Put on some Coltrane.
Tuck a well-thumbed Kerouac tome into your back pocket.
Know that “Plus de steak, s’il vous plait” means “More steak, please” in French.
There. You’re ready.
For this: Beat Brasserie, your new subterranean Paris-in-the-’60s brasserie and live jazz haunt from the Beehive people, now open in Cambridge.
As far as clandestine Harvard Square revelry asylums go, this is... certainly one of those. Handmade beaded chandeliers: check. Walls adorned with psychedelic murals: you bet. Two chestnut bars, a freestanding wood sculpture nicknamed Farrah Fawcett (just because, we assume) and tables made from Long Island willow trees: you get the point.
If not, just grab a date, head down the stairs and assess. Claim a table facing the stage for some nightly live jazz and funk music. Rounds of Thai-tea-infused Rum Cha Yen cocktails will follow. So will stems of small-production wines on tap. It’ll feel right. Just... right.
But that stretch of leather booths and white-linen-swathed tables over there could also work for a big dinner party. Which is as good a time as any to call upon aged ribeyes, apple-and-bacon-stuffed pork racks and classic French onion soup.
That’s how you know it’s French.
Tuck a well-thumbed Kerouac tome into your back pocket.
Know that “Plus de steak, s’il vous plait” means “More steak, please” in French.
There. You’re ready.
For this: Beat Brasserie, your new subterranean Paris-in-the-’60s brasserie and live jazz haunt from the Beehive people, now open in Cambridge.
As far as clandestine Harvard Square revelry asylums go, this is... certainly one of those. Handmade beaded chandeliers: check. Walls adorned with psychedelic murals: you bet. Two chestnut bars, a freestanding wood sculpture nicknamed Farrah Fawcett (just because, we assume) and tables made from Long Island willow trees: you get the point.
If not, just grab a date, head down the stairs and assess. Claim a table facing the stage for some nightly live jazz and funk music. Rounds of Thai-tea-infused Rum Cha Yen cocktails will follow. So will stems of small-production wines on tap. It’ll feel right. Just... right.
But that stretch of leather booths and white-linen-swathed tables over there could also work for a big dinner party. Which is as good a time as any to call upon aged ribeyes, apple-and-bacon-stuffed pork racks and classic French onion soup.
That’s how you know it’s French.
