The food, likewise, is comme il faut. Aside from choucroute and flammekueche,the neverchanging menu isn’t strictly Alsatian. But it’s plenty traditional, what with raw-bar platters and escargots, croques monsieurs, and steak frites. I’ve long contended that the city’s most mouthwatering steak tartare ($17.95) comes out of this kitchen (which makes the fact that it’s no longer available as an appetizer a damn shame). And I’d be willing to crown the onion soup ($6.95) king as well: as luscious as the thick crouton that tops the earthenware crock may be — covered in golden-brown, bubbling Gruyère — it’s the broth that shines, beefy and sweet with its mess of caramelized onion strands. Meanwhile, though the wine list is lovely — all French, it emphasizes labels from Alsace and Bordeaux, as well as sparklers — robust dishes get a special boost from beer: Belgians like La Chouffe, Chimay, and Duvel dominate the list, supplemented, mais sur, by a couple of Alsatians, including Hopla and Tutz (an ice beer).
Le bistro
Americans could almost — almost — be forgiven for misappropriating the word bistro as egregiously as we have; after all, even in France, the definition is somewhat loose. But the archetype is basically the French equivalent of the Italian trattoria: small, family-run, relatively casual, and cheap. Pierrot Bistrot (272 Cambridge Street, Boston, 617.725.8855), on Beacon Hill’s backside, is one genuine article, with its snails and pig’s feet and tripe. Another is the original Petit Robert Bistro (468 Comm Ave, Boston, 617.375.0699), whose owners — Jacky Robert and Loic Le Garrec — get extra credit for resisting the temptation to charge the higher prices they could doubtless justify based on Robert’s sterling reputation alone. Though two stories, the space is narrow and intimate, with a blackboard listing daily specials and a lower-level bar that doubles as the pastry station. The beauty of the menu is that it’s classic without being reductive; Robert isn’t afraid of a little flourish, be it a dollop of mango butter here or a hit of Korean kimchi there. Still, it’s the oldies that delight most, from textbook pâtés ($7) and dark and hearty beef Bourguignon ($15.95) to pastry chef Kristen Lawson’s exemplary tarte tatin ($6) — quelcrust.
La taquería
Pink walls. Two TVs tuned to telenovelas. A poster of El Salvador here, a sombrero there, and La Virgen de Guadalupe everywhere. Behind the service window, women in hairnets work quietly around a big bowl full of masa. And sitting in the middle of it all, stuffing your face with frijoles, is you. You could only be at Tacos Lupita (13 Elm Street, Somerville, 617.666.0677), the quintessential taquería in a town that’s infamously full of franchise fakes. Fresh corn tortillas form the foundation for all that’s good and holy here — which is everything. So take a chance or two. Even if you stick with tacos or burritos, you can spice ’em up with fillings you won’t often find elsewhere locally, including lengua (tongue) and huevos con chorizo (eggs and sausage). Beyond the burritos, however, are the gorgeous gems of the genre. A cheese pupusa will set you back all of $1.50, yet the thing is worth its considerable weight in oro: a four-inch disk of masa, more like a patty than a tortilla in thickness. It’s stuffed with a mild queso, griddled to a golden-brown, and served with refreshing, coleslaw-like curtido and salsas both red and green. It’s all as simple as it is soul-satisfying. More elaborate is the torta al pastor ($4), which easily rivals Chez Henri’s Cubano for the blue ribbon among south-of-the-border sandwiches. (Yep, I said it.) Between the mayo-slathered halves of the oblong bun, chunks of roast pork and avocado mingle with thick slices of tomato and jalapeño, shredded lettuce, and, most unexpectedly, a healthy sprinkling of pinto beans. Each bite bursts with bright flavors that make your last McTaco seem like — well, like it’ll be your last McTaco.
