I celebrated my nephew’s birthday in a high end (or so I thought) swishy Boston, many stars restaurant. I robbed a bank to afford it and put on a dress. I don’t know which is more unfamiliar to me: wearing a dress, robbing a bank, or my nephew wearing dress shoes. But, we both knew we had to dress up to go to No 9 Park.
The tip-off that swishy then and now came early. While waiting for our table, a man in plaid Bermuda shorts, T-shirt and neon orange sneakers paused outside the restaurant as my nephew observed, “as if reading the menu and wondering if he’d like to come back some time.”
Well, that some time was now. He was just making sure it was the right place. In he and his party came. “Table for 3 for Mr. Neon Orange, please”.
All throughout dinner, more casually dressed (and I’m being kind here with this description) traipsed on by our table on the way to the rest room.
I made the reservations through “Open Table” the online service that “No 9 Park” uses.
My guess is the end of ‘swishy Boston restaurant’ began when not enough swells and power suits were turning up at the door (2008, 2009 anyone?) and the allure of foodies riding a tour bus connected to Open Table paid the rent.
The food was delicious. Some of which I could even pronounce. Pistachio Cremé Brulee sounded just perfect and was. I still needed to rob a bank but my nephew has a blister on his heel that he didn’t need to have. How Mr. Neon Orange paid for his fois gras, I do not know.
PS. After our dinner we walked through the Public Gardens on the way to the Back Bay train station. As these young men approached us, I thought, “These boys must have a reservation at No 9 Park.”
