A couple months ago, we heard a terrible rumor: Redline, the hip late night spot in Harvard Square, was closing its doors. Fearing the worst, we headed over to pay or respects. More than a few memorable nights went down in the place back in the day and attention needed to be paid. There was a time when scarcely a week would pass without my twenty-something-self stepping foot inside. My friend Kate and I stumbled onto it during our very first night out in Harvard Square in 2002 after moving here from the west coast. At the time, we lived out on the Allston-Brighton boarder and nights out in Cambridge meant a long walk, a bus ride and a pricey cab ride back home (since the buses conveniently stopped running before the bars closed). Redline was where birthdays were feted and where groups headed en mass after FAS holiday parties; it was the place where we raced down the clock on the last night that it was legal to smoke in bars*, where I passed my final night as a single gal and the site of various other unmentionables. Most importantly, Redline was the place where I met a charming young computer science graduate student who, 8 years later, is now my husband!
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| the night before our wedding |
Despite all the nights spent at Redline, I can count on one hand (with fingers to spare) the number of times we actually ate there. Somehow, Redline never struck us as the place to go for a nice meal. Were we ever wrong. By chance on out last night there, we arrived with rumbling bellies and were thrilled to learn that the kitchen was still open. The place has changed over the years. The dance floor where I first bumped into Konrad is now a dining room and we were seated feet from where we met. How's that for a perfect way to say goodbye? Turning to the menu, I ordered the veggie kabobs, which came served on bed of carmelized faro, topped with a delectable corn cream sauce, dotted with basil oil, and accompanied with a smattering of crispy polenta fries. I was hooked from the first bite and so was Konrad; he kept reaching over for more and more tastes.
The dish haunted me for days and weeks afterward. So much so that when we kicked off BBQ season, I set out to replicate it. We dutifully chopped up a mixture of veggies and drizzled them with olive oil and seasoning. As Konrad fired up the grill, I got busy mixing up a corn cream sauce. Feeling my way rather than working from a recipe, I sautéed an onion and then added a can of corn. I let it cook briefly before adding a cup of vegetable broth and a bay leaf. I let the mixture simmer as the veggies roasted and then drained off the broth and pureed the onion and kernels with a couple splashes of cream and a dash of salt and pepper. I couldn't quite figure out how exactly to caramelize farro and instead just prepared it the conventional way. That part still needs some work but, all in all, the results weren't all bad. Definitely something we’ll be making again and I’d wager that the sauce will be even better with fresh local corn.
*Note: This was a long time ago, back when I was young and stupid. Watching a loved one suffer and die from a smoking-related disease reformed me and fast. Not that it was ever a common past-time to begin with.
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