Belly Love

Animal thinks they’re too cool to have a sign. I think they might be right. Any restaurant that is unabashedly omnivorous, serving up plate after plate of sinfully rich meaty plates is OK by me. I think the NYTimes is close when they say that Animal is what would happen if Daniel Boulud got high and was locked in a strange kitchen. I would amend that image by including the presence of a grizzled competition BBQ’er. Many of the menu items seem like something two lumberjack gastronomes came up with at 3 am after a night of heavy drinking while playing a glazed-eyed game of “you know what I REALLY want right now?” Lucky for me, these are the types of things I want to eat in all stages of sobriety.

chicken liver toast w/ port reduction

Intensely creamy and the perfect balance of flavors. The reduction didn’t overwhelm, which can sometimes be the case when pairing sweetness with liver.

poutine, oxtail gravy, cheddar

This was just incredible comfort food. So rich and tasty. Somehow the fries managed to retain their crispiness even while being smothered with the oxtail gravy.

amberjack, nectarine, citrus, mint, chili

We thought we should probably order something that could pass as healthy to offset everything else on the menu. This did the trick, cleansing our palates from the thick oxtail residue that coated its entirety.

sweetbreads, creamed spinach, porcini, caper butter

Perfectly cooked.

Maybe a little heavy on the kimchi (at this point all I wanted to taste was meat meat meat), but the belly was delightfully crispy on the outside and melting on the inside.

bbq pork belly sandwiches, slaw

Second only to Momofuku Ssam’s pork belly in my storied career of eating pork belly sandwiches. Braised to perfection and slathered with a just-aggressive-enough bbq sauce.

foie gras loco moco, quail egg, spam, hamburger

This dish was just over the top. It was absolutely delicious but a bit one dimensional, could have used something else to compliment the viscosity of the spam-burger-foie three headed monster.

The prices at Animal are totally reasonable and the aesthetic echoes that of the chefs (Food and Wine award winners for best new chefs 2009, by the way), casual and comfortable. If you’re in LA and you like meat it’s a must.

Tupelo and Hungry Mother are two of the most celebrated additions to the Cambridge eating scene over the past year. That they are both southern inspired suggests a niche in the Boston area that was screaming to be filled at least since the closing of Bob the Chef’s over on Tremont. By most accounts, Tupelo and Hungry Mother are doing a fine job, and our experiences at both restaurants largely confirm this. So a traditional like/dislike review seems less appropriate in this case than a comparison of these largely similar establishments. If you’re in the mood for some catfish, fried oysters, roasted chicken or grits where should you go? Here’s recommending Tupelo.

With appetizers at $5-8 and entrees for $12-15 Tupelo beats Hungry Mother’s prices ($8-11 apps and $18-25 entrees) by a sizable margin, without sacrificing anything when it comes to the food or atmosphere (though Hungry Mother does trump Tupelo in terms of drink selection and quality). Tupelo’s fried oysters with green tomatoes ($8) stacked up against Hungry Mother’s fried oysters ($11) and I preferred their catfish ($14.50) to Mother’s ($18).

Most of Hungry Mother’s offerings stray a bit too far from the comfort food and too close to the French for my taste. The dishes tend to be a bit more “refined” than at Tupelo, but in a totally vanilla way. There is nothing comforting or interesting about the rainbow trout dish below. Other entrees on the menu are similarly uninspired e.g.  french style gnocchi (I’m not sure what makes these gnocchi French, but anything that would make them less Italian can’t be good) and veal strip loin. These items do not jump off the menu. Tupelo’s entrees, on the other hand, sound unhealthy and delicious: beer battter crepes, daube of beef with hominy mashed potatoes, bourbon maple bbq chicken, new orleans gumbo. The one disappointing part of Tupelo was the biscuit. There are few breads I like more than a good biscuit, but this version was dry and bland. Other than that, Tupelo satisfied on all counts.

Hungry Mother's fried Chesapeake Bay Oysters

Tupelo's Crispy Catfish with fresh green tomatoes, parsley potatoes, and pickled jalapeno aioli

Hungry Mother's cornmeal catfish w/low country red rice middlins, andouille sausage, green tomato relish

Fish was good, but the middlins were quite bland, which was an issue the last time I had this dish.

Hungry Mother’s grilled rainbow trout, fingerlings, red vidalias, bacon, almond-brown butter

The half-chicken was moist and sticky and salty and sweet and went great with the dense cornbread and the cheesy grits. This is what I want if I’m in the mood for southern flavors.

Tupelo's Brown Butter Pecan Pie with Toscanini's Tupelo honey ice cream and blackberry sauce

The pecan pie was delicious though i read somewhere that it might be off the menu now. The rest of the desserts looked equally good, so there should be no shortage of delicious ways to finish your meal.

The Hen House’s signature dish is the 5-step program, where patrons choose their waffle (buttermilk, multigrain or cornbread), their butter (whipped, cajun, herb), their syrup (maple, clove honey, maple bbq), their chicken (tenders, whole pieces, wings), and their sauce (too many to list). Most people seem to go this route, scraping the chicken off the bone on top of the waffle and then smothering the melange with butter, syrup, and sauce. Considering that I do not like waffles, syrup, or any relative of bbq sauce, I am probably not the best person to write a blog post about eating at The Hen House. But here I am, and though I did not do the Program, I loved my chicken and corn bread. I got the combo meal with three pieces of chicken, 2 sides, and a drink, which cost $8 or so and was way more than I could eat. The chicken was crispy, not at all greasy, and flavorful. The cornbread was moist and delicious. My second side was collard greens, but I was too busy to notice them. I really ordered them because I felt guilty ordering only buttery cornbread and deep-fried chicken. But the guilt was unnecessary. I had gone into the meal resigned to feeling sick immediately after eating. Surprisingly, my compatriots and I felt totally fine after the meal. We even discovered, by way of a small sticker on the door out, that The Hen House is transfat free, if that’s the sort of thing you care about.

Carlo and the two friends we were dining with can vouch for the chicken and waffles. According to them, the waffles were light and crispy, though not as hot as one might like. And, with all the sweetness layered on top of the dish, the chicken needed a bit more salt. Carlo enjoyed his side of fried cabbage, as it was surprisingly comprised of equal parts bacon/assorted pork and cabbage.

The atmosphere at the Hen House is similar to that of a sandwich shop. It’s not particularly comfortable, and I don’t recommend it for a night of romance. That said, the service was very friendly, if a little disorganized. The cashier had never heard of the root beer floats that appear on The Hen House’s online menu, but after thinking it over for a minute, he said he could make one for me anyway. It’s also a little slow for a place where you order at the counter. We waited at least 10 minutes for our food, but so long as you’re not in a hurry, this is actually a good thing because unlike most fried chicken you’re going to get in Boston, this stuff is actually being made to order. The Hen House may be difficult to get to without a car (with a car its very easy – right off 93 and with a parking lot at the adjacent liquor store), but if you can swing it, it’s well worth the trip.

Angela’s Cafe Angela’s Cafe II

Beacon Hill Bistro

B&G Oysters

Beehive

Bina Osteria

Blue Ginger

Blue Ribbon BBQ

Cafe Polonia

Clio

Craigie on Main

Erbaluce

Franklin Cafe

Garden at the Cellar

Gourmet Dumpling House

Gran Gusto

Hen House

Henrietta’s Table

Hungry Mother Part II

Kingston Station

KO Prime

Legal Seafoods

L’Espalier

Lobby

M&M BBQ

Maurizio’s

Mike and Patty’s

Niche Catour

no. 9 Park

Oishii

Rendezvous

Rocca

Scampo Part II

Sel de la Terre

Sensing

Shelburne Farms

South End Buttery

Speed’s

Sportello (dinner)

Sportello (lunch)

Stir

Stix

Sweet

Ten Tables

Ten Tables (Cambridge)

Toro

Tupelo

TW Food Part II

Wagamama

I speed down the side streets of Dorchester, my friend Scott in the passenger seat, looking for anything that might resemble a bbq truck. A food truck for workers brings me to a screeching halt, but we drive on disappointed. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see it. On the other side of a chain link fence a large letter M amidst the abandoned semi’s. M&M BBQ. Or Big Moe’s BBQ, to some. Hidden in a dirt lot is what is hyped up to be one of the better BBQ spots in the Greater Boston Area. We pull up on the curb outside the lot and head over to the tent from which emanates the most intoxicating smell of charred meat, frying oil, and spicy sauce. The menu isn’t large, but includes all bbq regulars (ribs, chicken, brisket, etc..) with a few interesting additions (pig’s feet, ox-tail; pig’s feet available on fridays and saturdays, ox-tail depends on the market). Scott and I both went with the $10 combo plate of ribs, chicken, and a choice of two sides. I opted for the potato salad and spicy rice and beans, Scott for the mac and cheese and collard greens. The woman who served us, who I believe is Little Moe, Big Moe’s daughter, was very sweet and happy to see us salivating over the metal trays she was filling with meat. Our only option was taking the food to go. Moe’s doesn’t have indoor seating, and it didn’t have any outdoor seating today either, though it was raining out and I hear there is occasionally a picnic table or two lying around the lot.

The food was damn good. Ribs nice and tender, chicken had been deep-deep fried, and both smothered in a flavorful bbq sauce with a kick that crept up on you at the end. Best wings I’ve had. They somehow maintained their crispiness even while under a lagoon of sauce. There were a few hairs still on them, but at least they weren’t Little Moe’s. And if you’re squeamish about that then maybe you shouldn’t be getting your bbq from a truck in a dirt lot. Scott’s sides were forgettable and mine were solid, but honestly, that didn’t matter. I don’t go to a bbq truck for the veggies, and neither should you. I go for the kind of food fit to put me in a coma on my couch. And that it did. So here I sit, belly swollen from the best bbq I’ve had in a good long while. The truck has been known to move around from time to time, so do a little research before heading over, but it’s definitely worth the hunt.

Yesterday I decided to treat myself to a BBQ lunch at Blue Ribbon in Newton. Realizing that this would be a bit on the heavy side for midday I decided to put in some hard exercise beforehand to justify the trip, so I biked along the Charles from downtown Boston – about a 10 mile ride. Upon arriving I had built up quite the appetite and was ready for what I anticipated would be some delicious ribs.

Now I don’t claim to be an expert on BBQ. I haven’t tried many establishments in Boston and I have been to the South on only a handful of occasions. Here’s what I do know. I can make better ribs than Blue Ribon BBQ, and without much effort at that. I ordered a half rack that came with cornbread, collard greens, and baked beans. The ribs were dry, the beans were undercooked, and the collard greens -well, I think I just don’t like collard greens so we’ll leave them out. I actually did not finish my ribs. For those who know me, it is the rare occasion when I don’t finish what’s on my plate, as well as the plates of everyone else sitting around me. So to leave ribs on the plate, especially after biking ten miles, is a powerful comment on their quality.

I’d much rather devote the very little effort necessary to make my own ribs than return for these. In fact, Mark Bittman has a simple recipe for doing exactly that in a recent column. I hear that the other dishes at Blue Ribbon are supposed to be better (pulled pork, pulled chicken, burnt ends, etc…) and I might go back to try these at some point, but I’m in no rush considering the disappointment of the ribs.

Scampo, a new addition to the Liberty Hotel on Cambridge St. adjacent to MGH, is the much-hyped venture of chef Lydia Shire of Locke Ober, touted for “pushing the envelope and creating an unrivaled culinary experience”. I think I’d agree with that, though most likely not for the same reasons as the public relations staff at the Liberty.

Our meal started off on a troublesome note. A flat, stable surface is something I take for granted when eating out. The ability to place a limb or digit on a table as I please, unencumbered by the thought of possibly dumping wine on Liz’s or my own lap, is a luxury I have come to expect. A wobbly table hinders this ability. We brought it to the waiter’s attention and he kindly tried to fix it, failed, and then departed.

Moving on. The aesthetic. Tasteful decor, no doubt, but the atmosphere is quite bizarre. Being the primary restaurant in a large hotel, Scampo gets the foot traffic from the Liberty’s guests, but the vibe is trendy and chic. This resulted in several babies in high chairs alongside a flock of late twenties to early thirties singles and aspiring couples. The presence of those in possession of, and those in desperate search for, a happy family was an amusing contrast for me, possibly an uncomfortable situation for those involved, and no doubt a contributing factor to what seems to be an identity crisis at Scampo.

The menu. A tad difficult to navigate visually. Breads line the top (all of which you have to pay for) and we were told by our waiter that “the elephant’s ear” bread was the most popular selection – who are we to fight the voice of the people. Our order was delivered in a timely fashion and with a dilligence and courtesy that defined the waitstaff throughout the night. Unfortunately, I’m not quite sure how to define the “elephant’s ear bread”. “What the fuck is that” I whispered to Liz as I saw a hulking monstrosity approach us from the distance – not yet knowing that I would soon be challenged with the task of eating it. A thin crispy bell curve of seasoned bread topped with a generous amount of tomato sauce and cheese standing at approximately 8 inches in height was placed between us. Liz maintains that my clumsy hands account for my inability to rip off (and you must rip off) a piece of the structure without spraying tomato sauce across the table and myself, but I can’t help wondering that it might have something to do with the fact that my bread is in a friggin’ crispy bell curve. I’m sorry, but once conceptual creativity intrudes so flagrantly on functionality then it starts to lose its appeal for me. Particularly with bread where elegance often comes from simplicity.

Onto the food. The homemade mozzarella was very good indeed, making a simple caprese the hands down highlight of the night. The rest of the dishes, however, were a mixed bag, again primarily suffering from conceptual rather than technical flaws. The lamb pizza sounded great, looked great, but tasted like a middle school taco. It wasn’t a problem of execution (the crust was nice, the lamb was well-cooked), but rather the seasoning that screamed for a dollop of sour cream and a developing case of acne. The hazelnut risotto with crispy sweetbreads showcased that the cook knew how to handle all the ingredients (risotto and sweetbreads were cooked very well), but something got lost in their translation to the final dish. Hazelnut risotto just isn’t that good. And putting sweetbreads on top of it makes me happy because I like sweetbreads but it doesn’t create an interesting or unique combination of flavors. The quail exemplified this point. I will give short shrift to the fact that Liz had her first experience sending something back to the kitchen as our first order was raw since I can totally forgive mistakes like that. What I can’t forgive is thinking hard about and then following through on something like: “You know what would really be good with this quail? A sultana zabaglione”. No. The sultana zabaglione was really really tasty, but not with a bbq quail where it just totally overpowers everything. The quail alone (or with the pan juices that it was served on top of) was excellent! A nice charred flavor on a delicate and naturally sweet meat. Add a touch of the golden raisin zabaglione and you have golden raisin zabaglione on something that may as well be a baked family pack of purdue chicken thighs. Again, there’s talent in the kitchen, it’s just not being put to great use. Finally, the reason we went to Scampo was for the suckling pig special on Friday nights. I would climb slippery mountains for suckling pig. Scampo’s version was good, but I can’t be trusted to judge. As far as I’m concerned you could hold a bic flame under a baby pig for a couple hours and I would eat it up like candy.

All in all, Scampo was overpriced for what it was. BUT that’s not to say that it can’t evolve. As I said, the execution on all the dishes was strong, it’s just a matter of tweaking their concepts a bit to get the right flavors on the plate. If they change up their menu then I would try it again. If you go, get something with mozzarella, the suckling pig on Fridays, and avoid the elephant’s ear at all costs.