Venerable bar restaurant in Harvard and scene of dinner with the missus, and my parents from the Land of the Eng.
Swift moving greeter - you know I like that, and we snagged a table inside the restaurant but next to the open windows ensuring we could 'experience' the chatter of Cambridge.
Our server was late, then he came with the water, but did not take our drink order. Drink order, no food requests. Then he told us the specials. We've been here 20 mins and we have no food ordered yet!
Still at least the wind wasn't blowing a gale into the restaurant. What's that? It was? Oh, yes, and we were freezing.
Food time. My parents both had salmon and lapped it up like a cat in a dairy. Ten out of ten from the European judges then, but the Americans (well I live here) are harder to please.
Anne had a middle Eastern medley of hummus and tabouli and all that other chick pea goodness. She liked it but said "It's no Algiers Cafe"
I started with clam chowder. It was chunky and plentiful. Then I went for another cheese plate. The cheese came but with no crackers or bread. What's the point of that? Luckily I had leftover bread from the chowder plus Anne had more pita bread than a Cat Stevens back stage rider.
Check was reasonable enough as I recall, and my father paid so that was nice.
Would probably give it another go, but Bartley's Burgers is next door, and I do like a good burger ...
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