Feast

Pot Puns For Your Pie-Hole

Lauren DiTullio — Fri, 01 Feb 2013 17:08:00 GMT

^{Photo courtesy Cheba Hut's Facebook page}

If you've ever ordered a 420 Burger from Boston Burger Company or picked up a Bob Marley sub from Al's Deli, we have good news for you. Rumor has it "toasted" sub shop Cheba Hut may be coming to town soon.

Cheba Hut started 15 years ago in Tempe, Ariz. and has been creeping across the country since. They just opened a restaurant in Madison, Wis., and according to Friday's Boston Herald, Cheba Hut's chief operating officer Matt Thretheway said the chain is "heading east." Although they haven't picked out a Bostonlocation just yet, there's talk of expanding the franchise to Massachusetts,Pennsylvania, New York and Vermont.

Cheba Hut's sandwiches come in three sizes: the nug, the pinner, and the blunt. And if the pot puns weren't enough to drawn in the restaurant's key clientele, the food itself makes Cheba Hut a veritable stoner paradise. The "Dank" is a pizza on a sub; the "Griefo" features fresh veggies topped with a scoop of guacamole and hemp cream cheese; and the "Kush" is a good old fashioned BLT.

Don't get too excited, though. Cheba Hut's online menu bears the following disclaimer: "All names ‘refer' to subs only. Any similarities are purely coincidental."

See what they did there?

How do you like them apples? On the rocks, thanks.

Brittney McNamara — Wed, 17 Oct 2012 17:46:00 GMT

Move over Halloween! Everyone's favorite October holiday is already upon us: National Applejack Month. That's right, 31 days of boozy, cider-filled glory. Now that's a Phoenix-approved holiday.

Historically, applejack was made by freezing fermented apple juice to force the water to the top, then removing the excess water to make the alcohol content higher. It was then thawed, and voila, a concentrated and high-in-alcohol cider remains. Now, it comes in a handy bottle and the only process is giving the cashier at the liquor store a few bucks. Our puritanical predecessors were big fans of applejack, and what better way to celebrate the fall harvest? Get drunk like a pilgrim this month and try these apple concoctions on for size. We scoured the Internetz to find them, just for you!

Jack Briar at Temple Bar, $9: Laird's Applejack, Chai-spiced Grenadine, Lemon, Down east Cider Float.

Apple Crisp: 4 oz. Applejack, 4 oz. fresh lemon juice, 1 oz. Cointreau or triple sec. Garnish with a halved crab apple

Apple Pie: Half Woodstock Autumn Ale or Harpoon Winter Warmer, Half cider (Ok, it's not made with Applejack but so good!)

Applejack Old Fashioned: 2 oz. Applejack, 2 dashes Fee Brother's Whiskey Barrel Aged Aromatic Bitters, 1 tsp. real maple syrup

Applejack Collins: 2 oz. Applejack, 1 oz. Lemon Juice, 4 dashes Orange Bitters, ½ tsp. Superfine Sugar, Sparkling Water

Jack Rose: 2 oz. Applejack, ¾ oz. lime juice, ¼ oz. grenadine

Puerto Apple: 1 1/2 oz. Applejack, 3/4 oz. Lime Juice, 1 oz. Orgeat Syrup, 1 tbsp.White Rum

Wild Thanksgiving: 1 oz. Applejack, Cranberry Juice, 1 splash Rose's Lime Juice, 1 oz. Wild Turkey 80 Proof Bourbon

Five great spots to get bibimbap in Allston (in no particular order)

Laura Jane Brubaker — Fri, 12 Oct 2012 17:06:00 GMT

It is an undisputed fact that Korean food is the best stuff to eat in the whole wide world forever and ever no questions thank you amen. And atop this mountain of kimchi’d glory sits one dish to rule them all: Bibimbap. If you are unfamiliar with this perfect god-given gift of a meal, let me give you some backstory here. Bibimbap (say BEE-bim-bahp) is constituted of steamed rice and a ton of veggies -- usually including a leafy green, sprouts, carrots, daikon, cucumber, and mushrooms -- plus seasoned beef, and a fried egg all together in a bowl (in the case of dolsot and okdol bibimbap, a hot stone bowl). You can usually expect some spicy sauce to stick on there, too, along with some banchan (side dishes). It’s everything you need to fill your empty gut, and usually for a decent price. Most Allston Korean joints (which is to say, most restaurants in Allston) serve up this tasty piece. Here are some spots definitely worth checking out.

HANMARU, 170 Harvard Avenue
10.95 for straight-up bibimbap
This low-key Asian fusion spot has super tasty banchan to go along with their no-nonsense bibimbap. The menu is worth some extra perusal to check out the offerings of Thai, Chinese, and (obviously) ramen.

COLOR, 166 Harvard Avenue
9.00 for straight-up bibimbap
Color recently took a hiatus for a cosmetic overhaul, and though the new look is markedly more monochromatic than its name might suggest, the food is full up with lovely colors and delicious flavors, all beautifully presented.

MYUNG DONG 1st AVE, 90 Harvard Avenue
11.99 for straight-up bibimbap
A staple in the night scene among Allston’s hip K-crowd, Myung Dong is precisely where you’ll wind up seeking out a cure for that late-night tasty-craving. Ponder the scores of soju (rice liquor) options then gaze into colorful vortex of K-pop music vids always running in this joint.

KAJU TOFU HOUSE, 58 Harvard Avenue
9.99 for straight-up bibimbap
Though a newcomer to the Allston Korean chow-town scene, Kaju Tofu has already made it’s tasty, tasty mark. Everything here’s pretty straight-up in terms of authenticity, and if you’re lucky you’ll be waited on by the loveliest little Korean lady; say hi to your new dream-mom. (Check out a full review of Kaju Tofu in On the Cheap.)

BONCHON, 123 Brighton Avenue
12.95 for okdol bibimbap
Better known for their phenomenal chicken, this international chain (there are a few dozen BonChons strewn across the US and Southeast Asia) also serves up a darn tasty bibimbap. The blaring pop music may be initially distracting, but once you’ve got food in your face you’re not gonna notice anything else.

Couple's Therapy; Summer Winter's chefs go head to head on Top Chef Masters

Cassandra Landry — Tue, 31 Jul 2012 19:15:00 GMT

Mark Gaier, (left) and Clark Fraiser.
If you've ever been to Summer Winter Restaurant in Burlington, MA, and caught glimpses of chef-owners Mark Gaier and Clark Fraiser flitting between tables, you'll understand why we're so pumped about their appearances on this season of Top Chef Masters. The duo's attention to fresh and seasonal ingredients (check the greenhouse out back) pays off, and so does their playfully crafted menu. Doesn't hurt that they're two of the most delightfully lovely people in the business, which is probably why it's a good thing we're not judging. One earnestly beaming smile from either of them and we're mush.

As a couple (27 years and counting), one might guess the heat of the competition would get a little awkward, but by all accounts Gaier and Frasier kept each other's backs around set. As Frasier told Zagat's Kathleen Squires at the Top Chef Masters premiere party, "[Competing against each other] was very odd. But we helped each other. Sometimes we'd sneak off into corners and say to each other, 'you should do this. You should do that."

Gaier adds that his biggest sin during his time in Sin City was only "having a few drinks, because I don't drink! But I didn't do any gambling or whoring around. I was a good boy."

Freakin' adorable. Tune in to Bravo see how the blonder-than-blonde duo (plus Patricia Yeo of Moksa and OM!) toughs it out on episode two of TCM, or catch a ride to Burlington tomorrow and root for them in person while you sample some of the dishes from the premiere. 6pm sharp!

What the Mofongo? El Oriental de Cuba in JP serves up a cultural classic

Lynda Bassett — Fri, 22 Jun 2012 17:13:00 GMT

It was another rainy spring day in Jamaica Plain when I ran, soaked with a broken umbrella, into El Oriental de Cuba. There was no question in my mind that I needed to order a big, warm soul-southing bowl of chicken soup with mofongo.

What is mofongo? It sounds like a swear word, but when mixed in with some hot chicken soup, or as a side dish with lunch or an entrée, it is Latino comfort food at its best. Despite being a big fan of Latino foods, I had never heard of mofongo.

Made with green plantains, it's fried once, mashed down in a mortar and pestle with pork rinds, then fried with tons of garlic oil. It can be topped with any kind of fried meat or sauce, like chicharrón, fried pork rinds, otherwise known as pork cracklings. (Seriously, they had me at "pork cracklings.")

Nobel Garcia, owner of El Oriental de Cuba, says the traditional way of preparing mofongo is to smash the ripe plantains with a mortar and pestle. "There's no other way to make it," he says.

There is some debate about the origins of mofongo. It's very popular in Puerto Rican cuisine, but the Dominicans claim it for their own. Scholars will say that it came from the African slave ships, and some say that it all started with the Indians.

Despite where it comes from, mofongo is fun to eat and fun to say. In African cultures, they call it "fufu." According to the website, Slavery in America, fufu was usually made with yams, ripe plantains instead of green, yucca, or other starchy root vegetables.

In any case, mofongo is a staple on Latino cultures and consumed as a side dish like rice. Most folks eat it year-round. You can enjoy mofongo with an entrée like chicken, pork, fish or beef. It's very popular on the menu at El Oriental de Cuba, and has been there "since day one," Garcia says.

You can also order mofongo with a steaming bowl of soup, like I did. The mofongo ($7.95) at El Oriental de Cuba comes with a tomato-based chicken sauce for added deliciousness. It stays a bit crisp in the soup, giving your meal all kinds of texture and flavor. You can order a small bowl of chicken soup ($4.95) with mofongo, but I recommend going for the large bowl ($6.95), which is nearly big enough to bathe in. Together, you've got a rich and filling way to fill your belly for the day for under $16.00 bucks.

El Oriental de Cuba is located at 416 Centre St. Jamaica Plain. Open Monday-Thursday, 8AM - 9PM;Friday and Saturday, 8AM - 10PM; Sundays, 8AM - 8PM Call 617.524.6464 for more information.

[pig roast] Shots from Area Four's 1st Birthday Party, June 14

Cassandra Landry — Mon, 18 Jun 2012 16:39:00 GMT

Good ol' fashioned food fans celebrated Area Four's very first birthday last Thursday, and the whole thing felt like the ultimate laid-back block party in the 'hood. If, of course, your block was populated with nationally acclaimed chefs. I wish I lived on that block, because this was some of the best cookout food I've ever heaped onto a sturdy paper plate. To whomever nabbed the last scrapings of that mac and cheese before I could go back and do the same, nicely done. Here's a few snapshots from the evening.

Holy shit, did I feel a little bad for this pig. But then, it was on my plate, and I forgot all about it. Also, first time witnessing this pressure method. Will freely admit I kind of imagined a luau-style buried-pig roast going down in Tech Square. Sadly, no such luck.

One of the many things they do well over at Area Four: pizza. Perfect crust, perfect blend of toppings.

Just after chef Leviton cracked a "aren't any of you going to comment on his hog?" joke.

No shame. Finished every single bite, then sneakily went back for more. Thanks to everyone behind the festivities that night, I passed out hard with a glorious food & drink coma that night.

[look inside] Sweet Cheeks' new beer garden

Cassandra Landry — Thu, 14 Jun 2012 18:42:00 GMT

We here at The Phoenix gave up trying to resist the mid-day food coma that comes in the form of chef Tiffani Faison's drool-worthy BBQ joint, Sweet Cheeks, months ago. That juicy, sizzling smoker scent that sneaks into our Fenway headquarters, mere feet away, has played a mighty large part in this, it's true.

When we noticed construction popping up on the outside patio, a beer garden was something we didn't even dare to wish for. It seems Christmas has come early for us meat-eatin' BBQ groupies, because a beer garden we have been gifted.

According to the good folks over at Eater, the space features a retractable roof, whiskey barrels for perching, and a rotating list of respectable beers; 21st Amendment's Hell or High Watermelon, Narragansett, Grey Lady by Cisco and Clown Shoes Tramp Stamp.

This already looks like a primo after-work spot, but apparently a living mint wall is on its way as well. We assume that'll be for good ol' fashioned Southern juleps though, not for your face-planting and deep-breathing pleasure.

The beer garden, which officially opened on June 9, is open Saturday and Sunday from 11:30pm to 1am, and Monday through Friday from 5pm to 1am. If you need us, you know where to find us.

Treat them right, NYC: Toro to expand

Cassandra Landry — Thu, 14 Jun 2012 14:59:00 GMT

Bissonnette and Oringer © Boston Herald

Hooo, boy. If you haven't heard already, The New York Times reported that the guys behind everyone's favorite tapas spot, Toro, are diving headfirst into the New York dining scene, with a spot in Chelsea opening this fall, after seven years on Washington St. What does that mean for us Boston food-hounds who finally have a few local gems we're loathe to share with big, bad, NYC?

A few less chances to make small talk with the food wunderkinds in person while you wax poetic over the paella, that's all. Plus, a fantastic excuse for spending a few hours on the Fung Wah bus, although we doubt the wait at the New York location will be any less impressive.

Bissonnette tells us he looks forward to getting their hands on some ingredients that don't come as easily in Boston town, and that the chefs will be in New York to open, but will split their time equally between both cities to run things as smoothly as possible.

With no plans to ditch Bostonians anytime soon, we can all breathe a sigh of relief and give the duo our best wishes. Show ‘em how it's done, chefs.

As one Times commenter put it: "Love both those places--Coppa is my favorite place in Boston--lets hope these two keep an eye on home and don't become Todd English, who has become an embarrassment to the industry and Boston. Is there anyone left he is NOT being sued by?"

Our sentiments exactly. Sorry, Todd English.

Step away from the tie section, your dad would probably rather eat

Cassandra Landry — Tue, 12 Jun 2012 19:19:00 GMT

Aaaaahh, Father's Day. Yet another Hallmark holiday that marks an opportunity to stress unnecessarily over the correct way to honor the man who, as Groupon puts it, gave birth to you. For some reason, golf, BBQ, and a shit ton of meat seem to be the main options that scream "MANLY!" and "DISTINGUISHED!" for those of us scrambling to make plans this week. We've got you covered on all fronts. Unless your dad is more of an afternoon nap kind of guy, in which case, just leave him alone for a few hours.

1. Beehive does Dad's Day

You better hope your pop ain't a vegetarian if you're planning on hitting up the Beehive today. We're sure they could hook you up with something, but it would be a waste of their killer menu options. We're talking baby back ribs, blackened NY steak frites with peppercorn jus, and a prime rib grilled cheese, people. In true Beehive fashion, there will be live music the whole time, which sounds like a pretty solid Father's Day to us. more

2. Father's Day BBQ at BOKX 109

We know, we know, the image of a Dad behind a grill is quite the cliche. Sometimes, though, they want the sweet BBQ-y results without the hassle. This year, BOKX 109 exec chef Jarrod Moiles is rolling out a customizable (Dads love that word, right?) prix fixe menu. First course options include: scallops & bacon, tomato gazpacho, and BBQ beef short rib nachos. For entrees, choose between a NY sirloin or the roasted half chicken. If you aren't stuffed yet, you can choose between a strawberry & basil shortcake panzanella (our personal choice), seven layer chocolate mocha cake, a cake pop trio, or a banana split. Good luck, kids. more

3. Nine & Dine

Blue on Highland is offering up the standard Father's Day food fare, but with one major caviat: a complimentary round of golf at New England Country Club. Mini-golf was fun when you were younger, but now you should be able to bust out your skills with a nine iron with the big kids. Dine here today, and a gift certificate comes with the check. more

4. Pain D'Avignon's Bread of the Month Club

We know what you're thinking: 500 fucking dollars? And the answer is yes, 500 big ones. But why? Listen, this Father's Day, you could very easily pick out a lame printed tie, or get him an ironic apron (Sausage King, or something), but what is the real goal of this Sunday? To express to someone that you love them, despite the lame Dad-jokes he may throw at every server in every restaurant you frequent. And, nothing, absolutely nothing, says I love you like bread. The cacophony of crackle when it's fresh, the smell that makes you want to burrow down in the dough and go to sleep...come on. Here's a way to make sure your Dad gets awesome bread every month! Choose from three month ($150), six month ($275), and twelve month ($500) programs, and that month's selections are shipped to his door. Everyone loves bread. more

Chip-otle off the old block: Is Rosa Mexicano destined to be just another stale tourist trap?

Cassandra Landry — Mon, 11 Jun 2012 19:48:00 GMT

El Mezcalito at Rosa Mexicano

It's a sad, sad, thing when waves of tourists looking for a night of Boston cuisine, totter out of the Seaport Hotel, bedecked in pastel pants and wedges, then descend upon the restaurants directly adjacent to their lodgings. How very adventurous.

While I do understand the desire for ease, and agree that a bumpy cab ride into an unfamiliar city always seems a bit risky and exhausting, it was with a heavy heart that I watched endless variations on the same tanned, blond, bright-eyed tourist theme walk through the revolving doors of Rosa Mexicano last Friday night.

The chain gets rave reviews for its New York City location, and even Zagat has called it "the ‘gold standard' in ‘upscale' modern Mexican cuisine." Who the hell am I to argue with Zagat, right? But the Seaport location, which opened last month, is getting absolutely no love from Boston Yelpers.

Part of the problem may be that the location is ill-suited to the chain's aesthetic--a clubby, den-like riff on luxury dining--and in a neighborhood frequented by less-than-discerning tourists looking for a glamorous night out, service and quality are thrown under the bus for glitz and show. The room felt wrong, tense. The chairs have no arms, which shouldn't be a noticeable loss, but was, for some reason.

I want to preface this review by saying that, as a food writer, I try extremely hard to like a place before I pass any judgment, as tempting as taking every word on Yelp as gospel is. I'm not sure who this "innocent until proven guilty" credo really benefits, but out of deference to the service industry family, it's always been my default setting. I have been that server who gets flat-sat, just as the computer goes down. I've let loose a long stream of profanities after a dismal tip. I love chefs, and I love the crazy love and dedication that is often necessary to keep a place afloat. I am literally the exact person you want sitting at your table if you're having a bad night, because I will probably forgive you.

Unless, of course, I just can't.

I will say this: the cocktails were good. Yes, they were a bit low on alcohol (we were all fully-functioning well past the third cocktail, unfortunately), but the options were pretty admirable. It's a solid tequila list, and the "Sandia" ($11), a mix of fresh watermelon, El Jimador silver tequila, rosemary, and fresh lemon was the best of the mixed cocktails we tried. The "Mezcalito" ($11) wasn't half bad either--strawberry, Tanteo Jalapeño-infused silver tequila, Del Maguey-Vida mezcal, fresh lemon, and organic agave struck that nice smoky-sweet balance.

Our server was quick to throw out the Rosa Mexicano golden child--Guacamole en Molcajete ($14 for 2-3 people, $22 for 4-6)--as a must-try, which is basically the Mexican food incarnation of the cheesy tableside Caesar salads that were a luxury mainstay throughout the 90s. I'm not sure there's a guacamole on this earth that is worth $22. If there is, fuck that, I can make you a fantastic one for under $10. What we had was definitely not it. While the presentation is charming (and I know there were other ingredients besides avocado, since I witnessed them with my own eyes!), the end result was a bland shadow of true guacamole. Where was the zip? The poetry? No cool touch of herbs or fiery peppers woven through the creamy avocado, no bright citrus notes in the background. Even a touch of salt would have helped.

20 minutes after the guacamole hits the table, our other two appetizers show up: "Flautas de Pollo" ($10), rolled crispy chicken tacos coated with salsa pasilla de Oaxaca on one half, and salsa verde on the other, and "Tacos de Hamachi" ($13.50), three miniscule tacos filled with raw diced yellowtail, bacon, serrano chile, arugula and truffle oil. The truffle oil struck me as strange choice, and I watched my dining companion's face closely. A lover of raw fish in its many forms, her nose wrinkled after one bite.

"It's kind of...fishy. In a bad way," she says, sniffing the rest of the taco in her hand dubiously. The tacos had a gray, withered look on the plate, and no one touched them the rest of the evening. They remained at the table, wilting, since no one bothered to come by and check on the progress. The flautas were drenched--with a distinct heat-lamp look to them--in the Oaxacan salsa that seemed to be in every item on the menu. Chipotle is a very sexy thing, and when used correctly, can transform a dish into something smoky and sensual. It can also be overwhelming and tired, and it was all we tasted from plate to plate.

By this time, around 7pm, the place is getting pretty busy, and we've noticed the long absences of our server. After the pink, plastic lid of the tortilla container at the table next to ours hits the ground for the third time, and a plate crashes down somewhere nearby, all three of us are mildly stressed.

The manager swings by out of nowhere, interrupting our conversation, and begins to awkwardly plug restaurant promotions and menu items. There are strained silences and we all burn holes in our menus, unsure of what she wants to hear. Feeling pressured, we order two taco plates.

Priced outrageously at $16.50 for three mini-tacos, we go for the "Pollo Yucateco," a blend of spiced chicken, plantains, sweet peppers, and chili de árbol crema. I order them because I'm a sucker for plantains, but, they arrive, and damn it, there's the hint of chipotle again, and I can't taste a lick of plantain. The "Pescado de Baja" sounds like a classic take on a crispy fish taco, with a jalapeño tartar sauce. Against my will, the first thing that pops into my head after I take a bite is "Van de Kamps." The jalapeño tartar sauce seems more like a slaw, and is good, but reminds me so much of malt vinegar that I can't get past it.

My other tablemate places an order for a cocktail when we put in the tacos, and by the time we've worked through the plates, it's still nowhere to be seen. We try to wrangle our server for around 10 minutes, while she remains just out of reach. He finally ask her what happened to the drink.

"You didn't get it?" she asks, her voice going up a few octaves. My ears perk up. My serving voice did that sometimes, whenever my brain had just slammed on the brakes and just realized, with a loud and screeching, "OH SHIT," that I had forgotten to punch something in. "That's so weird, because the ticket was definitely stabbed at the bar."

The three of us stare at her. Clearly, the drink is not, and has not been, here. I see that she's now just thinking aloud, but she's still standing there, blinking at us. My companion gestures to the table, and assures her that no, it hasn't shown up. She apologizes and books it to the bar, out of sight. She returns five minutes later to ask him what he ordered.

At this point, all staff seems to sense that things are not going well at our table, and we are completely marooned. We sit, sipping on our cocktails and munching on cold chips, while the empty plates that we've pushed to the edges of the table and signaled with silverware smoke-signals, crowd around us. Once the lost cocktail makes an appearance, our server disappears again. One by one, every few minutes, the plates are cleared away.

When we manage to lock down some dessert menus, I'm not feeling optimistic. There are three different kinds of cake, and a flan, plus churros ($7.50), which we settle on in the end. We all giggle a little, relieved, since churros are standard, light dessert-fare that are fan-fucking-tastic at literally any state fair in the entire country. Even when our server swings by and warns us that the pastry kitchen is a little slammed at the moment, we nod, unfazed. Yes, fried dough (with chocolate, caramel and raspberry guajillo for dipping) would certainly do.

They arrive in a pink paper bag, which the food runner shakes a bit, coating the bits with cinnamon sugar. They pile onto the plate, and I'm feeling a bit better as they sit there, glistening and hot from the fryer. We all take one and break them in half.

They are entirely raw, the steamy batter dripping onto our fingers.

Way, way, over-priced check, please.

Lucky Peach 4, "The American Food Issue," hits newsstands July 3

Cassandra Landry — Tue, 05 Jun 2012 19:22:00 GMT

Sigh. Here's some Lucky Peach goodness to read while you wait.

Happy's Bar + Kitchen is FINALLY open

Cassandra Landry — Wed, 02 May 2012 16:24:00 GMT

That's right, folks: chef Michael Schlow's much-anticipated Happy's Bar + Kitchen is officially open. It's lunchtime...which means some of you in-the-know food fans are probably elbow deep in that 1 lb. meatball right about now.

This is restaurant # 5 for Schlow, the man behind Radius, Tico, Via Matta and Alta Strada in Wellesley. Happy's, taking place of the old Burtons on the corner of Boylston and Kilmarnock in the Fenway (right down the street from the Phoenix offices, we're pumped to say), is billed as a diner-deli amalgam with some purportedly killer pastrami.

Also on the menu? Booze-infused milk shakes. We're sure that will slide right into our post-work summer routine, no problem.

Not to mention the crazy respectable beer list. Anyone have an initial verdict? We're dying to hear it, until we can run down there ourselves and induce some noontime food comas.

Hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife: Luke O'Neil's comin' to your boob tube

Cassandra Landry — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 16:53:00 GMT

Luke O'Neil is that dude you can most definitely trust to call bullshit on just about anything: SXSW, St. Patrick's Day, anything. When it comes to craft cocktails and bars in general, this is always what you want -- yes, a modicum of interest and general knowledge about what you're drinking is a plus, but at the end of the day, it's all booze, so don't be an asshole about it. Since he's got this strangely genius palate paired with an acid wit, we will absolutely follow him into the murky underworld of mixology, every time.

Anyway, O'Neil, one of the busiest guys in town (you can catch his byline in a handful of this city's publications at any given time, The Boston Phoenix included) begins filming a T.V. pilot today and tomorrow. The show, dubbed Carousel, operates under a talk-show format, but more like one you might actually watch; live music, interviews with chefs and bartenders, and cocktail demos, all set in a different bar each time.

The first installment goes down TONIGHT, 6 pm sharp, at Davis Square's Saloon, with Storyville's Louis DiBicarri and chef Will Gilson in tow. Word is our own music editor Michael Marotta and Rock And Roll Rumble organizer Anngelle Wood will also be talking shop. Saloon's Dennis Cargil will be slinging drinks behind the bar, and O'Neil is inviting lots-o'-extras to fill up the joint.

Tomorrow night is the live music segment, as You Can Be A Wesley, Wheat and Field Effect are slated to play next door at The Davis Square Theatre.

Got better Monday and Tuesday night plans? We didn't think so.

Foodie WTF: Because it's Friday, and Friday means chocolate pasties

Cassandra Landry — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 19:26:00 GMT

And why the hell not, right? If plain old Fashion Week isn't really your cup of tea, I get that. If this isn't though, well, you might be a lost cause. Here, for your unadulterated haute dessert-loving enjoyment, are some snapshots from the 1st annual Salon du Chocolat in Switzerland, courtesy of Reuters. Willy Wonka, eat your heart out.

I did promise you pasties, so let's do these first. How are they not melting? Was it freezing in this room? Did she secretly eat any of those beads backstage? As someone who begins to sweat profusely the second a spotlight is trained on my person, I am simultaneously mystified and horrified by the idea of parading down a runway covered in a milk chocolate skirt.

Cute. I like the headpiece, and those white chocolate (Ick. I'm a dark chocolate purist.) swirls are mightly hypnotizing.

I actually kind of love this, 1) because it reminds me of those little spindly bird's nests you see at dim sum places, and 2) I can't help but imagine sitting down while wearing it. The dress would be tragically and immediately ruined, yes, but I get the feeling it would be immensely satisfying. Also, how the hell did she get into this?

Not sure where the chocolate is here. Are those chocolate arrows? Maybe just the bodice? Huntress is so hot right now though, (some Hunger Games fans told me so, must be true) so I guess it doesn't matter.

Reminscent of those candy portaits. That is all.

This chick is owning this so hard. So is that pastry minion on the right. This is a situation in which I would make it through the sitting like a professional statue, and then get up and immediately brush a wall without noticing. Whoops.

Happy Friday, folks. Now you have something to try out this weekend.

Shake what ya momma gave you; the city's best bartenders face off at The Hawthorne

Cassandra Landry — Wed, 21 Mar 2012 18:28:00 GMT

Sam Treadway of Backbar in action

Full disclosure, my idea of a quick cocktail is either a) cracking open a bottle of beer, which is not a cocktail, or b) taking a shot, which is also not a cocktail. Give me a little more time, maybe put on some relaxing, lounge-y music, leave the room, and I can definitely whip something up for you. Maybe.

I think it's fair to say I would have been out of my depth behind the bar at Monday night's American Idol/Iron Chef Cocktail Competition at The Hawthorne. And--because I know some of you read that last sentence and thought, American Idol?-- no, the bartenders did not need to sing while they slammed together artful combinations of spirits in shakers, and the goateed Kevin Brauch, thankfully, was not there.

What there was: a crowd of half craft cocktail geek--half Boston University alumni and well-to-dos (this whole shindig happened to double as a benefit for the BU School of Hospitality Administration), six young bartenders who are kicking the industry's ass with their talent, and Jackson Cannon, Mr. Cocktail himself and mastermind behind The Hawthorne.

>>VIEW: Photos of the competition<<

When we arrive, Cannon is darting around the room, settling the judges, checking the bar, disappearing into the kitchen, shaking hands with guests. I ask him if he's the Chairman in this whole set-up, or more of an Alton Brown, and he laughs before he says, "Oh, both. I feel like I'm all of them at this moment," grins, then dashes off again to start the proceedings.

I popped a mini grilled cheese into my mouth and squeezed in at the marble bar with the most eager of the attendees. First up, the young guns of the city's watering holes: Drink alum Bryn Tatten of backbar, Joe Cammarata of Drink, and Seth Freidus of Eastern Standard. Their mystery ingredient, revealed seconds before they sprung into action, wound up being blueberries. Deceptively simple, I thought, as I watched handfuls of the berries being muddled in front of me.

After what seemed like 15 seconds, but was probably closer to five minutes, the drinks were brought up to the judging panel (a self-described Simon, Paula and Randy of mixology), comprised of one of the world's leading tenders of the bar, Salvatore Calabrese, leading hospitality man about town Robert Earl, and radio personality Lauren Beckham Falcone.

Well, hot damn. These judges were not the sort of fluffy, everybody wins judges I'm not ashamed to admit I was expecting. The bartenders were thoughtfully called out on everything from choice of glass to portion size, and after a quick deliberation, Tatten--who presented a variation on a blueberry smash--was deemed the winner.

Next up, three slightly more seasoned gentlemen, Sam Treadway of backbar, United States Bartender's Guild Boston chapter president Corey Bunnewith, and Ryan Lotz of The Hawthorne, took their places. Cannon's voice boomed over the sound system.

"The mystery ingredient...beer!"

Now we're talking.

At this point, I became a little mesmerized by the movement behind the bar and glazed out for a second. These three moved quicker, with a dash more confidence and swagger. And, I feel safe saying this, I don't think anyone can say they don't love watching an experienced bartender with a cocktail shaker. Amiright? I can't help but keep my eyes glued to it, minorly terrified that they'll drop it, or send it flying through the back bar.

Here's where I tuned back in, and noticed a couple I had met minutes earlier beckoning me back to center bar. Treadway had plunked down a tester in front of them for notes and left the drink for them to finish.

>>VIEW: Photos from the competition<<

"Taste this," they told me, and pushed the glass into my hands. I knew there was beer involved, but what I tasted was an explosion of cinnamon and ginger, a hint of carbonation--that had to be the beer--and a deep, sexy, smokiness. My jaw dropped.

That cocktail ended up winning, although the judges had confessed all three drinks were spectacular. This meant a backbar finale, pitting bar manager Treadway up against his co-worker, head bartender Tatten, for the final round.

Bryn Tatten of backbar during the final round

By now, the crowd was loving it, and as squeeze bottles of balsamic emerged from the back room, a murmured "Oooh," rose up around me.

Wouldn't you know it, the student became the master in the end, as Tatten's cocktail was chosen as the competition's final winner.

Afterwards, as cameras flashed and the bartenders mingled, Cannon stood to the side, surveying the crowd.

"You know," he says, "I'm not a fan of a super competitive environment behind the bar, but I really loved seeing all the bartenders just having a great time. Did you see Sam trying to help out Bryn at the end? That was so cool to see."

And what would have Cannon have done with the tricky balsamic?

"I think I would have used watermelon if it had been in season," he says after thinking for a moment. "But since it isn't, I would have definitely used those strawberries that were up there. I think that would have come out nice."

I find myself nodding, and immediately start imagining myself muddling strawberries into a red mush, gleefully splashing balsamic over it, working a cocktail shaker and not dropping it, jazzy music playing in the background. We'll get there eventually.