March Foodie: Esteban Rosas
Esteban Rosas takes the reins at Black Market.
The homemade pickles on the plate in front of us weren’t exactly the ones our grandmothers made us as kids. There were cucumbers, yes, though mostly to support the lightly brined stars: hunks of crunchy daikon radish with a subtle bite of kimchi; a beet-pickled egg blushing pink. A single slender ramp—a wild leek foraged in spring—snaked around to a glistening dollop of peanut spread. Was this the new wave of pub grub, or just some quirky concoction dreamed up by a pregnant chef? And just how did the folks at Black Market, the much–buzzed-about, long-awaited nouvelle comfort-food spot tucked at the end of the Mass Ave restaurant district, expect us to approach it? “People eat it all kinds of ways,” said co-owner Ed Rudisell, smiling from behind the bar where we sat sipping glasses of wine. “We don’t tell customers how to do it.”