SPORTS DEPOT
Like most sports bars, the Sports Depot isn’t much to look at, wedged as it is into an unsavory corner of Lower Allston. Inside, it looks like someone shanghaied an unwitting farmer’s barn and filled it with 50-odd flat screens and a bevy of amicably tipsy people. On our visit, three games flash across the screens: the Sox versus the Royals, the Celtics versus the Bucks, and the Mets versus the Cardinals. We don’t exactly get sports, so naturally, we take turns picking out which Sox player we’d bang first.
The Depot’s menu is extensive, on both the food and drink tips. The 20 beers on tap include old standbys (Sam, Bud and Miller aplenty) as well as some rarer offerings (the suddenly popular Leinenkugel and the just-as-buzzy Blue Moon Spring Ale). Food means munchies: pizzas, “Mexican,” deep-fried offerings and, of course, burgers. The buffalo wings ($8.99) make our eyes burn from the fumes, but they’re satisfyingly tender and sinus-clearingly tangy. A heaping taco salad ($9.99) in an oily tortilla bowl hides a rich vein of ground beef beneath layers of iceberg lettuce, shredded cheddar, jalapeño slices and other familiar accoutrements of tacodom. The cheeseburger club ($8.99) is more direct—two medium-rare patties peering out from between three layers of oozing cheddar and toasted bread. The meat’s plenty juicy, but the accompanying fries taste like they came half-baked from a bag.
With the kitchen open until 12:30am, the Sports Depot is the place to go if you’re jonesing for a brew and some decent grub while you get your sports-fan rocks off. And if the taco salad inspires the runs, no biggie—even the bathrooms have TVs. [JS]
[353 Cambridge St., Allston. 617.783.2300. sportsdepotboston.com]
THE STADIUM SPORTS BAR & GRILL
Though I’m not one to hold a fine layer of ubiquitous grime against a drinking establishment, I feel I ought to give the Stadium props for general sparkliness. The cavernous yet brightly lit dining room that flanks the long mahogany bar is immaculate—I half expect to see bits of shrink-wrap still clinging to the taps.
It’s Wednesday evening, trivia night is in full swing, and the Sox are well on their way to destroying Kansas City (we hope) on the 30-plus flat-screens that dominate the crown molding. Hungry as the devil, we avoid yuppie-girl bait like mozzarella-and-tomato crostini and fruity martinis, and go straight for the classics: burgers, beers and the six-app Grand Slam sampler ($12.95).
Soon, we’re happily sucking down a UFO ($4.50) and a Guinness ($5.75). Unfortunately, we discover that the Stadium’s pristine-ness extends to the kitchen: Our apps arrive fairly uncontaminated by flavor. The buffalo wings are decent, light on sauce but packing a fair amount of heat, and with a side of blue cheese dressing saved from creamy ignominy by a few teeny chunks. Fried pucks of mozzarella in the shape of little baseball diamonds are cute, but the bacon-and-cheese potato skins are lackluster, the teriyaki beef skewers sweetly bland, and the Stadium Rolls—a tasteless mush of chicken, onions and peppers rolled up in fried tortillas—well-nigh inedible.
By the time the burgers ($6.95) show up, I’ve abandoned all hope. (Our waitress had already cautioned me against getting mine “rare”—an ominous sign, and one I never heed in any case, FDA be damned.) They arrive intimidatingly chewy and juiceless, with a pile of fries that taste heavily of the frialator.
All in all, the Stadium’s a disappointment—like a barroom flirt that has all the right pickup lines, but just isn’t giving off any chemistry. I’d take a grubbier pub with a mean burger any day. [LH]
[232 Old Colony Ave., South Boston. 617.269.5100. stadiumbars.com]
THE BASEBALL TAVERN
The new kid on the block is actually the old guy from down the street: The venerable old Baseball Tavern has relocated from its classic digs to the sprawling four-level former bootyplex that was Sophia’s (or the drag-queen disco barn that was Quest, depending on how far back you go). The result is not nearly as throbby as either predecessor, but rather a roomy, highly affordable, no-frills sports bar with blissfully basic and gratifyingly cheap food and beer.
There are a little over 20 TVs spread over its four levels (most of them plasma, Mr. Fussypants), a couple of jukeboxes, a pool table, a dusty baby grand and, of course, a Golden Tee—all the essentials. What will endear people to the Baseball Tavern, though, are the extras—if you consider a $5 twin hot dog plate an extra, which I do. A double cheeseburger with thick slices of white onion on a plush bun comes plopped alongside a heap of crispy fries, and (with bacon) will run you $6.50. The “Rooney” rib eye seems fancy at $8, arriving on a loud garlicky roll. For those simply looking to lay a foundation, a slapdash grilled cheese is $4. Solid.
Perhaps the best feature of the Baseball Tavern is its roof deck. Fully tricked out with a bar, a spread of patio tables and three plasmas all its own, the deck affords rail-leaners an eye-level view of Fenway’s nosebleed seats, as well as a sliver of the JumboTron. It might not sound like much, but come game day, with the sun slowly setting and a cold cup of Widmer ($3) gradually warming in your hand, even a residual din from the ballpark can make you feel like you’re right in the middle of the action—albeit the majorly cheap seats. Now, let’s get you away from that railing. [MB]
