When I was growing up, my impression of Boston basically came from two things – history classes that involved Paul Revere’s midnight ride, colonists throwing tea in the harbor, the infamous massacre; and, Charles from MASH (whose personality and demeanor were years later reinforced by Fraser). And, sorry to say Bostonians, but there’s always been a sort of background impression that of all northern cities in the US, it’s the most classist, racist, and, anti-semitic.
A friend’s boyfriend, who is Argentine, finds himself subject to racism regularly. In a wine bar, I watched as a clearly late 30s-early 40s couple was carded by the bartender, despite there being many obviously much younger folk at the bar, only to realize after the fact that they were the only black people at the bar. I, myself, once received a reservation request as follows: “My name is Charles and I’m white and from Boston. I see from your bio that you’re JEWISH. I’ve never eaten JEW food and don’t think I’d like it. Don’t serve any.” which just reinforced my memories of Charles from MASH.
But all that aside, I’ve been to Boston, I think, four times before – once as a kid on a family vacation, and three other times – once in the early aughts for my friend David’s wedding, and twice more to visit him and do a bit of gastronomic exploring, in 2012 and 2017. The first two of those were just for two days, the last for three, and, this time, for a whopping 3-1/2. So there’s a ton of places to explore I’ve not been to, and, at the same time, my real experience of Boston and Bostonians, is somewhat limited. This time, I actually took the time to do things like walk the Freedom Trail and wander around a bit. I still come away with an impression of a certain level of staid stuffiness, but maybe that’s because I come to the party with that mindset.
Now, just before we jump to Boston, I stopped for two iconic visits (and to visit with my sole remaining aunt) in New Haven, Connecticutt.
In all the years I lived in New York, and previous visits to New Haven to see my aunt (and uncle while he was alive), we never really ate out much. And somehow, I never managed to make it to the famed Louis’ Lunch, 261 Crown Street (it’s just a short bus or train ride away from NYC). This is the supposed birthplace of the American hamburger. It’s still served, more or less, the way it was invented in 1895. Toasted white bread, a burger patty sitting atop melted cheese if you want the cheeseburger version (which was not one of the original options) and a slice of grilled onion, topped with a thick slice of tomato, and no condiments on it, nor available. No one has, to the best of my knowledge, ever claimed this as one of the best burgers around, and it’s not. It’s good, well seasoned, and I like the simplicity of the accompaniments, but I found it overcooked, into about medium-well territory, despite their “we only serve burgers medium rare” policy. Decent potato salad on the side.
And, a visit to the iconic Frank Pepe pizzeria, 157 Wooster Street, for their acclaimed “white clam pie” Neapolitan style pizza. Now, to my mind, this style of pizza is not Neapolitan, but with its cracker thin crust, seems far closer to Roman style. We split a half white clam and half sausage and mushroom pie – my aunt isn’t fond of the clam pizza. It’s good, but no more than that. It’s really garlicky, not a bad thing, the toppings are generous, and if I lived nearby I’m sure I’d get pizza from here again – depending on how good the pizza is at other contenders for top spot, like Sally’s Apizz, and Modern, and a few others.
I arrived mid-day and just wanted a snack. Near to where I was staying, I spotted Banyan Bar + Refuge, 553 Tremont, which was on the “dumpling list”. You know there’s a dumpling list. Unfortunately, it turns out they only serve dumplings for happy hour, from 4-6pm daily, and no exceptions were to be made… <sad emoji face>. But I thoroughly enjoyed a bowl of their take on elotes, the Mexican street food, here lathered with a miso aioli, bonito flakes, and a light sprinkling of furikake, along with a little green salad. Just trying to cut through whatever I might have built up in my arteries over the days in Panama City, New York City, and New Haven. The dumplings remain to be tried on a future visit.
I met up with David at The Banks Fish House, 406 Stuart Street, for dinner. This place was on the list because we both saw and liked a photo and description of their clam chowder with Berkshire pork belly and chive oil. It was quite good, though I have to admit, I’d pictured the chowder with lovely, crispy, diced pork belly, while this just had about a tablespoonful of finely chopped pork, almost like “bacon bits”, that didn’t add a lot to the dish. Better, was the seafood platter we shared (among other dishes) with half a dozen each of clams and oysters, big juicy prawns, lobster tail, and of note, an excellent house-made hot sauce and saffron aioli.
Next day started our “dumpling dive”, with visits to four places in Chinatown. A return to Hei La Moon, which had been our favorite during our last dumpling crawl, in 2017 – they’ve moved locations, and shortened the menu (and no longer have the amazing bean curd skin roll – they have another one, not the same, and the manager told us they’d dropped the really amazing one from the menu), and no longer do the rounds with the dim sum cart, you now order off a menu and they deliver by cart. From there it was to Gene’s Chinese Flatbread Cafe for acceptable hand-pulled noodles with chili-cumin lamb. On to Nan Xian Express for boring, slightly weird dumplings and cucumber salad. And, not on our list, but serendipitously encountered, fantastic soup dumplings at Fuchun Ju, 55 Beach Street, where we indulged in the best of the day – abalone and pork soup dumplings (pictured), and dried scallop and pork soup dumplings.
David had arranged an omakase night out at his current favorite sushi bar, No Relation, 11 William E Mullins Way. Exquisite. Some of the best sushi I’ve had in a very long time. And the small, private counter for, I think, ten, with two chefs attending to everyone, plus someone on hand to recommend sake and wine pairings, impeccable. Favorite piece of the evening, this nigiri of shima aji, yellowtail tuna, topped with a sliver of sweet Vidalia onion and a tongue of sea urchin.
Having started with the two iconic visits in New Haven above, while I was out marching about on my first day in Boston, along the Freedom Trail, I spotted the famed Parker House (now an Omni, and the header photo for this post), and its equally iconic Parker’s Restaurant, 60 School Street, the birthplace of not one, but two items of gastronomic historic import. They’re only open for breakfast and lunch, so I popped in early the next morning for the former. Asking about the famed Parker House rolls, I found that they only offer them at lunch. However, a bit of conversation with my waiter(s) in Spanish, as they all spoke it, and someone opined that they had just come out of the oven in preparation for lunch and he could snag me a couple. Damn these are good. I’ve had other versions of the Parker House roll in other places, but none of them were this light, fluffy, and delicious.
And the other, is the famed “Boston Cream Pie”. Life is short, eat dessert for breakfast, or something like that. We all know I’m not a huge dessert fan, but, in the interests of… science? First off, it’s not a pie. It’s a cupcake. A fancy cupcake, but a cupcake. The cream filling is minimal, a sort of thin ribbon like frosting between two layers of a regular cake. And the topping is a waxy chocolate glaze. I ate just under half of it and decided it wasn’t really my thing. I ate the berries. Personally, I think the Boston Cream doughnut at DD’s is better, if just because it has more cream filling and a more generous chocolate glaze. Oh well.
Day two of dumpling diving was a bit less successful. We started off with a good array of dumplings at District Kitchen in Malden, just northeast of the city, with David and I being joined by another Boston friend, Brian. No wows, but we enjoyed the soup dumplings, calamari dumplings, and “Mama” dumplings, which seemed to be fairly standard pork potstickers, but very good. Then we moved on to Sun Kong, 275 Eastern Avenue in Malden, for really excellent bean curd skin rolls with pork, mushroom, and bamboo shoots, a beef filled rice noodle roll, and very different and very delicious pan-fried rolls filled with shrimp and water chestnuts, and coated with sesame seeds. The day went downhill from there, gastronomically, with oily, chewy, inedible potstickers and szechuan peppercorn pork at Noah’s Kitchen, and insipid, watery pork and chive dumplings and wontons in chili oil at Bess’ Cafe, both in Brookline, the opposite side of town.
I soloed the next two meals, with a light dinner of a wedge of Valdeón blue cheese, some jamón ibérico, and a glass of excellent red wine, all from the Castilla y León region of Spain, at Barcelona wine bar, 525 Fremont Street. The experience was marred by both deafeningly loud music and shouted conversations, and, the previously mentioned carding incident. Given both, I wouldn’t go back, despite the food and wine on offer.
Another breakfast. What am I doing eating breakfast? I don’t eat breakfast. But Blackbird Doughnuts, 492 Tremont Street (and other locations) was recommended for their unusual flavor combinations. I couldn’t resist trying their “Everything Bagel Doughnut”, despite that I could easily see it being a potential abomination. It’s not – first off, it’s not a sweet doughnut, or only a barely sweet doughnut, sliced in half and slathered with cream cheese. And obviously, the doughnut is topped with everything mix. Flavorwise, it’s okay. It’s pretty much just the same flavors as an everything bagel with cream cheese would be, though the flavor of a doughnut is different from that of a bagel. And the soft, squishy texture is a little off-putting contrasted with mental expectations. A salted toffee doughnut was better, if lacking a bit in the salt. Meh.
David and I decided on a non-dumpling day and headed for a mutual favorite, Neptune Oyster, 63 Salem Street. I’d had one of the best sandwiches of my life there during my 2012 visit. That sandwich, a sort of reverse vitello tonnato, is no longer on the menu. We shared a platter of excellent oysters on the half shell, a tuna tartare with pesto (a little too salty for our tastes), and a delicious plate of casarecce pasta with white clams, garlic, chili, and bottarga.
And, finishing off my Boston whirlwind, dinner out with Brian, at a place I’d simply spotted nearby when looking for good wine bars. Krasi, 48 Gloucester Street, is a Greek wine bar that serves primarily meze, small plate nibbles to accompany the wine. Greek wine is not my forte as a sommelier, and so I was glad to find that they have one on staff, who has stitched together a pretty amazing Greek wine list of two dozen wines by the glass and around two hundred by the bottle. He picked out a fantastic lighter red for us to accompany a selection of plates. Winner for me was this Htipiti, a dip of whipped feta cheese with chili, roasted red peppers, and sweet pepper oil, served with the “delivery vehicle” of crispy chicken skin (and more skins provided to finish off the dipping, as four of them were clearly not enough for this quantity of dip). If I lived in the area, I’d be here once a week.
Nice way to end my Boston visit. It was back to NYC early the next morning, lunch with friend John for his birthday at Loring Place, written up back in 2017, and as good now as it was then. And then an overnight flight back home to Buenos Aires.
