Getting into the pub part of the menu, fish and chips ($10) did not seem to be beer-battered, as the menu promised, but that could be a good thing. The usual problem with fish and chips is that, in order to get the fish frying right, the French fries are limp and pale. Here both fish and fries were browned past crisp, which some people like (but not me). The house-made tartar sauce was quite good.
Those entrées might go down better with drinks, and yet, ironically, one of the intended hangover dishes, a full Irish breakfast ($11), was good enough to comfort even those not afflicted. A heap of perfectly fried potato cubes was served with two eggs, meaty-crisp Irish bacon, melt-in-your mouth bangers, slices of white and black pudding, baked beans (unavailable, so I was given extra bangers), and a huge hunk of whole-wheat soda bread.
Should you desire a hangover anyhow, don't distress: all the cocktails look deadly sweet and my draught Sam Adams seasonal Noble Pils ($5/glass; $15/pitcher) on one visit had the spoiled finish of a badly cleaned tap. (Another night I enjoyed a clean Guinness.) That sent us to wines by the glass, but the two we tried tasted like the bottles had been open for a day or three.
The wine list has no vintage years (bad sign), and our MacMurray Ranch pinot noir ($10/glass; $38/bottle) was barely identifiable by variety, just a light red wine. McWilliams shiraz ($7.50; $27) had a little more stuffing, but nothing very specific. If your group can deal with a bottle, it is the safer play, unless you are dining very late. Decaf coffee ($2) was, however, a fresh pot for early eaters, so it was thin but drinkable. No cream, just whole milk. Admittedly, this was a dark Sunday night at Symphony Hall, and college break was in full swing— elsewhere— but the restaurant was also out of several entrées and appetizers.
Symphony 8 did have desserts, and we rather liked the giant brownie soufflé ($7), even if it wasn't a real soufflé but an undercooked brownie for four under a big scoop of your choice of gelati. Key-lime pie ($7) was the smallest dessert, but accurately flavored, other than some sickly sweet decorative green blobs that tasted like lime Life Savers.
Service on the odd slow Sunday night was good, other than the kitchen being out of a lot of things. At least underworked servers don't ask how everything is more than twice, though we did experience a long pause between courses and were asked a couple of times, "Are you still working on that?"
The room is filled with tables painted black, booths and chairs, and large TV screens set up so half your party can see a game. The soundtrack is stuck in, like, 1980 pop hits. Very weird period, since the target demographic for drinking with comfort food is people conceived to these songs, while the pre-Symphony crowd is getting ready for, you know, a symphony.
Robert Nadeau can be reached at robtnadeau@aol.com.
