Now that I’m back in Boston after long months of travel, I’m back to my life too. I’m back to my day-to-day as a med student, back to my food scene as a Bostonian, two things I stopped appreciating until I realized they could be missed. But then a place like Garden at the Cellar comes along, and suddenly all those things I took for granted are twirling round and round right before my eyes, like my classmates in their beautiful dresses dancing our last dance at our last med school dance. I don’t love all my classmates equally, but each of them witnessed my journey from clueless college grad to clueless doctor, just like I witnessed theirs. And I don’t love all Boston restaurants equally, but like my classmates, they followed me through my journey from opinionated eater to fastidious foodie.
When I first came to Boston, I didn’t even know Bacon-Wrapped Dates existed. I knew that dates sometimes came encircled by lard, but that’s another story for another time. I also learned that you don’t really know the definition of fine dining until you’re slammed with a gooey barrel of blue cheese bound by a salty-crisp strip. And it wasn’t until my friends helped me study physiology to pass that I realized just how exceptional they were.
There are some things a good med student never says no to. Every opportunity to throw a line of sutures should be grasped with the vise-grip of a locked Kelly clamp, and every chance to sink your teeth into Foie Gras and Cheddar Donuts should be jumped on like front-row tickets to the Celtics. Unfortunately, the Celtics went down to the Rockets in double-overtime at the one game I saw, a defeat as ignominious as my plate of overcooked foie gras. The donuts were as dense as the opposing team’s field goals, and the crabapple compote did nothing to sweeten the sour loss.
I wanted to try the smoked sturgeon, but when I heard the special was Bone Marrow, I was all in. Because bone marrow reminds me of my time in med school, something impossibly rich that I will always be able to savor, for all the years to come. I’ve never forgotten a single bite of bone marrow I’ve taken, and I don’t think I’ll ever remember my class any way but fondly. Even when things aren’t ideal, like the slightly stringy beef short-rib, a sprinkle of the bone marrow will still make it just a little bit better.
After two years of science and two years of clinic, there is nothing I love more than the satire of a serious subject. And Garden at the Cellar had me at the Animal Burger, a beef patty covered with California contraband, its namesake a staple of their precious In-N-Out.
My feelings about the Animal Burger alternated with each bite, much like each and every med school lecture. Med school tried to cram too many dense, rich, complex things from cover to cover, but somehow we digested it all. And between the pate, the crackling pork skin and the thick beef patty, I'm surprised I could even fit my mouth around it. Just make sure multiple people share this burger, which is hard when you're a med student, since most of us are too busy studying to actually have friends.
In med school, I had the best of times and I had the worst of times. Everything we did was the product of intense, over-achieving crammers determined to palm the world with our fingertips. And sometimes, I think we did, but part of the balancing act is to know when you’ve grabbed enough. A little restraint goes a long way the night before the boards, and no one ever failed from not doing the optional 5-hour surgery. And that's why I struggle with Garden at the Cellar. I love it, and like all the places I hit during indulgence week, this place has mastered the luxurious, the over-the-top, and the bit-too-much. But a med student has limited power for a reason, and a chef with free reign over the world's finest ingredients should see the great responsibility that lies with his power. But there's also a reason that Garden at the Cellar has become one of my greater-Boston favorites: Their chef has no restraint, and neither do I.
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