A Block Party Made for Foodies

Here’s the thing about the annual NE 30th and Killingsworth block party: you need to get there early if you want to stand a chance of tasting all the food (which is pretty much the point of the whole thing). Though last night was damp, there was a good turnout to sample what some of the best restaurants in the area had to offer (unfortunately Beast and Expatriate don’t participate—a shame as it would’ve really added to the event).

There was a line at Yakuza early on for spicy tuna rolls, a kale salad, and remarkable fried chicken pieces. The staff were getting into the spirit of the thing, with the guys dressed as pirates and the ladies in some kind of Disney princess outfit (?). It was noisy as, outside in the music tent, some dude was loudly torturing his guitar; like a pro he played his heart out, despite an audience of three-year-olds, but it seemed the event would have done better with lighter entertainment than a rock-god wannabe.

A lot of the time was spent shuffling in groups trying to either make it to the food or keeping out the way of other people who were on their way to the food, all the while balancing drinks and plates and bumping into tables. In Cocotte we managed to grab a pew to try their roasted carrot and tomato soup, lentils and farro and carrot salad—all of which were very good and an interesting choice for a restaurant that’s usually meat heavy.

Crossing Killingsworth we entered Wilder only to find empty trays and crumbs—we’d missed that boat already. The cook grouchily shouted there was no more free food, which led to the woman bartender to cackle as though it was hilarious we were looking for it in the first place. It was a weird vibe and best left alone.

Autentica was much more welcoming, serving up either tasty pulled pork or mushroom tostadas. A couple of their knock-out margaritas set things right again, though we were going to need them for Nonna. They were serving little pizzas (or possibly flatbreads) with a marinara sauce that were remarkable despite their simplicity. But suddenly a crowd of ravenous vultures appeared and any sense of waiting in line was abandoned as hands grabbed at the trays. It was a vision of what Concordia would become should civilization break down, the old and weak shoved aside for a free canapé.

We sought refuge in DOC. The bad news was that we had missed their dessert. The good news was they were making cocktails instead, including a cracking negroni. Former Mayor Sam Adams showed up and got drinks, and it was an agreeable way to round off the evening—though next year I’ll be there at 4:59 pm, ready to go.