I don’t often play the role of “tourist,” but when Girlfriend and I spent a long weekend in Boston, I tried to put aside the hunt for local gems and regional food history that normally dominates my meals on the road. That’s how I ended up learning about the Penguin salt shake at the New England Aquarium, rather than drinking a penguin salt shake in a Chinatown basement.

Our visit to Mike’s Pastry got me thinking on what it means to call a restaurant a “tourist trap.” If Magnolia Bakery can be called a tourist trap, should I do the same for Mike’s? And how exactly do we speak to the fact that most “tourist traps” are neither traps, nor are they expressly pointed at tourists?

That said, an oversized, $3 cannolo not much better than what I can have at Rocco’s in New York isn’t exactly where I would point visitors if I were a local. But Mike’s still has perfectly competent pastries, a bit of class, and a good dose of charm, and I didn’t feel cheated in the slightest as we walked up and down the streets of Boston’s north end, tiny chocolate chips tumbling off as we shared a dessert that plenty of Bostonians have been enjoying for years.

Likewise, dinner at Pizzeria Regina wasn’t exactly a culinary landmark, but it was still wholly enjoyable to duck into this almost-century-old pizzeria, sink into the joint’s subdued clamor, and dig into a hearty margherita pie.

While Regina’s atmosphere mirrored that of Grimaldi’s or Totonno’s, its pizza had a distinctly less refined bent. Heavy coats of tomato sauce and mozzarella, more comforting than tantalizing, resembled the kind of pizza I grew up with. The pie’s brick-oven crust, pleasingly crisp and unevenly browned on its bottom, was a highlight, despite its less memorable flavor, and made this the kind of local favorite I’d spring for over pitchers of beer as a Boston resident.

An upscale dinner with my friend Brendan at Island Creek Oyster Bar was quite the opposite. For me, this meal was a happy compromise between the Chowhound hero and the pricey, special-occasion meal, and I truly loved it.

The restaurant’s raw oysters, ranging from $2.00 to $4.00 depending on how far they traveled to be eaten down the road from Fenway Park, make a delicious meal entirely on their own. Of the four New England varieties we sampled, Island Creek’s own Duxbury oysters were my personal favorite – I’m no oyster shucker, but their balanced, not-too-briny flavor and clean, sweet finish made for the refreshing, addictive gulp that I’m sure a good oyster embodies.

Island Creek’s bread, studded with carraway seeds and bits of rosemary and served with a pat of particularly sweet butter, would have been enough to round out the meal. The house’s fish and chips turned out to be a happy addition, each hunk of whiting encased in crisp, puffy beer batter and each chip tasting faintly of fresh potato. The entire spread was nicely capped by Island Creek’s house pilsner, a clean, palate-cleansing brew with a bittersweet tint, especially well suited for washing down fresh seafood.

Oysters, and beer continued their love affair at Harpoon Brewery, where we took a factory tour and tasted every one of Harpoon’s beers on tap for $5. It’s an experience I would recommend to pretty much anyone who likes beer, especially stouts. While I’ve never been impressed by the brewery’s flagship IPA, I was won over immediately by their limited run Oyster Stout – a crisp, drinkable stout whose salt-and-mineral flavors make its roasted, malty flavors pop that much more. I found this one so tasty and refreshing that I lugged four big bottles back to New York after downing three ounces of the stuff.

In what was probably the biggest tourist move of our weekend, Girlfriend and I ordered $18 lobster rolls at Yankee Lobster Fish Market, just around the corner from the brewery. Too much mayo and too much mincing got in the way of what was actually pretty decent lobster, but at that point I was in little position to complain. The fact that Yankee Lobster’s fries were expertly double-fried helped quite a bit, but so did the fact that I was on spring vacation with a wonderful lady.

Sometimes enjoying the simple things actually requires simplifying how you go about the day – food included. Maybe that’s what turns a tourist trap into a tactical meal. Maybe it’s just worth shutting my mouth once in a while to smell the oysters. Either way, I’m looking forward to the next sunny weekend in a world where food isn’t my everything.

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 3rd, 2011 at 11:57 pm and is filed under travel.