Few bars are good for hanging out with friends, awkward meetings with people you don't know, and having dinner with your parents - but somehow Orleans has successfully allowed me to do all three in recent weeks.
Now, you might be wondering, what could this Davis Square restaurant and bar possibly have to offer that kept me coming back, week after week throughout the month of February? Fantastic nine dollar Flirtinis? The coolest ambiance on this side of the Charles? Hip, attractive people to stare at? Or just the fact that it's close to Tufts?
Honestly, that last reason might have been the deciding factor in my case. But there are so many bars in Davis - why on all three nights did I choose the same bar?
Night #1
It was a snowy Thursday evening in early February. After discarding the idea of drinking ourselves into a stupor in our living room and passing out early, my housemates and I began to seriously consider going out. Orleans is close to our residence, has interesting mixed drinks (a must, given that I detest drinking beer,) and is comfortable to hang out in.
Yes, those couches you can glimpse through the windows of Orleans as you walk along Holland Street are as comfortable as they look, perfect to lean back in as you sip your drink. Also, the girls in the group were very interested in going to a place that would force us out of our sweatpants. While not very dressy, the night-time scene at Orleans invites fashionably casual attire.
Once inside we ordered ourselves a drink each and a plate of fries. I wish I could tell you what drinks we ordered and how much they cost, but I've found that people think you are extremely uncool if you take notes for an article at a bar, and for some reason the bar menu is not posted on the Orleans website. Let us say that the mixed drinks average about nine dollars and the fries were about five. While probably not the best Cosmopolitans in the world, they are certainly what I would most recommend off the top of my head. The one caveat is that you have to be prepared to spill a certain percentage of the drink from the tricky martini glasses onto yourself and whoever is unlucky enough to be sitting next to you (wearing black helps hide this).
We thoroughly enjoyed a couple of drinks each, and then decided that the rest of the drinking for the night would have to be had at a cheaper locale: our trusty living room.
Night #2
The second time I went to Orleans this month was for a less routine occasion: cocktails in honor of the Tufts Daily's 25th Anniversary Reunion. Taking place the night before the main events, nobody really knew how many people would show up to the Friday night cocktails. So when the organizers had to find a place that wouldn't be awkward if only five people came (yet was willing to reserve up to 20 spots on a weekend night), Orleans seemed like a good spot.
It worked out very well; the lounge area was casual enough to allow people to perch on the sides of the couches and have private conversations on the periphery of the group. Service was prompt and consistent - nothing is worse than needing a drink to get through a conversation and not having a waitress anywhere in sight. On a night like this, I stuck to drinks not served in martini glasses, which limited my options. I seem to recall having a Black Russian and enjoying it, but don't hold me to that.
By the end of the night the 15 or so people who had straggled in a couple of hours earlier were ending lively conversations and looking forward to the next day. We left the bar in high spirits.
Night #3
By this point you probably think I had moved into those couches, ordered the usual, and resigned myself to a birthday night of chilling in the dimly lit coolness of this now-familiar bar. Yet Orleans was the last thing on my mind as my friends and I finished preparing our house for a party last Saturday. Everything was ready for my birthday bash, and I was just waiting for my sister to arrive from New York so we could order some dinner and relax before the event.
When she rushed through the door, however, we hit a small snag: behind her were the grinning faces of my parents who had decided to surprise me. It had to happen at some point in my college career, and to be honest I was glad to see them, but where would we go for dinner? Piling into the car we tossed around every restaurant we could think of from Davis to Harvard. In the end, the lure of Orleans could not be beat and I resigned myself to my fate.
In the early evening it is actually quite a nice place to take one's parents. It is an establishment classy enough that they feel they're taking you out, but informal enough that nobody is worried about sitting up straight and holding the knife correctly. My parents, of course, opted for the even less formal couches, and soon we were eating an eclectic dinner of burgers, salads, and bruschetta - all accompanied by Cabernet Sauvignon this time. The wine was good, the food was mediocre, and the space was perfect.
And now with February over I can only hope that I will find a new bar for the month -though I highly doubt that any other would be able to serve my various restaurant and bar needs so well.
