Boston over the years has evolved into a bit of a
dining destination city, a shock for one who arrived
here in an age were various kinds of asceticism
were fashionable, whether politically correct,
Puritan, or poverty-driven. When I settled in this
area, it was generally considered a crime to spend
more than $10 on a meal, and in fact a perfectly
decent dinner at one of the town's flagships,
Locke-Ober's, Maison Robert, the Parker House, Cafe
Budapest, or Maitre Jacques could be had for that
price or less.

Now with Jasper White, Barbara Lynch, Lydia Shire,
Todd (boo) English, Tony (boo!) Ambrose, Stan
(double boo) Frankenthaler, Corinne Mozo, Chris
Schlesinger, Amanda Lydon, Deborah Hughes, Jae Kim,
Ming Tsai, Michael Schlow, and numerous others
competing for the dollars that flow through what
has become the tech and second financial center of
the east coast, many good meals can be had. One
fallout is that there are a lot of alumni and alumnae
of the big places in town who have gone off on their
own armed with good solid skills and high hopes.

197 East Main, Gloucester MA
Present: Nicholas, Michael
Wines: Trefethen Eshcol Cabernet 1999 (Napa) -
good berries, too obvious oak, nice though sweetish
finish, an intriguing core of coffee/toffee on the
palate. Pretty enjoyable.
Montinore Pinot Gris 2002 (Willamette) - they almost
got it right, with lucious lime and orange notes,
good acidity, light and fresh. With my eyes closed,
would I be able to tell this Oregon wine from a
real Italian? Possibly. [grin]

A haunted location, right by the Gloucester Arts
Association. Somehow, perfectly good restaurants
are born here, and they die here from neglect. We
lost several, the most attractive of which was the
lamented Thymes on the Square. It's a bit out of
the way for the heavy-spending city crowd, but that
never stopped the White Rainbow of days of old,
which apparently still keeps puttering along.

Not unattractive, light room, but a bit plain for a
serious restaurant - you'd expect a coffee shop or
something in this kind of space. Rather understocked
bar straight ahead as you come up the stairs to the
dining room. Attentive although not always utmostly
professional staff.

The appetizers sounded fairly appetizing, but I
noticed that the chicken main dish was garnished
with fiddleheads and ramps: so I asked if the
chef could make an appetizer out of fiddleheads
and ramps for me, as I like both those things.
Nicholas, who had been about to get the fava
bean soup, said that sounded good, so we asked
if we could both have some. The waitress, an
agreeable aspiring photographer named Michelle,
said she'd ask the chef. So presently the chef
came out to consult with us. Those are expensive
ingredients, he said, and we'd have to settle
for small portions, he was warning us. Otherwise
he had no objection to doing what we asked. We
got to talking about food, and it turns out that
he (Nick Speros, owner as well as chef; henceforth
Nicholas the diner shall be called Nicholas, and Nick
the chef shall be called Nick) had used to sous
for Michael Schlow at Radius and then cheffed at eat,
(where I had once inadvertently left a book of music
- this stayed in the office with my name on it
for some months before some kind soul mailed it to
me) : so we found something in common and started
gabbing, which latened our meal but got us perhaps
a few more fiddleheads - eventually the dish
came out, plated on two lovely dishes, a fairly
generous helping of the vegetables (both very
baby, both very sweet and tender) sauteed in good
oil and drizzled with a ramp-infused oil that was
stronger than the ramps themselves, which were
in fact the tiniest of shoots. Excellent.

During the conversation, Nicholas had complained
about overtenderized octopus that he'd had at one
of Nick's favorite restaurants, No. 9 Park; so
Nick suggested we try his grilled octopus with
tomato coulis, tapenade, and giant beans; this was
in fact pretty good, although to my taste the
fish had been overmarinated and thus a little on
the mushy side. The ingredients came together
nicely, the octopus grilled almost black, the
giant beans very white, very big beans of the
fava family. More good oil.

Pork tenderloin with "Tuscan greens" - pretty
good, pretty moist, the sauce light but flavorful,
the greens in question of course cavolo nero. Not
what I'd order, but only because it was something
I could make, but Nicholas was well impressed.

Seared diver scallops with foie gras, pea puree,
peas, and pea shoots - quite good, the scallops
sweet and almost grit-free, the foie gras in
decent, not generous, mind you, quantity, enough
to give one the impression of grand luxe but not
enough to kill the scallops. The three kinds of
peas in the one dish were a pleasant diversion
(of which Nick is inordinately proud, he later
averred).

Along with the usual suspects, Tahitian vanilla
bean creme brulee, dark chocolate cake, and so on,
was the intriguingly named Isle of Rhubarb, which
Nicholas ordered: it turned out to be a towering
tower of yellow grainy ice cream ("rhubarb mousse"
without much rhubarbiness) set in an unsweetened
green almond custard sauce, garnished with cracked
green almond fruit. I had a taste of everything,
interesting, not exciting. I'd never tasted a
(sour, tannic) green almond fruit before.

A bit of the white wine remained, and the dessert
list, to tell the truth, didn't thrill me much, so
Instead I ordered the crispy baccala appetizer
with sweet garlic and microgreens: this was a
perfectly nice although a bit salty salt cod cake
topped with greens and heads of stewed garlic.

Espresso is said to have been good.
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