Momos are related to Peking ravioli via Genghis Khan, but beefier. Of the monkish versions (tofu, spinach and cheese, greens and mushrooms), go with the greens and mushrooms. As momos go, the ones here are somewhat starchy.

Vintage Lounge

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 18:50:04 GMT

Simplify, simplify — and enjoy the wine
As often happens at wine festivals, the wine at Vintage is actually more exciting than the food.

THE MAIN EVENT: Entrées, such as the skirt steak and Cornish hen, are better bets at Vintage.

The first thing went wrong before I even arrived. One of my guests ordered a gin and tonic ($8) and had to send it back twice. “There wasn’t any tonic,” he said. “It came out of a soda siphon.” Since this column doesn’t run on hearsay, I ordered another; sure enough, the bitter flavor of quinine wasn’t evident. There are two possible explanations, both troubling: a screwed-up soda siphon watered down an actual tonic mix, or a Boston-born bartender believes all soda is “tonic,” and used straight seltzer, instead.

The breadbasket was problem number two: cracker breads are fun, but like baguette toasts, they don’t soak up any sauces. They’re workable as carriers for pâté, not for the smear of olive oil and balsamic vinegar we were given.

Our appetizers were good though undistinguished, and the salt began to mount. Mussels Provençal ($11) were nice, plump shellfish, with a garlicky wine sauce that was salty enough to float eggs. A duck spring roll ($10) is a passable fusion idea, fried without too much grease. It’s accompanied by grapefruit slices and an arugula salad . . . with an over-salted dressing. Speck salad ($11) is based on dried, cured bacon, so of course that was saline, too — when it wasn’t wonderfully smoky or, in part of one bite, a little bit rancid. NaCl levels kept coming on the pea-tendril side salad.

“Crispy Fried Calamari” ($10), a “Vintage Lounge House Specialty,” had another over-seasoning problem: too much hot pepper in the pink mayonnaise sauce. It could have been crisper. Still, it gets points for the Kalamata olives.

Wisteria House

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 19:43:19 GMT

Newbury Street’s loss is Cambridge’s gain
As one of Boston’s first Taiwan-style restaurants, Wisteria House had a 10-year run on Newbury Street. It has now moved its operations to Cambridge.

CRISPY BASIL CHICKEN Nicely fried in squid-like strips, and the savor of Asian basilis unique.

As one of Boston’s first Taiwan-style restaurants, Wisteria House had a 10-year run on Newbury Street. It has now moved its operations to Cambridge (east of Inman Square) and to a stand at the Food Exchange at the Super 88 market in Allston. (A third space in Chinatown is apparently under construction.) Newbury Street must have made up its mind: Chinese sneakers and computers, yes; Chinese food, no thanks.

Big mistake. While a review of the new Cambridge location gave me the chance to delve a little deeper into the authentic Taiwanese dishes, one of the most impressive things about this kitchen is the attention paid to detail on both the Chinese-American food and the home-style stuff. Even the steamed white rice ($1.25) is unusually delicious here, buttery tasting without the use of butter and as aromatic as Thai rice. We couldn’t find a weak spot in the overly long menu.

To start with the unusual, you might have a Taiwanese snack such as an order of “pig’s ear” ($4.50), thin-sliced strips of cold gelatinous material that manage to hold quite a bit of soy and five-spice taste. “Crispy basil chicken” ($7.50) isn’t very crisp, but it is nicely fried in squid-like strips, and the savor of sautéed Asian basil is unique. Speaking of squid, the “fried calamari ball” ($6.95) is in fact a plateful of ground-squid meatballs, each with an “X” cut into it, and more of that sautéed basil.

Even should some non-adventurous tourist walk in and order egg rolls ($2.90 “for one”; $5.75 “for two”) and barbecued spareribs ($4.75/$8.50), they’ll still think this is an unusually good restaurant. The ribs are classic, as are the egg rolls, though the latter have some subtle seasoning among the cabbage. Both are served with duck sauce and traditional mustard.

What’s the least Asian item on a Chinese-restaurant menu? Arguably crab Rangoons ($3.75/$6.75), which are wonton skins stuffed with cream cheese and a bit of crab, then deep-fried. But Wisteria House folds theirs into “W” shapes for an extra-crisp surface and serves them fresh and warm, without grease. The larger portion has 14 Rangoons, enough to cater a wedding party. You could also order egg-drop soup ($3.25/small; $5.95/large), another dish almost as Chinese as the American flag. We did, and it was delightful, with a mild but real stock and notes of egg white and scallion in every spoonful.

Highland Kitchen

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 20:12:28 GMT

Won’t you be our neighbor?
It's a restaurant with a menu that goes from diner to bistro without missing a world beat. There’s some pretty good American roots music on the jukebox, too.

SMOKED BLUEFISH CAKES Like meaty crab cakes, served with peppery mayonnaise dressing.

At the Green Street Grill, chef Mark Romano stepped into the very large sandals of John Levins and his spicy Caribbean menu. Romano’s next menu, for the relaunched and renamed Green Street, was a complete (and rather successful) shift to locavore gastro-pub. So when I heard he was opening his own place in Somerville, I was both curious and interested. Now, in his own restaurant in a quiet stretch of Somerville, he seems to have combined the best of all his experiences to turn out a menu that goes from diner to bistro without missing a world beat. There’s some pretty good American roots music on the jukebox, too, but the restaurant is already so popular that on two weeknights I could hear very little of the music over the din of happy diners.

Food starts with sourdough bread and sweet butter. Smoked bluefish cakes ($8.95) were on the Caribbean menu at Green Street Grill, though I don’t think bluefish migrate south of the Carolinas. Here they’re like meaty crab cakes, and served with peppery mayonnaise dressing. Rhode Island–style fried calamari ($7.95) have red and green (not-too-hot) hot peppers fried right in. The squid are sweet, the frying is fresh and crisp, and the accompanying dip is a fiery romesco. A special appetizer platter featured two diver sea scallops ($10.95) on top of a terrific hash of chopped artichoke and potatoes, with a tapenade of sun-dried tomatoes on top. I loved the hash but didn’t love the tapenade, so I didn’t eat that part.

You could also just have one of the inexpensive little plates of bar snacks, such as marinated olives ($3.95), which gave us four kinds marinated in lots of garlic and bay leaves.

A cup of Texas chili ($4/cup; $6/bowl) was heaped with cheese, chopped scallion, sour cream, and a wedge of excellent corn bread. Underneath all that was some piquant no-bean chili, full of cubed and chopped meat. (The rule about chili is that mine is the best in the world, and yours is, well, not the best in the world. But I’ll eat this.) For a vegan appetizer, you could have one of the vegetable side dishes, such as broccoli rabe ($3), sautéed to bittersweet with lemon and garlic. Or you could have the vegan soup of the day ($3/cup; $5/bowl), which on my second visit was cream of broccoli rabe. (I guess I was the only person who ordered it as a side vegetable the night before.) It was even better as a soup, the cream base cutting some of the bitterness and leaving a bowl of light-green goodness.

Orinoco

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 21:05:14 GMT

Definitely worth the wait
So what’s all the excitement about?

SMOKED CHURRACSO: Flash-smoked and stacked like Lincoln Logs - unusual but enticing.

I don’t stand in lines. It’s bad for my digestion. Obviously, this becomes a problem when I review restaurants that don’t take reservations. Because of its popularity, I had to visit Toro on a Super Bowl Sunday. I still haven’t worked out how to review Orinoco in the South End, because there’s nowhere in the immediate vicinity to go if you can’t get a table. I figured the new Brookline Village branch of Orinoco might work since it’s a little larger, closer to where I live, and perhaps wouldn’t be discovered immediately. Wrong. Our first visit, at 10 pm, required a 30-minute wait. It seems that putting the new place between Pomodoro and Matt Murphy’s, two other fine restaurants that don’t take reservations, provides enough spillover to overfill Orinoco, with or without the reputation of the South End branch. At least we were able to sit down right away at 5:30 one night, and reservations are taken for lunch.

So what’s all the excitement about? Well, part of it is cheap, tasty Venezuelan street food. Another is moderately priced Nuevo Latino cuisine, from South Beach. There’s also the thrill of a small, happening place; some neat décor; enthusiastic service; and a full bar with excellent mojitos.

You must, of course, order arepas ($4.75–$5.95). These are the classic corn patties — fatter and creamier inside than Mexican tortillas — overstuffed with fillings. At Orinoco, they come with a salty garlic sauce that you’ll want for all the other dishes on the menu. If you aren’t having an arepa as an appetizer, you should order one as a side dish. The one to have is the “domino” ($5.75), which combines smoky black beans with melty white cheese. Salads are very good here, especially the palmito ($7.50), which adds shredded hearts of palm to a mix of greens, tomatoes, white cheese, and a sweet dressing. It also features three dates wrapped in bacon ($5.75 as a small plate) that are fried to produce something as rich as liver or similarly wrapped scallops.

Pho Republique

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 19:42:52 GMT

Refined fusion done right
Retro done right sits well with me, and the refined fusion dishes here can be remarkable.

DON'T POOH-POOH THE PU PU: At Pho Republique, it's retro and good.

The first Pho Republique, in Central Square, had a French Colonial Vietnam concept that rubbed a raw nerve of this former protester. The food was also strictly Vietnamese, and it didn’t measure up to real Vietnamese-immigrant restaurants. A move, two chefs, and a concept change later, Pho Republique is now pan Asian-fusion with décor and food that sometimes nod to the Trader Vic/South Pacific school of ’50s nostalgia. Retro done right sits a lot better with me, and the refined fusion dishes here can be remarkable.

Typical of these dishes is the eponymous pho ($13.50 with chicken, beef, shrimp, or tofu; $18 with crispy duck; $14.95 combination). The traditional Vietnamese soup is based on a beef stock, though there is a chicken version with a lot of cinnamon. Pho Republique originally opened with an awkward beef-based pho, which they’ve since dropped, and an unconventional chicken-based version, since improved. The latter now has a wonderful balance of lemongrass with hints of anise and cinnamon, and it’s one of the best chicken soups in Boston. It’s close enough in style to the Vietnamese beef pho to work with some of the same mix-ins (bean sprouts, anise-scented Asian basil, Vietnamese hot chili sauce), and even to support the same thin slices of brisket found in the beef version. The traditional rice noodles are available, but we opted for Chinese-style egg noodles, and they were exquisite.

On the retro side, what’s more retro than a pu pu platter ($24.81)? This one tweaks appetizers of all origins. The pair of shumai ($8.50/à la carte) are Japanese-style seafood dumplings, with an additional green soybean at the center of each one. The four spareribs ($12.50/à la carte) look like the Chinese-American kind, but are candied, sweet, and irresistible. Three veggie “gyoza” potstickers ($8.30/à la carte) are deep-fried and fabulous. Hot rangoons ($8.50/à la carte) as a Chinese-American appetizer would be fried in wonton skins; these are done up as spring rolls and are as rich as blintzes. “Crispy sashimi tuna spring rolls” ($12.50/à la carte) mixes several ideas — think: California roll fried as an egg roll — though it falters because the rice isn’t flavored like sushi rice.

Persephone

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 28 May 2008 18:36:30 GMT

Fit for the gods
Modern, locavore, green, and dazzling.

AMBROSIA: The spare ribs were yummy, with a sauce that hints at sesame and anise.

I don’t know what it is with restaurants in high-end clothing stores, but Persephone is the best restaurant I’ve reviewed since . . . well, the opening of the lamented Pava, located in another haute fashion place. You get to Persephone by walking through the Achilles part of the Achilles Project, which is the kind of boutique where there’s only one of each garment on the racks, and that garment is a size zero (for women) or an extra-small (for men). I suppose that reduces inventory shrinkage, since most people — including anyone who likes food enough to be on their way to eat at Persephone — will have to request that a much larger size be brought out from storage.

Once past the Scylla of designer clothing and the Charybdis of plasma TVs, situated high up in the middle of the room and set up to display sports and video games, you have a choice of lounge seating and dining tables, both in an airy room designed for industrial chic (and din). (Okay, I know: Achilles is in the Iliad and Scylla and Charybdis are in the Odyssey. But Achilles and Persephone don’t go together, either.) The menu, unlike the store, has various sizes: small, which are tapas or bar bites; medium, which are appetizers in the familiar sense; large, which are entrées, though they sometimes need a steak-house-like side vegetable; and extra-large, which are protein slabs for two (or perhaps one XXL athlete).

We kept to the middle, and were perhaps knocked out most by the soup of the day ($8), asparagus purée. Every time I try to make asparagus soup, it’s overpowered by concentrated asparagus flavor, but this soup had a mellower, almost nut-like quality. Fresh bread with a thick crumb worked as well as a spoon. A seared scallop ($9) was impeccable, and the underlying fresh peas and finely diced carrots were beyond that. Arugula salad ($9) was, in every sense, just slightly better than the usual, from the delicious greens to the shaved cheese and the surprise of a few green fava beans. Spareribs ($9) — usually not a food associated with fine clothing — were very nicely baked with a barbecue sauce that hinted at sesame and anise. It was too yummy to spill a drop on our clothes.

Hungry Mother

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 21 May 2008 21:10:50 GMT

Beverly Hillbillies food goes to Paris
Platters such as “catfish pâté” can be visually hilarious, but also really delicious.

ONE TOMATO, TWO TOMATO: The green-tomato trio at Hungry Mother falls between haute
cuisine and down home.

At the Hungry Mother, a new restaurant in Kendall Square, chef/co-owner Barry Maiden has focused French techniques on the foods of Appalachia. That sounds like a sitcom, like a reversal of The Beverly Hillbillies. And like Jed Clampett, platters such as “catfish pâté” can be visually hilarious. But Maiden’s food is also really, really delicious. So anytime France wants to rethink that old Louisiana deal and make a bid, this is where the treaty should be signed.

We started with a bar bite of boiled peanuts ($3). They’re served like edamame, in the shell and sprinkled with salt. Before this, I’d never seen the point of boiled peanuts. It turns out that the key is serving them hot so they are squishy and starchy, more like potatoes.

A green-tomato trio ($8) put us right between haute cuisine and down home. A thick slice of fried green tomato had the lively sourness of the fruit wrapped in a crisp batter, with an accompanying spicy rémoulade sauce. Then there was a heap of green-tomato chutney on toast, delectable and in the spirit of old-time Southern relishes. With a shooter of green tomato and chervil water, we’re at the cutting edge of “molecular gastronomy,” and a long way from Virginia. (We’ve also lost all the chervil flavor and most of the green-tomato-ness, but science marches on.)

Likewise, the “catfish pâté and Virginia ham plate” ($10) is all dressed up for a Parisian table, but stays true to its roots. The pâté is made of smoked catfish, and it’s scrumptious with or without the tiny decorative salad of shaved vegetables with micro greens on top. The ham is sliced as thin as prosciutto and served with fig compote, two kinds of olives, toasts, and — here we return to the South — ramps. But the ramps (Appalachian wild leeks) are pickled.

One frankly Southern dish is shrimp and grits ($9). Maiden’s grits have more varied texture than most, and he adds some salty Louisiana tasso-style ham for soul. Smoked chicken bratwurst ($8) is a big, spicy sausage that doesn’t have too much smoke, nor does the accompanying mash of parsnips and waxy potatoes end up with too much parsnip over-sweetening and overpowering the dish. It’s a nice platter.

Minsok Restaurant

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 14 May 2008 22:05:48 GMT

Skip the sushi, stay for the serious Korean dishes
On two more visits, it became clear that Minsok is mainly a very serious Korean restaurant, rather than a Japanese sushi place.

When I drove by Minsok, it appeared to be yet another Brookline sushi place. The biggest sign on display was for all-you-can-eat sushi, offered on Tuesday and Wednesday nights for $24.95. But when I stopped in for a look, I saw a server carrying an enormous mound of something, and asked what it was. Out came a special menu for “live sashimi” ($85/small; $130/medium; $180/large; $250/extra-large). Two of us ordered a small, which turned out to be a substantial multi-course dinner. On two more visits, it became clear that Minsok is mainly a very serious Korean restaurant, rather than a Japanese sushi place, with waitresses in traditional costume and menus full of untranslatable but delicious and novel treats. The more familiar Korean dishes are also quite good. I wasn’t even tempted to try the all-you-can-eat sushi.

The “live sashimi” — which is not actually served alive; the fish had been taken from the tank and sliced quickly for maximum freshness — started with an exquisite seafood-rice soup, thick as Chinese congee, and was well-flavored with chopped scallops and mussels.

Then came a course of small plates, including soybeans in the pod, seaweed salad, salmon and white-fleshed-fish sashimi, and six California maki (all Japanese things), plus shredded raw squid in a hot ketchup, some raw white fish in a spicy mayonnaise, a piece of salmon-tail teriyaki on the bone, a sizzling platter of hot kernels of field corn, a couple of steamed New Zealand mussels . . . it just went on an on. What, no kimchee? Yes, there it is: some pretty crisp Napa-cabbage kimchee with red pepper on it.

The mound that I had seen the server carrying turned out to be shredded daikon. But atop it was most of a pound or pound-and-a-half blackfish, what New England fisherman would call tautog. It’s not usually served as Japanese sashimi, perhaps because its firm flesh is somewhat tough and chewy when raw. But the flavor is wonderful, with the slight sweetness of really fresh fish. We were each equipped with a two-hole dipping dish, one for the Japanese-style soy/pickled-ginger-wasabi dip, the other for the spicy Korean ketchup.

Around the mound of blackfish sashimi were four other species. Scallops and abalone were similar to Japanese sashimi, but sea cucumber and sea squirt were new to me. I’ve had sea cucumber as an addition to Chinese stews, but raw sea cucumber is somewhat gelatinous and chewy, though very nicely flavored. I think sea-cucumber tartare might be a winner. Sea squirt, a somewhat barrel-shaped invertebrate, is more resinous than cherrystone clams, with a flavor strong enough to dominate hot sauce. I think I’ll try steamed sea squirt next to see if that tames the flavor, but squirt fritters might be more my style.

The Blarney Stone

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 07 May 2008 23:22:48 GMT

A Dorchester bar transfomrs, with mixed results
What’s the unlikeliest restaurant transformation?

BASTA PASTA: Suddenly, tagliatelle Bolognese is on every pub menu in town.

What’s the unlikeliest restaurant transformation? The ancient White Castle burger stand in Central Square that turned into a falafel palace? The rough bar near Fort Point Channel that became Lucky’s, a retro youth bar? The old gas station, now dumpling Mecca in Chinatown? Voters will certainly have to consider the Blarney Stone, a bar once run by boxing champions that catered to Dorchester’s Irish-Americans and later to Irish immigrants, now serving quesadillas, risotto, and homemade pasta. (The new owners have taken other neighborhood bar-restaurants, including the Paramount on Beacon Hill and West on Centre in West Roxbury, and transformed them into more upscale venues.)

On to the food. I don’t know what it is with house-made tagliatelle Bolognese ($9/half order; $15/full). You used to not get pasta this good in North End restaurants. Now, all of a sudden, it’s on every pub menu in Boston. Has the dish swept newly affluent Ireland? Did Guinness’s New England distributor run a seminar on Northern Italian food? Anyway, here it is right in Fields Corner, alongside Vietnamese nail salons and dollar stores, and it’s consistently well-made. Only in America! The pasta has that special chew of house-fresh (or factory-fresh, at any rate) pasta, and the meat sauce is correctly lightened, probably with a little veal or pork. Yes, it’s just meat, starch, and tomato sauce, but it’s the slower, better kind.

My favorite item here is something most of the trendy restaurants mess up badly: mini cheeseburgers ($9). Smaller patties are hard to keep juicy; the buns don’t stay in proportion; the whole idea of dollhouse wimpies is odd. But the Blarney Stone has this tricky concept under control. Its platter is made up of four perfect quarter burgers, so it’s really a fine cheeseburger in four easy handfuls, topped with excellent onion rings. There’s also a little Russian dressing and some pickles — who needs those other food groups?

Lobby Bar & Kitchen

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 20:57:52 GMT

Room for improvement
We walked into Lobby the same day the Boston Globe ’s critic slammed the place — meaning, she gave it only one star.

GO FISH: The swordfish kabobs at Lobby are one of the menu’s bright spots.

We walked into Lobby the same day the Boston Globe’s critic slammed the place — meaning, she gave it only one star. As with many rating systems, the Globe’s now has such a steep bell curve that its four-star system really amounts to only two: two and three stars. Lobby was the exception. That review also reported that one of the garnishes actually tasted bad, which the Globe is usually loath to say.

So the question was, how much could Lobby fix in one day?

The answer proved to be: not all that much. It cut down on some of the over-salting. It fixed a dish or two. But a core complaint — that the menu lists ingredients that diners can’t taste — remained. In some areas, I disagreed with the other paper’s assessment. The Globe thought the 20-by-20-foot room with a muted TV tuned to sports was “deftly designed,” for instance; we thought otherwise. It also thought the noise level was not a problem for conversation and — what’d you say? — we measured mid-80s decibels on techno-reggae and asked for the music to be turned down. (Then when Otis Redding came on, we regretted it.)

But enough about the atmosphere and on to the food. The breadbasket was heated French bread rolls, cut into pieces: crude but pleasant. My favorite appetizer was jerk-spiced shrimp included on a $40 three-course prix fixe. Here, the under-use of garnish ingredients was a fine idea because the milder jerk spices didn’t overwhelm the nicely sautéed shrimp. Soup of the day (varies; also on a $40 prix fixe) was squash and ginger; the ginger flavor was stronger. Similarly, tuna tartare ($14) tasted mostly of capers. A trio of fritters ($12) — perhaps from a new batch, since the other review slammed it — was pretty successful, though the codfish balls might have been even better. Of the other two, a conch fritter with herbs was nice but chewy, and a corn fritter was perhaps too simple. The dip was spicy tomato.

Church

ROBERT NADEAU — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 22:04:14 GMT

No religious experience, but decent Italian food
The former occupant of this space, the old Linwood Grill, wasn’t such a bad bar.

CHEESEBURGER: With seasoned French fries, this is a Fenway classic.

The former occupant of this space, the old Linwood Grill, wasn’t such a bad bar. I mean, a little gentrification is okay, but did the new owners think it had to be called “Church” to send a message? They also partitioned it like a former British Colony, putting in separate entrances and blocking connections between the restaurant and nightclub halves. Okay, there is a (secular, abstract) stained-glass window in the dining room. But the background music still features enough blues and soul to go with the departed barbecue — no organ, no choir. A hint of Goth is as close to a cathedral as Church dares to get. Of course, for lots of people, it’s a place to eat near Fenway Park. For that, it’s not in a league with Eastern Standard, but it has some satisfying comfort dishes, some decent Italian-American food, and some competent bistro specialties. My impression is that the kitchen’s theme music is neither hymns nor blues but “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”

We started with a major-league breadbasket, full of sourdough slices, a couple of crisp wafers — not communion, though — and some tasty but overly dense mini muffins of gingerbread and cranberries. The pink stuff the bread comes with looks like bean paste, but it’s some kind of sweetened butter.

My appetizer recommendation is fritto misto ($11). In Italy, this dish would have a lot of small, bony fish. But nearer Fenway Park than Pisa it’s got chunks of filet (cod and salmon), scallops, shrimp, and squid, with a very good marinara dip. We also liked steamed mussels ($9), plumped up to seasonal scrumptiousness and served with an excellent white-wine sauce and French-bread toasts.

I wasn’t as crazy about beef empanadas ($7), which have a filling somewhat like the Argentine kind but a flaky pastry that is all wrong in this context. Served with a fairly serious Vietnamese-type chili sauce, though, the four little crescents are a pretty good snack on their own terms. I also jumped ahead with a half-order of tagliatelle Bolognese ($8; $16/full order) as an appetizer. The thick homemade pasta ribbons are the real deal, but the meat sauce is burger-flavored and loaded with cheese, not the real ragù. It just tastes like average Italian food.