Commonwealth Fish and Beer Co.

An early brewpub gets a face lift

by Robert Nadeau

DINING OUT

Commonwealth Fish and Beer Co. 138 Portland Street (North Station), Boston (617) 523-8383 Open Mon-Thurs, 11:30 a.m.-10 p.m.; Fri and Sat, 11:30 a.m.-11 p.m.; and Sun, 11:30 a.m.-9 p.m. AE, DC, Disc, MC, Transmedia, Visa Full bar Smoking in downstairs area Access by ramp

The Commonwealth Brewery was Boston's first modern brewpub, and when it opened I was pleasantly surprised by the food as well. It had an English theme, although the "real ale" movement was just beginning in Britain. The first ales were bitter like English ales, not sweet like Boston ales (which were mostly a memory of Haffenreffer and such). That it has reframed itself as a fish house, set up live entertainment downstairs, put a children's menu in the window, and set up a giant sports TV upstairs testifies to something. The end of the brewpub wave? The return of fish houses? The disastrous impact of the Big Dig? The decline of the Celtics and Bruins? The latter were certainly no draw on a recent Friday night, with both teams on the road. The Commonwealth was almost empty, while the bar across the street was full. As far as I could see, the bar across the street had only two advantages: you can smoke in bars, and they served draft Irish stout.

Commonwealth still serves its own ales, and the current special Scotch ale ($2.75 half pint, $3.75 pint) is a winner. It's dark and creamy with a clean, bitter finish. The stout drinkers across the street would enjoy it a lot. The Best Burton Ale ($2.75/$3.75), Commonwealth's signature, was not showing so well. It's a malty ale, with about the body and appearance of a Samuel Adams beer, but the pint I tasted had one of those yucky stale-beer aftertastes. I used to call this taste "bacterial spoilage," but I've recently discovered the jargon "aromatic ketones." It's still bad news, in my view, although some people find that after the first few swallows, they don't notice it.

New England clam chowder ($2.95 cup, $3.95 bowl) is still slightly smoky after all these years, full of clams and potatoes, and quite creamy. There is an undertone of spice, and there could be a little more seafood flavor, but this is very, very good chowder. The soup of the day ($2.95/$3.95) was tomato rice, with a flavor of canned tomato sauce and too much pepper. The breadbasket is full of a sourdough white that goes rather well with this food.

"Herb rubbed fish & chips" ($10.95) isn't at all English. There isn't a lot of batter, just a very Ipswich (Massachusetts) crunch of cornmeal. I didn't find the fish especially herbal, either, but a fresh chunk of white fish (pollack, maybe?) has a sweetness all its own. In England, the French fries would be even soggier, and there would be malt vinegar instead of this creamy tartar sauce, and no coleslaw. I like ours.

"Simply grilled" swordfish ($15.95) is not so simple, as lemon-caper butter adds some flavor and richness, but the main point is that the steak wasn't overcooked, leaving some juice and tenderness in a meaty fish that overcooks like meat if you don't watch it. The side dish of baked "herb rice" (didn't he used to pitch for Cleveland?) is very good, and the vegetables are cauliflower, carrots, and such in a canned tomato sauce not unlike the soup.

Ask for a dessert menu, and they hand you a View-Master! Yes, the dessert menu has been rendered on 3-D transparencies arranged on a disk. The usual brewpub low-tech aesthetic is of the copper-vat era, so this '50s toy comes out of left field, but it does present the desserts rather well. Of the considerable cube of bread pudding ($4.95), Louise, my dining companion, insists upon the description "comforting, risqué, sublime." I suspect that all three descriptors derive from our being on diets, but the bread pudding is good, studded with nuts and topped with a caramel sauce and whipped cream.

Chocolate mousse cake ($4.95) is somewhat in the style of a German chocolate cake, with a light chocolate mousse between cake layers on top of a chocolate-cookie shell, whipped cream on the side. The decaf ($1.50), alas, was burnt.

The Commonwealth was always an interesting space -- an enormous duplex room full of copper brewing vats. I can't remember whether the tabletops were always copper, or whether the copper ventilation ducts were part of the original room, but I do recall the uncomfortable folding chairs and cafeteria-like hubbub noise at all times. What are clearly new are whimsical metal sculptures of striped bass and tuna hanging from the rafters, along with giant fishing plugs.

Between business lunches and winter sports, there is probably a niche for any large general restaurant between City Hall and North Station, but Commonwealth Fish and Beer does enough things well that it deserves a theme to tie it together. It still feels more like a brewpub than a restaurant, so why not make something of the fish and chips? I'm not recommending thick batter and malt vinegar, but a little shtick about serving on newspapers or a homemade spiced ketchup like at Matt Murphy's could build some momentum. They could, with one extra-high-temperature fry machine, greatly improve the chips. Then they could recommend a particular ale, put on a decent salad, and there would be a sort of a signature that customers could rally around. They could spin off a diet version with grilled fish and grilled potatoes. They could offer sizes. They could increase the number of species grilled so as to include some cheaper ones. They could bake scrod -- that used to be popular downtown, and it's nice with ale. The brewpub thing may be getting old, but the idea of seafood in Boston never will.

Robert Nadeau can be reached at robtnadeau@aol.com.

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