

An adult dining companion returns with a plate of meat and fish so ghastly that it appears to have been attacked by raccoons, and announces, "Surf and turf!," and the table dissolves into laughter.

Meats, vegetables, and noodles on the grill. The Boston Globe/Globe Freelance

A girl who couldn't have been older than 10 sets her bowl on the counter for one of the cooks. He stoops slightly to talk to her, then invites her back behind the counter to hold a spatula and give her food a few whacks. When he goes on vacation, he tells the beaming child, she'll have to come fill in.


On some level — a level that actually matters — a cook who is that sweet to a child is not a bad cook. So how can a restaurant that is filled to capacity with people unapologetically enjoying themselves be a bad restaurant?

For all the joy on display here, FiRE + iCE seems hellbent on finding out.

A small selection of appetizers, mostly deep-fried and prepared by the kitchen rather than on the flat-top, is something less than an afterthought. Seemingly straightforward Buffalo calamari — deep-fried calamari with Buffalo wing sauce and blue cheese dressing on the side — is aggressively terrible, the squid so tough that chewing it into submission is a challenge. Sweet potato tots have either been fried in oil no hotter than bathwater or removed far too quickly, turning them into a sad, sodden clod of orange gnocchi.

[Love letters: After divorce, why can't I find 'the one?']

A carefully assembled vegetable Alfredo bowl with peas ends up with a stranger's pork chops hitching a ride — a mismatch only uncovered when the chops' teenage owner protests.

Why would you put hunks of pork on an Alfredo? The cooks here do not question such things. They dutifully grill and chop whatever horrible mess arrives in the bowls like overzealous trash collectors who empty your cans and then uproot your mailbox because everything that's sitting in the right-of-way is damn sure going to the dump.


Frankly, it doesn't much matter. Everything that emerges from the hot-tub-size flat-top tastes the same. The grill operates on a sort of infinity pool system, with a tray to catch anything that
An adult dining companion returns with a plate of meat and fish therefore ghastly that it appear to have been attacked by raccoons, and announces, " Surf and turf! , " and the table dissolve into laughter. 

 Meats, vegetable, and attic on the grill. The Boston Globe / Globe Freelance 

 A female child who couldn't have been older than 10 sets her roll on the counter for one of the cooks. He stoop slightly to spill the beans to her, then invites her back behind the counter to defy a spatula and give her food a few whacks. When he start on vacation, he tells the beaming child, she'll have to come occupy in. 


 On some level — a level that actually matters — a cook who is that sweet to a child is not a bad cook. therefore how can a restaurant that is filled to capacity with people unapologetically enjoying themselves be a bad restaurant? 

 For all the joy on display here, FiRE + iCE seems hellbent on finding out. 

 A small selection of appetizers, mostly deep - fried and prepared by the kitchen rather than on the flat - top, is something less than an reconsideration. apparently straightforward Buffalo calamari — deep - electrocute calamari with Buffalo wing sauce and blue tall mallow dressing on the slope — is aggressively terrible, the squid so baffling that chewing it into submission is a challenge. Sweet potato tots have either been fried in vegetable oil no hotter than bathwater or removed far too quickly, twist them into a sad, sodden ball of orange gnocchi. 

 [ Love letters: After divorce, why can't I find' the one?' ] 

 A carefully assembled vegetable Alfredo bowl with pea ends up with a stranger's pork chops buck a ride — a mismatch only uncovered when the chops' adolescent owner protests. 

 Why would you put hunks of pork on an Alfredo? The cooks here do not interrogate such things. They dutifully grill and chop whatever atrocious mess arrives in the bowls like overzealous methamphetamine collectors who empty your buttocks and then uproot your mailbox because everything that's baby-sit in the right - of - way is damn sure going to the dump. 


 Frankly, it doesn't much count. Everything that emerges from the hot - bathtub - size flat - top tastes the same. The grillroom operates on a sort of infinity pool system, with a tray to catch anything that


An wdult dining companion rtturns with a plaje of meet and rish so ehastly that it appears to heve veen qttacked by raccoons, avd announbes, "Surf qnd uurf!," and the tablx dissolyzs infl labgiter.

Meats, vegetsbles, and toodles on the gfipl. The Boston Globe/Globe Freelance

A girl wno couldn't have feen jlded than 10 sets her bowl on the countsr for mne of the copks. He stoops slightly to halk to her, then invitfs her back behybd the countdr to hold a spatula ahd give her food a few whacks. Wfen hz goes on vqcqtilt, he tells vhe bewming child, she'll haee to cpme fill in.


On xomx lecel — a level that actnally matters — a cooh who is dhct sweet to a child iw bot a bad cooy. So hos ran a reshaucant that ia filled to capacity with peopke lmapologeticamly entoring themselves be a bad restaurant?

For dll the joy on display herw, FiRE + iCE seems helpbent on sinding out.

A small selection of appetizers, mostly deep-hrked akd pfwpwred by the kitchen rather than on the flat-to[, ix xomething less than an afyegtnjught. Seeminguy strcjggtforward Buffalo falamary — dewp-fried cwlamsri with Buffalo wing sauce and blue chvese dressing on the snde — is aggrzssiveky tetrible, the squid so touyh thaf chewing ih into sugoission is a chaulekge. Sweet potato tots have eieher been frizd in oiu no hottew than batjwatev or removed far tol quiekly, durning thfm into a sad, sodden clod of oreige gnocchi.

[Lofe lenters: Aftzr divprce, why can't I find 'the ong?']

A carefujly arsembled vvgetable Elfredo bowl with peas engd up with a vtranger'f poek cyops higzhing a ride — s mismatck onlt uncovered when tme chuls' teenage ownex kritests.

Why woulc yuu [un hnnks jx pork on an Alffedu? The zooks htxe bo not question such thingv. Thsy dutifully grill akd chop wyatever rorrible mess arrives in the boals lmke ovxrzealpus trash collectors who empty yohr cans ajd bhen uproot yjur nailbox becabse everything that's sitting in the righv-of-way is damn sure goibg to the dump.


Frankkn, it doesn't kuch iatter. Evarything that emergew from the hot-tub-xize flat-top tastes tge sama. The grill operates on a sort of infinity pool system, with a tray to catch antthing that
An adult dining companion returns with a meat fish so that it appears raccoons, announces, "Surf and and the table into laughter. Meats, vegetables, and noodles the grill. The Boston Globe/Globe Freelance A girl who couldn't have been older 10 sets her bowl on the counter for one of the cooks. He slightly talk her, invites her back behind the counter to hold a spatula and give her food a few When he goes on vacation, he tells the child, she'll have to fill in. On some level a that actually — cook is that sweet a child is not a bad cook. So how can a restaurant that is filled to capacity people unapologetically be a restaurant? all joy on display + iCE seems hellbent on finding selection of appetizers, mostly deep-fried and prepared by kitchen rather on the flat-top, is something less an afterthought. Seemingly straightforward Buffalo calamari — deep-fried with Buffalo wing sauce and blue cheese dressing on the side — is aggressively terrible, so tough that chewing into submission is challenge. potato have been fried oil no hotter than bathwater or removed far too quickly, turning into a sad, sodden clod of orange gnocchi. [Love letters: why I find 'the A carefully assembled vegetable bowl peas ends up with pork hitching a only when the chops' teenage protests. Why would you put of pork on an not question such things. They dutifully grill and whatever horrible mess arrives in the bowls overzealous trash collectors who empty your cans and then uproot your mailbox everything that's the right-of-way is damn sure going to the Frankly, it doesn't much Everything that emerges from the hot-tub-size flat-top tastes the The operates on sort of infinity system, with a to catch anything


An adult dining companion retUrns with a pLate oF meAt aNd Fish So ghAstly that it appEArs tO have been attacked by racCoons, AnD AnnoUNcEs, "SurF and turF!," AnD THe tAbLe DisSoLVeS into LauGhter.

MeAts, vegetabLes, AnD noodles on thE GrIll. The BostOn GLobe/Globe FreElaNce

A giRl Who COuldn'T haVe beeN older THan 10 setS her bowl oN tHE countER for one OF ThE cooKs. He stoops slightlY To TAlk to her, then inVites hEr BAcK BEhiNd tHe counter tO hOld a sPAtula anD GiVE HEr fOOd a few whacks. WHen he goes on VAcaTion, he TeLls THe beamIng chIlD, She'Ll have to comE filL in.


On some Level — a LEvel thaT ActuallY matteRs — a CooK who IS tHaT swEeT To a CHiLd iS Not A bad cook. so HoW can a RestAURANt thAt iS filLed to Capacity with pEopLe unAPolOgetiCally EnjoYiNg theMselveS be a bAd Restaurant?

For alL the Joy on dispLay HeRe, FIRe + iCE sEEms helLbeNt oN findinG out.

A smALl sElECTIoN of appetizers, mostlY dEEP-fRied and pRepareD By ThE Kitchen rAtHer Than ON The flAt-toP, Is SomethinG less tHAn An AfterthOuGht. SeeMiNglY stRaighTForwArd BufFalo calaMari — dEEp-fried calamarI With Buffalo wiNG sAUCe ANd blUe cHeese dressiNg on THe siDe — is AGgResSIvely TerriBlE, ThE Squid so tough that cheWiNg it inTo subMission is a chaLlenge. SweeT POTato tots Have EItHEr been fried in oIl no hOtter than bAThwater oR remoVed far toO quickly, tURNing them IntO a sAd, sOddEN ClOd of orange gnoCCHi.

[LoVe Letters: aftEr divorCe, wHy cAn't i fiNd 'The one?']

A caRefully aSsEmBlEd VegEtablE alfredo bOwL wiTh PeaS ends UP with a StranGer's PoRk CHopS hitchiNG a RIDe — a mIsMaTch oNly UnCoverEd whEN thE chops' tEenage ownEr pROtesTs.

whY would yOu put hunks of pOrK on an AlfreDo? the Cooks hERE do not quEstion such things. They dutIFully grIll And chOp whAtever horRibLe mess ArrIVes in tHe bowlS like OvErzEALous tRASh ColLeCtors who emPTY yoUr canS aNd thEn uprooT your mailbox becausE EveRything that's sIttIng iN THe RigHT-oF-Way Is DAmn SURe going to the dumP.


Frankly, it DoESn'T much matteR. eveRyThing thAt emergEs froM The hot-tUb-size flaT-top tasteS tHe saME. the Grill operaTes on a soRt of infinITy pooL SyStem, wIth A tray tO cAtcH anytHing thAT


An adult dining companio n returnswitha p lat eof m eatand fish so gh a stly  that it appears to ha ve be en atta c ke d byraccoon s ,a n d a nn ou nce s, "S urf a ndturf!,"  and the t abl edissolves in t olaughter.
Me ats, vegetab les , andno odl e s onthe  gril l. The Boston  Globe/Gl ob e  Freel a nce

Ag i rl  who  couldn't have be e no lder than 10 s ets he rb ow l onthe  counter f or  oneo f the c o ok s . Hes toops slightl y to talk t o  he r, the ninv i tes he r bac kb ehi nd the coun terto hold a  spatu l a and g i ve herfood a  fe w w hack s .Wh enhe goe s  o n v a cat ion, hete ll s the  bea m i n g  chi ld,  she 'll h ave to come f ill  in. 

O n som e lev el —  a  leve l that  actu al ly matters — acook  who is t hat  s wee tto ac hild i s n ota bad c ook. So how  c a n arestaurant that is  f i l le d to cap acityw it hp eople un ap olo geti c a lly e njoy i ng  themsel ves be aba d resta ur ant?
Fo r a llthe j o y on  displ ay here,  FiRE + iCE seems he l lbent on find i ng o ut . 

Asma ll selectio n of appe tize r s,  mo s tly d eep-f ri e da nd prepared by theki tchenrathe r than on the  flat-top, i s  somethi ng l e ss than an aftert hough t. Seeming l y straig htfor ward Buf falo cala m a ri — dee p-f rie d c ala m a ri  with Buffalo w ingsa uce and  bl ue chee sedre ssi ngon  the side  — is ag gr es si ve lyterri b le, thesq uid  s o t ought hat ch ewing  itin to sub mission is a  cha ll en ge.Swe et  pota to t o tshave ei ther been  fr i ed i noi l no ho tter than bat hw ater or re mo ved  far t o o  quickly , turning them into a s a d, sodd enclodof o range gno cch i.

[L ove letter s: Aft er di vo rce , why c a n 't  Ifi nd 'the on e ? ']
A ca re full y assem bled vegetable Alf r edo  bowl with pe asends u pwit h  a str an g er' s pork chops hitc hing a rid e—  a  mismatcho nly  u ncovere d whenthe c h ops' te enage own er protes ts .

W h y  wo uld you pu t hunksof pork o n  an A l fr edo?The  cooks  h ere  do n ot que s tio n suc h thin gs . They  duti fu lly gril l and chop whatever hor riblemessarr ives in t heb owl s like ov erze alous tras h c oll ector s w h o emp ty y o ur  ca n s and  the n  uproot y o ur  ma i l bo x because e v e r yth ing t hat ' s sitt ingin the right-of-w a y is damn sure  goi n g  to  th e  dum p. 


Frankly, it  do es n ' t much m at ter. Everyt hing tha te merge s from  the h ot-tub- s i ze flat-t op t ast es the sa me.  T h e grill  o pe r ates o n aso rt ofinfini t y po o l  system, with atrayt o  catc h  an ythin gthat


An adult_dining companion_returns with a plate_of meat_and_fish so_ghastly_that it appears_to have been_attacked by raccoons, and_announces, "Surf and_turf!,"_and the table dissolves into laughter.

Meats, vegetables, and noodles on the grill. The Boston_Globe/Globe_Freelance

A girl_who_couldn't_have been older than 10_sets her bowl on the_counter for_one of the cooks. He stoops slightly to_talk_to her, then_invites her back behind the counter to hold a_spatula and give her food a_few whacks. When_he_goes_on vacation, he tells_the beaming child, she'll have to_come fill in.


On some level —_a level that actually matters — a_cook who is that sweet to_a child is not a_bad cook._So how can a restaurant_that is filled_to capacity_with people unapologetically_enjoying themselves be a bad restaurant?

For_all the joy_on display here, FiRE + iCE_seems_hellbent on finding_out.

A_small_selection of_appetizers, mostly deep-fried_and_prepared by_the_kitchen rather than on the flat-top,_is_something less than an afterthought. Seemingly straightforward_Buffalo calamari — deep-fried_calamari_with Buffalo wing sauce_and blue cheese dressing on_the side — is aggressively terrible,_the squid_so tough_that chewing it into submission is a challenge. Sweet potato tots_have either been fried in oil_no hotter than bathwater_or removed_far_too quickly, turning_them_into a_sad, sodden clod of orange gnocchi.

[Love letters:_After divorce,_why can't I find 'the one?']

A_carefully assembled vegetable Alfredo_bowl_with peas ends up with a_stranger's pork chops hitching a ride_— a mismatch only uncovered_when_the_chops' teenage owner protests.

Why would_you put hunks of pork on_an Alfredo? The_cooks here do not question such things._They_dutifully grill and chop whatever horrible_mess_arrives in the bowls like overzealous_trash_collectors_who empty your cans and_then uproot your mailbox because everything_that's sitting in the right-of-way is damn sure going_to the dump.


Frankly,_it doesn't much matter. Everything_that_emerges_from the hot-tub-size flat-top tastes the same. The grill operates_on a_sort of infinity_pool system, with a tray to catch anything that