All restaurant spaces have karma: the ghosts of Z Square (may she rest in peace—the curried chicken salad or grilled cheese and tomato soup, anyone?), undeniably haunt the recently opened Russell House Tavern, the newest star in The Grafton Group’s constellation of other Harvard Square watering holes, Redline, Temple Bar, and Grafton Street. The black and white tiled floor, or those Xlerator hand dryers in the bathroom downstairs? Um, hello.
Similar to the original Z Square, the crucial dining decision is made at the door: up or down, asks the smiley, if slightly overeager, fleet of wait staff? With JFK-facing open windows and cushy leather stools (with backs) at the bar itself, stake out a spot upstairs for a bustling, lively dinner.
Beware of your tab, however: with an encyclopedic bar menu comprised of about 40 small production beers and more than 60 American wines, the lists made this oenophiliac and beer-drinking Slow Foodie feel like a kid in Hidden Sweets. Boston brewery Harpoon figures prominently in the draught and bottle departments (if you’re a fan of Blue Moon, try a glass of the Harpoon Belgian Pale Ale, $6), as does Pennsylvania brewery Victory, whose Storm King Imperial Stout at 9.1% ABV is a dark, delicious, and, let’s face it, dangerous road home. As it stands, the bar’s offerings of affordable wine by the glass are fairly limited, but this is bound to change once their “on tap” wine is up and running. Lest we forget cocktails, those listed under “Quintessential Classics” are well-priced and excellent, the Last Word and Moscow Mule both being green concoctions of Prohibition-era deliciousness.
As is true of a typical Italian menu, Executive Chef Michael Scelfo’s meals lead with a bang but peter off into mediocrity with the main courses. The restaurant’s self-professed catering to the college crowd is perhaps to blame for the enormous portion sizes: when in doubt, order the small plate version of a dish. Many of the appetizers and small plates are “eggcellent” (to quote one recent diner) thanks to the local and farm fresh eggs used for the steak tartare and crispy soft poached chip-in farm egg, the apotheosis of bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches. The local leaf salad, lightly dressed with perfectly toasted walnuts and plump quarters of dried fig strewn throughout, would make a lovely, light supper. The “R. House Burger,” uniquely served on a griddled English muffin, is mean enough and only $10. The chilled lobster pot (which the waiter described as a “mini-cauldron”), abrasively seasoned and lacking in conceptual unity, left something to be desired, as did the hanger steak and pizzas. The entrées are, at best, solid, and the dessert menu has some serious holes: where’s the chocolate?
Treat the menu as glorified pub grub and you’re golden, at least for the time being while the restaurant works out its kinks in the way of service. Just order another bottle of the crispy and affordable Acrobat Pinot Gris from Oregon for the table and little else matters.
