A home away from home

Upon entering the house-turned-restaurant The Runcible Spoon, I felt as though I had been invited there for dinner.

My friend and I were invited to sit where we pleased. We chose a pair of worn armchairs snuggled in the corner of a room. The peppy hostess greeted us like we had been friends for years, and all my anxieties of college life trickled away from me.

Rustic homemade meals are characteristic of Runcible Spoon head chefs David Nash and Matt O'Neill, harkening back to simpler days before fast food. The ingredients in the lunch and dinner menus are quite simple and few, but they sure do pack a punch. We began our meals with soup: I had the black bean; and my friend had the tomato, garlic and basil. Served with lightly toasted, super-dark pumpernickel bread, our starters were brought to us promptly by our charismatic waiter. Though the black-bean soup was decent, it lacked the zesty and sweet-spicy vigor of the tomato soup. Consequently, I kept mooching spoonfuls of the tomato soup from my friend, losing myself in its melting pot of flavors, while the black bean lay abandoned.

Our two entrees were equally delicious. Craving lighter fare, I went with the "Veg Plate": a succulent blend of piping-hot seasonal sauteed veggies, piled high over a bed of lightly fried potatoes, which tasted almost like The Runcible Spoon's famed breakfast hash browns. The flavors of the vegetables worked well together, blending carrots, onions, zucchini, spinach and tomatoes that burst in my mouth when I bit them, all topped with the freshly-chopped basil found in the tomato soup.

My friend ordered a burger for his meal, and what a burger it was. As savory and juicy as they come, layered with lettuce, onion and tomato and sandwiched between toasted buns, you wouldn't even know it was a veggie burger. Calling it the "Spicy Black Bean Burger," the Spoon remakes the hallmark of American barbeque cuisine into a healthful, grease-free alternative that preserves all the rugged allure of its beef counterpart, without the gastro-intestinal sorrow. And for the extremely low price of $4.95, we felt almost guilty for getting so much satisfaction out of the dish.

To finish off our dinner, we wallowed in the sexy, sultry richness of the Triple Chocolate Bundt Cake. Generously cut, the cake was drizzled with two different types of chocolate, flanked by massive mounds of fresh whipped cream. Make sure to have a cup of in-house roasted, fair-trade coffee the cafe section of the restaurant serves, because you will need something strong to match the depth of the cake.

Although the food was outstanding, it's the eccentric character of the Runcible Spoon that would keep me coming back again and again. Nowhere else do friendly conversations regularly leap from table to table nor do Celtic musicians hold their band practices in the side room. The people who eat there are fixtures of the restaurant, and it has true potential to be a home away from home.