Monday, October 16, 2006
Vox Populi
Last Thursday I was fortunate enough to enjoy a lovely preview of Vox Populi's fall menu, an assortment of eclectic, hearty small plates and creative entrees that nicely complement chilly evenings and leaf-lined streets.It's essential that you drink before you dine at Vox. Their feisty cocktails have always attracted scores of business professionals and gal pal groups and for good reason. The French Kiss martini (vodka, chambord, pineapple and cranberry juice with champagne; $10) was all refreshing fizzy sweetness, and Ariel raved about her Tokyo Tea (Furki sake with lemoncello, lemon juice, and a "splash" of coke; $10). Seasonal drinks keep the libation menu energized; the Pumpkin Mojito (see below) is a welcome light precursor to heavier, autumn fare.
Indecisive diners appreciate executive chef Eric Bogardus' small plates, pint-sized versions of larger, extravagant dishes. Perennial favorites like the Chicken Lollipops (with soy, ginger & honey) again appear on the menu this fall, but the Lobster Melt on on brioche with gruyere and the creamy Pumpkin Risotto, delicately served in its own tiny (edible) squash make an impressive debut appearance. The pumpkin risotto was a particular favorite of mine, as the arborio rice was cooked to perfect consistency and playful cinnamon overtones livened up the traditional risotto.
More sedate and/or initimate parties opt often for Vox's delicate appetizers and bold entrees, which though as delicious as the small plates, lend themselves more to committed diners who want devote time and energy to a course. Don't giggle too much when your graceful server sets the Fuming Quail before you; the precious baby quail wing sitting over its own miniature cast-iron skillet is two bites of smoked, savory meat and crispy skin.
The accompanying speckled heart grits add a smoothness that nicely off sets the more coarse texture of the bird.
Notable entrees include the BBQ Bass with potato lyonnaise cucumber strings and the Bolognese Pasta. No clio portions here: Vox wants its patrons to eat, drink, and be merry and the sizable entrees reflect this wish. Cutesy desserts like Apple Beignets and warm Pineapple
Upside Down cake are reminscient of something you'd pick up from welcoming small town bakery. The delicately constructed desserts inspire equally refined consumption, and each small bite you take resonates with delicious simplicity.Vox's Boylston location makes it a "hotspot" for after work young professionals but the more demure upstairs is ideal for a quiet dinner. I aim to spend at least a few brisk November nights at Vox sipping martinis and supping pumpkin risotto out of my very own gourd.
The Info
Vox Populi
755 Boylston Street
www.voxboston.com
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
If Davis Square seems too far a trek for finger-lickin' barbeque, new kid on the block Soul Fire is a cheaper, quality alternative right off the B-line.
Wyeth Lynch, owner and founder of Soul Fire, conducted in-depth research on the origin and variations of barbecue and it shows. Lynch graduated from Williams College, dabbled in VC, but found his true passion in smoking...meat. Lynch then toured the country to study up on sauces, dry rubs, and barbeque lore before opening Soul Fire just six weeks ago. Incidently, Lynch believes everyone should have easy access to good barbeque, and, as a result designed his restaurant to be exceptionally handicapped-accessible, with spacious aisles and wide front entrance.
When I visited, Soul Fire did not yet have its liquor license ("it's coming" I was promised), but a refreshing Arnold Palmer (half lemonade, half iced tea; $2.50) did wonders for quenching my thirst and not dehydrating me on the 80-degree day. To start, Bunches and I dug into some Fried Macaroni and Cheese Bites ($4), cheesy battered balls of elbow macaroni, and some sticky, delicious Honey Wings ($5). I experimented with Soul Fire's array of heated (meaning warm, as in temperature) sauces and found the Louisiana Sweet Barbecue sauce to be a perfect complement to the creamy, salty macaroni and cheese bites.
Twenty napkins and two handiwipes later, we were ready to get dirty all over again. The Sliced Brisket ($10) was bit dry but revved up sufficently with some vinegar and pepper sauce. The tender, battered Fried Catfish ($12.50), was wonderful as is, and only brightened when dipped into the southern tartar sauce. And the ribs, oh the ribs! Baby back ribs are dry rubbed and then smoked using a mixture of woods, which means the meat takes on a more subtle flavor (re: you don't feel as it you're chewing tender piece of mesquite). The serve-yourself sauce bar is made for the ribs and the sumptuous Hickory Roast Chicken ($8), which is a bargain at $11 for a whole. All entrees are served atop a piece of thick white bread, a vestige of an old-time barbeque custom which dictated you wipe your hands on a piece a bread, which you would then eat later.
Soul Fire's side dishes almost overshadow the entrees and should be sampled in in large quantities. The Corn Bread ($1.50) was light, moist, containing whole kernels, and the cole slaw crisp, fresh, and not overly mayonnaised. Unsurprisingly, I found the Mac & Cheese to be the show-stopper. A thicker, Cheddar-based cheese sauce coated the elbow macaroni and crushed potato chips formed a salty exterior crust.
By the way, Soul Fire resists being called a "joint", and rightly so, considering its aesthetic is more trendy, college town than country truck-stop. The long bar made of vintage album covers and all environmentally-friendly dishware certainly don't transport you to 'bama, but you'll hardly care when you taste what is indubitably good ol' barbeque.
The Info
Soul Fire
182 Harvard Ave., Allston
www.soulfirebbq.com
The Rating: 8.2
Wyeth Lynch, owner and founder of Soul Fire, conducted in-depth research on the origin and variations of barbecue and it shows. Lynch graduated from Williams College, dabbled in VC, but found his true passion in smoking...meat. Lynch then toured the country to study up on sauces, dry rubs, and barbeque lore before opening Soul Fire just six weeks ago. Incidently, Lynch believes everyone should have easy access to good barbeque, and, as a result designed his restaurant to be exceptionally handicapped-accessible, with spacious aisles and wide front entrance.
When I visited, Soul Fire did not yet have its liquor license ("it's coming" I was promised), but a refreshing Arnold Palmer (half lemonade, half iced tea; $2.50) did wonders for quenching my thirst and not dehydrating me on the 80-degree day. To start, Bunches and I dug into some Fried Macaroni and Cheese Bites ($4), cheesy battered balls of elbow macaroni, and some sticky, delicious Honey Wings ($5). I experimented with Soul Fire's array of heated (meaning warm, as in temperature) sauces and found the Louisiana Sweet Barbecue sauce to be a perfect complement to the creamy, salty macaroni and cheese bites.
Twenty napkins and two handiwipes later, we were ready to get dirty all over again. The Sliced Brisket ($10) was bit dry but revved up sufficently with some vinegar and pepper sauce. The tender, battered Fried Catfish ($12.50), was wonderful as is, and only brightened when dipped into the southern tartar sauce. And the ribs, oh the ribs! Baby back ribs are dry rubbed and then smoked using a mixture of woods, which means the meat takes on a more subtle flavor (re: you don't feel as it you're chewing tender piece of mesquite). The serve-yourself sauce bar is made for the ribs and the sumptuous Hickory Roast Chicken ($8), which is a bargain at $11 for a whole. All entrees are served atop a piece of thick white bread, a vestige of an old-time barbeque custom which dictated you wipe your hands on a piece a bread, which you would then eat later.
Soul Fire's side dishes almost overshadow the entrees and should be sampled in in large quantities. The Corn Bread ($1.50) was light, moist, containing whole kernels, and the cole slaw crisp, fresh, and not overly mayonnaised. Unsurprisingly, I found the Mac & Cheese to be the show-stopper. A thicker, Cheddar-based cheese sauce coated the elbow macaroni and crushed potato chips formed a salty exterior crust.
By the way, Soul Fire resists being called a "joint", and rightly so, considering its aesthetic is more trendy, college town than country truck-stop. The long bar made of vintage album covers and all environmentally-friendly dishware certainly don't transport you to 'bama, but you'll hardly care when you taste what is indubitably good ol' barbeque.
The Info
Soul Fire
182 Harvard Ave., Allston
www.soulfirebbq.com
