Restaurant Review: Tupelo

Tupelo in Inman Square used to be Magnolia's, and still retains some of the decor. The water glasses are new though - large Ball jars - and, as far as know, the artwork on the bathroom doors is fresh. We both agreed that the red walls are nice, the sconces are out-of-place Art Deco and the painted mirrors look kinda crap. Oh, but the food. It's lovely.

We arrived close to 8:00pm on Friday night and were told it would be about a 45 minute wait for the two of us. A fella waiting in line just ahead of us said it was worth the wait and that folks gather round the small bar to kill the time. Only two beers on tap, but one was Brooklyn Lager, so I was set. Our friendly bartender served us straight away, and the host swung by once before we were seated, just to confirm our place on the waiting list. We were led to our table in what felt like no time at all.

We started with a deviled crab salad on garlic toasts: flavorful and with a nice afterburn that I doused with my frosty brew. Pete ordered one of the specials for dinner - jambalaya - which full of warm, "slow and low" flavors and crammed with big shrimp and hunks of andouille sausage. I had the brisket for my main:

Daube of Beef: Beef braised in red wine with hominy mashed potatoes with charred peppers, roasted corn salsa & Creole horseradish cream. 15

The meat had a crispy edge but was still fork-tender. The three items on the plate meshed well together, and I admit that more than one forkful contained meat, potato and corn together. We stalled for a while, but then gave in and ordered dessert. Pete had the blueberry pie with vanilla icecream; I had the brown butter pecan pie with bourbon icecream. BROWN BUTTER. My newest love. Nom. A free beer from the waiter for me (just me? awkward?) and then we paid our modest bill.

I like the wave of southern-inspired cuisine that is making its way through Cambridge. Tupeolo uses big, bold flavors on its gently priced plates and I look forward to a return trip.

Tupelo
1193 Cambridge Street
Cambridge, MA 02139
617-868-0004
http://www.tupelo02139.com/

Review: The Sweet & Low Down

Miss Tess and The Sweet & Low Down
at The Beehive
30 June 2009

Rachael Price is sexy. Her voice is smooth and supple, she's a scatting virtuoso and her decollétage is nothing if not alluring. She shimmies and undulates at the mic and, in a move that put me over the edge, the woman slipped on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses at the end of the last set. I was entirely prepared to ditch my boyfriend and kidnap Ms. Price so that she might personally serenade me until the end of days.

Price and Miss Tess fronted The Sweet & Low Down at The Beehive last night. The quintet (of keyboard, stand-up bass, drums and Miss Tess on rhythm guitar) played four hours of old-timey standards as well as some modern tunes. I heard Tom Waits ("Jesus Gonna Be Here," playfully introduced with the declaration we had reached thepoint in the evening for Jesus), Elvis Presley ("You're A Heartbreaker"), Morphine ("You Look Like Rain"), Blue Moon, the Tennessee Waltz, and many other numbers that I couldn't identify but loved nonetheless. The group's dress and sound was vintage and they transported the listener to another time. All around me, audience members tapped their toes and fingers to the beat, shook their heads to the lovely sounds and clapped enthusiastically after each solo improvisation.

Had I watched Miss Tess perform as the sole vocalist, I'm sure I would have been highly impressed. Her voice is compact like her frame; slightly reedy and a bit smoky, she smacks of Karen Dalton and Jolie Holland. Miss Tess happily strummed the (vinyl stringed?!) guitar that dwarfed her and clearly enjoyed performing last night. But she was out shined by the magnificent Rachael Price, whose effortless skill and smoldering glances demanded all attention. The timbre of her alto is of such quality that no one else stood a chance.

The Beehive's stage was richly swathed in silks, lace and velvet. The dark wood and dim lights lent a cozy feeling to the venue and the patrons were comfortable enough to interact with the performers -- as well as dance lively jitterbugs and intimate tangos in the corners. The inconspicuous waitstaff promptly appeared when glasses were empty and then kindly disappeared again. My friends and I stayed until the end of the show, much longer than we had anticipated. We walked back to the T, singing our own versions of the songs performed and declared The Sweet & Low Down "pretty fucking awesome, if you like good music."