Sixty years of Harrow's chicken pot pie. Why?

When I heard that Harrow's Chicken Pies was opening a second location five minutes' drive from our house, I was intrigued.

This family-owned business has been selling their pies in Reading for 60-some years (or 50 or 70, depending on which page of their website you read), longevity that suggested quality.

On Saturday, we got a coupon in the mail for $2 off an order. As it was getting toward lunchtime, and they promised takeout pie, we decided to head over.

The store is on the intersection of Rtes 16 and 38 in Medford, next to a Dunkies and across the street from a Dunkies. It's a small space, mostly occupied by coolers filled with pies of different sizes. We opted for two individual pies with vegetables (you can also get them without).

Now maybe I'm crazy, but to me, "takeout" means "to eat immediately." That's the point; that's what distinguishes a takeout pie from a frozen pie, which is evidently meant for consumption at a later date.

However, it turns out that if you actually want a hot pie, you have to call in your order a half-hour ahead of time, which is how long it takes to heat one up.

(Note to Harrow's: there are now clever machines called "micro-waves." You might could look into them.)

So much for our plan of grabbing a quick pie for lunch. As we were already hungry, we ate something more immediate and postponed the pies until dinner.

And so, that evening, we sat down to chicken pot pie.

The first thing we noticed was the pastry: it was incredibly short and flaky and a little sweet. And about as thick as a postcard.

The second thing we noticed was the sauce: pale, thick, bland, glutinous. I'll just come out and say it: wallpaper paste.



There were several generous chunks of chicken:



And, as promised, vegetables: uniformly diced carrot and cubes of al dente potato.



It's quite possible that Harrow's is the epitome of the Boston chicken pot pie; that its success lies in an understanding of the preferences of its customer base.

(That it was voted Best in New England by the Phantom Gourmet is a clue in itself.)

But to me, chicken pot pie shouldn't be nondescript; it should be a celebration. It should begin with a mirepoix; there should be pearl onions and peas; the roux should be perfumed with rosemary and thyme.

And the pastry — either puff or pâte brisée — should be thick enough that the exterior is crisp, while the underside becomes a soft sponge that soaks up the flavors of the filling.

At some point soon, I'll show you what I mean.

Thanksgiving at Rialto (again)

Last year we had Thanksgiving at Rialto and it was fabulous: a cozy corner table, flawless service, excellent food.

So this year we decided to go back.

Okay, let's get the bad stuff out of the way first.

I know I should be thankful that there are enough financially sound people to fill a restaurant at Thanksgiving. And I know this is a time to get together with family.

But still, there we were, sharing space with a party of three, yelling at each other despite sitting next to each other; and a party of nine (four of whom were bouncingly under 6 years old). Yay.

(If you've been following for a while, you know I have issues with people who don't use their indoor voice in a restaurant.)

Similarly, I know I should understand when the lunch rush means things get a little backed up. But still, somehow we were overlooked, and our server didn't notice we had no first course until everyone else was finishing their second. Our second course arrived before the first; our third arrived before the second.

But enough complaints, on to the good stuff!

First course: a rich, creamy roast-chestnut soup with a garnish of diced pear, parmesan and celery.

Next, I had tiny taleggio and fig tarts, cheese and fruit and pastry dancing together perfectly.



The Boy went with bite-sized pumpkin and sage ravioli, served with scallops:



And then instead of going for the turkey dinner, he had duck two ways on a bed of lentils (that sounds a bit rude, doesn't it? Tasted rather juicy, too ).



I stuck to tradition.



The meat was tender and moist; the mashed potatoes were creamy velvet; the stuffing was a thick slice of bread pudding.

Best, though, were green beans finished with shallots, and a light, citrusy cranberry chutney.



And then dessert, which came with the unexpected accompaniment of comped Moscato D'Asti. We assumed that was to make up for the upside-down service (though it was never explained).

My dessert was a lovely apple and quince tart, with generous chunks of fruit, topped with maple-cinnamon ice cream.



The Boy was the clear dessert winner, though; his honey-ricotta cheesecake was a light, fluffy, gently perfumed cloud.



So while Thanksgiving at Rialto was a slight disappointment this year (mostly because we were rather unrealistically expecting a re-run of last year), it was still a fantastic meal.

Still, we've decided that we'll spend next Turkey Day at home. That way, we also get leftovers.

When to go to Craigie on Main

We love Craigie on Main, but dining there usually requires planning. I mean yes, you could make a spontaneous decision to turn up in Central Square one evening, but you'd better be ready either to make intimate, elbowy new friends at the bar or wait an hour for a table.

And then today, we had a revelation: brunch.

(I know; some of you are all like, Well duh! And I'm like, okay, I get it.)

Brunch at Craigie means the same attention to detail, creativity, freshness and richness — oh, and cocktails — and a much better chance of being able to walk in the door and get a table.

(At this point I should add a disclaimer: we did go the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Occupancy at other times may vary. Call ahead.)

So what did we have?

First, a doughnut. There, I said it. Fresh warm doughnut, glazed with sugar, on a pool of confiture de lait (aka dulce de leche). As an appetizer.



And to make it totally healthy, a nice side of macerated fruit salad with yogurt.



It was hard to choose an entree; organic white grits with baconed-up greens and rock shrimp? Buttermilk pancakes with huckleberries? Omelette with house-made merguez and feta?

Okay, it really wasn't that difficult. There were two immediate winners.

The Boy went for the house-brined corned beef and tongue hash, which was deep and rich and fantastic.



And I had the house-made "dimanche" sausage with buttermilk biscuit and a poached egg.



Lordy, just uploading the photos makes my mouth water. The sausage had a satisfying, addictive pâté-like texture, and the flavor was subtle and complex, with lovely dark hints (possibly liver).

Whoever makes the sausage at Craigie is a god among men.

The biscuit was fluffy, with a slightly crisp crust, perfect for soaking up egg yolk.



Sadly, we were too full for dessert. I was also intrigued by the side dishes, especially the coriander and cashew granola and the grilled pork belly. (Yes, pork belly as a side dish. Would you ever go back to bacon after that?)

But now we know we have much better odds of getting a table at Craigie on Main on a Sunday afternoon, I suspect I'll get to check them out soon.

Halloween feast ONCE more (with better pix)

Sometimes it seems as though I'm surrounded by generous and creative people.

First, I got to go to a ONCE dinner, which required some fabulously talented kitchen artists to spend days of cooking (and doubtless weeks of planning) to create a truly unique meal.

And now one of my fellow diners, who was wielding a far nicer camera than mine, has kindly allowed me to post some of his shots here.

So before I go further, an enormous THANK! YOU! to Benjamin Eckstein, director of photography, video editor, producer. Check out his site benjamineckstein.com, especially the gorgeous highlights reel.

And now: selections from ONCE Upon a Midnight Dreary, but better. Think of this as a blog post in HD.

The Thai tom yum soup. I think the silvery thing in the middle might be an eyeball.



The chicken feet that garnished the soup. Or, if you like, stood in it.



A lovely shot of JJ Gonson, our hostess:



The other kitchen magicians; unfortunately I don't know their names, though I suspect one of them is Jennifer, who has blogged about what went on before and during the dinner.



Some juicy skewered hearts (rabbit, I think):



And the lamb's tongue Reubens:



Both of the above are intended to give a sense of the scale of the dinner; there were some 40 guests, all of whom were served each course (more or less) simultaneously, from a kitchen the size of the average office cube.

Also, I neglected to mention last time that the Reuben included from-scratch sauerkraut and Thousand Island dressing, made with from-scratch pickles. Yes.

The kidney fricassée in puff pastry was one of the best things I've had in a long time. Right up there with the deep-fried foie gras from PDC.



Giant water bugs, awaiting the fillet knife:



And lastly, a great angle on JJ finishing up dessert.



Thanks again to Benjamin — and also, of course, to the wonderful ONCE team!