Trade Ya (You'll Thank Me)

First things first:  To my fan (you know who you are), thank you for the guilting strategy employed to get me blogging again.  It really does speak to some of my truest parts, after all.  I should never have neglected this self-imposed duty for so long.

But more importantly, let’s talk Trade.  In case you’re out of the loop, Trade is one of the new restaurants down by the waterfront, ie. my ‘hood.  (Shut up.  I can say that.)  It’s on the corner of Atlantic and Congress, within spitting distance of South Station.  That’s gross, and I can’t quantify it because I didn’t spit, but I feel that I *could have* made that distance.  But I digress…

Let’s start with the ambience.  Energetic but not overly loud, I’d say.  It’s all open, however, so the volume was definitely increasing as our dinner advanced.  Plus, we were there early – 6:00 – which was the only reservation I could get for us, a week in advance.  It’s that HOT right now folks.  There was a group of woman behind us that was getting a little boisterous toward the end, but I didn’t mind it.  Just don’t go there expecting a quiet, romantic date with your bf and get all bent out of shape when you can’t hear his sweet nothings.  And also, stop calling it sweet nothings.  And also, stop annoying me.

Our server was attentive and knowledgeable.  Nothing more or less than I expect.  Service kind of defines a good restaurant for me.  When it’s subpar, I really feel it.  I’m more likely to return to a restaurant with excellent service and average quality food than the other way around.  (You may want to keep that in mind when considering my reviews.)  The hostess was very engaging and welcoming and we were seated immediately.  Don’t you hate when you are forced to wait in spite of your conscientious pre-planning?

Windows abound, so you have a clear view of the Greenway (count your lucky stars the Occupiers are gone – that wasn’t pretty) and, well, Congress St. and Atlantic Ave.  But you’re in the middle of the Financial District, on the cusp of the Waterfront, so I would imagine that kind of hustle and bustle is what you’re anticipating when you make a reservation in Boston.

All of this aside, let’s talk food.  I will be back, I guaran-gosh-darn-tee it.  And my friend and I really only sampled the flatbreads!  Well, she also got this appetizer – fried dough with parmesan, prosciutto and anchovies – that I sampled.  The flavor was yummy; garlic wasn’t part of the description, but it was welcome just the same.  But really, we both wished the fried dough portion was less crispy, more chewy – like the standard gratuitously fattening fried deliciousness you may remember from childhood town fairs.

The flatbreads, on the other hand… oh myyyyyy.  My friend ordered the lamb sausage with eggplant, Manchego, peppers and garlic yogurt, and I went a bit simpler, ordering the 4-cheese with slow braised tomatoes, basil and arugula.  Heavenly, friends.  Heav.  En.  Ly.  Let’s start with the crust, since they had that in common.  These were cooked brick-oven style and the dough was just thick enough to not become soggy with the toppings, with a crunchy/chewy crust around the edge.  Perfect.  On the other hand, the two flavors were entirely unique.  But in a blessedly beautiful way.

My pizza wasn’t inundated with too much of any one ingredient.  For instance, just enough baby arugula and basil on top (this is important because, sadly, I tend to choke on arugula… don’t ask), just enough pesto accent, just enough tomato base and, oh yes, plenty of the best combination of cheeses to be light and airy enough to absorb those other luscious flavors and also not too, too stringy so that you’re constantly slurping and peeling it off your chin.  Meanwhile, my friend’s flatbread was pleasingly hearty with tender, slightly spicy lamb influenced by a smattering of pepper and balanced by Manchego – all brilliantly complemented with a light drizzle of garlic yogurt.  We finished every bite.  Plus, I don’t mind saying I can’t wait to go back and try the mushrooms and figs with gorgonzola, sage pesto and walnuts.  Oh, and the rosemary, ricotta salata and sea salt.

From their web site - a look at the lamb flatbread.  Pretty darn accurate.

Folks, these are just the flatbreads!  That’s merely one of five groupings on the menu – and the smallest one at that.  There are a host of small plates for those that enjoy sharing tapas (the fried dough was a part of that family), a handful of soups and salads and an entire list of entrees yet to be tested by this palate.  Oops, and a few extra side dishes as well.

That said, I already have plans to return next month with another group of friends.  Again, not just for the food itself, the descriptions of which each beg their own sampling, but to enjoy a festive atmosphere where bursts of laughter among groups of friends are a part of the atmosphere that I’m pretty sure is not only encouraged but actively cultivated.  Maybe you’ll have to pump up the volume when you get to the punch line of the best joke you’ve ever told, but given the epicurean delights you’ll be savoring and the quality service you’ll be experiencing, I’d call that more than a fair Trade.