DCBK & WALLY’S CAFE

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Darryl’s Corner Bar & Kitchen / Wally’s Cafe

604 Columbus Ave / 427 Mass Ave (South End)

Check this: Two of our members were in NOLA two weeks before the February BCC meeting—not planned, but a nice riff on the legit when it came to finally making the legendary Wally’s Cafe our destination du jour. Thing is, as much as we all crave the low-cal-high-return of a meal consisting of straight drinks-and-tunes, it doesn’t do nearly enough to sustain our middle-aged brains and allow for some small semblance of conversation. So a pre-game (substitute: real food) stop was a necessary part of the plan.

As serendipity (or brilliant development) would have it, not 500 yards away from Wally’s at the corner of Mass and Columbus is Darryl’s Corner Bar & Kitchen (or DCBK for the initiated) and I’d be lying if I didn’t say we got lucky when we made a reservation there. The space actually mirrors Wally’s, to some degree—long and narrow, although the “stage” (ie designated jazz space) was mid-room rather than all the way in the back. The atmosphere is warm yet “with it” and fresh feeling. In two words: so cool. We loved the super sleek, curved, penny-tile bar.

DCBK has a good selection of tasty cocktails that tease you from the menu: an image of the type of glass it “wears” is smart and fun and gets you in the mood. (Let’s admit it: the outfit plays into the end experience—ever ordered a martini and been served a pint glass? Immediate headache and lights off.) We’re a bit bummed it took a while for bartender to acknowledge our boozey desires, but in the end the Dark & Stormy, Manhattan, and Kentucky Mule warmed us from the 10-degree-cold we battled outside.

Once our party was fully in the house, we were awarded a cozy corner booth close to the Thursday-night jam. It was loud, but honestly, we dug. Our attentive but low-impact waitress brought our designated apps promptly: Catfish fingers with delicate tasty breading and spicy mayo were a definite turn-on. We sampled a cup of the house gumbo, which packed a nice kick but didn’t blow anybody’s hair back. Beets with goat cheese, served warm, had a lovely flavor and were a refreshing break from the typical fried foreplay fare.

Members then dipped into the chicken and waffle and “Glorifried Chicken”–both of which were tasty although if you’re hoping for two legs and only get one, it can leave you wanting. The stuffed pepper was well presented but the shrimp and grits (OMG fried grits!!) probably won the day. It has inspired playful, flavorful daydreams in the hours since. The Cajun fries lost their seasoning easily, but made our mouths happy and the collards were standard—if you like ’em, you like ’em, but if they’re not your thing, they didn’t lobby hard enough for a change of heart. A cozy dish of mac-and-cheese came off a little on the plastic side…but the jazz band across from our table was anything but, and the quality of the music, and fab art, and the chill-but-not-too-chill vibe of all the cool cats in the place means we’re keeping the DCBK number on speed dial. Our recent NOLA-venturing members agreed it all felt darned close to one of the clubs they were in down on the Bayou. I’d pay for that in Boston any night.

Oh and Wally’s? Wally’s kills it. Go early. Get a beer. Stay late. You’ll wake up happy.

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YVONNE’S

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Yvonne’s

2 Winter Place (Downtown Crossing)

Those of you who follow our imbibement-motivated wanderings through our delicious city and its surrounds may have wondered what happened to the December BCC meeting. Well, we were simply waiting to finally get a reservation at our most recent destination.

Yes, it takes a month. Well, for normal folk. And you kind of get why when you get there. Down a dark alley near Downtown Crossing, there glows a beacon: A dayglo sign with sexy script emerges from the wall high above, illuminating the crowd of expensive coats and unbelievably smooth hair below. They’ve made the play for that feel of exclusivity fairly well, opting for a doored lobby over a velvet rope. But the hosts number many and you can only hope that on your very best days in your hottest of hot pants you are maybe-sort-of-almost as attractive as they are.

The interior of Yvonne’s is a mashup of snobbish blue-blood wood paneling, dazzling candelabra, tawdry wall art, and visually appealing staff in snug white shirts and suspenders. You immediately feel like being naughty. And the cocktails encourage the instinct—the 1989 (yes, shoutout to TS) provided champagne infused with vodka, which sounds like a terrible idea if you think long enough about it. But Yvonne’s is a place where they try to make sure you DON’T think. At least not for too long, or for too hard.

The music is loud and clubby. Paired with the cocktails, you immediately get that buzzy happy feeling and really don’t mind that you can’t hear anything. The host who seated us had to ask thrice. But he was delightfully patient. Our waitress gave us a smiley 10-minute chat of which we only heard “takes 45 minutes” and then spent the time we might have been perusing our menus trying to decipher what that could have meant. The bar was backed up? The apps would be slow? The burlesque show that was most certainly going to begin on the big table next to us any moment now?

We ordered Yvonne’s “sharing plates” (aka Tapas/small plates) and honest-to-goodness they were freaking fantastic. The buttermilk hush puppies and crispy tater cubes vied for our attention, each delighting in their own way. The Kentucky prosciutto toast was generous with the carnivore in mind with a hidden spread of beer cheese and pickled onion that altogether made us go “OH!” We opted for a stone-fired pita upon recommendation of the waitress (or so we think), and the KFC (Korean fried chicken, kimchee, gruyere) was a fantastic combo with perfect balance—a feat not often accomplished on anything that resembles “personal pan land.” And oh god, the seared brussel sprouts! Our table believes that brussel sprouts get a bad rap, but in their Yvonne’s outfit, they had to be cute enough for the hatiest of haters. Pepper sauce, garlic walnuts, and feta were like pasties and panties that made the dish just delish. The only share we might not reshare were the chicken and quinoa meatballs. They drove us to our water glasses with their salty innards (a theme in this column, it would seem).

Our meal was well matched in our beverage selections, with a fabulous Gruner Veltliner and Bantam Rojo cider winning the raves. So why, you may ask in the midst of all this ra-ra-ra, doesn’t Yvonne’s get 5 Cocks, our much-sought-after prize that has not yet been awarded in all of our booze-soaked foodie adventures?

You’d think in a place so sexy and decadent the desserts would seal the deal, but ours were a bust. We ordered one of each of their Tasty Treats (full disclosure, the small fare, not the main desserts) and found them all very pretty but when it came down to getting down…disappointing—lingerie full of ice cream. And they don’t have decaf.

It wasn’t just the shallow sweeties, really…the “scene” is intoxicating, indeed, but the tables are too close (even when the Secretary of State is sitting in one nearby), and it is like eating in the middle of a dance floor. You’re surrounded by beautiful people, and one might even kiss you or grab you on the bottom, and that feels great in the moment, but in the morning, you’ll likely wake up and realize you never DID catch his name. Do you go back to that dance floor and look for that happy place again? Sure you do. It will always be effing fun…but not quite the perfect night.

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THE GALLOWS

TheGallows

The Gallows

1395 Washington Street (South End)

Let’s just start by saying that The Gallows is the perfect friend with benefits. The place looks great and you like it enough to hook up whenever you need to get some (in this case fried food) but you know you could never live with each other on a regular basis.

Our November meeting commenced as usual with drinks in the bar area, which was not an unpleasantly packed, flannel-encased sausagefest…perhaps also telling, considering the pork-heavy Gallows dinner menu. The restaurant seats your party when you’ve all finally found parking (no small feat on Washington), and we had a great banquette table facing the massive Ouija-Board Wall—it felt private and roomy while allowing for a great view when we chose to look beyond our plates. Above us flew what might be the most diverting aspect of the decor: hundreds of suspended toy bats, which honestly add appeal and whimsy where you might not expect it (like that friend with bennies spontaneously holding your hand as you cross the street).

With a handful of BCC members claiming French Canadian lineage, the poutine was a highly desirable feature, and we went whole hog with the Out of Control “Chef’s Debauchery” option. The OOC poutine changes according to the whims of the kitchen wizards (or witches, if we want to hold close to The Gallows theme), and we chose to be surprised. What arrived was admittedly a great opening move: a massive mound of the required fries and cheese curd but lusciously laden with decadent slabs of duck that was deliciously done and Padron peppers, aka “Spanish Roulette.” The claim here is that some of these peppers are mild while others contain the fire of hell. We BCC members all like a good bite every now and again, so we divvied up the score and dove in. While none of us were rewarded with that so-bad-its-good burn, the peppers were still damn tasty and the perfect complement to the poutine plate. It was, all members agreed (“Quebecers,” too), hands down the best dish of the night.

Because we are greedy when it comes to drink, food, and love, we fondled our fries, ordered more drinks, and bellied up: The Scotch Egg was tastily prepared on an addictive fried, pork-sausage crust. While the Fried Green Tomatoes with prosciutto were flavorful, they too were (obviously) fried, and we could be said to have not found the fontina and aioli drizzle the most appealing aspect of our first-course foreplay. Chipotle Sweet Potato came paired with “bruleed” (aka toasted) fluff and curried pecans, and while the seasoning was not one any of us complained about, it did feel like eating cookies in bed, before dinner. A bit bad, but not in the best way. The Moules Frites were quite pleasing with lively flavors of fennel and peppers. What not to order? The Steak Bomb Pierogies. An overly salty fried (yes, again) disaster. We left several on the plate to be cleared. (Not our tendency…I mentioned that greed thing.)

There comes a time when you’re ready to stop fooling around and get serious, and we made that move boldly, going with the Franken-Burger for the table. While I don’t know that our server was thrilled with our penchant for sharing, it’s a good thing we did, because this baby (even divvied up into sixths) nailed us all to the booth: burger patty + bacon + pulled pork + fried chicken thigh + foie gras aioli = sigh, roll over, and fall contentedly asleep. (Note the amount of salt in the burger would require a midnight wake-up and emergency glass of water.) Agreeing on a side salad instead of fries, we then made the errant, several-drinks-in call to order “one more thing” and it was a disappointing mound of new potatoes masquerading as Patatas Bravas. We’ll admit to being over the potato by then, but the dish’s complete lack of, well, anything interesting, made it a table decoration and little more.

We finished the evening with the one dessert offered, billed as the “Stoner’s Delight,” and certainly living up to that standard. Chocolate, fluff, peanutbutter, bananas…it was familiar and comforting and tasted just as you expected. This, the restaurant’s vibe, the satisfactory although unremarkable service, and the poutine, left us happy enough to FWB The Gallows number, knowing there will surely be a night we’ll dial again.

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ALDEN & HARLOW

A&H

Alden & Harlow

40 Brattle Street (Harvard Square)

We began our fifth BCC meeting (October 2015) in suitably boozy fashion, greeting each other over tasty cocktails and beers at Noir (in The Charles Hotel). Our club has grown by two members since our last meeting, and so the pre-eat drinks made good sense as we made nice and discussed general rules of engagement. BCC digs Noir, although (note to self) the banquette near the front door is a poor choice on a cold autumn night.

We gathered forces and marched ’round the corner, right on time for our resi at Alden & Harlow. Alas, our date was late—the hostess assured us our table would be ready soon and invited us to have a drink at the bar. Plus: Drinks at the bar and a very pleasant and attentive bartender. Minus: It was quite a wait for our table…and then there were somewhat false promises made when we were rounded up from our belly-up positions (think: “I’ll make it up to you” but he never brings home flowers). We loved the wine list (quality + reasonable bottle prices = happy) but thought there could have been a few more fall-friendly, brown beer selections.

This restaurant has a good overall vibe although rather “typical hipster” (ie ’50s school honeycomb doors, industrial lighting, tiles). It was bustling enough to make us feel loved and popular without the too-much-too-soon feeling of the T at rush hour. Our waitress deserves commendation: she knowingly helped us with menu selection and deftly navigated our loud, crass conversation (a BCC requirement). One member was left without a plate for one course (sorry, there goes a quarter cock). But happily, the drinks kept flowing without anyone feeling rushed, pushed, assaulted, or ignored.

The food selection was quite nice, although laden on the meatier end of the scale. We applauded the opportunity to order off the Prix Fixe menu, as well as the regular menu. Are you ready for this? We somehow managed to consume several bowls of chips and 3-onion dip (freakin’ delicious) before inhaling chicken liver pate—a smooth, rich, mouthgasm with a strong kick of chili oil. Oh yes. The crispy baby bok choy, while interesting, had a strong charcoal taste that rather than lighting our fire just felt burnt. The Kentucky wonder bean succotash had a spot-on balance of flavors and textures, while we were split in opinions over the smoked steak tartare (some hungered for the heat while the Calabrian chili came on too strong for others). What made us melt? The chicken-fried local rabbit (dug the shaved celery in this dish—gave it a bright and light aside) and the roasted bone marrow (can’t ever have too much bone…or meat-butter) was a fun conversation starter (like we needed any help in that department), seeing as not everyone at the table had reveled in the marvels of marrow before. We were put off by the SINGLE egg raviolo (very soft and tasty…but oh-so-all-alone). And we may have hit our ceiling on pork belly—this was too fatty.

So where did A&H lose our interest? The “secret burger,” of which they only sell 30 a night. When asked why this was (a lack of burger-worthy bovines?), we were informed that the chef wants to encourage people to try other items on the menu and the burger is so popular, it overwhelms. Hmmm. A bit pretentious and a whole-lot gimmicky. When a restaurant sells small plates, you’d think they could just make the “secret burger” smaller, and everyone would be happy. Whatever it takes to get people frothing at the mouth, I guess, although we might suggest that the overall A&H experience is good enough to do away with this kind of semi-lame marketing ploy.

Speaking of frothing at the mouth, mid-meal we began to feel the sodium. And while our water glasses never ran dry, the salt in our bloodstreams most certainly was high. The very tasty ice cream with caramel helped soothe our palates, but it soured the kiss just long enough for us not to deem the night perfect. A good time, though. One worth having.

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Meju

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Meju

243 Elm Street (Somerville)

 

Our first BCC meeting where minutes were officially kept. We should begin by indicating the choice of Meju was predominantly related to its proximity to the Somerville Theater where the BCC was venturing apres eats to view Straight Outta Compton (yes, it’s good).

Meju (formerly Mickey Ds for all you Davis Square folk) was fairly empty when we arrived at 6:45 pm (yes, cutting it close to our 8 pm showtime), and the host’s exuberance as he sat us made us think we might be the first and only customers. But that (reassuringly) wasn’t the case, and by the time we were finishing our meals, the entire cool interior was packed.

This place has a good selection of cocktails (kind of a requirement in any Boston eatery these days), and the Citron Gin Sparkler was quite tasty. The Thai Basil Gimlet was a little herby, and some of us thought it tasted more like an appetizer than a drink.

We got our Korean food on, sharing the spicy pork bulgogi buns, beef galbi short ribs buns, and the shrimp steamed dumplings. The buns were all you’d want to imagine them to be–the short rib version, in particular, garnered praise from our table. We might skip the dumplings next time. Bibimbap (tofu and beef) was a hit, and the Mandoo soup is certainly something I’d go back for–plus, they ask you how you want it (love it when they do that!) Go ahead and fire it up. We found the heat the perfect level of excitation (a mild flush to the cheeks versus dripping with sweat).

The mushroom jabchae is perhaps the biggest loser on this night. We won’t go into detail as regards this denunciation.

Our waitress was friendly and attentive, as were the backwaiters and bussers. The only irritation came when we wanted more drinks…and were left wanting for quite some time. When they finally came we had to pound them to get to our movie. None of us shy away from that but we would have, on this occasion, preferred a gentler goodnight.

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