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The Boston Globe has a funny review of Atwood's , the pub that's about 50 feet from my front door and is a cool, mellow place early in the evening, with great food, and gets hopping with bluesy-folksy music later in the evening. Liam, a burly teddy bear of a bartender at Atwood's Tavern, comes with a disclaimer on the restaurant's website. "Most 'Ask Liam' material is inappropriate for most audiences." Well, that's truth in advertisting. You're encouraged to ask Liam questions, anything from fashion advice to matters of the heart. He'll answer them all in a gruff, uncensored manner . We mention Liam because he loomed large when we visited Atwood's earlier this week. In a T-shirt that read "What the Fluff" (a gift from his mother), he tended the bar, and called out at least twice, "I don't mind eating the leftovers!" to patrons who didn't finish their plates. Liam perfectly embodies the spirit of Atwood's: lovable, townie, a little rough around the edges, and not quite ready for prime time. (We mean that lovingly, Liam.) It's the kind of place that can divide a party, depending on what ambience you desire. One of us felt at home straight away ("I love this place already!" she enthused); another hated his chilled (!) red wine at the bar and thought the service was too creaky for a nine-month-old establishment.
What they say about Liam is true. The first time we met him there, when we were leaving, he said (loudly, of course), "There's always time for coitus!" The funniest part of the review is: But no matter how ambitious the menu gets, Atwood's is not a haute boite. In fact, don't even think of uttering the word boite upon entering this place.
And now they have a sign in front that says, "Atwoods. Haute boite everyday." I didn't know what that meant, so I googled "haute boite" and that's actually how I found this review in the first place! It is now second out of all Google hits for that phrase, the rest of which are all mentions of pretentious restaurants, or ones pretentiously saying they're not.
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