Fine Dining in Boston’s North End
Rich and I were hanging out on Saturday and decided to go to dinner in the North End (instead of heating up the kitchen by using the oven). So, around 9:15 p.m. we left the apartment in search of a restaurant with available seating. Typical of the North End, the major streets of Salem and Hanover were packed with people milling about (Rich said it reminded him of Europe). We finally stumbled upon one of those restaurants that starts with “La Famiglia…” Looking in the window we saw some empty tables, and looking at the menu we found some items we both like.
I’d never eaten at this restaurant before. Come to think of it, I’d never really noticed it before. But it apparently had been here for years, looking quite weathered. There were tiled floors, simple tables and chairs, and standard artwork consisting of some black and white photographs of Italian scenes. The hostess/waitress was seated at a table looking stressed. After making our presence known, she finally looked up and directed us to an empty table where we sat…and sat…and sat.
Finally this women resembling a cross between Zsa Zsa Gabor (with her big yellow, hairsprayed hair) and Edie the Egg Lady (from John Waters’ Pink Flamingos…complete with TIGHT camisol type top and TIGHT capri-length leggings covering her 250 pound 65 year old body) approached the table next to ours. She gruffly asked the diners “Do you want food or pizza?” They said they weren’t sure yet so Edie Gabor rolled her eyes and yelled across their table to ours, “Do you want food or pizza?”
Confused, because I always thought pizza was food, I stuttered back “um, food.” She groaned, rolled her eyes again and said “then another waitress will help you.” Then she walked away mumbling to herself.
Over the next 5-10 minutes we waited for another waitress. Suddenly, a little girl (perhaps 11 years old) ran out from the back screaming “where’s the lettuce?”. She ran up some spiral stairs that were in the front of the restaurant, then came half way down screaming “Auntie? We need more lettuce.” Edie Gabor came back out from the back of the restaurant and yelled that they had lettuce somewhere. Then the little girl ran back up the stairs and returned down the stairs moments later with an older man in a wife-beater. He must be the lettuce man.
I think upstairs must also be where “la famiglia” actually lives. What’s odd is that there is no door. There’s just this staircase in the front of the restaurant that apparently leads up to the owner’s residence.
We finally got served (mine came with a salad so they obviously found the lettuce). Now, I’ve been trying to explore as many different restaurants in the North End as possible to find out which ones I like best. There are so many to choose from I figure I’ll be doing this for years. Anyway, I try to get the same entree at each restaurants so I can more easily compare. That entree is usually chicken, brocolli and ziti. The times I return a second time to a restaurant (if they passed that first test), I get chicken piccata.
Anyway, I can honestly say that this was the worst North End meal I’ve ever had. The chicken, brocolli and ziti came either with oil and garlic or alfredo sauce. I opted for the oil and garlic since that’s usually how I get it at other places. What arrived on my table was a bowl with about an inch of olive oil and chunks of chicken, brocolli and, (literally…chunks of garlic) and over-cooked pasta. I’m serious – the pasta was so over-cooked that most of it had already fallen apart by the time I got it.
And despite all of the garlic, there was no flavor. None. I don’t think they used any other seasoning. And those who know me know that I tend to go for bland foods. So if I find an entree to be bland, you know it has to be bland.
Basically, what I was served was a flavorless olive oil soup.
…and that was my Saturday night.
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Mmmm…sounds delightful!
that just sounds gross…
That sounds pretty bad.
My worst restaurant experience was at a “Mexican” restaurant in Georgetown about three years ago.
The “queso” was melted velveeta with chunks of Polish sausage.
I’m not sure how I choked down that meal…but somehow I managed.
Of course now the Lettuce man will hunt you down for the bad review, because the little girl won’t be able to take ballet lessons because you trashed the restaurant.
Seriously! I thought of that…which is one of the reasons I didn’t indicate the name of the restaurant! I’d hate for the owners (or any of their extended famiglia) to search the name of the restaurant and find my blog posting!
Here comes the Lettuce man, the Lettuce man.
The Lettuce man of La Famiglia to chop off Karls head……
Hmm, maybe we could film it as a sequel to “Killer Tomatos”
If I go missing, you’ll know who to blame. YOu’re all my witnesses!
I know where you were, and it’s a very uneven place. Try Al Dente across the street for a nice, non-pretentious mix of country and new Italian styles. And ask for the baked artichoke hearts. they aren’t on the menu but they’ll make ’em for you if you mention them.
Thanks, Dave! That’ll be next on my list of places to explore!
come on — where were you??!?!?
…somehow, I don’t think lettuce man or the tube-topped senior spend much time blogging. LOL
Karl that does sound pretty gross. We will avoid that place when I get up there to visit. You are too funny. Lettuce Man. It sounds like some deranged, produce influenced supervillain.
Hmm. I think this all sounds too wonderful. What a terrific experience. I can’t even begin to imagine why they had empty tables with that kind of food and service. Are you sure it was olive oil soup and not some sort of some sort of concoction dug up from the depths of Boston Harbor?