Feasting at Fireplace - Brookline

I never understood why my favorite cartoons of all time were called the Looney Tunes. Sure, they were looney, and they got even loonier when I figured out that they weren't really for kids. But tunes? What tunes? Fireplace is almost as incongruous a name for the place as a name like Looney Tunes. Looney Tunes has a single theme song that is forever seared into my brain like Fireplace’s duck (more on that later), but "toons" would have made a lot more sense. Fireplace has one generic-looking fireplace that comes with every standard suburban home, yet everything that touches your lips here is anything but standard.

Looney Tunes appeals to all ages and its humor is timeless. Fireplace offers drinks for all ages, cocktails for the carefree grown-ups and mocktails for those in the throes of cramming for yet another board exam. I don't remember what cocktail Jo ordered, but I remember it being gabaliciously girly but not too pink to have two. My Raspberry Lime Crush mocktail was perfect for keeping the company of a friend who didn't want to drink alone.

Sufferin' sucotash, it really was duck season for the Crispy Duck. Daffy has an amazing breast filet and his legs filled the “Johnnycake” which was really just a sweet crepe. I’ve had real Johnnycake, and the crepe is the more appropriate choice. Never mind the bewildering conclusion that Elmer Fudd actually shot something, he clearly shot him in the thick of winter because there was a layer of oh-so-savory fat. Those who favor fowl would lisp that I'm despicable, but how does anyone say no to skin as crisp as an unruffled chip over meat is just red enough to be juicy but not red enough to bleed. Even the side of sweet little carrots looked almost too pretty to be real, but they suited me perfectly. I've been hearing "Ehhh, what's up doc?" a lot in the past year, and my rotations would be a lot less boring if I gave my patients these carrots to crunch during rounds.

Daffy is a high-maintenance duck, requiring lots of embellishments on his plate. Sylvester is his foil here, a minimalist kitty, who would have loved Fireplace’s Ribeye. Sylvester salivated night and day over a few bites of no-frills Tweety, no bread, no sauce, just a few juicy bird-bites. The red medium-rare ribeye needed no embellishments, just a simple enhancement from the so-called fireplace sauce. The hash brown potatoes were a casserole cheesier than Pepe le Pew's pickup lines, and every bite from this plate tasted like my Tweety.

The dessert menu was Fireplace’s inanimate Pepe le Pew. No means yes, and though you don't want it, you get it anyway. The Strawberry Rhubarb Pie was the best kind of gooey hot mess with a happy ending of honey-thyme ice cream, which Pepe never seems to get. Unlike Penelope, I actually wanted it.

The Ricotta Pie had a crust like sweet playdoh and a lighter-than-air cream with juicy berries that blows your minimalist mind faster than Speedy Gonzales. The lemon zest was about as easy to taste as Speedy is to catch, but it was an amazing pie so no complaints whatsoever.

Don’t let the location deter you. Looney Tunes may be off prime time but you can still get to it through youtube. Fireplace may be way out in Brookline, but I'd tread through brimstone and fire to get there, and I’d walk on water if it rained (because rain puts out brimstone and fire, duh). Don’t let the incongruous name fool you either, if I were to name the place for what it really is, I would have named it Fabulous.