Tearfully, our last CSA pickup has come and gone. Subconsciously it seems we have made an attempt to ration the last of this season's vegetables. One reason might be to hold on to the last of the amazing produce we were able to enjoy for 4 glorious months. Yet another reason might be to take a break from eating uber-healthy (albeit damn tasty) roots, tubers, leaves, and sprouts. This might be more of my selfish outlook to be honest.....After her class on Thursday night, Kate and I decided to cheat on those chlorophyll goodies and try out Chez Henri, the well established and talked about French-Cuban bistro that sits no more than 100 steps from our front porch. Getting in just as the end of the bar opened up, we each pulled up a stool and ordered from the bar menu. We shared their specialty, a pressed Cuban sandwich, and a duck tamale salad for a grand total of $25. For a place that gets knocked on being expensive, not exactly breaking the bank. We enjoyed a few traditional cocktails, a rum and lime juice with bitters for me and a mojito for Kate, and the dishes took little time to follow. The sandwich was easily large enough for two and we were immediately relieved that we didn't decide on a third menu item.....although the french onion soup gratinee is on my list for next time.
The bread was super crusty and buttery, but didn't singe the roof of my mouth with heat or carve it up because it was too hard (a major concern for any panini veteran). Inside - paper thin slices of ham, tender roast pork, pickles, and gooey cheese to bind it all together. Yup, the combination tasted as good as it sounds. To be honest, it's probably the best Cuban sandwich if not the best overall sandwich I have ever had. The duck tamale was also a good size to share. The masa 'cocoon' was stuffed with shredded duck meat and it sat on top of a delicious spinach salad with warm vinegar dressing. On closer inspection, the wilted greens were also studded with thumb-sized lardons of bacon. These guys have definitely done their homework. Both dishes were a perfect compliment to our drinks too. We couldn't eat quick enough, each bite balancing rich, unctuous meaty bits with vinegar-spiked forkfuls and tart lime chasers.
Staring at a clean plates, sipping on the remains of our drinks, I was reminded of The Rum Diaries by Hunter Thompson where he and a raucous gang of journalist-nutbags spend nearly all waking hours downing high octane rum drinks and eating burgers in the sandblasted cafes of San Juan. Okay, not exactly the same environment, but I could picture a group of writers or laborers, or to a lesser extent Harvard students, chatting their days' laments away over the flowing rum drinks and meaty sandwiches of Chez Henri. Maybe I am getting carried away, but a sandwich like this gives you the excuse to daydream.
It's taken a while to get there, but I'm ridiculously happy I live so close to this place. I've got the best sandwich in Boston, bacon salads, and a cozy neighborhood bar one block away from me. I'll try to keep it under wraps though, our vegetables are bound to be jealous.
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