A real best Cellar indeed

Hot town, summer in the city, and after another sadomasochistic afternoon of apartment rental torture, I found myself annoyed, tuckered, and parched. Rather than squint and sweat in the sun, I went against the once sage words of the wee lady from “Poltergeist” and chose to head away from the light.

A flight of stone steps descends into The Cellar, the closest thing to an English gastropub (yeah, I know the term is overused) this girl’s seen since she last skipped across the pond. There’s no icy British reserve here — this staff is all smiles. Crisps, um… chips, are for sale behind the bar and the TV broadcasts the Euro Cup. But I don’t recommend succumbing to salty bar snack temptation — unless that means their rosemary truffle fries — when you can bask in seasonal goodness of their menu(s). Insider tip: Even if you’re downstairs, you can order from the upstairs restaurant — the greenhouse-affected Garden at the Cellar — any day but Monday (aka “OK to eat the bar chips day”). To thwart the potential dine and dash, edibles must be pre-paid upon ordering.

This visit I dug into the fried green tomato BLT. After the first toothsome bite, I was speaking in drawls. If you need fur-ther proof how great this bar fare is, they once served me the wrong order, but it was so dang tasty that I kept my mouth shut (except when opening it for another bite). With beer paraphernalia as décor, this is not the haunt for fancy cocktails. They don’t accept credit cards, they serve beer, wine and mixed drinks (including a Bloody Mary that is bloody great) in short glasses for cheap. And with the most beatific bartender in town serving you, you’re always welcome.

The Cellar
991 Mass. Ave., Cambridge
617-876-2580
MBTA: Red line to Harvard
www.gardenatthecellar.com

Kate Coughlin is a freelance writer living in Boston.