120 Kingston Street, Boston (Chinatown)
It has been, tragically, months since the BCC met on official terms, although quite a number of “off-the-record” outings occurred since our last review. Blame it on family, blame it on work, blame it on those three-day weekends people bizarrely insist on spending somewhere other than downtown—whatever the reason, it was a long, damnably dry summer.
So boy did we need a cocktail.
On September 29, BCC members met at Townsman, desperate for a raised glass and a means of evading reality for an hour or two. This just-over-a-year-old self-appointed “brasserie” sparkles with newness still. The warm orange interior and welcoming open kitchen can’t offset the mainstream feel of the decor. Paired with the high ceilings and overly formal hostesses, the entrance feels cold, although it admittedly warmed up as the streets darkened outside and the bar filled up with the convivial suits who worked within walking distance.
Our round wooden table by the extra-large windows felt very private, despite the restaurant’s growing crowd, and its shape and location made for easy conversation and a certain seated comfort we haven’t always found with a larger group. Our first round of cocktails were admittedly a resounding success. The Countess was what we think of as the perfect hostess: tart with a delicious bite, and persuasive enough to get us all to lean in for a sip. The Lion’s Tail brazenly mated allspice and bourbon with laudable results, and the 2015 Ernesto Picollo “Gavi” was the perfect measure of cool and dry that promised to pair well, wherever our appetites took us. And the Notch Pilsner, a group favorite, made a not unwelcome appearance with its balance and fair allotment of alcohol for a “school night.”
The hearty brown bread and YUM spiced butter danced on our table only long enough to cue salivation. Our hopes were high following this rustic teaser, but the charcuterie could have done us better. The Lomo and Bresaola were tasty treats tucked in the midst of mini biscuits (okay, points to the house), fried pickles (weren’t amazing), and rather meek portions of our chosen cheeses (Oma and Twig Tomme). Perhaps we are gluttonous in our sisterhood, but we might argue the want for a bit more on a platter such as this.
For dinner we went with the usual BCC share, ordering a smattering (albeit a significant one) of wildly varying dishes and sharing them in order to experience and dissect the flavors to our savage hearts’ content. Our choices came out fairly quickly and we thought well-timed, overall, with a nice flow in terms of entrance and exit…but sadly, we can’t say we were huge fans of much that made up our decadent food parade.
The Fish Cakes with chorizo and sweet chilies were unremarkable, and the Fried Dumplings (highly anticipated) left us with a single impression: fried. The Moules Frites and Cottage Fries were completely forgettable. Except that they didn’t come with a spoon (with which to indulge in the juice, of course…) The special menu item of Buckwheat Pancakes with Snails was different, but not ooh-la-la, and the Seared Cape Scallops were an epic fail—undercooked and gelatinous to the point of major turnoff.
The Deviled Eggs with Fried Capers were a right touch in the midst of other fumbles: almost soft boiled with fabulous texture, they were delicately seasoned to the point of delish. The Pear Sausage also pleased, with long, strong flavors and size that mattered in a night of small plates. We also were fascinated by the Crispy Shishito Peppers that came alive before our eyes (you’ll just have to order them to see what we mean) and an addictive quality that left us concerned for potential withdrawal the next day. But Shishito Peppers does not a dinner make.
The service at Townsman was a little like spending all day at the beach…for a while, the water was very close and it took very little effort to cool down, chill out, and enjoy ourselves, but then the tide went out and well…it took ages to get our third round of drinks. The backwaiters get props for a well-choreographed performance of serving, clearing, and resetting—there was a legion of them, and they really were very good. But that blank spot in the middle left us frustrated and wondering if Townsman wanted us like we thought it did, or if it was perfectly okay never seeing us again.
And dessert? Cheese ice cream tempted no one. But the Bailey’s substitute fed the sweet tooth so all was forgiven. This time.
The Boston Cocktail Club 