You're wandering through a foreign city, hungry and homesick, when you spot a neon sign just down the street: AMERICAN BAR & GRILL. Delight surging through you, you throw open the door . . . only to find not the woody roadhouse-esque haunt you craved — with gum-snapping waitresses slinging burgers and pitchers of beer to a good old 4/4 beat — but something indistinguishable from the eateries you’ve been frequenting all along, except for perhaps a few cheesy rock posters on the wall, a few strange and sorry excuses for junk food on the menu. (And you thought the real thing was bad.) You head back out, even more depressed than before by the false advertising.
Well, things are tough all over. After all, we Americans misapply more than our share of restaurant labels. The pseudo-Euro La Maison de la Casa House Calvin Trillin satirized in the 1970s is today’s generic X and Such Bistro, Enoteca, Pub & Lounge. Still, amid the shoddy imitations, Boston boasts some shining exemplars of many a gastro-ethnic genre. A few of our favorites can teleport you across borders and over seas.
La trattoria
Stateside, the word trattoria may point you toward just about any purveyor of pasta. Not so in Italy, where it refers rather specifically to a mid-level neighborhood eatery, often family-run; somewhat spiffier than the humble, tavern-like osteria, but more casual and cheaper than a ristorante. Nestled near Fenway, of all places, the much-acclaimed Trattoria Toscana (130 Jersey Street, Boston, 617.247.9508) is the real thing, true to the region it’s named for in its wonderful way with grilled meats (not to mention with its espresso machine). A little lesser-known, though, is Trattoria Pulcinella in Huron Village (147 Huron Avenue, Cambridge, 617.491.6336). From the rough-hewn wooden ceiling beams to the mismatched ceramic servingware, this tiny place certainly looks the part of the trattoria vera, but more importantly, it lives the part with warmth and earnestness. To say the menu doesn’t claim allegiance to any particular Italian region is hardly to say it’s generic; on the contrary, it favors relatively uncommon (or at least unexpected) preparations and ingredients — there’s plenty of game and offal; cream gets as much play as tomatoes; walnuts crop up with some frequency (as per the cuisines of central Italy). What’s more, the kitchen shows a restraint that blasts the stereotype of heavy-handed Italian home cooking. Along with a pungent schmear of bottarga di tonno (tuna roe), thick slices of superb mozzarella get just a touch of olive oil and lemon ($13). A thin layer of zucchini-potato purée is the gently earthy foundation for slivers of grilled calamari; grilled shrimp add a bit of sweetness ($13). And for all its hearty ingredients — Marsala, cream, mushrooms — a dish of veal scaloppini ($24) doesn’t overwhelm but simply warms your cockles.
Brasserie Jo |
La brasserie
Brasserie literally translates as “brewery,” but it also refers to an eatery that specializes in beer. Originating in Alsace — really the only region of oenocentric France that knows beans about brews — the typical brasserie is big and bright and bustles from morning to night. Eastern Standard (528 Comm Ave, Boston, 617.532.9100) owes much of its smashing success to its clever adaptation of the classic brasserie model for a contemporary urban American audience. But Boston’s most clear-cut example of a brasserie has got to be Brasserie Jo (Colonnade Hotel, 120 Huntington Avenue, Boston, 617.425.3240). It’s got the look down pat: open, light, and airy, it revels in details like vintage posters, decorative magnums, and potted plants. The bar, meanwhile, is the pièce de resistance: surrounded by ridiculously tiny, wobbly café tables — hey, just like in France! — it’s zinc-topped and backed by fluorescent panels featuring a large clock that evokes the Art Deco era. The overall effect is cheery, making Brasserie Jo a no-brainer on rainy, chilly afternoons.
