I missed the usual Monday Heifers trip last week, using my husband’s trip to Boston to attend a nerd-tastic web design conference, An Event Apart, as an excuse to tag along, visit some friends, and EAT, Boston-style.

We stayed with our friends, Tarina and Brian in West Newton a fifteen-minute train ride from Back Bay, Boston. Having just sold their place in Jamaica Plain, they recruited our help moving the last of their furniture on our first day. Sweet vacation, right. They made up for it. Our reward? A brunch at neighborhood, pre-Prohibition bar-restaurant, Doyle’s Café, well-known for their corned beef and cabbage, their brunch, and their extensive beer selection.

Doyle’s unself-conscious, casual dining room was lined with rickety, wooden-backed booths and filled with tables bedecked with red-checked tablecloths. The scene was mostly families with rowdy kids, probably post-church, and felt like true neighborhood Boston.

Our waitress was young and affable, though others seemed gruff and looked to have been working at Doyle’s for decades. I had my favorite breakfast stand-by: two eggs, sunny-side up, home fries, rye toast (all rye that I had in Boston was dark rye, more like pumpernickel), and bacon. The home fries were perfectly browned and amply seasoned; the eggs, nicely cooked. All in all: a perfect diner-style breakfast. And a terrific meal to start off the trip…

Clio

The next morning I took an early train into the city. Not having had much time to plan, and with the drizzle threatening to worsen, I thought I’d find a nice place to hunker down, eat some breakfast and do a little planning. I’d heard wonderful things about Clio, Kenneth Oringer’s high-end, experimental restaurant on Commonwealth Avenue. Though I wouldn’t have time to have a dinner there, I did see that they had a daily breakfast.

Brunch being the bane of many a chef’s existence, I find it’s often a good indicator about a restaurant. At Clio however, it seems utterly disconnected from the restaurant’s greater concept. Located in the Eliot Hotel, the restaurant’s brunch caters to the upscale traveler, serving pristinely plated and perfectly cooked omelettes and waffles, along with a Continental breakfast buffet (yes, I said that), nowhere near a match for the spectacular sounding dinner menu.

I chose the waffle with seasonal berries with a side of Applewood smoked bacon. Don’t get me wrong. Everything was perfectly executed, the waffle light and fluffy, the bacon crisp and smoky, but it felt a bit like I was judging a final at the French Culinary Institute (grade: A-) than a soulful breakfast from the chef of a reknowned restaurant.

Charlie’s Sandwich Shop

For lunch, I took a step in the other direction, heading to diner-style sandwich shop, Charlie’s. If every place the Heifers visit could be like Charlie’s, I’d be in heaven. Amazing looking place, with an old oak fridge behind the counter. Surly waitress tempered by sweet-as-hell guy manning the grill by the name of Arthur. A regular customer sitting down next to me and asking Arthur (seemingly because of a dietary condition, “Arthur, what can I have?” To which he replied, “Meatloaf!” which arrived promptly, accompanied by the uncustomary sautéed spinach and tomatoes.

I, however, had Charlie’s most famous dish, the award-winning Turkey Hash. Despite its desperate need for salt, the hash was delicious: a nicely browned circular patty about 8 inches in diameter of ground turkey mixed with finely chopped potatoes and onions. [Amanda: Mmmmm....hash patty....] It was a lovely vehicle for my two over-easy eggs, some Frank’s hot sauce, and the salt.

Durgin Park

The next day, I stopped in at this most famous of Boston restaurants, established in 1742 and born as Durgin Park in 1927. I felt played. Sue me for seeking a little nostalgia. You know how they always say, they don’t make it like they used to? I’m hoping that that’s the case at Durgin Park, else I stand in amazement that this place has stayed in business all these years.

All I read about Durgin Park is just how much pride they take in their meat (they are most well-known for their enormous Prime Rib). And the meat-locker on display as you enter the restaurant solidifies this in one’s brain. So you can imagine how I felt when the Yankee Pot Roast I ordered arrived at the table. On the menu, it was deemed one of the specialties of the house, but what arrived looked like it came off a depression-era cafeteria line: dry, gray pot roast with a helping of beef gravy that could just as easily have come out of a jar. Accompanied by French Fries and steamed carrot coins, the meal felt like something one’s mother would stand over the table and make them finish.

It got worse. I also tried the Boston Baked Beans. Being a girl who loves baked beans from a can, it’s pretty hard to disappoint me, but Durgin Park succeeded with it’s way-too-sugary-sweet rendition that was practically inedible.

If you can believe that I didn’t call it a day at that point, I ordered dessert. I was anxious to try the Indian Pudding, a New England specialty, consisting of a cornmeal pudding made with molasses and spices such as cinnamon and ginger. Gummy and cloyingly sweet, the only thing edible on the plate was the (albeit icy) vanilla ice cream.

Mike’s Pastry Shop

With one lousy dessert in my belly, I sought to end the afternoon on a high note, heading over to Boston’s Little Italy, the North End. There lay Mike’s Pastry, a shop that’s been in business since 1943.

So enamored was I with the cases full of pastries, that I accidentally ignored the line snaking to the door. I just nestled right up to the counter, ordered my cannolo and was on my way (it says something for the feeling of disorder that no one noticed my inability to follow protocol). [Amanda: A likely story, dude.  "Accidentally ignored," my ass!]

And so I ate my lovely cannolo, sitting on a park bench and enjoying a brief respite from the rain. The cannolo was filled with light, not too sweet ricotta that was not whipped to within an inch of its life as many cannoli fillings are. It didn’t have any of the typical chocolate chips or candied angelica mixed in, but did have chocolate chips adhered to each end. Result: success in obliterating the memory of tasteless pot roast from my memory. The Yanks should stick to cannoli.

xoxo Meg

Doyle’s Café
3484 Washington St.
Jamaica Plain, MA 02130
(617) 524-2345
www.doyles-cafe.com‎

Clio
370 Commonwealth Ave.
Boston, MA 02215
(617) 536-7200
www.cliorestaurant.com

Charlie’s Sandwich Shop
429 Columbus Ave.
Boston, MA 02116
(617) 536-7669

Durgin Park
340 Faneuil Hall Market Pl.
Boston, MA 02109
(617) 227-2038
www.durgin-park.com

Mike’s Pastry Shop
300 Hanover St.
Boston, MA 02113
(617) 742-3050
www.mikespastry.com

Tags: Boston, Breakfast, Diner, Eggs

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