It’s easy to get cozily complacent in the bubble that is College Hill, and for good reason — we have pretty much everything we need, from hip/creepy coffee shops to multiple Irish pubs to the GCB. But Blue Room muffins can only satisfy a sweet tooth for so long, and those cake pops at Starbucks are freaking weird. That’s where Pastiche comes in. Tucked away on a back street of Federal Hill, it’s a whole new world from our collegiate haven… Evidently, a world filled with fancy cake.

The chipper yellow awning and blue-trimmed storefront are reminiscent of cafés on the cobblestone streets of quaint European villages. A dining room that seats about 25 is flanked on one side by a working fireplace and mural of the Italian countryside, on the other by dessert crazytown. A big glass display case contains made-in-house cakes, which are sold whole or by the slice; trays and shelves and towers spill with more treats. Welcome to your dream. [Read more →]

So. Much. Butter.

It’s hard to think of a less informative name for a restaurant than “Not Just Snacks” (a few ideas: “Cuisine”; “Sustenance”; “Eat Here So We Don’t Go Bankrupt”), but that’s exactly what one restaurant up Hope Street calls itself. A few more pertinent details: it’s Indian, BYOB and open everyday for dine-in or take-out. And, no, it’s not just snacks, although there’s a big display case of ready-made samosas and such right when you walk in the front door; the restaurant also offers a full lunch and dinner menu. An annex market across the street, Not Just Spices, sells specialty Indian groceries.

Clearly these guys want us to know that they’re more than meets the eye… but how much more, exactly? Perhaps more pressingly, what makes this place stand out from Kabob & Curry and Taste of India, both of which provide much more convenient ways to satisfy our masala cravings? For starters, it’s cozier, with a distinctly no-frills, mom-and-pop feel. The brightly lit dining room is more classroom-y than it is ambient, with hilariously kitschy murals of India on the walls to set the mood. [Read more →]

Pretty AND healthy AND tasty.

Despite their prevalence today — especially on college campuses, especially at Brown — vegetarians are all too frequently handed the short end of the stick when it comes to dining out. Sure, nearly all restaurants throw their veg patrons a bone a token meatless dish, but they often get lazy in the process. The result is one too many bland pasta dishes or lackluster heaps of grilled vegetables. Even if you’re a proud carnivore, a restaurant’s vegetarian options should ideally be as enticing as its steak frites or scallops and vanilla leeks.

Enter Garden Grille. From its abode in a strip mall straight up Hope Street and into Pawtucket, it’s pretty unassuming. But inside, it’s pretty freaking cute. Blue-green walls, lantern lights, and fresh flowers on each table contribute to a hip but cozy, casual atmosphere. One downside of this is that you may have to wait for your table, so plan accordingly; alternatively, you can sidle up at the bar if you’re super-hungry (which we were).

Seeing as how it makes good, creative use of lots and lots of fresh produce, the menu changes seasonally. For winter, that means lots of extra-savory, comforting dishes. I had grilled Maitake mushrooms ($16), which came in smoky little clusters atop a mound of red rice (imagine brown rice but nuttier and chewier) in miso broth with crisp baby bok choy, sweet potatoes, and roasted turnips. It was savory and filling and inspired and strange, the polar opposite of those chicken-shit vegetarian entrées at some other restaurants.

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The man, the legend.

I know, I know, you’re wondering the same thing I was: who is Hercules Mulligan, anyway? According to the website Who Was Hercules Mulligan, Anyway?, he was the son of an Irish immigrant and basically a badass patriot during the American Revolution who coaxed juicy tyrannical deets from British soldiers, then tattled on them to President Washington himself. Today, he remains a kind of cult figure who inspires websites like Who Was Hercules Mulligan, Anyway?

Another such homage is Thayer Street’s newest addition, which sits atop Soban in the space that formerly housed Marley’s. Like the original Mr. Mulligan, it packs a big dose of patriotism, reflected in both its hodgepodge of a menu and its avid fandom of the New England football team. Also like the original Mr. M, it’s true to its Irish heritage: giant barrels of Guinness stand in as bar tables, and Flogging Molly blasts through the speakers at all hours and unspeakable decibel levels.

But the restaurant itself is a mutt, evidenced by the abundance of Irish favorites like shepherd’s pie and bangers and mash amidst Caprese salad and pistachio-crusted salmon. Asian food finds a strange home in there, too: spring rolls come stuffed with corned beef, Swiss, and sauerkraut. Likewise, nachos are “Irish-ized” with the addition of potato chips and Irish bacon, as is BBQ sauce with Jameson whiskey. Drinks-wise, there’s a great rotation of beers on tap, plus $3 ‘Gansetts (cool) and the requisite pint of Guinness. Vegetarians: there’s a veggie burger and requisite pasta dish, but you’re probably better off elsewhere. [Read more →]

You don't know it now, but those vanilla leeks are about to blow your freakin' mind.

The identity of the classic American restaurant could well be the topic of its own AmCiv seminar. Most of us have pretty similar mental images of the Classic French Brasserie or the Classic Italian Trattoria or the Classic Mexican Taqueria, but that all kind of falls apart when it comes to American cuisine. The most obvious answers are also the most grim — McDonald’s? Applebee’s? — but it is my greatest hope that, were we to push past such folly, we’d pinpoint something a lot like New Rivers, whose locally stocked kitchen, “melting pot” of influences, and no-nonsense approach are a whole ‘nother breed of all-American.

New Rivers doesn’t look like much from the outside; in fact, you’ve probably unwittingly passed it plenty of times (it’s in a nondescript brick building off South Main Street near where Angell becomes Steeple). But the inside feels like your favorite aunt’s country house: cozy, simple furniture, fairy lights, randomly placed vases of fresh flowers. It helps that, in lieu of one gaping warehouse of a dining room, there are two smaller rooms, so the noise level doesn’t really get out of hand. All these factors alone make it an excellent candidate for February 14, whether you’re participating in Valentine’s Day or Singles’ Appreciation Day. The lowdown on the food, after the jump.

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Olga's at a meteorologically happier time

Of all meals, brunch is arguably the one most perfectly suited to college students. First of all, it’s eaten late, which means those of us who sleep in and miss the breakfast train can still revel in the best things breakfast has to offer. Second, later mealtime means lunch foods (and alcoholic beverages) get to come to the party: welcome back, ham and Bloody Mary, we’re so happy to have you. Third, considering you’re eating breakfast AND lunch, the full spread tends to be a pretty good deal.

Correspondingly, there is a plethora of brunch options on campus and beyond. Olga’s is one such place for those who prefer to start the day with a jaunt: it’s a 10-minute walk from Coffee Exchange, a straight journey that does involve changing street names and traversing bridges. When the weather’s nice, umbrella-covered tables are set up in Olga’s white cottage’s charmingly unkempt garden. For now, though, diners stay in the airy dining room inside. What to order, after the jump:

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Photo courtesy of luxist.com.

Farmstead and La Laiterie may share an address, website, and dairy grandeur, but Farmstead certainly squirrels out a name for itself with its own unique charm. If cheese is your thing but triple-digit bills, dim lights, and long waits decidedly aren’t, this might be your new home away from home.

In short, Farmstead supplies the smorgasbord of cheeses that gives La Laiterie its backbone. Huge wheels of fromage are piled strategically on marble counters, where savvy cheesemongers are lurking at your beck and call. Don’t be shy: they’re generous with samples and ready with the scoop on whatever you’re eyeing. Finals provide the perfect excuse for a little self-pitying binge on the “cheese orphans” (stray, cheap morsels at the register) or self-selected goodies. For direction, some favorites after the jump.

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Wickenden is littered with restaurants to satisfy just about any craving. For every Ethiopian/Cambodian/similarly exotic spot is a casual, good ol’ American joint. Z Bar, Café Zog, and Amy’s Place rub elbows within a one-block radius, so it can be hard to decide where to go when you’re stricken with a sandwich or snack craving. Amy’s sets itself apart from the others with its peachy quaintness, which calls to mind an image of Amy herself as, perhaps, your kooky aunt.

Amy’s is the kind of place that you can envision yourself frequenting on the weekends. Its super casual atmosphere with equally casual food is suitable for both brunching with family and nursing a hangover. Breakfast is served all day, and you know the drill: eggs any style; omelets; bacon and sausage; French toast and pancakes. You can do better than an omelet–eggs aren’t quite fluffy enough, veggies inside aren’t quite resplendent enough–but they’ve also got bagels and housemade muffins that can be tossed on the grill, à la Loui’s. The home fries, with their ethereal, crispy little bits, do not disappoint, nor does the big bowl of yogurt with golden granola and “kiwi, mango, granola, and whatever other fruit we have that day.” Nothing you haven’t seen before, but a nice start to your day all the same. [Read more →]

Photo courtesy of Red Stripe.

Red Stripe, like La Laiterie, has a spot in the arsenal of any savvy dinner dater. It strikes that balance between impressive and casual: trying… but not trying too hard. The wood paneling, tile floors, and open kitchen combine with the lively atmosphere to call to mind your Platonic ideal of the Parisian bistro. Red Stripe does the job with equal parts professionalism and charm.

The massive menu matches this sensibility. Much buzz surrounds the tomato basil soup–especially paired with Red Stripe’s signature grilled cheese of prosciutto, poached pear, and basil–and while that makes a fine lunch, French onion soup is where the magic happens. A bubbling cauldron arrives with gruyère melting just as it should atop a giant crouton. The broth is addictive and borderline voluptuous, sweetened with ribbons of caramelized onions. Red Stripe continues to keep it real with lovable fall-backs; burgers, BLTs, and croque-madames live together in perfect harmony. Salads are generally not meant to steal the spotlight, but can certainly be found and loved in the form of a wedge Waldorf, Caesar, or frisée with lardons, fried egg, and brioche. The big brother of them all, though, is Everything But the Kitchen Sink: a chopped behemoth of briny hearts of palm, chickpeas, olives, and marinated veggies.   [Read more →]

Insane amounts of food. (Clockwise from top left: green salad; simmered cabbage; collard greens; fresh cottage cheese; doro wot; yesega alcha. At the center are simmered lentils, ground split peas, and ye'dinich salata.

Wickenden is already known for its internationality, but Abyssinia, the latest addition to the neighborhood, fills a previously unoccupied niche with its Ethiopian and Eritrean comfort food. The restaurant, which just opened at the end of March, fills the space formerly occupied by Angkor (which is now a few blocks down, on Traverse Street–whew).

Ethiopian cuisine hasn’t caught on everywhere, but considering its deliciousness quotient, it’s hard to explain why. Its foundation, literally and figuratively, is injera, a spongy fermented flatbread which is torn off and used as a utensil. Right now, while they settle into the new digs, the menu is small in scope, which makes it nicely navigable but also tricky because it’s limited (don’t take a picky eater here). Most main dishes are wots, or hearty stews that are best described as a cross between Indian curries and soul food.  The cardinal difference is that, while soul food usually involves bacon, most Ethiopian vegetarian dishes (and all veg dishes at Abyssinia) are actually vegan. Mittin shiro wot, or ground split peas simmered in berbere (a spice blend of peppers, garlic, ginger, and fenugreek) is creamy, spicy, and nourishes in ways you never imagined a silly vegetable could. Vegetarian sambussas are an Ethiopian riff on the samosa, with an ethereal, greasy shell encasing a spot-on blend of lentils, sweet onions and herbs. Carnivores, too, have several solid options, such as key wot, a beef dish in a dark, gravy-esque sauce with a good kick of heat. Doro wot is lemony sautéed chicken stewed in a spicy red pepper sauce and topped with a hard-boiled egg.

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