I got the equivalent of a happy ending after dinner here.
The server comes up to us, looks at my barren, licked-clean plate, looks up at me with a little smirk, and goes,
"Want a box for that?"
I doubled over with laughter because it was a legitimate joke and it was delivered perfectly. I left the dude a 30% tip.
I should establish that while this was not the greatest gourmet food I've ever eaten in my life, it was very good. What impressed me most was how the chef put a great deal of thought into every element of the dish.
I got the chicken roulade on cauliflower mashed potatoes, green beans, and spiced pistachio. This was one of the few occasions on which I've liked the sides more than the main element of the dish.
The green beans were lightly dressed in something citrusy and creamy at the same time. But they were dressed ever so lightly. I couldn't even see the tangy veil that the chef had draped over them. All I need to make vegetables more fun is a dash of Tabasco but this dressing actually made it fun to eat the greens.
A good dressing is like beer goggles for fugly veggies. The Beehive's chef should patent whatever was on those beans because it could help countless overlooked greens get laid for eternity.
But what put this dish well over the top was the pistachios. In the words of the late George Michael,
"Those nuts were delicious."
The menu said they were "spiced," which is an offensive understatement. That's like saying the Carolina Reaper has a bite. The pistachios tasted like they had been carefully toasted and then tossed in a thick, soy-based sauce that gave them a sweet-and-tangy essence. And crunchy is always a fun counter to tender chicken.
When you can convert simple pistachios to a type of candied, savory treat, you know your shit.
Next up: The cauliflower mashed potatoes. Whoever invented this essentially came up with the adult version of "Here comes the airplane!!" because it's the only form in which I'll touch cauliflower.
I normally hate cauliflower so much, I get nauseous. My main problem is the texture.
It reminds me of my high school biology class. When we were learning about the kidneys, I remember thinking how cool the cross-section of a kidney looked. The nephrons looked like a flash of lightning opportunistically captured in a still photo. But the knowledge that pre-piss flowed through that grainy structure made it gross to think about.
That was when I knew I would never follow in my parents' footsteps and become a doctor. If the sight of a kidney grossed me out, how the fuck would I handle sticking my finger up an old man's ass? Playing proctologist is a mandatory hazing tradition in medical schools. Kind of like getting paddled in a frat.
I admit that the precursor to golden showers doesn't flow through cauliflower, but it looks enough like nephrons that I can't eat it. The few times I tried it, it was how I imagined a kidney would feel like in my mouth.
It wasn't crunchy like broccoli.
But it wasn't soft like a tomato.
It was like someone had already started digesting it, like Brundlefly had used some of his caustic saliva to soften it for the human race.
So whoever decided to make it like mashed potatoes managed to pull off a 'Fat Chance'-style miracle. The mash was delicious and even had an earthiness that made it a tad better than traditional mashed potatoes.
I scooped the mash onto each slice of the roulade to add flavor. The roulade was made of chicken breast but it was still soft. The flavoring was simple: Garlic and a few other flavors that complemented the lightness of the chicken breast.
My only complaint was that the roulade was supposed to have sausage rolled up in it but I didn't taste anything remotely like sausage in the middle. In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd say I was served just a rolled up chicken breast lightly seasoned.
Still, there was enough variety within each bite that I was pretty happy with it.
I would tweak the dish in one of two ways:
1. Pick a contrasting meat like hot Italian sausage or compact ground beef meatball mixture for the center of the roulade. A great roulade is like a Kinder Surprise egg: The outside is delicious with something unexpected in the middle. The center of Beehive's roulade was more of the same.
2. Keep the current filling but use chicken thigh for the outer layer.
Finally, the dessert . . . Oh, Jesus, the dessert.
Dude, it would be impossible for me to express how incredible the flourless chocolate cake was. Fuck the entrées. If you're in the South End, just go for the flourless chocolate cake. In fact, if you go there to socialize, buy this for a girl instead of a drink.
Eating it will keep her from talking too much but it's so good, she won't care. Everybody wins.
Even if I have kids, I will never cry with joy like I did eating that cake. Talk about putting a bow on the evening. read more