by Crystal Coser ‘12
December 2009 Issue

Ah, L’Espalier. The name alone sends a tingle down from my palate and fills me with a sense of deep-seated longing, but the “$$$$” listing tends to keep this food lust at bay. Fortunately, my mom was recently in town, and like all savvy college students, I knew how to maneuver myself into a fabulous meal.

Charged with anticipation, my mother and I strode to 774 Boylston and arrived at large metal doors. Past the entrance, we found ourselves greeted by a host in a miniature elevator foyer. We were directed to take the elevator up to the dining room. This was not just any old elevator – it was a glass elevator à la Willy Wonka. Talk about perfect prelude to my dining fantasies.

Immediately upon arrival, I was filled with a sense of sophisticated homey comfort that comes only with an exquisite interior designer. We arrived in a marble lobby adjacent to an area that very much resembled a family room, a magnum of Dom Perignon on ice and all. Well, more like family room of my dreams.

After having been seated at a wonderful window-side table overlooking Boylston, my mother and I eagerly awaited the bread service. It may seem frivolous to recount what can be a negligible preface to a meal, but at L’Espalier, every facet of the dining experience, including the bread, is exquisite. A tray of bread was brought to our table with warm Kalamata olive and sourdough, and was served with soft peaks of butter. I need to pause here for a second to talk about this butter. This wasn’t just any old mass-market variety- this was butter that would make Ina Garten and Paula Deen fall to their knees. We used the bread merely as a vehicle on which we could pile this soft, unimaginably creamy, rich, and salty primrose pleasure.

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