Steak and Sushi Lovers Will Find Prime Dining at Ten

No pun intended, but it’s rare nowadays to find a steakhouse that lives up to its lofty prices and expectations. Ten Prime Steak and Sushi has long been considered one of Providence’s premier steakhouses. Conveniently located directly off of I-95 (and with equally convenient complimentary valet parking), Ten is a refreshing alternative for carnivores seeking something different from what has become an undistinguishable list of upscale chain steakhouses such as Ruth Chris, Smith & Wollensky, Capital Grille, and Morton’s. Was Ten’s food as prime as its location and hip setting?


Ten’s ambience is indeed trendy, yet completely unpretentious. A few tables towards the front of the restaurant reside next to a large open-glass window that enables customers to view Pine Street and McFadden’s pub across the way, all while dining under a funky chandelier. A long, stylish bar to the left is filled with young, stylish people. A sculpture of a male and female torso playfully adorns the wall, while a fish tank appears towards the back. As the evening wears on, club music blares loudly and makes for more difficult conversation. If you’re seeking a subdued atmosphere askin to Morton’s, look elsewhere. For an evening of upscale fun, however, Ten is the place to be.

Appetizers sounded highly promising, particularly an East Meets West 8-piece sushi special (a bargain at $14.99) that came highly recommended by our server and consisted of spicy tuna, salmon, filet mignon tartare, cucumber, spicy mayo and sriracha sauce. The sushi was mouthwateringly tender and packed a nice touch of heat, while the cucumber provided a cool, crunchy contrast. A heaping bowl of parmesan truffle frites ($5.99), however, were the evening’s glaring disappointment. The fries were limp, lacked crunch, and came out lukewarm. Sadly, not even a side of house-made spicy ketsup would be able to save the dish.

Entrees were relatively solid. My TEN filet ($41.99), a house specialty, was a tad overcooked for my liking (it was closer to medium well than medium rare) and the accompanying foie gras – whose buttery flavor was supposed to be the piece de resistance of the dish – was decent enough but did little to accentuate the meat’s flavor, while a handful of asparagus tips idly sat on the plate. A Wagyu Flat Iron steak ($41.99), however, is absolute heaven served on a plate. What this slightly fatty, more marbled cut of steak lacks in size, it more than accounts for in its rich, buttery flavor. Be prepared, however, to order a side dish with your steaks, which typically come without any accoutrements.

Desserts are pleasing, but not superb. A chocolate lava cake ($9.99) is decadent and rich, but lags behind the moist, magnificent version I’d recently sampled at Boston’s Grotto due to its drier texture. A bananas foster bread pudding (also $9.99) evoked raves across the table, but I found the flambed top layer more charred and hard than bruleed and slightly crisped, while the bread pudding itself was a touch drier than I would have preferred.

Service was commendable, but there were noticeable flaws. Our waiter was extremely knowledgeable of the menu and rather pleasant. While friends sitting across from us received their salads minutes before, however, we needed to remind our waiter about that terrific sushi plate that had yet to arrive. “Oh, I must have forgotten about that, with all of the other orders. Thanks very much for reminding me,” he apologized, flashing a genuine smile. Also, dipping sauces for the steaks arrive only after three-quarters of the meat is devoured.

Given Ten’s relatively pricey menu, particularly its steaks, cocktails are surprisingly well priced and expertly prepared. Each selection comes in a narrow, tall glass for show. Ten’s classic mojito has frequently been voted best in Rhode Island, and for good reason. It’s ultra-refreshing and dazzling. The drink is made with loads of crushed ice (mucho helado, as Ten advertises on its menu) that somehow manages to stay packed together for long periods of time, while there is a generous pouring of Bacardi Superior and loads of muddled mint and lime.

All cocktails are around $10, an uninspiring handful of draught and bottled beers come in around $5, a trio of sake selections between $5-10, along with various cognacs, grappa, bourbons, scotch, and tequila ($7-15). Ten’s wine list is extensive and its proprietary bottles can be extremely pricey, but a few moderately priced reds (such as the Putno Final Reserva Malbec, $40) and whites (Raymond Reserve Sauvignon Blanc, $41) can be had for under $50. My advice? Stick with those irresistibly addictive mojitos.

Ten has several positive attributes in its favor that impressed Paul’s Palate. With its at-times high prices for steaks (not much cheaper than any Boston steakhouses), along with enjoyable but not exceptional service and food, an eight out of ten rating feels like just the right flavor for Ten Prime Steak and Sushi.

Grotto an Underground Treasure

Blink and you just might miss Grotto, a subterranean Italian dining hotspot located on the back side of Beacon Hill, just a stone’s throw away from the State House. And if you miss Grotto, you’ll be missing out on some of the finest, most authentic, and reasonably priced contemporary Italian cuisine in all of Boston. Every night, customers can discover perhaps the best prix fixe offerings in the city – three courses for only $36.


Walking down Grotto’s steps transports you to a little piece of Italy. Exposed brick walls, red ceilings, and artwork from local artists (they can’t be starving, though, right?) adorning the walls make this bistro-like establishment feel like a secret dining destination you want to keep all to yourself. But the restaurant’s secret has long been revealed, as evidenced by the full, bustling dining room from the moment we are seated just after 7 to the moment we depart around 9:30 (and yes, that length of time translates to a relaxed, well-paced meal). The ambience is intimate and conversation is easy enough (that is, if you don’t mind speaking up just a tad). Despite all of the dining room’s commotion, our waitress is as calm, polished, patient, prompt and knowledgeable as I can recall in recent memory. Her casual, yet professional service elevated our experience, and made it seem like a relaxed, albeit fancier home-cooked meal.

Primi (appetizers, all $10 if ordered separate from the prix fixe menu) consist of perfectly grilled calamari (my favorite preparation) with white beans, peppers, greens, and lemon. It’s light, simple, and lovely. My friend orders a large bowl of Grotto’s garlic soup, and one sip makes me wish I had, as well. A perfect amount of garlic permeates, but does not overpower the dish, while parmesan gives the soup just enough of a thick consistency, traces of black truffle can be detected, and toasted bread crumbs provide a nice, crunchy contrast texture-wise. It’s a stunning dish. Almost equally as good is my fontina cheese fondue, a fun little presentation that includes a quartet of nicely seared beef tenderloin tips and even meatier Portobello mushrooms. The fontina cheese sure ain’t your mother’s Velveeta, but it’s velvety good for dipping purposes.

Secondi (entrees regularly priced at $21 outside of prix fixe) did not disappoint, either. One dining companion ordered pan seared roasted diver scallops ‘ravioli,’ which our server identified as her favorite menu item, and for good reason. Three nicely sized, perfectly seared scallops were engulfed by a giant, house-made ravioli, accompanied by arugula, leeks, and wild mushrooms. Butter poached lobster, linguine, and spicy tomato sauce (fra diavlo) is also memorable, packing nice heat and includes a surprisingly generous piece of the succulent crustacean. I order one of Grotto’s signature dishes, the Bolognese, which our server explains locals adore and claim to be one of the most authentic versions they’ve had that closely resembles the finest plates in Italy. It consists of house cut tagliatelle pasta, San Marzano tomatoes, lamb, pork, and beef. It’s downright hearty, a shade spicy, and lamb flavor dominates the dish. It’s divine, and would make one of my all-time favorite pasta dishes if not for the slightly undercooked al dente pasta, a tad too crunchy for my taste.

Dolce (dessert at $9 separate from prix fixe) provided a decadent conclusion to the evening. Moist, warmed banana bread pudding was delicious on its own, but smooth, creamy caramel ice cream and spice nuts put other, inferior versions to shame. I admit my hesitancy upon ordering yet another warm chocolate cake. It’s a universal dessert that’s rarely done right. Our server highly recommended Grotto’s melting chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream, and because she hasn’t steered us wrong selection-wise all evening, I succumb. I am pleased to say that Grotto’s version does melt in one’s mouth, and is without a doubt one of the finest I’ve sampled in a long while. It’s sinfully good, a moist, gooey concoction that had me licking every last drop off of my fork and resistant to share with others at the table.

That heavenly chocolate cake had me thinking more about my terrific dining experience at Grotto. The food, décor, and service are neither flashy nor pretentious. Here, they are unabashedly simple and yet perfectly executed. A grotto is defined as an indoor structure resembling a cave. Grotto the restaurant defines itself by its exceptional food, service, and value. Do some digging of your own and you’ll unearth this buried treasure of a restaurant.

Nara is ‘Blah-ssez Fare’

An upscale Middle Eastern restaurant and hookah lounge situated in the heart of Providence’s Federal Hill? Nara, you could say, is a foreigner trying to find its way in this Italian food-dominated neighborhood. The menu is littered with promising Lebanese delicacies laced with even more promising exotic spices. And yet, despite a trendy interior consisting of earthy colors and a seemingly can’t-miss menu from Executive Chef Marios Azrak, Nara – from its insipid cocktails (a much-hyped $9.75 peach mojito begs for stronger peach flavor and more mint while a Saucy Mango, consisting of mango-infused tequila, lacks balance and had me wishing I had ordered its spicier version mixed with habanero) to its average cuisine – is merely adequate. If you’re expecting Nara’s cuisine to be on par with Tangierino, a much more accomplished Middle Eastern restaurant in Charlestown, MA, then, in the words of many old school Italians, “Fuhgeddaboudit.”


Let’s start with the one menu item that Nara gets completely right. Thankfully, the restaurant does justice to traditional hummus, which they (no pun intended) beef up by mixing in ground lamb, onions, and toasted almonds. It’s delicious, and the crunchy morsels of lamb in this version, hummus blahmeh ($12), are a welcomed contrast to the smooth, velvety texture of chickpea. While others at the table rave about the baba ghanouj ($9), I found it overwrought with lemon juice, creating an off-putting tartness to the dish. Mini lamb sausages (maaneek, $12) sounded wonderful, cooked with pomegranate molasses, but the dish is an unmitigated disaster due to meat that is overcooked, dry, and a tad salty. Mediterranean sea scallops ($12) are perfectly seared, but where is the intense flavor one would anticipate from sweet pea mousse, fresh orange zest, and white truffle oil?

Sugarcane tenderloin ($13) is oversold on the menu as mouth-watering. Two generous pieces of steak are nicely prepared medium-rare, but are lukewarm and merely sit over a slightly charred fresh slice of pineapple. The meat and fruit tandem should pair nicely, but each component merely dangle on the plate – like two people on a blind date with nothing in common – offering little by way of flavor. A quartet of jumbo mango tiger shrimp ($12) is a slight improvement, drizzled in a refreshing chardonnay-mango reduction. Deep-fried garlic cilantro chicken wings ($12) are meaty and crispy – always a winning combination – but like many dishes on Nara’s menu, they’re lacking that special something in terms of spices – in this instance, not enough cilantro (but in my case, is there ever enough of it?). Bata harra ($9) is Nara’s Lebanese version of Spanish patatas bravas, only in lieu of tomato sauce, the kitchen infuses the potato cubes with cilantro, garlic, and cayenne pepper. Again, what sounds wonderful on paper is merely average in terms of spice execution.

Service is pleasant enough, but plates tend to stack up (fortunately, we place them on the bar just behind us) and a reminder needs to be placed around water refills. For a relatively slow evening, more polish is to be expected from such a seemingly posh establishment.

Like the sweet hookah smoke floating around the restaurant, Nara’s cuisine is harmless and quickly evaporates from one’s memory. Aside from its hip, fun location, there are far better dining alternatives on the Hill to explore. Nara’s all style, but little substance.

Coppa Doesn't Quite Bring Home The Bacon

Coppa feels like the perfect, casual neighborhood dining destination where customers can order relatively affordable, sophisticated fare. Opened now for over two years, and to widespread acclaim, Chefs Ken Oringer (he of Clio, Uni, and Toro fame) and Jamie Bissonette’s (voted Best New Chef by Food & Wine in 2011) Italian-inspired enoteca shows no signs of slowing down, even on what should be a relatively calm Sunday evening. Thankfully, our party has reservations (yes, Coppa now accepts them). Tucked away in the corner of a long stretch of brownstone buildings on Shawmut Ave, Coppa’s laid back setting nicely fits this quaint, cozy neighborhood in Boston’s South End.




Coppa’s interior is intimate, bordering on invasive. The list of menu items outnumbers the tables (seating capacity is for forty), which closely abut one another. The acoustics are incredibly bad, given both the restaurant’s high ceilings and even higher decibel level at which music is blared. One of my friends shouts over that he can barely hear himself speak. Lean back and you might just hit the bar area, with only a few feet separating it from the tables. Waiters nimbly weave by customers, scurrying down a long, narrow hallway leading to one (yes, one!) restroom.



Fortunately, this chaos is offset by some fun, if not consistently executed food. Some elements of dishes work wonderfully, while others do not. You’ll find a see saw of culinary quality here. The menu consists of small plates (Stuzzichini), pasta, salumi, cheeses (from beloved Formaggio Kitchen just across the street) and wood-grilled pizza, with chacuterie being Bissonette’s specialty (i.e. cured meats, pate). While I wish the Meatballs al Forno ($8) were a tad moister, the accompanying tomato gravy was enjoyably hearty and the melted lardo enhanced the meat’s flavor. The piece de resistance, however, is Pig’s Ear ($6). For the more squeamish diners, it’s not as visibly unappealing as you would be led to believe, as it is served in gelatinous, terrine style form and laid atop wonderful yuzu aioli for contrast. It’s a knockout plate. The Tonna Conserve (cured tuna belly, $6), however, is shockingly bland, with nary a hint of flavor emanting from the promising anchovy parmesan vinaigrette. Like several dishes at Coppa, it’s underseasoned. Sadly, its texture is not much of an improvement from my daily Bumblebee tuna, particularly disappointing given the accompanying egg yolk that’s blended in, somewhere. This tuna preparation, pardon my pun, went belly up.



A better, more traditional tuna crudo ($14), however, is spectacular, which boasts a boatload of flavors and textures bolstered by fennel puree, blood orange vinaigrette, miniscule pickles, and a subtly nutty walnut dukkah for crunchy contrast. Also lovely and light is a Insalata di Asparagi ($9), consisting of shaved asparagus, gigantic fava beans, a touch of lemon, and Bianco Sardo (shaved cheese).



Duck prosciutto (part of the salumi assortment, all $10), while wonderful to look at in thinly cut blood-red, mini strips, is once again underseasoned, and could use more salt. Then again, a Panino di Riccio de Mare (sea urchin and salami panino with mustard seeds, $7) is a delightful, surprising treat, comfort food’s worst nightmare come true. The sea urchin, whose slimy, briny texture I typically shy away from, meshes perfectly with the salty crispiness of the bread and the mustard’s spicy heat. Like the aforementioned pig’s ear, it’s a standout.



On the other end of the see-saw, however, lies a colossal misfire. While the ultra-hyped wood-grilled Bone Marrow white pizza ($16) has a crispy, charred texture that any North End pizzeria would envy, it’s a bland, underseasoned (once again lacking salt), slightly over-doughy disappointment. The cheese just limply sits there, and I could not locate a hint of the promised shaved horseradish, which if dutifully applied, would have added contrast in flavor and elevated the pie. The bone marrow and beef heart are innovatively applied yet wasted and tasteless here. The Sicilian Fisherman Pizza ($16) is loaded with plump fried calamari on steroids, tomato, parmesan, and cherry peppers which add intense, welcomed heat. The women at the table fawn over the dish. The calamari, while tasty, overwhelm the pizza like the Blob overtakes an unfortunate small town. The calamari are better suited on their own.



Pasta dishes are also hit-or-miss. The Spaghetti alla Carbonara ($20) is a rich, creamy blend of house made pasta with smoked pancetta (which adds a nice crisp to the dish), sea urchin, peas and farm egg. While good, it’s far from excellent. It is – wait for it – a bit underseasoned and possesses more of a chicken stock flavor than the smoky flavor I anticipated. A better bet is the Linguine Nero ($22), with house made squid ink pasta with lobster, black garlic, tomato, and wonderful Castelvetrano olives whose tartness is a perfect counter to the crustacean’s sweetness. Another winning, albeit traditional dish is the Pollo alla Milanese ($14), a small plate of incredibly sweet and crispy chicken.



Cocktails range from apertivo (sweet, tart, and slightly bitter flavors) to secondi (savory, spicy) to shandy (beer cocktails). While Italian Sangria is excessively spicy yet not remotely sweet due to a whopping inclusion of anise, a refreshing glass of Aperol (a sweet, slightly tart liquor that is 26% alcohol) over ice hits the spot. It’s even more refreshing to see an establishment stock this type of liquor, which is rarely served in restaurants nowadays. Drink slowly, however, as the glasses in which the drinks are mixed are rather small.



Overall, Coppa earns positive marks for its unique cuisine in a non-pretentious atmosphere. As hectic and cramped as the environment is, service is surprisingly polished, courteous, and efficient. Dishes are promptly replaced. Water glasses are immediately refilled. Questions are cordially answered. There are winners on this menu, but simply not enough of them. This may sound pigheaded to the masses who have showered praise upon Coppa, but my feeling is that the restaurant must improve upon the consistency, execution and seasoning of its food. Otherwise, Coppa – a restaurant aptly named in Italian after salumi made from pork- will never truly bring home the bacon.

Casa B Makes You Feel at Home

Mi casa es su casa, no? Not Necessarily, amigo mio. Casa B, a new tapas restaurant that opened in December, 2011 to instant adulation, is one of those places whose eclectic cuisine and ambience is so infectious that you selfishly won’t want to share them with others. Co-owners Alberto Cabre and Angelina Jockovich respectively hail from San Juan, Puerto Rico and Barranquilla, Colombia, and their establishment nails its intended Latin-American/Caribbean fusion concept. Somerville’s Union Square doesn’t necessarily shout dining destination, but with the arrival of Casa B, it should now be considered a must-visit spot on every foodie’s map.

Casa B’s conception is an interesting one. Cabre and Jockovich took ideas and recipes from their personal chef catering business, created a test kitchen four years ago to refine them, and ultimately created a restaurant that reflected the heart and soul of their homelands. Casa B’s name also has familial significance, as the ‘B’ honors Cabre’s maternal grandfather, whose last name was Bobonis.

The restaurant’s atmosphere is modern, hip, and romantic. It’s not the largest of spaces, set on two levels. Upstairs you’ll find a narrow, somewhat cramped hallway littered with a few tables against the wall, while a few seats only a stone’s throw away allow customers to imbibe on wine or cocktails should the downstairs bar area be full. And that’s exactly where I would recommend making a straight beeline towards. Casa B’s downstairs dining area nostalgically reminded me of a secluded bar I often frequented during my study abroad in Seville, Spain (and which was built as a secret haven for artists during the country’s deplorable Franco regime). Live plants are plastered against the room’s back wall, a wine rack is strategically placed in the room’s center (serving as a partition between the cozy bar/lounge area and the intimate dining room), and from loveseats at a counter, a handful of customers can view their meals being prepared in the open kitchen. Bright red and white colors adorn the walls (even the immaculate pair of upstairs restroom walls pack bright green and red colors). Yes, Casa B, with all due respect to crooner Justin Timberlake, is bringing sexy back to Somerville.

Casa B’s menu consists entirely of small plates known as tapas and pinchos, finger food intended for sharing (between two to three plates per person are recommended). Miniature forks and knives are playfully, almost jokingly provided to those who are less inclined to use their hands. Traditional tapas are cast aside here. Instead, tortilla Espanola (Spanish omelet made with eggs and potatoes) is served with sweet plantain (tortilla de maduros, $7). Shrimp with garlic is substituted with yucca-filled shrimp wrapped in bacon (camarones rellenos de yucca, $12) and delectable cilantro-ginger dipping sauce. Patatas bravas (fried potatoes) transform into yucca fries doused with a zesty, bright orange sauce (salsa de la abuela/Grandma’s ketchup), vertically served in a cone-shaped cup. Tradition with a twist.

Tabla de ceviches ($18) is a beautifully plated trio of lobster, salmon, and cod served on a wooden board. Each fish is laced with intense flavors of lime and peas, and their texture wonderfully contrasts with the crunch of root vegetable chips. It’s a knockout of a dish. Crispy avocado rolls (rollitos de aguacate, $8) are also fun and quite addictive, accompanied by a prune and cilantro sauce. The lone, albeit minor misstep of the evening is grilled Spanish sausage with yucca (chorizo a la plancha, $9). Unlike its crispier, comfort-food like yucca fries counterparts, these yuccas are boiled and somewhat limp, and the accompanying coconut sauce is surprisingly bland, adding minimal flavor. This disappointing dish, however, is quickly offset by hearty meatballs (albondigas, $9), served in a semi-sweet, dreamy guava sauce. They’re incredibly moist, and I left Casa B dreaming about what wonderful sauce. Guava must be the new Latin-Caribbean aphrodisiac.

A special of puertorrican pot roast (carne mechada, $18) contains pillowy gnocci made from yucca, while the meat, soaked in brown butter sauce, is mouthwateringly tender. Sesame crusted tuna (atun salteado, $12) is perfectly rare and the balance struck in this dish – the heat from spicy wasabi and the sweetness of plantain – represents all of the elements that Casa B masterfully juggles and pulls off without breaking a tropical sweat.

Desserts do not disappoint, either. Tres leches (three milk cake, $10) comes highly recommended, but sounds so, well, pase given all else that we’ve eaten. Instead, we try coconut and chocolate bread pudding ($9), once again drizzled with that oh-so-good guava sauce. It’s the perfect confectionary conclusion to a marvelous dining experience.

Casa B has several interesting varieties of Spanish, Chilean, and Argentine wines, along with cava and sherry, but honestly, why waste your time when potent house-made sangria, served from a giant terrine, and one of the finest versions I’ve sampled since my tine in Seville, is available? The menu also boasts another couple dozen cocktails, my favorite being the Bartender’s Choice ($10), whereby you provide barman Taso Papatsoris with your favorite liquour and he proceeds to incorporate it into a surprise concoction. My preference, a vanilla-like Spanish Licor 43, evolves into an inventive, sweet-tart margarita.

Service is attentive, albeit a but unpolished, particularly at the meal’s conclusion, whereby coffee arrives well after desserts are served, leftovers from two plates are mistakenly lumped together into one bag, and the check’s arrival takes longer than one would hope (although, lest we forget, we are on Caribbean time, after all).

At the beginning and end of our meal, Jockovich politely rests her hand on my shoulder, as if greeting and parting ways with an old friend. I soon realize it’s a genuine gesture she provides to everyone who enters her establishment, and it is so refreshing to see such warmth in an often cutthroat industry. For her, Casa B is most certainly su casa, and her home most definitely maintains a special place in my heart.

Bondir is Worth the Wait

Opening to universal, almost ungodly acclaim in November, 2010, Bondir undoubtedly comes with lofty dining expectations. Thankfully, chef/owner Jason Bond’s (formerly executive chef at Beacon Hill Bistro) little (and by little, I mean roughly 25 seats) gem of a French-inspired restaurant not only met, but exceeded my expectations. His cooking technique, execution, and passion for local, seasonal, and sustainable fare are awe-inspiring and evident in every dish. There’s nothing pretentious about his plating (culinary theatrics such as liquid nitrogen need not apply), but merely a mind-bending focus on unique ingredients that elevate simple dishes to grandiose heights.

The bistro is tucked away on a more remote, quieter side of Central Square in Cambridge (blink and you’ll pass by it on Broadway Street). Behind a curtained entryway, you’ll find a smug little waiting area – complete with log chairs – warmed by a brick fireplace. Antique wood benches are built into white and green colored walls. A small flower romantically resides on each table, while plates are decorated with floral and fruit patterns. A painting of a pig amusedly adorns the back wall. So this is what dining in an intimate, romantic French bistro must feel like.

Bread, baked daily in-house, nicely kick-starts our meal. From 9-grain, to Caraway Rye, to a most unique variety called The Sea (containing seaweed, dried shrimp, and black squid ink), these are some of the best loaves I’ve tasted since be treated to L’Espalier’s expansive, renowned bread service years ago in its former, more romantic location on Gloucester Street. Bondir also graciously offers all of its dishes in half plate or full portions (all $16/$30), a gesture most welcomed to those like myself who yearn to sample multiple dishes. My dining companion and I decide on five plates (between five and six come recommended for two people), which are well-placed and intelligently split into three separate courses.

We begin with Rhode Island Fluke Sashimi, perfect in its not-too-rubbery texture, along with its potent flavor, which packs subtle traces of heat attributed to dabs of chili syrup and black garlic. The next serving consists of hand-rolled cavatelli with venison ragu, cooked in rich red wine and cocoa nibs. While the dish is relatively solid (the pasta is perfectly cooked al dente), it’s slightly disappointing, particularly due to the fact that the ragu isn’t nearly as hearty as I expected, the venison has more of a dried-out, nuggety consistency, and the intense flavoring from the cocoa nibs I anticipated is barely discernible. Scituate scallops, on the other hand, are a revelation. Three plump, perfectly seared crustacean are served with cauliflower, Mutsu apple, and terrific pickled cranberries - which take on the appearance of small tomatoes – for tart contrast. The scallops are also topped with sage froth, which not only adds visual flair, but also provides a subtly sweet flavoring to the dish.

Next, a moist piece of roasted capon (a gamier, stronger flavored alternative to the poussin chicken also available on the menu) is neatly stacked atop a scrumptious, inventive trio of white flint cornmeal cake, kumi kumi squash and black lentils. Westport Dexter Beef Short Ribs are also tender, and laced with a light, sweet cider glaze. Unlike the capon, however, its sides of wild rice with currants and saffron spiced purple carrots don’t quite mesh as well while the carrots are slightly undercooked.

Desserts (all $10, while sorbets and ice creams come in at $8) provide a creative, delicious conclusion to the meal. Westport Winter Sunchokes, in name, sound dreadful, but its moist gingerbread cake with olive-oil caramel, lemon mouseline and apple leather are heavenly, if not a tad too sweet. And if strawberry fields are forever, how about tangerine dreams? The namesake dessert, which consists of sponge cake, vermouth-infused tangerine, and meringue brulee, delights my sweet tooth. My companion found the concoction excessively sweet, but I politely disagreed, although the accompanying thyme-buttermilk ice cream, while refreshing, was a bit superfluous given the richness of all the remaining ingredients.

For all of the imaginative dishes on display at Bondir, don’t expect an equally creative cocktail menu to boot. Wine and beer are all that is available here, although the selections are well-thought out and the majority are reasonably priced (such as a lovely bottle of Urbans-hof German Riesling for $39). Aside from a minor hiccup at the outset (our waitress disappeared for a few minutes shortly after checking in on us), service as knowledgeable, pleasant, and extremely well-paced. Chef Bond later visited us tableside to check in on our experience, another welcomed, sincere touch.

Throughout our meal, several diners commented on how grateful they were to have finally secured reservations at this quaint, cozy establishment after months of futile attempts. Laughter, conversations, and wine openly flowed from table to table, as if we were all communally sharing this intimate experience. Yes, Bondir is indeed a dining destination worth waiting for, and I can’t wait to frequent Chef Bond’s highly appealing bistro again, and soon.

Say Hello to Hola

For foodies residing on the South Shore, why travel to Boston’s acclaimed Toro when one can feast on well-prepared, innovative tapas and scrumptious flatbreads at Marshfield’s Hola? Tucked away in a rear parking lot in Library Plaza just off of busy Route 139, the restaurant feels like a secluded dining spot that – like a glass of fine Jimenez sherry – you can enjoy just for yourself.

And yet, upon entering into this warm establishment through a set of curtains, you quickly realize that you can’t have Hola all to yourself. Even on an early Thursday evening, Hola’s social scene is already in high gear. Hand-painted walls create a relaxing, fun ambience (there’s also a large fireplace on the outside patio, perfect for late summer/early fall visits).

The only evident drawback of the evening is Hola’s substandard cocktails. A mojito arrives with far too much rum and virtually no sugar (although our server politely brings back an improved version), a Dark and Stormy is equally overwrought with rum, while on the other end of the spectrum, a white sangria – which should be considered a staple at any tapas establishment – is excessively bland in taste (lemonade and wine do not a fine sangria make) and possesses nary a hint of fruit. For concoctions ranging from $8-9, one expects better. Instead, sample more authentic drinks hailing from Spain like the addictive Licor 43 (a vanilla liquer), Pedro Ximenez Lustau sherry (very sweet), or a subtle, light, highly drinkable glass of Rioja Crianza ($9). There are roughly 30 affordable varieties of wine hailing from Spain, Argentina, Italy, and California, about two-thirds of them red, nearly half available by the glass (most between $6-8), and the majority coming in at under $30 per bottle.

As for the food itself, Hola confidently hits its stride with its unique cold tapas. One of the most pleasant surprises of the evening, an option not even on my radar, was a delightful dish of spiced grapes (laced with cinnamon), marcona almonds, goat cheese, and anise crisps ($6.50). It’s a dish packed with many seemingly off-kilter ingredients that somehow strike a balance between texture and flavor. Charred rare beef with sherried figs and blue cheese ($9.50) is also solid, blending together sweetness and tartness. Ceviche-style tuna ($9.50) – which when done improperly can come off as tasting excessively fishy – is perfectly seasoned with mango vinegar, chili aioli, and accompanied by spicy cabbage for a crunchy contrast.

Hot tapas fare almost equally as well. The most noteworthy dish of the evening that had everyone in their seats wondering aloud: How did they (the kitchen) do that (in terms of flavoring)? was the fried calamari with hot and sweet chili vinaigrette ($9). The calamari were perfectly crisped on the outside, succulent on the inside, and possessed some of the best sugary-spicy seasoning I’ve ever experienced with any dish. This was an absolute knockout, and had me clamoring for more once every last crustacean was devoured. Almost equally as good were the curry fried green beans with a lemon aioli dipping sauce ($6) to counter the curry’s heat. Other standout dishes included addictive roasted dates and bacon ($7) with – yes, once again – that sensational mango vinegar, each of which I dreamed about popping into my mouth late into the evening if only I was afforded the opportunity. Grilled shrimp with smoked paprika and lemon ($9), while less adventurous, was a well-executed dish, as were chicken empanadas with corn and black beans ($7.50). Succulent lamb was perfectly cooked and memorable.

A potato torta (akin to a Spanish omelet) with romesco sauce ($6.50) was a disappointment, laced with far too few potatoes, too much cheese, and topped with an unflattering looking dollop of unremarkably flavored romesco sauce. While the coffee and chipotle rubbed steak with fried potato wedges ($12) was decent enough, there was not enough coffee in the rub itself to elevate the dish from merely good to great.

Flatbreads were also exceptional for the most part, just light enough and perfectly crisped to allow for sampling several versions. Noteworthy, innovative selections included smoky garlic shrimp/roasted peppers/scallion and saffron aioli/queso fresco ($11.50), spinach/red onion/hot cherry peppers/asiago ($9), and my personal favorite with figs/prosciutto/gorgonzola ($11), a dish that winningly combined sweet and salty elements. The only misfires here were an unflatteringly tasting eggplant/roasted red peppers/fried garlic/queso fresco ($9.50) and a surprisingly bland mushrooms/butternut squash/manchego/truffle oil ($11).

The evening concluded with a decadent duo of desserts, beginning with – what else? – another flatbread, this time layered with crème anglaise and fresh berries. Churros were prepared in an untraditional, yet inspiring fashion. In lieu of arriving in long, narrow strips, they were served beignet-style, each with a wonderfully hot, crispy exterior (other versions suffer from excess amounts of doughiness) resting atop a warm, gooey chocolate sauce.

With its courteous, attentive, eager-to-please wait staff, reasonable prices, and eclectic, frequently exciting cuisine, you’ll never want to say goodbye to Hola.