When does a bar become a neighborhood bar? Is it after two years? Five? Is it as soon as everybody knows everybody’s names? Or when no one gives directions without referring to the place: make a left at the corner bar? An exact definition of the term can be hard to pinpoint — but then, if it weren’t, the concept might not be as special and meaningful as it is.
Seeing as how it’s got some of the oldest neighborhoods in the country, it’s no surprise that Greater Boston’s also got its fair share of legendary digs, from Wally’s to Doyle’s, Cityside to Buff’s. The five here run the gamut from grungy to classy, no-frills to gourmet — but all have managed to earn the admiration, affection, and patronage of their respective communities.
Porter Belly’s (338 Washington Street, Brighton; 617-254-3300). The appeal of Porter Belly’s is immediate upon entering: the place is suffused with organic warmth, emitting golden tones and blending actual tree branches into the décor. At the same time, it’s got true-pub grit, with brogues and smoke both hanging thickly in the air. Together, the two qualities convey an integrity that agrees with the bar’s locale: Brighton Center retains the feel of a small-town Main Street, quaint in its concentration of mom-and-pop businesses housed in rows of low, old buildings.
Though wines by the glass and an inordinate variety of schnapps are on hand, suds are the obvious choice at Porter Belly’s, with a double-digit selection both of draught and bottled products. The menu keeps things simple, too, with rare exceptions like the shrimp tempura with chili drizzle ($7.95) — which could just as easily be called popcorn shrimp with hot sauce. Otherwise, traditional bar and pub fare predominates: think nachos and cheeseburgers, fish and chips, and especially toothsome (if a bit glistening) stuffed, breaded, and deep-fried mushrooms ($5.50). Prices being what they are — only one entrée is over $10 — it’s no wonder Porter Belly’s has found an audience responsive to what adds up to a warm and generous spirit.
The Elbow Room (1430 Comm Ave, Allston; 617-738-9990). Just a couple of years ago, it seemed unlikely that the Allston-Brighton area — which might as well appear on a map as "Off-Campus Housing" — would have room (elbow or otherwise) for another upscale bar. After all, the Wonder Bar and the Northeast Brewing Company were already doing as well as could be expected in an area swarming with dives of the pack-’em-in-and-ply-’em-with-Jello-shots variety. But since its opening in the fall of 2001, the Elbow Room has managed to nudge out the competition while showing them precisely how it’s done (indeed, Northeast has since closed, only to be replaced by the even hipper Tonic).
What’s its secret? Well, for one thing, like Mount Everest, it’s there, opening at midday to offer gourmet-lite fare at reasonable prices amid a sea of greasy spoons and take-out joints. Low-key user-friendliness is in fact the Elbow Room’s whole MO, with a look that’s familiar yet modern — brick walls, burnished wood, black trim — and a menu that’s comfy yet fresh. On offer: salads, sandwiches, thin-crust pizzas, and cut-above entrées like bacon-wrapped meat loaf in wild-mushroom gravy ($10.50) and a grilled pork chop in bourbon-cherry sauce over butternut-squash risotto ($15.50). Cocktails range from the canny — such as the Mankey martini, dousing plain vodka with olive juice ($8) — to the candied, like the raspberry truffle, which enriches Stoli Razberi with both light and dark crème de cacao ($8). The Elbow Room brings a touch of class to a neighborhood that had been all too used to ditching.
Clerys (113 Dartmouth Street, Boston; 617-262-9874). Straddling Back Bay and the South End, the highly eclectic Clerys not only tries to be all things to all people — Irish pub, sports bar, bistro — it appears to succeed. In one barroom, literary caricatures and advertisements from old plays and musicals dot the walls, while in another, a large-screen TV, mounted deer’s head, and fireplace suggest a huntsmen’s lodge. In a third, the dining room, brick walls, and rice-paper lanterns are pure urban trattoria. And while white-cranberry cosmos are hardly Clerys's stock-in-trade — that would be beer and whiskey, whiskey and beer — the menu does tiptoe into chichi territory, serving every snazzy thing from grilled shark over orzo speckled with corn and black beans and drizzled with smoked-tomato coulis ($14) to a vegetarian phyllo strudel with pesto-cream sauce ($12.50). At the same time, it hasn’t abandoned the burgers and buffalo wings, chowders and chilis of barhood. Maybe it’s just this sort of equal commitment to the future and the past that gives a neighborhood joint its staying power.
The Burren (247 Elm Street, Somerville; 617-776-6896). Über-Irish pub the Burren has been a Davis Square fixture for only seven years, but it looks far older — in a good way. Scuffed wooden floors and booths, dusty old musical instruments lining the bar, vintage beer and liquor ads on the walls, and a color scheme of red and black characterize the dimly lit front room. The back is where the music happens, traditional Irish folk being the genre of choice.
But it’s the beer that the Tufts students and Somervilleans come for, and beer they’ll always get — about 18 are on draught, and even more are available bottled, be they Irish, German, or domestic, mass products or microbrews. As for food, well, let’s just say that the fare is endearingly pubby, from Guinness-beer-and-beef stew ($6.95) to shepherd’s pie ($6.95) to a truly Irish-breakfast sandwich platter, devoid of a single speck of green but piled high with your choice of sausage, bacon, and/or fried eggs on French bread, plus a side of plump yet crispy fries ($6.95).
People’s Republik (876 Mass Ave, Cambridge; 617-492-8632). YOU ARE NOW LEAVING THE AMERICAN SECTOR, reads the sign at the entrance — which is and isn’t true. Yes, the place is filled with cool old Soviet-era propaganda posters and advertisements that to this day would send your average Heartland inhabitant into a tizzy, but on the other hand, they’re part and parcel of an interior defined by a camp aesthetic that is very American. After all, the room also contains such disparate and irreverent elements as disco balls, a hanging sculpture of a Doc Marten boot strung with Christmas lights, and, most notably, a painting that re-imagines the Last Supper against the backdrop of the bar itself, attended by staffers and regulars past and present and presided over by the owner, complete with flowing beard. It’s precisely this audacious, freewheeling attitude that the people, indeed, come to soak up — well, that and, of course, beer, beer, and more beer; as for food, the People’s Republik has just renovated its kitchen and will be offering a menu soon.
Ruth Tobias can be reached at ruthiet@bu.edu
