Brookline eatery serves up an authentic slice of Spain
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Deborah and Julio de Haro, who own a new Spanish restaurant that hugs a corner in Brookline, are obviously on a mission. With graciousness, some good food, and detailed explanations on the menu about just what taberna (tavern) eating is like in Spain, the de Haros intend to give diners more than a meal.
Americans have come to identify Spain with tapas, one description of the fare at Taberna de Haro (the word tapas means lid, and tapas were originally served on a plate set on top of a glass of wine or sherry). But in the American way, tapas transmogrified into all sorts of flights of fancy, some good, some disastrous, in restaurants so far geographically and spiritually removed from Spain as to be laughable - Middle Eastern tapas, Japanese tapas, Southwestern tapas.
Taberna de Haro aims for authenticity, and its owners work hard to convey the ambience as well as the food of Spain.
The feel of the place is reassuring as soon as one walks in: Painted in a deep yellow, the small room is dominated on one side by a large mahogany bar where the proprietors seem always to be pouring wine and advising customers on a vintage, handing out little samples of potato salad, chatting with regulars. Deborah de Haro is the chef; her husband handles the wines and sherries. Together they owned a restaurant that served American fare in Julio de Haro's native Madrid before deciding to bring Spanish food to Brookline.
As the menu explains, a taberna is a casual spot for food and drink. This one fits the bill, the tables small and a bit tippy, the decorations simple and the atmosphere cheery. The only thing missing is the haze of cigarette smoke that adds a certain patina - and discomfort for nonsmokers - in Spain.
We start with pinchos, or canapes on bread. Solomillo con Cabrales is a succulent miniature beef tenderloin on a slice of bread that gains an extra depth of flavor against the piquancy of melted Asturian blue cheese. Brandade, codfish and garlic puree, is a mild version of the dish; it might benefit from a little extra garlic, although otherwise garlic is used liberally at Taberna. Many of these appetizer-size concoctions on bread require a fork and knife to eat, especially because the menu is heavy with meat.
My favorite is an excellent veal sausage with roasted red peppers and a dollop of garlic mayonnaise. Julio de Haro, in a phone interview, speaks passionately about finding ingredients and told of discovering a veal sausage that comes close to the fine Catalan butifarra. The white sausage is delicately flavored and juicy, and more than enough for several to share.
De Haro tells of the Madrid custom of friends getting together and bar-hopping, going to one spot where the calamari is famed, another for its sherry, then somewhere else for Basque specialties. The custom embraces sharing dishes and conviviality. To Bostonians, where diners seem to hew to the traditional meal plan and want plenty for their money, sharing many small dishes might seem odd. And it does take a bit of planning to come out with enough, but not too much, for a table of two or three or four.
One evening we share a plate of serrano ham, salty leaves of intensely flavored meat. We eat sauteed spinach, redolent of garlic, then sweetened with golden raisins and toasted pine nuts. (In fact, the menu is short on greens so I found ordering this tasty spinach dish to be necessary each visit.) Four grilled lamb chops, plain except for a sprinkle of chopped parsley, are plump and moist; chicken legs marinated in sherry, sprinkled with saffron, and dredged in finely chopped almonds are also delicious. The wait staff has been attentive this evening, moving us to a more comfortable table, refilling water glasses, promptly bringing dishes as they're ready from the kitchen. As we sip a fine Pesquera Cosecha '93 and taste an unusual dish of finely chopped braised red peppers, zucchini, tomatoes, and onions topped with poached egg, the Spanish experience is palpable.
But there are times - and dishes - that slip here. On another visit, gambas al ajillo, shrimp served in the clay dish in which they are cooked, are pleasant but need much more of a kick of garlic to be really good, and the number of them, about 10 medium-sized, is a little skimpy for $14. Croquettes of bechamel are crisp on the outside and creamy within but don't have the promised ham. And the escarole salad with fried garlic and pomegranate seeds needs something to tie it together, more dressing perhaps. But the main drawback this evening is the service, as lackluster as it is personable another night. The waitress brings marinated grilled lamb on skewers instead of lamb chops we ordered, seems unsure about wines and sherries, and has no idea how to identify the Spanish cheeses with which we finish our meal.
The five cheeses, which Julio de Haro explained later, are the crumbly, strong-flavored Asturian blue cheese called Cabrales; mahon, a cow's milk variety; a firm Manchego; a full-flavored torta del Casar from the province near Portugal; and a tangy goats' milk palancar. The cheeses are remarkable, each one delicious, and the variety nicely balanced. They deserve trumpeting, as well as explanation.
Desserts can be inconsistent. An almond-orange torte, a flat wedge of cake dusted with powdered sugar, is good, a pleasant way to end a meal. Apple flan is delicious with a thick covering of caramelized apples. Vanilla soup, a sort of more liquid version of custard, would taste fine if it wasn't so heavily dusted with cinnamon. And pears poached in red wine would have been good, too, except they are definitely undercooked and crunchy.
Taberna de Haro is endearing in so many ways, in the earnestness of its proprietors, in the wonderful selection of wines and beers, in the lovingly gathered Spanish ingredients and careful cooking. The enjoyment is worth overlooking a few flaws.
