ABOUT LAST WEEKEND III: THE SEARCH FOR SPORT
I want to briefly write about last weekend, which was easily the most fun I’ve had in quite a while. As most of you may have discerned from previous blog entries, whenever K. and I are together, we usually pass the time browsing in ethnic markets or eating in nice restaurants. They’re wonderful activities, though not the most touristy things to do. Luckily, since moving to Boston, I have become the local geography expert, and K. the hapless out-of-towner. Recently, she took her first weekend trip to Allston—that is, her first trip where the main goal was fun, not keeping me from falling to pieces. In giving her the grand tour of this small-townish neighborhood located on the periphery of the grand metropolis, we browsed in ethnic markets and ate in nice restaurants. We may never get back to our old ways, not after that weekend!
Saturday, October 15th, 2005
K. got in the previous night, probably around 2 am. It had been a dreary, rainy couple of days in Boston, and the mood of the weather didn’t improve with the weekend. Considering how late we got to bed on Friday, it would’ve been nice to sleep in. However, a shrieking fire alarm, not unlike the one that kept me awake the previous Saturday, sounded in those early hours. We felt compelled to get up.
Over the past few days, I had been tempting K. with descriptions over the phone of Boston’s best restaurants. The list had been put together by food critics and editors from the Boston Globe. Blurbs and photos of the various eateries, published in the BG’s equivalent of the NY Times Sunday magazine, were divided among ethnic lines: the best Italian, Indian, Chinese, etc. K. asked about the best Native American restaurant, but I found they didn’t list that. A curious omission.
But the BG Sunday magazine did give their opinion of the best New England restaurant. In case you’re wondering what exactly constitutes “New England” cuisine, here’s what the writers had to say:
“To qualify as offering the area’s most authentic New England cuisine, a restaurant must use typical regional ingredients—cranberries, squash, maple syrup, corn—prepared in ways instantly recognizable as ours.”
The magazine went on to name The Fireplace as Boston’s best New England-style restaurant. Given that the subsequent blurb about The Fireplace’s fare elicited an equal amount of salivation from me, I immediately told K. about it. She instructed me to go to their website and check if the prices were reasonable.
Being the type of gallant fool who loves a good quest, I not only checked out the restaurant’s menu (at fireplacerest.com/), but googled a few random food-related websites, to see what they thought of the Globe’s prized eatery. Ultimately, I arrived at a rather conflicted overview. On the one hand, more than a few internet critics praised the food and lauded the atmosphere. But at the same time, there were grumblings from others who said that the service was sub-par, and the prices too steep. Most of the latter group had gone to The Fireplace to enjoy dinner. Having perused the menu myself, I would agree that the dinner entrees are a little rich. Strangely enough, however, both “aye”-givers and naysayers agreed that the food portions were quite generous. There was also one particular enthusiast who went to The Fireplace for brunch, not dinner. This person seemed to have a great time, going as far in their review as to say that The Fireplace “defines New England brunch.”
Incidentally, the brunch prices were quite respectable (Just a couple dollars more than your local House of Pancakes). But at the same time, I was worried that I had raised K.’s expectations with talk of maple-glazed ribs and meat cooked on a spit.
To my amazement, she seemed to think brunch was a much better idea, and found the prospect of cornmeal waffles and pumpkin bisque equally tantalizing. Which led us to Saturday morning, when we ventured down Beacon Street, braving the rain in our galoshes-less feet, for about half-an-hour, ‘til we saw that corner entrance of The Fireplace appear in yon distance. K. briefly considered the bisque and leeks, but settled on corn waffles served with a cream and berry sauce, and maple syrup on the side (I lost count of how many authentic “New England” ingredients are in that one plate). As for me, I couldn’t decide between the bluefish cakes and the french toast. Finally, I ordered the fried eggs and duck hash.
K. and I each split our meals in half to share. Both of us agreed that the frothy, slightly sweet combination of fruit and berries perfectly complimented the dry corn flavor of the waffles. The syrup was also good, but we ended up using it only for dipping, as its sugariness threatened to overwhelm both waffle and cream. As for the duck hash, the meat was tender, though never dry. Texture-wise, it made a very good counterpoint to the fried potatoes in the hash.
Overall, everything we ordered was prepared very well. Even the fried eggs retained their yolky goodness while seeming fully-cooked. Perks included some warm bread, served with butter, for an appetizer. If K. and I had anything to complain about, it had to do with the titular hearth. Although the waitress sat us at a table near the fireplace, the crackling flames warmed us not the least. Too bad, since we were both wet from the rain, and The Fireplace itself felt unusually well-ventilated.
Evening
After napping in the afternoon, we ventured to the Super 88 Market. My apartment is located behind this Asian-themed cornucopia, which has a nice selection of meat, and a popular food court. I’ve always liked the Super 88’s décor (Paper lions hanging from the ceiling). Meanwhile, their everyday prices are better than the local megamart’s. But K. and I were looking for ingredients to some Western dish, and items like those are tough to find in a place that specializes in more exotic goods.
Eventually, we adjusted our plans, and bought Japanese bread crumbs, eggs, and some boneless pork. We went home, tossed some oil in a pan, and made crispy pork medallions, along with steamed green beans and mushrooms. K. chose a dark sauce called “tonkatsu” to serve the pork with. Flavored with apple, tomato, and distilled vinegar, the sauce is delicious. It goes well on top of ice cream.
Stay tuned for Part Two…
I want to briefly write about last weekend, which was easily the most fun I’ve had in quite a while. As most of you may have discerned from previous blog entries, whenever K. and I are together, we usually pass the time browsing in ethnic markets or eating in nice restaurants. They’re wonderful activities, though not the most touristy things to do. Luckily, since moving to Boston, I have become the local geography expert, and K. the hapless out-of-towner. Recently, she took her first weekend trip to Allston—that is, her first trip where the main goal was fun, not keeping me from falling to pieces. In giving her the grand tour of this small-townish neighborhood located on the periphery of the grand metropolis, we browsed in ethnic markets and ate in nice restaurants. We may never get back to our old ways, not after that weekend!
Saturday, October 15th, 2005
K. got in the previous night, probably around 2 am. It had been a dreary, rainy couple of days in Boston, and the mood of the weather didn’t improve with the weekend. Considering how late we got to bed on Friday, it would’ve been nice to sleep in. However, a shrieking fire alarm, not unlike the one that kept me awake the previous Saturday, sounded in those early hours. We felt compelled to get up.
Over the past few days, I had been tempting K. with descriptions over the phone of Boston’s best restaurants. The list had been put together by food critics and editors from the Boston Globe. Blurbs and photos of the various eateries, published in the BG’s equivalent of the NY Times Sunday magazine, were divided among ethnic lines: the best Italian, Indian, Chinese, etc. K. asked about the best Native American restaurant, but I found they didn’t list that. A curious omission.
But the BG Sunday magazine did give their opinion of the best New England restaurant. In case you’re wondering what exactly constitutes “New England” cuisine, here’s what the writers had to say:
“To qualify as offering the area’s most authentic New England cuisine, a restaurant must use typical regional ingredients—cranberries, squash, maple syrup, corn—prepared in ways instantly recognizable as ours.”
The magazine went on to name The Fireplace as Boston’s best New England-style restaurant. Given that the subsequent blurb about The Fireplace’s fare elicited an equal amount of salivation from me, I immediately told K. about it. She instructed me to go to their website and check if the prices were reasonable.
Being the type of gallant fool who loves a good quest, I not only checked out the restaurant’s menu (at fireplacerest.com/), but googled a few random food-related websites, to see what they thought of the Globe’s prized eatery. Ultimately, I arrived at a rather conflicted overview. On the one hand, more than a few internet critics praised the food and lauded the atmosphere. But at the same time, there were grumblings from others who said that the service was sub-par, and the prices too steep. Most of the latter group had gone to The Fireplace to enjoy dinner. Having perused the menu myself, I would agree that the dinner entrees are a little rich. Strangely enough, however, both “aye”-givers and naysayers agreed that the food portions were quite generous. There was also one particular enthusiast who went to The Fireplace for brunch, not dinner. This person seemed to have a great time, going as far in their review as to say that The Fireplace “defines New England brunch.”
Incidentally, the brunch prices were quite respectable (Just a couple dollars more than your local House of Pancakes). But at the same time, I was worried that I had raised K.’s expectations with talk of maple-glazed ribs and meat cooked on a spit.
To my amazement, she seemed to think brunch was a much better idea, and found the prospect of cornmeal waffles and pumpkin bisque equally tantalizing. Which led us to Saturday morning, when we ventured down Beacon Street, braving the rain in our galoshes-less feet, for about half-an-hour, ‘til we saw that corner entrance of The Fireplace appear in yon distance. K. briefly considered the bisque and leeks, but settled on corn waffles served with a cream and berry sauce, and maple syrup on the side (I lost count of how many authentic “New England” ingredients are in that one plate). As for me, I couldn’t decide between the bluefish cakes and the french toast. Finally, I ordered the fried eggs and duck hash.
K. and I each split our meals in half to share. Both of us agreed that the frothy, slightly sweet combination of fruit and berries perfectly complimented the dry corn flavor of the waffles. The syrup was also good, but we ended up using it only for dipping, as its sugariness threatened to overwhelm both waffle and cream. As for the duck hash, the meat was tender, though never dry. Texture-wise, it made a very good counterpoint to the fried potatoes in the hash.
Overall, everything we ordered was prepared very well. Even the fried eggs retained their yolky goodness while seeming fully-cooked. Perks included some warm bread, served with butter, for an appetizer. If K. and I had anything to complain about, it had to do with the titular hearth. Although the waitress sat us at a table near the fireplace, the crackling flames warmed us not the least. Too bad, since we were both wet from the rain, and The Fireplace itself felt unusually well-ventilated.
Evening
After napping in the afternoon, we ventured to the Super 88 Market. My apartment is located behind this Asian-themed cornucopia, which has a nice selection of meat, and a popular food court. I’ve always liked the Super 88’s décor (Paper lions hanging from the ceiling). Meanwhile, their everyday prices are better than the local megamart’s. But K. and I were looking for ingredients to some Western dish, and items like those are tough to find in a place that specializes in more exotic goods.
Eventually, we adjusted our plans, and bought Japanese bread crumbs, eggs, and some boneless pork. We went home, tossed some oil in a pan, and made crispy pork medallions, along with steamed green beans and mushrooms. K. chose a dark sauce called “tonkatsu” to serve the pork with. Flavored with apple, tomato, and distilled vinegar, the sauce is delicious. It goes well on top of ice cream.
Stay tuned for Part Two…
posted by Phil at 4:43 PM
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