Rob's Rants

What: The Hill Tavern

Where: 228 Cambridge St., Boston (no web site found)

Summary:

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Bottom Line: Stay away. I had a disastrous lunch, which friends tell me is typical. We arrived at 12:30 PM on a Thursday. The restaurant smelled like a deep-fryer where the oil hadn’t been changed in 6 months. It took 4 minutes for a hostess to seat us, even though the place was 1/2 empty and two other employees had walked by without so much as a word. The menu was a mess, and after we ordered two simple main dishes, it took 30 minutes to get the food. My fries were undercooked — my lunch tasteless and the sides came from a can. All of this for Beacon Hill pub prices.

I’m serious about the smell. The place needed a deep cleaning, and someone needs to either close in the kitchen (it’s open — sort of) or fix the vent fans. I eat a lot of fried food, so I know what I’m talking about — someone hasn’t changed the oil or cleaned the friers in a while.

The menu made no sense — which is probably why I can’t find it posted on the internet. For example — as an appetizer, there was a crab cake, served with some kind of avocado salad (which is really guacamole from a jar). It was priced $10.95. There was also a crab cake sandwich as a main course. Same crab cake, with the same “avocado salad” but also with fries. For $10.95. Huh? Let me get this straight. I can get a crab cake, salad, fries for $10.95. Or I can get two thirds of that also for $10.95. This is typical of the thought that seems to be put into the food here. The menu also symbolizes everything that is wrong with the American diet. As a lunch salad they offered an avocado (someone here must think avocados are exotic or something) salad, with a vinaigrette, served over a bed of arugula. For $12.95. Right below it — a cheesburger and fries. For $8.95. Why are we all obese and dying from heart disease?

Anyway, my crab cake sandwich was a poorly cooked frozen crab cake, with a side of “hand cut” style fries which were undercooked. Believe it or not, this supports my theory about the deep fat frier sanitation. When frying oil gets old, the fatty acids break down. This lowers the smoke point of the oil. As the smoke point lowers, the byproducts from the breakdown tend to cause food to brown unnaturally. A good cook cleans the deep frier before that happens. A shitty cook sees that the fries are turning brown and thinks he’s burning them. So he cooks them less to avoid discoloring the outside and the inside stays raw. But at least I got to wait 30 minutes for it.

There are better places to eat a short walk in either direction up or down Cambridge Street. I recommend you avoid the Hill unless all you want is a beer.

What: Ernesto’s Pizza, Boston (http://www.ernestosnorthend.com/)

Where: 69 Salem Street, Boston

http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&vps=1&jsv=165c&msa=0&output=nl&msid=114567696637192567932.00046bb8c70c86053e65c

Overall Impression:

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Cleanliness:
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Bottom Line: My favorite pizza place in Boston for a quick lunch or pre-game slice. Ernesto’s specializes in slices (and to them a slice is 1/4 of a pie — two normal slices — you’ve been warned) and keeps a case stocked with 10 or more different varieties at all times. They also serve beer and soda. A slice (remember, a double by normal standards) and a soda will set you back $5.50, or $6.25 if you want a bottle). Personally, I think Ernesto’s has the best crust in Boston, but admittedly, I haven’t eaten my way through the entire Boston Globe Pizza Crawl yet, but I’m working on it.

Atmosphere: Perfect North End atmosphere. Two tiny tables on the sidewalk, a yellowed inside with old-time pictures of sports people and Frank Sinatra, closely-packed seating, and a few shady-looking locals wandering in and out and behind the counter. Oh, and on rainy or snowy days they still sprinkle sawdust on the floor!

Service: They are pretty efficient … not quite Uptown Cafe efficient, but close. They have to be, because there’s no room in the place to stand and wait. The guy begind the counter is usually helpful, though at times there are some others helping him who aren’t. Be prepared to order quickly though … people eating here expect the line to move.

So — if you’re in need of a good and fast lunch or dinner, go to Ernesto’s. Other places may be better for a sit-down meal with friends, but none is better for just getting something good to eat.

My Pizza Story

I’ve lived in New England for more than 20 years now. But while growing up I spent my time in central New Jersey and around Scranton, Pennsylvania. Both areas with heavy Italian influences. So good pizza was part of my childhood. All that changed when I moved to New Hampshire though… In New Jersey and New York, Pizza places are owned by guys named Sal, or Giovanni, or Joe (Giuseppe). One of my favorites growing up as a kid was owned by a guy named Salvatore Mennino; and man could he throw a crust. Not so much in New Hampshire.

For those of you reading this from places other than New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, and Pennsylvania, here are some important things to know:

Pizza is an Italian-American invention. Not Greek. When I had my first taste of pizza after moving to New Hampshire I was stunned at how bad it was. I mean truly horrible. The … bread … because I can’t call it a proper crust … was chewy and grainy. The cheese was rubbery, the sauce was thin and gave me heartburn, and they sliced the sausage on the pie. Sliced! Not crumbled, sliced! And I found this common. So common in fact that I invented my “first rule of New Hampshire pizza:” If your pizza place has baklava on the menu, RUN! And I resigned myself to never again tasting a proper pizza with a thin crispy crust and smooth slightly sweet tomato sauce with actual flavor. Oh … and in most New Hampshire places, you can’t get a slice. What kind of pizza place doesn’t sell slices?!

Prior to working in Boston, I had few chances to travel to the city, and even fewer opportunities to really look around and find places to eat. But about six or seven years ago my wife and I were in Boston one afternoon with some spare time and we stumbled across this tiny pizza place on Salem Street in the North End with two small tables in front. It was old and dirty and crowded. So we gave it a try. And after more than a decade in the wilderness, I had found what I was looking for! Really good pizza! This was Ernesto’s. And I was hooked.

This evening I was walking from my office near Government Center in Boston to South Station and it happened to me again. In the span of just over a mile of walking from Tremont Street down Summer Street I was acosted by no less than 6 people soliciting for charities in their little vests. 4 looking for handout for “Children International” and 2 from Greenpeace. This is on top of the 2 additional Greenpeaceniks who tried to seperate me from my money at lunchtime in front of the Whole Foods plaza on Cambridge Street.

At some point enough is enough. By the time I told the 4^th person that I didn’t have time, I was actually starting to hate children. After the assault by Amnesty International the other day I actually started to hate freedom of speech and wished for a little political persecution! (I suddenly started craving Chinese food …)

Clearly these tactics are effective or all the groups wouldn’t use them. But I have to say, the blueshirted Children International people are absolutely the worst. They seem to have a pair every other block.

Enough is enough I say! Leave me alone …