WINK & NOD

wnnWink & Nod

3 Appleton Street (South End)

It was a jovial crew that met at the South End’s tucked away Wink & Nod in November. This was pre-election, post Halloween, before the holidays, you know…good times. Our destination du jour plays the part of a modern-day speakeasy, but not to a fault. In fact, the quiet door on a seemingly residential street is all quite appealing, and the interior consisting of bar and high tops on one side, and intimate small table settings on the other, surpasses charming. It gets a grown-up grade of Cool.

We arrived in bits and pieces as can be our habit and the host was affable, welcoming us to wait at the bar for our party to complete itself. Upon reflection, we wonder why he didn’t point out that we would be, in effect, sitting at a long table within the bar (which sat unoccupied while we caused all manner of movement this way and that at the bar itself). Honestly, it didn’t bother us but the other patrons were forced to accommodate our ever-growing numbers, and we feel for them.

The bartender at Wink & Nod was superb. We loved his forthrightness (ie, he said when a drink wasn’t worth it) and his timeliness (he saw to our needs, and made efforts to ensure our comfort on the belly-up side). And there was this drink OH MAN that curled our toes (in that good way). No, seriously: Go and get the Holiday in Holland. You should only order one, but if it was a hard day, two should make everything better.

Eventually we found our way to our table (not far–we could feel the annoyed stares from the customers who had moved to make room, and we did feel for them). And it was cozy and private and easy discourse ensued. We ordered a round to keep us company whilst we considered the menu…alas, our waitress took a LONG time. And then one BCC member received a glass of red wine when she had ordered Sauvignon Blanc (easily remedied, sure…except it took 15 more minutes…) But the food. Now, the food was fun.

Wink & Nod is a foster parent of sorts to up-and-coming restauranteurs and fledgling eateries. It hosts a new “restaurant group” every few months, giving them a chance to test their menus and their skills on a clientele they’ve no doubt wooed back time and time again with that Holiday in Holland cocktail (really, it was that good). During our visit we were treated to Nepalese fare: Gita. And overall the BCC enjoyed the meal hugely and recommends going before the rotation means Gita moves on as something new moves in–presumably this happens in January 2017.

Being a largish group with a somewhat piggish tendency, we ordered one of each of the small plates: the Momo (pot stickers with pork, spicy tomato chutney) were tasty; the Lamb Kofta a nice example; the Singara (yes, there was phyllo dough with beef and eggplant) delish; the Puri (lentil, chickpea, potato in pastry) YUM; and the Paneer with Chickpea Salad and Date Chutney simply excellent. The big loser here was the Garlic Cheese Naan, which was hard, tasteless, and a pass. We included a full order of the Butter Chicken (almonds, cashews, cocunut rice), which again brought pleasure as expected.

But while our revolving door of food offerings moved quite satisfyingly, we frequently sat unattended to, with empty drink glasses (Rule Number 1 in service: drinks increase the check total, please the patron and the house, and result in better tips) and no water (and the food had moments of fire!) What we enjoyed in time and privacy we also would have traded for experience in our waitstaff. The restaurant was not overcrowded and there was little reason to be left wanting.

We ended the night ordering one of each of the desserts on the menu and people, let me tell you…if any place can promise you’ll get lucky, this might be it. You can’t help but scrape the plate and lick the spoon…lingeringly. The chocolate cake went to that place that few dare. And it was “ooh la la!” BIG. The mascarpone cheesecake delighted and we dipped into a brulee type dream, but the big winner of the night was a pineapple shortcake that dripped of butter and inspired very sweet dreams indeed. The BCC hesitates not in suggesting a scotch and a sweet at Wink & Nod, whatever night and whatever time it might be.

As to be expected, there was an excellent selection of scotch and bourbon on hand, which satisfied some. But one BCC member desired a White Russian. And as many know, you shouldn’t defy a girl’s wishes right at that moment when she’s just about convinced…that you’re as good as you say you are. It is too bad, then, on several accounts, that the bar chooses not to stock the not-so-rare ingredients necessary to satisfy even one fair maiden’s post-dinner desire. The result is a few cocks short of perfection. Go back, but only if Kahlua isn’t the elixir you have in mind.

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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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cock-rating-4.35

THE GALLOWS

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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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cock-rating-3.5

The Butcher Shop

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The Butcher Shop

552 Tremont Street (South End)

The first official meeting of the BCC convened 5/15. Minutes were not kept as we were all still distracted by necessary reveling (ie, we had all managed to make and keep a dinner date). Woohoo! Plus, the Club’s intentions were not yet established.

This said, our public assignation at The Butcher Shop should have been a stellar first-time experience, but let us assure you this particular rocket didn’t hit “afternoon delight” expectations. It all looked great, sure, but left you feeling like something was lacking. Our waiter was laissez faire at best and bored with us at worst, despite our ordering the Grande Charcuterie ($98) and displaying an obvious willingness to ingest multiple drinks. As a group we went out on a limb and ordered a dessert that bordered on savory (oh, hell, it was basically a pot pie), and we were not thrilled. This last disappointment, however, we’d be willing to own as a matter of taste (although there were four of us and we all agreed it was…not good).

In the end, we’d go back, but mostly for the meat…does that make us shallow?

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