The South End Is So Over

Ten-year South End habitué Elle Hoxie is a marketing manager at a local software company who after work dons casual hipster threads that reveal her tattoos. “This neighborhood has totally lost its authenticity,” she says. “We had such high hopes for the Beehive when it opened, but we don’t go anymore. The only cool people are the bartenders—half the guys who drink there have whales on their pants!”

That may be because the neighborhood itself “is not what it was 10 years ago,” says Beehive co-owner Jack Bardy, who has lived in the South End for 15 years. “It’s families with children, empty-nesters. There are more restaurants now, and not enough neighborhood folks to support them all.” The early rush, he says, was largely people coming to see what the fuss was about. “I wouldn’t judge us based on our first few months, but rather what we’re evolving into.”

As a seven-year South End resident (and freelance food writer), I’ve followed the transformation of the neighborhood’s acclaimed dining scene, tracking how new restaurants have served as bellwethers for the leading edge of gentrification. The southward trend began nearly 30 years ago, when Icarus opened in its original location on Tremont Street, then gradually proceeded to Washington Street, finally extending this year to Harrison Avenue, where spots like Rocca and Gaslight have made locals feel safer on stretches of sidewalk that only recently seemed seedy. The past 12 months have also seen the debuts of Oishii Boston, one of the city’s priciest restaurants, and Myers + Chang, a pan-Asian joint in the headquarters of homeless-services agency Project Place. Down the block on Washington, the long-vacant Penny Savings Bank is about to welcome Banq, serving French-Asian fusion; not far away is Plum Produce, the most audacious addition to Barbara Lynch’s Waltham Street mini-mall for deep-pocketed foodies, where tomatoes go for $8 a pound and arugula, $12. Meanwhile, on Columbus, beloved dive Tim’s Tavern has been replaced by Coda, which swapped Tim’s giant burgers with fancy cocktails, fine wines, and upscale comfort food.

Rocca and Gaslight continue a movement initiated two years ago by suburbanite-safe havens like Sibling Rivalry and Stella: They’re high-end and scene-y, and offer fairly unchallenging menus. They’re also easy to drive to, thanks to their valet service or, in the case of Rocca and Gaslight, their heavily promoted free parking in nearby lots. Many patrons arrive in their luxury SUVs, dine, and drive away again. They don’t look like the kind of crowd that first drew transplants like my wife and me to the South End. One summer evening, as we strolled past the patio scrum at Stella, she said aloud what I was thinking:

“Who the hell are these people, and what are they doing in our neighborhood?”