The food in Singapore is, in general, vastly superior to the food back in Boston. But I’ve got a few places close to my heart that house both memories and delicious eats back in Beantown. I will start by enumerating those in Cambridge. Keep in mind, these are not necessarily the best places or a comprehensive list, just what Joan’s been missing:
Toscanini’s. Their coffee, espresso, and coffee ice cream sandwich flavors (and yes, they really do taste different), but most of all, their mango ice cream. Not the sorbet. Nothing could be more refreshing than their raspberry Italian soda, except maybe the lemon whipped cream in their eclectic small-bites brunch. Three cheese scones; especially when they’re free after 5 PM. I heat’em up in the microwave upstairs. I miss lattes in their giant coffee mugs filled to the brim with foam, sometimes with a cute design, maybe a smiley face or a heart. I heart you too, Tosci’s.
Punjabi Dhaba. It brings out the ghetto love in me. Mango lassi + naan + shahi paneer combo plate is my go-to move here, but everything is delish, and more importantly, cheap. Eating upstairs where it’s dirty and hot, and away from the long line of customers. The summer heat makes the place stuffy, even at 11 PM at night, and that’s how I like it.
Mariposa Bakery. Every time I eat here with someone, it’s great conversation. Don’t know why, must be some ingredient they inject into their avocado sandwich–my fave, on baked-from-scratch honey wheat bread. If I’m feeling manly that day, the thick-cut pastrami’s a good alternative. The horseradish is tear-worthy.
IHOP. I shouldn’t have to explain this.
Muqueca. A neighborhood gem in Inman, but possibly the best Brazilian in Boston, especially if we’re talking seafood and not meat. I was only introduced to this place a year ago, but I’ve already gone four times again since. Nowhere better for a colorful seafood casserole and hot (temperature-wise), burning-your-tongue-off plantains. Friends are fans of the yucca.
Miracle of Science. Three words: cheddar jack cheese. I practically lived at Miracle during the summer of 2008; a lot of shizz went down there. I miss the feel of chalkboard under my fingertips. And occasionally falling off their stools, and most of all, the cute bartenders in their hipster-than-thou clothing. I once went to an art exhibit in an abandoned factory in Southie b/c the bartender invited me. It was a pretty sweet exhibit.
Not the Asgard. I shouldn’t have to explain this.
1369 Coffeehouse. Also have had legendary conversations here, the most memorable of which involves a debate on whether women can lactate if you mechanically stimulate the breast enough. 1369 is perfect in the winter; I miss their hot apple cider. Never too sweet, always steaming hot.
EVOO. As Steve would say, his go-to date place. I really don’t have a favorite entree here, b/c everything is cooked to perfection. Sea bass, lamb, cooked mango…I miss their cocktails too, which are always strong, always inventive. I do not, however, miss their ass-slow service and waiting even though I booked a reservation two weeks beforehand. Speaks volumes about their food though, that it could compensate for this.
Pho Pasteur, aka Le’s. The $6.25 chicken noodle soup and their spring rolls. If I want to go somewhere when I’m feeling under the weather, I hit up Pho.
Berryline. Soft serve frozen yogurt that’s fat-free isn’t a big deal, but Berryline gets the right amount of tartness in the flavor. Pinkberry and Tasti D-lite have nothing on Berryline. Original, strawberry, orange, banana…all the flavors taste perfect together in combo.
Sunny’s Diner. Hands down the best breakfast for nursing a hangover. Spanish omelette is my norm, but Sunny’s is one of the few places where I deign to order the pancakes too. Usually I saturate too quickly on them and only make it through one, but it’s worth it. Ooooooh it. is. worth. it.
Finale in Harvard Square. For some reason, I always end up at this one instead of the branch in Park Plaza. Of course, the desserts are great–their seasonal panna cotta is my personal sin–but their Prelude menu is worthy as well. They serve great olives.
Zoe’s. The food here isn’t actually insanely good or memorable, but sometimes I just get a jonesin’ for a diner atmosphere, and Zoe’s deffo hits the spot on that front.
Bluefin. Introduced to me by M. in my sophomore year, Bluefin and I go waaaay back. Years before the renovated half-space. (I prefer eating in the old-school section, with the sturdy wooden chairs). I’ve probably sunk upwards of thousands of dollars on this place, and I’m still lusting after the t-shirts the waitstaff wears. Agedashi tofu, gyoza, tempura, spicy salmon and eel rolls, mackerel nigiri. Classic without frills (not too many special rolls here), cheap, good quality. Be still my heart.
Porter Square Exchange. It’s always a toughie when I reach Porter Square to decide between Bluefin and the little Korean and Japanese food nooks next to it. Usually comes down to time and money. If I’m looking for a quick $10 dinner, food nooks it is. They’re all tasty, and I never go wrong ordering katsu-don or noodles. I’ve never tried out Kotobukiya for their sushi, but I’ve heard it’s a good bang for the buck.
The Similans. Its more famous counterpart, Brown Sugar Cafe, is just too far to frequent, but their menus are practically identical. Plus Similans delivers to Cambridge. Thai iced tea + mango fried rice and I’m a happy camper.
Emma’s. The way their diet coke comes in those classic tiny glass bottles instead of a normal-sized aluminum can is completely quaint, and completely frustrating halfway through my all-meat pizza. I find the simpler pizzas at Emma’s are best; too many complex ingredients usually equals too many personalities and no specific taste cuts through. I’ve never had red wine with my pizza there, and sort of wish I had.
Clover. I have to give this one to Steve too. Clover is the best MIT food truck ever to exist. Chickpea fritter, hibiscus iced tea, and rosemary fries are the solution to a shitty day in lab. That, or drinking and boning. I only found out about Clover a few months before I left, but the menu isn’t large, so I’ve pretty much tried everything on there. Clover pretty much cemented my friendship forever with Steve.
Oleana. Expensive, but worth it, unlike many restaurants in the city. One of the few Mediterranean places that I actually feel is within the genre of the food. It might not be too far to say that Oleana is the best food in Cambridge, but the pricey-ness is somewhat limiting.
Ole Mexican Grill. I miss the fabulous margs, and Mexican food that either isn’t really Mexican, or could be SO authentic Mexican that I don’t even know it. Best memory of Ole: puking my taquitos all over Sal later that night.
Baraka Cafe. Sweetest lemonade. Really.
Falafel Palace. Clutch. They recently upped their pita bread quality, but I really wouldn’t have noticed if the owner hadn’t told me. I’m usually too drunk to do anything but simulate BJ’s on their falafel. Because it is THAT good.
Rialto. This place wins for best ambience in Cambridge. The food is to die for (and you will lose about an arm and a leg paying for dinner here), but the decor is even better. White mesh curtains and fun-but-functional light green upholstery contrasted against dark mahogany make the eatery blissful and relaxed. Favorite memory here: 8-236 office gathering during Restaurant Week, where we discussed homosexuality markers at length.
Kaya. Most people would probably mention Koreana and not Kaya, as the higher quality of Korean BBQ there is universally agreed upon. I’ve got a soft spot for Kaya though, as we also go waaaay back, maybe even farther than Bluefin. In theory I detest Korean-Japanese fusion restaurants, but sometimes you just want some sushi with your bibimbap. I have many memories hidden inside the private rooms in Kaya where everyone sits on the floor and shares food. And really, the kalbi and bulgogi are up to par; plus, I like their small side snacks better than Koreana’s.
Hi-Fi Pizza. The pizza is pretty shitty and greasy, which is why I love it at 2 AM after a night out at Enormous Room. Perhaps Chicago Pizza should get a shoutout instead, but the quality there is just too high for me to crave it. Pepperoni, please.
Machu Picchu Charcoal Chicken & Grill. The roomies and I woke up after the Ever Clear party around 2 PM, cleaned, and headed straight here on the 91 bus to Union Square. Nothing fixes a rough Sunday like Peruvian chicken and plantains. Not to be confused with its fancier sister restaurant Machu Picchu, just up the street. All relevant roommate gossip occurs during the consumption of Peruvian chicken, and I might not ever return here without them, not even with new roommates.
