Off the Bone

After Tse Wei and I visited the Flour bakery, I resolved to stage several expeditions to some unexplored parts of Boston. Today, despite the rain, I went ahead and took a bus to Watertown, in search of Armenian food.

I had a rather vague idea of what Armenian food would be like - my impressions came from the stories of L., a family friend in Riga and an excellent cook who respects his ingredients and can gently help them along better than anyone else I know in that part of the world. His stories involved choosing the lamb from a frolicking flock to be grilled for dinner. There are no frolicking flocks of lambs in Watertown, but what you’ll find will still be worth the trip.

The Watertown Armenian community clusters around the Mt Auburn Street, not far past the Mt Auburn Cemetery if you take the 71 bus. It’s nothing much to look at, especially if you are peeking out from under an umbrella - typical two-story houses of any a Boston suburb, quiet residential side streets running off of Mt. Auburn - which is also mostly quiet and residential. Everything you might want for your Armenian fix is within two blocks - get off the bus after the Kimball Road stop - which are very much worth the trip.

The central attraction are three ethnic grocery, deli and bakery stores - the Sevan Bakery, the Arax Market and the Massis Bakery. None of them look like they should have a web page. Inside is the all-pervasive smell of Middle Eastern spices, slabs of spiced smoked dried beef, strapping young lads hoisting sacks of chickpeas and pomegranates, kids of all ages drooling at ten different types of baklava, and more varieties of feta than I could ever have imagined (the Sevan had six fresh ones, sitting in enormous tubs of brine, and a number of vacuum-packed varieties that I didn’t count).

The markets are mind-opening - for the sheer variety of seemingly familiar and completely unfamiliar foods. The jars of sweet preserves were incredibly tempting - I took home baby eggplants in sugar syrup, leaving behind the preserves of rose petals, figs, quinces, tiny bitter oranges, mulberries, and vanilla (a warm-white mass the consistency of crystallized honey) - as were jugs of olive oil and bunches of healthy-looking herbs. The deli items looked delicious - you can get all the Greek and Middle Eastern specialties you would expect (spanakopita, tabouleh, stuffed grape leaves, babagonoush), and some that you will not readily identify (numerous savory pastries, stuffed eggplants, something with sauteed liver). Watertown would also be a place to go for orange and rose water (much, much cheaper than Cardullos), Greek olives, capers, nuts and dried fruits.

But I bet you are wondering about baby eggplants. At that tender age, they don’t have much of a taste of their own and are mostly sweet - although apparently you can adapt the recipe for chunks of proper grown-up eggplant. The baby eggplant texture, however, is lovely - snappy, verging on crunchy, with a bit of give. They go well with tea, when you just want a little something sweet.

Diana has lived seven years in Boston, and I feel I’ve lived there almost as long, yet we are only now discovering huge tracts of the city previously unknown to us. The South End feels like one of the quieter stretches of Greenwich Village, not yet stretched into a hideous botoxed movie-set version of a street people used to live on. Flour Bakery strikes the same delicate balance, hip without being paralytically so, well thought out and well designed, but with an imperfection here and there, a bit of reassuring mess - but only in the decor - the food was deft and carefully crafted.

The sandwiches we ate here were better than we’ve had at Darwin’s, and if you’ve lived in Boston any length of time, you’re already running to the South End. On the right is a roast lamb sandwich, done perfectly rare, with that energetic texture lamb has, tender and slightly chewy, its flavour gentle yet distinct. The red is sweet pepper relish and the white, herbed chevre (read: boursin). On the left is the best tuna sandwich I’ve ever had, better even than the ones my mum used to make me, three inches of home-made bread and tuna and tomato and onion and pepper, the bread (and this is important) soaked with the liquid from the salad and still chewy. This one has tuna and chives, hardboiled eggs and a relatively mild tapenade, and a thick layer of spinach, and I never thought you could make a tuna sandwich so well planned and perfectly balanced. Both are made (Flour gives you no choice in this matter, and choice is unnecessary) on 3/4” thick slices of their house white, a beautiful bread with crumb as close and tender as brioche, baked just short of crusty for easier eating in a sandwich.

Raspberry seltzer was what soda should be, very raspberry, medium sweet and chiffon pink. I don’t know if they make the syrup themselves, but if they buy it, I’d like to buy some.

I was unable to resist the lure of a craquelin for dessert – it sounded like such a perfect breakfast – a fist of brioche wrapped around bitter marmalade, the top given a crust of sugar and almonds. I have no idea if this is an actual French pastry, but the prospect of getting these fresh from the oven each morning would make me pay the rents in the neighbourhood (if I could). Diana had an unreasonably large cup of “trifle” – lemon pound cake, chocolate mousse cake and berries, smashed with some whipped cream. This, while pretty good in and of itself (and a lovely use for leftover cake) left me feeling vaguely dissatisfied, on the grounds that goddamnit real trifle has custard, even if you make it with frozen berries, store-bought sponge and custard from a little plastic cup. When I said so, Diana bopped me on the head, which I thought was rather unjust, considering that I didn’t even mention this to the staff.

Flour is at 1595 Washington Street in the South End, at the corner of Washington and Rutland. The easiest way to reach it from Camberville is to take the #1 bus down Mass Ave and get off at Mass Ave and Washington, then walk the rest. The walk will make you happy – the neighbourhood has a graceful, moneyed reserve, and is dotted with places that made us wish we could eat several lunches in a day. And we came across a garage sale en route, at which we found an enameled cast iron skillet (from Belgium!). Carrying it around Harvard Square later, I got several requests to fry eggs for people.

So get on a bus – there’s a city out there! With superb bakeries in it! And to encourage you to do so (and because we’re doing so ourselves), we’re even starting a new category – the Dark Reaches of Boston.