Brains and beer
B y Carrie Lock

MIRACLE OF SCIENCE BAR AND GRILL
321 Massachusetts Ave, Cambridge, 617-868-2866
Central Square T-stop

Sometimes it seems inevitable that a particular neighborhood house a particular restaurant, as if the fates themselves deemed it so. Miracle of Science fits so perfectly with nearby MIT that it’s almost symbiotic. Located a few blocks from the ethnic restaurants and funky boutiques that dot Mass Ave in Cambridge, the casual American eatery has a style all its own: geek, and loving it.

The restaurant itself is small and charming, in that bland high-ceilings-and-exposed-brick way so typical of many American bars—except for the science. There are no laminated menus here. A mock periodic table displays the food choices, organized by genre: appetizers instead of alkali metals, desserts instead of noble gasses. The slate gray lab tables remind you of high school chemistry class, as do the microscope, gyroscope, and some sort of old-fashioned meter sitting atop the bar. (Amp meter? voltmeter? ohmmeter? You almost feel guilty for not being able to recognize it on sight, as if the bar expects you to be as well-versed in science as it is.) Geometric patterns are everywhere, most visibly in the giant triangle-themed light hanging prominently in the center of the bar. Was it supposed to look like a Klingon warship, or was my dinner companion just starting to see science wherever she looked? It’s hard to tell, but it’s a unique way to hide a smoke detector and certainly makes for interesting conversation.

The crowd, too, was different from that at most college joints. MIT students and local professionals, as expected, perched on the bar stools enjoying draft beers, with one alarming exception—a notable dearth of women. The one female in the entire restaurant (outside of our party) was our waitress, Ashleigh, whose fetching pink blouse added a dash of femininity to an otherwise overwhelming sea of testosterone and plaid. Ashleigh, however, disputed the notion that women shy away from Miracle of Science, claiming that the night before, 50 women held a management conference under the glow of the Klingon warship light. Thursday, however, is a biker crowd – “science bikers,” Ashleigh says.

The bar offers six beers on tap and much longer list of typical bottle beers, as well as wine and liquor options. The patrons, however, seemed to overwhelmingly prefer draft beer, a choice that seemed to fit Miracle of Science better than a glass of chardonnay or a martini. I chose a Brooklyn Lager ($4.25), one of my favorite beers that doesn’t often appear on tap here in Boston. Guinness, Bass, UFO, and the locals Tremont Ale and Ipswich Ale rounded out the draft beer offerings. Whether the lack of light and low-carb beers is delightful or lamentable depends on the patron, but this isn’t the crowd to order Michelob Ultra in mass quantities.

The menu itself is not nearly as experimental as the décor. The standard burgers and quesadillas are joined by an impressive array of skewers. As an appetizer, the chicken skewer ($4.75) was delicious, more moist and flavorful than I expected. It was served with a warm tortilla wrap, red onions, and a creamy peanut paste with a kick. Delightfully, the chicken came off the skewer easily in bite-sized chunks, a feat of engineering I wish other restaurants would adopt. We also tried the chickpea hummus appetizer ($6.50), which was disappointing. The pita bread was slightly salty, and the hummus was unusually sweet. The flavor contrast was intriguing, but it couldn’t make up for the thin watery texture of the hummus.

The skewers were such a hit as an appetizer that one of my dining companions tried two more, steak and shrimp ($9.50) for an entrée. As if fearing the food would be bland compared to the place itself, both were vehemently over-spiced. The natural flavors of the meat may have been succulent and delicious, but we’ll never know over the assault of pepper and cayenne. The skewers were served with a side of forgettable coleslaw and a very interesting white bean, pineapple, and blueberry salsa, which could have used more cilantro. Perhaps it could have borrowed some from the runny turkey chipotle chili ($4.50), served with a halo of tortilla chips, which was overshadowed by a too-liberal use of the herb. Happily, the saving grace of Miracle of Science is its popular burgers. Large and juicy, with—finally—just the right balance of flavors, the burger with cheddar cheese on a toasted bun ($7.50) was a hit. In a delightful turn of events, a thick tomato-and-onion paste filled in for ketchup, and roasted red bliss potatoes replaced the greasy fries another college bar would serve.

The burgers are by far the biggest draw of Miracle of Science, according to fellow patron Brad, especially at lunchtime when the restaurant is packed. A disproportionate number of other diners were eating them as well, including one guy at the next table who appeared to be explaining a mystifying scientific concept to his companion by pouring a mountain of salt on his tabletop and drawing in it with his fingers. Brad also gleefully informed us that the restaurant used to be the lab space of an MIT professor. Regardless of whether that’s actually true, it certainly adds to Miracle of Science’s affectation. Ultimately, the restaurant’s food makes a valiant effort to keep up with its quirky theme, but in the end it’s just another decent college eatery that has inexplicably and whole-heartedly won the devotion of its regulars.