Archive for the ‘Boston Area – Brookline’ Category

Ribelle – Rebel With a Cause

Thursday, November 14th, 2013

Location: Brookline, MA

The Foodie: Strongly Recommends

Eating at Ribelle is not like a casual scarf-wrapped Vespa ride through Roma on a cool afternoon.

It is closer to taking part in a brow furling, hair-raising mezzanotte race between two badasses on Ducati Monsters (customized by a body shop in Beijing) darting through mid-town Manhattan.

All feigned enthusiasm for motorbikes aside, this sloppy metaphor is intended to illustrate a revelation that hit me like a hock of fine prosciutto di parma while eating at Ribelle:


As I tucked into a dish called “Green Beans + grilled veal tongue, garlic confit, squid-ink crumbs” – I started to wonder: What style of cooking am I experiencing right now?


  • The name of the restaurant is Italian
  • The chef, Tim Maslow, was raised in Dub-town, Massachusetts
  • His father ran a local neighborhood sandwich joint called Strip T’s
  • He worked under the tutelage of the great David Chang, who runs a series of (mostly) NYC restaurants starting with the word “Momofuku” (which means “lucky peach,” or “ill-advised” in Japanese) that churn out mind-bending dishes that incorporate Asian influences, French technique, and lots of pork. Chang, it turns out, worked for Daniel Boulud, a Frenchman-turned-New-Yorker who is a culinary mastermind in his own right.
  • Chef Maslow returned to Watertown and took-over Strip T’s, where he transformed the menu into a funky array of Contemporary American dishes, haute comfort food, and the latest shit that popped into his head.
  • Then came Ribelle, his second venture, and the grilled veal tongue.

I repeat: what style of cooking am I eating? With such a varied resume and mix of influences behind the kitchen, I felt as if I was cannibalistically devouring a global citizen. Wrapped in crispy pork, of course.

Indeed, one craft in which globalization has entered successfully (and for the better I might add), is in the culinary arts. I think that it is amazing that I can order a dish with so many influences behind it these days – but the key is that you need a very talented chef to bring it all together effectively.

— Tim Maslow is one of those chefs —

The food at Ribelle is rich, inventive, intellectual, and refined without being a dick about it. The menu is structured from lightest fare to heaviest fare and is divided into four clear sections: Bread, Vegetables, Fish, and Meat. There will be words you don’t know and can’t pronounce, things you will need to ask about, and dishes you’ve never thought of before.


Delightful, delicate twists of light airy pastry lightly brushed with pork essence. Dipped in a deep and hearty marinara.


This was my favorite dish of the night. While Chef Maslow’s dishes all have a high-standard of quality, I find that at each of his restaurants there is simply one plate that just blows your freaking mind and makes you wonder whether this man is a genius.

Maslow and team prove to have deft hands with offal – tenderizing, searing, seasoning, and waving a magic chef’s knife over the most politically incorrect cut of an already politically incorrect animal to be eating. The veal tongue was perfectly prepared and positively vexing.

It was like pondering the vastness of the universe – something beyond my comprehension. But I liked it a lot.


My second favorite dish of the night. I think that any restaurant that can cook a good octopus dish is worthy of praise. Yes, the contrarians in the audience may question the thesis of the article at this point: “Uhh, sounds pretty Italian, Nick.” Yet the rigatoni was concocted from some crazy combination of good-for-you-grains, and there was a level of complexity from the smoked tomato sauce, fennel, and octopus that I have not tasted at any other so-called “Italian” restaurant in the area.


There were enough buzz words in the description of this menu item to make any food nerd perk up. Definitely wins the award for best plating of the evening. Tender marbled circles of Wagyu melted in my mouth as accompanied by the richness of egg and earthiness of dollops of sunchoke sauce and seeds.


This is the most refreshing dessert I’ve tasted in recent memory. Eating it is sort of like getting a massage, sitting in a sauna, and then being rubbed down in high quality EVOO (not that rancid stuff) while nibbling on chocolates.

The dessert is served with a burning tinder of cinnamon on the side. The olive oil ice cream is slightly sweet and soothing. The chocolate is divine. The touch of sea salt finishes it all off nicely.

Do you see what I mean at this point? Have I argued my case effectively? Not convinced? Try Ribelle for yourself and try to tell me if you can put a confident finger on this place as an Italian restaurant.

So, back to the question we started with: Does the Country of Origin in Cooking Matter Anymore?

It is an important piece of our cooking, but it is becoming less important in defining the restaurants that serve us. Our culinary identities are as ever-changing and dynamic as our personal identities – they are constantly being shaped by our environmental influences, our histories, and the next cool new way to use pork. Chefs of Boston – nay, the world – keep allowing your influences to expand and resist the urge to think of your establishments as fixed entities blindly following a menu etched like commandments in a slab of stone. Let your imaginations run wild and let your evolving interests and influences shine through in your food.

Just make sure you have the skills and know-how to do it right. Like Tim Maslow, one of Boston’s best chefs.

Dorado Tacos & Cemitas – The X-Rated Experience

Saturday, October 1st, 2011

Location: Brookline, MA

The Foodie: Strongly Recommends

I often find myself comparing Mexican street food to sexual positions – they’re all good, but everyone has their favorite.

First, you’ve got the plain ‘ol standard burrito – the missionary position if you will. Everything so stationary, rigid, wrapped up securely.

Then you got yourself the taco, a little wilder – like she’s the fish, cabbage and baja sauce on your tortilla.

On special occasions, you might find yourself with a torta – little different, no tortilla, sort of like a burrito between two slices of toasted bread or bun. Compare to doggy-style perhaps.

But every once in a while, when the mood is just right and there’s a full moon and you’ve both downed too much wine, something crazy happens…something new and different…the preying mantis or superman or some shit like that.

Well, you’ve got yerself a Cemita my friend. That’s right – toasted sesame bun, black beans, avocado, Oaxaca cheese, chipotles en adobo, cilantro – topped with choices like house-made ground chorizo and pork loin milanesa.

So if you want that rare wild night to come whenever you please, swing by Dorado to feast upon their Cemitas. After the ravenous, sweaty, sloppy experience of eating one you’ll feel satisfied beyond belief.

And when you’ve both had yours…cool down with an aqua fresca.

Publick House – I Died and Went to Beer Heaven

Thursday, July 21st, 2011

Location: Brookline, MA

The Foodie: Recommends


First few sips of Saison Dupont (6.5%) from draft:

Heart Rate EKG: ,__,|,__,|,__,|,__,|,__,|,__,|,__,|,__,
Pulse: 70 Beats per Minute (BPM) [60-100 Normal Range]
Respiratory Rate: 16 breaths per minute [12-20 Normal Range]

After glass of Achel Brune (8%), rare to find in the US, one of the six great trappiste ales:

Heart Rate EKG ,_,|,_,|,_:-)_,|,_,|,_*,_,*_,|,_,|,_,!,_,|,_,|,_,| ,
Pulse: 90 BPM
Respiratory Rate: 20 breaths per minute

After glass of Sint Bernardus Quadrupel (10%)

Heart Rate EKG ,|,|,|,|,|,|,__________________________
Pulse: 30BPM
Respiratory Rate: 5 breaths per minute

When they revived me and I came to, I proclaimed Publick House the best bar for beer lovers in Boston. Then I had another Belgian brew.

Zaftigs – Damn it Feels Good to Be a Jewish Deli

Thursday, July 21st, 2011

Location: Brookline, MA

The Foodie: Recommends

Damn it feels good to be a Jewish deli
A real gangsta-ass deli plays his corned beef right
A real gangsta-ass deli never runs his f*kin’ eggs
’cause real gangsta-ass deli don’t start a long-line fight
And delis always gotta big menu
Showin’ all his boys how he does bagels
But real gangsta-ass delis don’t flex lox
’cause real gangsta-ass delis know they got em fresh
And everythings cool in the mind of a deli
’cause gangsta-ass delis think deep
Up three-sixty-five a year 24/6 – Nissan to Adar
’cause real gangsta ass delis don’t sleep

And all I gotta say to you
Wannabe, gonnabe, brunchsuckin’, pancake-eatin’ prankstas
’cause when the pastrami dies down what the f*ck you gonna do
Damn it feels good to be a Jewish deli