She’s a Smoke … House
Many places in the Northeast claim to have their roots down with good ole Texas barbeque, and in décor, perhaps they are right. But when it comes to the edible portion of such claims, things often turn ugly: soggy ribs, flabby brisket (sans smoke ring!) and “light” fixins – this latter point a sin beyond rectification.
Barbeque-seekers in Boston usually need to travel across a few zip codes in order to find smoked meats worthy of ingesting. For those less inclined to pair “car travel” with “eat,” there is The Village Smokehouse, a trip down the green line to Brookline Village.
Walk inside and you’re greeted with the typical Western-themed heehaw look diners have grown to know and even expect from “authentic” barbeque joints. But enough of that, who cares what the tablecloth looks like when sitting before a heaping pile of meat?
And heaping piles there be. Brisket, ribs, pulled pork, steaks, things fried, things grilled, things grilled then fried. Some you can eat with your hands, others you can’t, but no one will care if you do anyway. Prices are reasonable (a three-item combo will run you $20), even more so in the context of the sheer volume of food one can consume in a single sitting. The same can be said for the food itself.
The best part of the Village Smokehouse just may be its takeout pseudonym: The Feeding Frenzy. For a relatively small fee, some poor soul will shovel food into a large receptacle, one which you then take home to consume in the privacy of your own home. The bargain begins with the $50 tub of 225 meatballs (who’s counting this?) and continues down to the number three special, priced at $240, which feeds up to 12 lumberjacks, or a handful of nursery school teachers (simply ravenous they are).
– Greg White
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