Dinner at The Abbey combines modern flare with Medieval flavor

Animated but never rowdy, The Abbey serves up nostalgia in updated peasant fare that combines modern cuisine with a bit of Old World moxie. Most evenings, the restaurant is filled with neighborhood locals, spanning age ranges and happily rubbing elbows over a drink or dinner. An open kitchen provides an energetic pace to the meal and the Irish drawl of bartender and co-owner Damian Dowling seems the appropriate greeting.

The gleaming, wooden bar dominates the left side of the restaurant to create an upscale, pub-like atmosphere, while a bank of smaller tables occupies the right side, offering a more intimate but uniquely neighborly dining experience with one long pew-like bench—paying appropriate homage to the restaurant namesake—tucked behind a handful of honey-colored tables, each lit with a single candle. A couple of lucky diners can enjoy their evening meal perched on two stools at the kitchen window, where chef Joshua Sherman hands over ordered entrees with a quiet nod and a smile.

Though the lunch menu has several lighter options and sandwiches ($10), The Abbey’s cuisine and atmosphere lend themselves best to an evening meal, when diners can leisurely tuck into close quarters and hearty dishes. Roasted Cornish hen, served on pancetta, cauliflower, and potato hash ($19), is both succulent and peasant-like without being pedestrian. Bison Bolognese ($18) is pleasingly sweet, spicy and texturally satisfying, featuring fresh tagliatelle with a bite that makes the robust meat seem surprisingly delicate. The burger ($12) is a well-dressed and seasoned example of classic, modern pub fare, as are the side of truffle fries ($4.50) and daily flatbread pizzas ($12.50) that fluctuate between the vegetable and meat-lover varieties. The single disappointment is red beet and potato ravioli ($16) with a stuffing that seems a bit washed out, lacking the beety, earthy undertones that would best compliment the starchiness of the potato pasta and nutty, brown, butter jus. Order the duck ravioli instead.

Appetizers are abundant in size and arrive at the table with a presentation that connotes a family-style feast—sautéed mussels in coconut curry broth ($12) are served in a still simmering skillet that threatens to overflow. Lamb ($13) is also a hearty starter with an unadorned arrangement that would seem prehistoric if featuring a larger cut of meat. It is a certain palate pleaser combined with a crisp and creamy goat cheese brulee and a title, “lamb lollipops,” that accurately describes the manner in which every drop of mint oil and aged balsamic vinegar is scraped from the plate not with a fork or spoon but with a lamb rib held firmly in the hands. Crispy buffalo pork belly ($4.50) is an indulgence that is almost gluttonous in its unapologetically simple display of piping hot curls of fat that melt in the mouth, while deviled bacon and eggs ($4) and smoked cod fritters ($5) are classic flavors with a more refined, but never fussy, presentation. Side dishes, including shredded Brussels sprouts ($4.50) and spicy julienned snow peas ($4.50), are also a mix of modern and Medieval.

Located on a bar-heavy block of Beacon Street, The Abbey’s drink menu is stiff competition with a large selection of scotch and spirits ($7-$24). The modest beer list features a mix of local and seasonal options ($3.50-$12) and wines by the glass ($7-$11) are well-paired, generous pours. Cocktail selections are quietly debonair with options such as the Skinny Gingerman ($10) and Autumn Sangria ($10) as festive companions to a late night snack from the savory menu that is served, in full, until 1:30a.m. Dessert is not on the menu, but you won’t miss it. Diners simply arrive hungry, eat leisurely, and go home sated with hearty, wholesome flavors.

No pictures, I'm afraid; the setting is just too intimate. You'll simply have to come and visit me to see for yourself. Futon available for overnight stays in the event that we stuff ourselves with cornish game hen and sautéed mussels to a food-coma inducing point that prohibits a late-night drive home.