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Roadfood_ Revised Edition - Jane Stern [27]

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tends to soften and become unwieldy under a lot of toppings—leading to the heartbreak of cheese slippage—even the flexible part of the crust has a taste that makes you want to keep on eating, then ordering more. Curiously, the most powerhouse toppings (garlic, onions, anchovies) do not seem to pack a really wicked flavor wallop on Santarpio’s pizzas; these are tomato and cheese pies with plenty of soul, but with a mild, creamy disposition. In our experience, one pie, ranging from simple cheese or cheese and garlic (the latter with a blizzard of oregano on top) to a deluxe combo of sausage, mushrooms, etc., is just about enough to satisfy one normal appetite.

But if your appetite is like ours—bigger than normal—then you need to know about Santarpio’s barbecue. For if this establishment’s reputation rides on pizza, it is barbecue that will lure us back again and again. Barbecue in Boston? you ask. In this case, “barbecue” is not the Southern ritual of slow-cooked meat in a metal pit. It refers to meat cooked on a grate over charcoal—lengths of homemade Italian sausage and skewered hunks of lamb, or what Italians know as spiedini. That sausage is spectacular—a long, taut tube with the flavor of the charcoal fire permeating its succulent, high-spiced insides. Many folks get it as a pre-pizza hors d’oeuvre—one long char-crusted sausage on a plate with hot cherry peppers and some crusty Italian bread. The barbecue lamb has a vivid flavor—for lamb lovers only—and it ranges from a pleasant chew to a serious chaw. Plates of sausage and lamb, with peppers and bread, are the only thing other than pizza on Santarpio’s menu.

The barbecue adds immeasurably to Santarpio’s atmosphere. Literally. The meat is cooked on a grill that is just inside the front door, and its wonderful aroma harmonizes with the smell of tomato sauce, cheese, and crust from the pizza ovens in back to make this place the most appetizing bar we’ve ever found. And make no mistake, it is a bar: smoky, raucous, a little unkempt, with boxing posters on the wall and 1960s Motown tunes setting a sassy beat.


Toscanini’s

899 Main St.

617–491–5877

Cambridge, MA

$

First, let us say that the vanilla ice cream made by Gus Rancatore at Toscanini’s is some of the best there is: pure, uncomplicated, satisfying. And the regional favorite, Grape-Nuts, is as good as it gets, the familiar breakfast cereal blended into sweet cream so it becomes flavorful streaks of grain. We love such flavors as Cocoa Pudding and Cake Batter. But the true call to glory is Burnt Caramel. If you are one who enjoys the preciousness of the crust on a flawlessly blowtorched crème brûlée, you, too, will understand how a controlled sugar burn creates an ice cream that transcends sweetness and makes taste buds buzz.


Turtle Alley

91A Washington St.

978–281–4000

Gloucester, MA

L | $

Step into Hallie Baker’s candy store, named Turtle Alley, and behold a school of terrapin: big, knobby candy rounds of dark, white, and milk chocolate, each as unique as a snowflake, and each bristling with nuts that poke out from the caramel like multiple turtle flippers from underneath the chocolate shell. Hallie makes them with pecans, almonds, peanuts, and macadamias, as well as cashews, which she believes are the ideal nut, at least cosmetically, because cashews most resemble turtle flippers. Hallie’s turtles, you see, are not totally enrobed in chocolate. She makes them one by one, by hand, so that the nuts stick out the side, for the sake of turtle foot verisimilitude. And while she may be right about cashews looking best and white chocolate tasting richest, the turtles we like best are the more traditional pecan-footed ones, dark or milk chocolate.

Turtles are just one of many things available in this joyous candy land. There are brittles and clusters and butter crunches, chocolate-coated candied fruits, snowflakes, nonpareils, and simple hunks of uncomplicated chocolate. The confectionery is a joy to visit, for Hallie’s pleasure at running it is contagious—she is the proverbial kid in a candy store,

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