Super Bowl weekend in the Seaport has a certain hum to it. Not chaotic. Not frantic. Just alive…read more
Committee was vibing.
We had a 6:30 reservation on Saturday night, table for four, friends in town for the game the next day. The room was full, the bar glowing in the background, conversations layered over music that felt present but not overpowering. It felt like a place that knows it's a hot spot and moves with that rhythm comfortably.
Our table sat toward the front near the windows, clearly in the dining zone. The reservation mattered. We felt placed, not squeezed in. The staff moved like they were ready for the crowd, not reacting to it.
We opened with cocktails. I kept it simple, a whiskey ginger. The first one came out wrong. I mentioned it casually, and our waiter handled it exactly how you hope a good restaurant does, no drama, no awkward pause, just "of course" and a fresh one in front of me quickly. Smooth, professional, easy.
We started light with the marinated olives. Nothing flashy, just quality Peloponnese olives dressed with orange zest and champagne vinaigrette. The citrus was subtle, more of a soft sweetness than a statement. The vinaigrette coated them nicely without drowning them. Not a must-order, but a quiet signal that the kitchen cares about ingredients. If you love olives, you'll appreciate them. If you skip them, you won't feel like you missed the night.
Then came the zucchini crisps, which for me are the cornerstone of any serious Greek restaurant. You can tell a lot from how a kitchen handles something that simple. These passed.
They arrived stacked high, golden, crisp enough that you could hear the crunch. Not greasy, not limp, not overly thick. We came hungry, and they didn't last long.
What makes or breaks a zucchini chip is the sauce, and here it was the harissa lemon aioli. It gave the dish its defining personality. A little heat, a little brightness, enough depth to keep you going back for another one. We demolished them. That tells you everything.
The roasted carrots followed, and they did exactly what a great vegetable dish should do. Honey gave them a gentle sweetness that paired well with the pistachio dukkah. The carrots themselves carried that earthy backbone that holds everything together. Most importantly, they were cooked right. Tender enough to cut easily, but still with a slight bite. No mush. Just clean execution and thoughtful seasoning.
By the time the scallops hit the table, the kitchen had earned our trust. They were beautifully done, properly seared with a golden edge and tender inside. The parsnip and pear puree felt inventive but grounded, adding depth without pushing the dish too sweet. The pomegranate kept it bright. Yes, they are expensive. But quality in the Seaport costs what it costs, and these felt worth it.
The octopus was the star of the night.
I've only recently come around to octopus after having it done well at a few great spots around Boston. When it's right, it hits that perfect middle ground. It has the tenderness of a well-cooked piece of meat, but carries that clean saltwater backbone from the sea. Not fishy. Not delicate like salmon. More like a piece of chicken from the ocean, firm, clean, satisfying.
Committee nailed it. There was real char. The kind that seals in flavor and gives you that grilled depth. It had bite without resistance, tender without falling apart. The 'nduja ragu and marble potatoes grounded it without overpowering. It felt composed but not overworked. If you're ordering one dish here, this is the one.
And then the lamb.
Sometimes you just want a piece of meat done right. No theatrics. No overthinking.
These were beautifully done. Full bone-in chops, about twelve ounces each. We ordered four total for the table because we knew everyone would want a piece, and that instinct was correct. You could tear through a whole rack if you let yourself.
Juicy, rich, not aggressively gamey, just clean and satisfying. The Greek whipped potatoes were smooth and comforting, the salsa verde sharp and classic, cutting through the richness exactly how it should. At $29, it's not cheap. But when lamb is this good, price stops being part of the conversation.
Committee isn't trying to be quiet. It's lively. It's confident. It knows it's a scene. But behind the energy is a kitchen that understands balance, texture, and how to execute Mediterranean staples without overcomplicating them.
On a weekend built around a game, this felt like a win.