Spotlight: Boston, MA

Might this be the Cambridge Spy down by the harbour? He is wearing sunglasses, after all. Or perhaps one of his fellow agents? Or simply a nonchalant passer-by? A mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a dashing camel-coloured jacket...

Prior to landing in New York, the Spy had been chilling out in the noble yet meteorologically capricious city of Boston, MA, where he managed to get sunburnt one day and then snowed on the next. Based in Harvard Square, close to the academic powerhouse with which it shares its name, the Spy decided to carry out a spot of ‘research’ in the name of his own fine cultural heritage, and uncover the three best scones in the area. Alas, it is not for nothing that they say ‘two cultures divided by a common language’, and the Spy had forgotten to what extent ‘scone’ in America simply means ‘enormous, dense, very sweet cake with an adventurous  approach to  flavourings’. However, he ploughed ahead, and with diabetes and heart disease capering capriciously at the wings he uncovered three pretty good specimens, more importantly, at three lovely establishments.    

Fine example of a Stateside scone and a cup of the black stuff (from Crema Cafe).

1. On the first day, he found himself in a branch of Au Bon Pain next to the news stand in Harvard Square, with a cinnamon chip scone in his grubby paw. He had always wanted to try cinnamon chips, which was a happy bonus (think chocolate chips, but cinnamon-y and perhaps even sweeter), and the cake-like quality of the scone was not too bad. The best thing about the experience was that he was sitting in the glasshouse part of the café looking over the square, and a merry band of three little sparrows had somehow made their way inside and were busy hovering up the crumbs, Disney’s-Snow-White-style. (However, a word of caution: flee from their crusty old bagels like the wind. In fact, flee from most bagels in Boston. Both ‘bagel’ and ‘Boston’ start with the same letter of the alphabet, but that is where the association ends.)

Cinnamon chip scone and coffee (L), and three bold musketeer sparrows enjoying the leftovers (R). The one on the left may even have a cinnamon chip in his mouth.

2. Breakfast #2 was conducted at the delightful Crema Cafe, which is justly popular with students and a great place to both chat and work. The Spy could choose between oatmeal maple and pecan scones, cheesy savoury scones or pear and ginger scones, and he went for the last of these, mostly on account of not being a big pecan fan. The scone was the best of the three sampled (as was the coffee that accompanied it), and boded well for the other delicious-looking products on offer, with moist chunks of pear and a lovely ginger twist that was perfect to perk up a Spy in the early morning. However, once again, these were not scones as the Spy knew them, and there was a cloyingly sugary, buttery coating over the Spy’s mouth by the end of the proceedings. However, there were even some fine-looking English muffins on the counter for splitting, toasting, buttering and jamming, and quite frankly, they looked far superior to most muffins that can be found in Merrie England itself.

The array of baked goods on sale in Crema (scones in front), and academic types probably pondering something deep and meaningful at the espresso counter.

3. The final scone was consumed at High Rise, a sweet little bakery set back from the street in a yellow wooden-slatted house. Local sources (in particular Agent Pinky Bee) inform him that the bread is not quite as good as it looks, but the atmosphere is great, with outdoor seating in the courtyard for sunny days and welcoming ladies and gentlemen behind the counter, ready to give you personal recommendations and advice on all your crucial yeast-based purchases. The scones were a little smaller and less sweet than offerings elsewhere (hallelujah!), but once again, the bakers had got creative with the flavours, with orange-and-coconut and maple-and-pecan on offer. The Spy went for the latter (reasoning that he could always pick out the pecans) and was rather impressed by the flavour and texture of this little number. But he still doesn’t like pecans.

Outside and inside the High Rise Bakery (scones at the bottom right of the baked good selection).

Moving on from breakfast, a number of the Spy’s lunches were held downtown in Boston’s financial district, in the form of meetings with his high-powered fellow spy Agent Andromeda who works close by in the Bank of America building. (In order to gain access to this establishment, the Spy got his own extremely official pass, complete with photo, and has never been so excited. He is currently debating as to whether he can wear the pass back in England without attracting unwanted attention, and is regretfully coming to the conclusion that he cannot. However, he is determined to wear it in the privacy of his own home, possibly pinning it to his official MI5 silk pyjamas.)

View from halfway up the Bank of America, looking over the river. From the other window, you can see the harbour and all the little islands. There was also a popcorn machine and a 'fruit-tree' (i.e. covered in fruit) in the kitchen: classy.

There were two particularly fine lunch experiences, the first in a branch of the chain Cosi, which is particularly notable for the fact that it makes its own squagles (square bagels, although they seem to be baked instead of boiled) and flatbreads (both white and wholemeal varieties), which can be seen baking in a giant oven behind the counter. The best part about it is that you can make up whatever salad or sandwich you like, chewing thoughtfully on a corner of the flatbread while you make your decisions, since the piping hot odds and ends from each new batch of bread are put in a big bowl on the counter for the customers to sample while they wait in the queue. Unsurprisingly, these chewy, moist, salty strips of wheaty goodness are actually better when taken out of the bowl than when bought in a packet, once again confirming the old adage that the best things in life are free.

Flatbread (L) and squagles (R). FYI, the Spy went for a cinnamon raisin number (bottom right)...

The other notable lunchtime establishment frequented by the Spy and his colleagues was the Chillean sandwich joint Chacarero. In a country of infinite culinary choice, it was something of a relief to see three basic choices – chicken, beef or vegetarian (i.e. roasted peppers) – which came in small (pah, who are they kidding?) or large (i.e. the size of a baby elephant). The bread was homemade, and on top of the aforementioned choices was piled tomatoes, a square of cheese, guacamole, a green spicy Chillean paste, and most excitingly GREEN BEANS, which the Spy has never experienced in a sandwich before. Apparently it’s a Chillean thing, and who is the Spy to quibble? There were also the most delicious sweet potato fries in the world, which, in the Spy’s scabby opinion, made the finest chip butty this side of Old Blighty when paired with a torn-off corner of sandwich bread.  

Green beans being applied to the Spy's sandwich monster (L) and the monster with sweet potato fries to keep him company (R). Note that two of the chips have made their way over the the sandwich, and are begging to be made into a chip butty. Begging, I tell you.

Finally, having mooched down the numerous highways and byways of breakfast and lunch, the Spy feels justifiably full enough to skip dinner and move straight to dessert. And in Boston, the holy Mecca of State-side ice cream, what could be more appropriate than a late-night visit to JP Licks (we’re back in Harvard territory now), commonly considered to be the finest purveyor of these sweet, sticky dairy products in town. With a grass-like covering on the walls and tables shaped like the black patches on Holstein dairy cows, there was definitely a bovine theme going on, and the Spy’s head almost exploded from too much choice when he beheld the glorious blackboard behind the counter, chalked up with more flavours and varieties than he ever thought possible. Having sampled oreo cookie dough (divine), mint oreo cookie dough (nearly chocolate chip, but gooier), crunchy butter almond (the flavour of the week), oatmeal cookie frozen yogurt (his favourite; he has had rose-tinted dreams of fluffy bunny love about this one ever since), he plumped for (and, as time goes on, plumped is the word), tiramisu and chocolate chip cookie dough frozen yoghurt flavours. The tiramisu was pretty alcoholic and not much else, but the cookie dough was smooth, creamy and to die for. The Spy plans to start a petition to get a branch of JP Licks in Cambridge, UK; perhaps some sort of Erasmus-style exchange programme? Or an ice cream town-twinning scheme? We could send over our Italian-style gelato (FYI the best can be found in La Margherita on Magdalene Street, while Fitzbillies and Chocolat Chocolat both sell ice cream from the almighty Oddono’s from London in the summer, although the former also does its own scrummy Chelsea bun ice cream…). Anyway, the Spy has sloped off his Spy convention to write this, and must return, before they release the hounds and drag him back by his ever-tightening boxer shorts…

The glorious lists of flavours, complete with grassy wallpaper (L) and a sample pot (R), possibly oreo cookie...