Ramparts Tavern Restaurant Review 

Claire McConnel ‘23

 Only one year ago, though it feels like more, my family sat down at a corner booth in Ramparts Tavern (1700 Fern St, open from 11 am - 11 pm). This was a weekly occurrence for us due to the “Burger Night” deal every Tuesday. Our family outing consisted of the same routine every time. Firstly, we would enter the restaurant. Immediately, warmth swarmed us as we appreciated the seasonal decorations. Promptly, a grinning hostess would sweep us away to our booth. There, we piled into mocha brown seats and absorbed the comforting ambiance. Our excitement came in the form of drooling mouths. We knew that our empty bellies would soon be filled with the source of this restaurant’s delectable smell. 

 

 After settling in, a familiar face always approached the table and asked, “What were you thinking for drinks?” This question was then followed by, “We also have some great appetizers!” I already had my answer memorized. I wanted a root beer and a helping of barbeque chicken wings. Everything my parents said faded to background noise while I waited for my saucy appetizer. I surveyed each passing waiter, praying that they were carrying my food. When the moment finally came, I sprang to the plate. It was piled high with dripping chicken wings. I devoured one after another, pausing every so often for a swig of bubbling root beer. My stomach quickly filled with contentment. However, I ceased eating with the knowledge that there was much more in store for this meal.

 

 The waiter returned and inquired what we wanted for the main course. One by one, each member of the family requested a burger that fit their exact requirements. Mine was simple, a medium-well cheeseburger with a side of sweet potato fries. As soon as the last chicken wing 

was gone, our entrees replaced their spot on the table. 

 

An array of decadent burgers crowded the space. I glanced over to my right. A steaming double-patty cheeseburger with extra bacon and no tomato sat in front of my brother. Then my gaze wandered to my parents. They were both preparing to gulp down tex mex turkey burgers. Finally, I stared at the heaping plate in front of me, my masterpiece. Yellow cheese oozed from the side of a slightly charred patty. Neatly stacked lettuce, tomato, and pickles snuggled into the cheese. Then, the piece de resistance, a fluffy bun perched on top of its delicious throne. Despite the number of times I had eaten this exact order, the first bite was always invigorating. The sour pickle married the smoked beef in a heavenly union. Fresh slices of tomato only accentuated this perfection. Tucked to the side of the burger were a dozen sweet potato fries. A crispy exterior disguised their soft insides. Within a matter of minutes, every porcelain plate at the table was bare. 

 

 After the waiter cleared our dishes, I leaned back and allowed the cushion to support my weight. The air hummed with the chitter-chatter of surrounding customers. In the moments before the bill arrived, exponential gratefulness washed over me as I observed my loved ones laughing amongst themselves. With the arrival of the check, I knew our evening was over.

 

However, my feelings of gratitude and comfort did not subside as we exited the restaurant. They stayed with me as we ventured out into the cold and to our car. While the food was incredible, the best thing about this tavern was elsewhere. What made these experiences special was how Ramparts allowed my family to take a break from our busy lives and have quality time with one another.