At a place with a name like "Yankee Doodle Taproom," one cannot help but expect some flying colors. I did. When I veered into its sunken stone stairwell off the corner of Palmer Square, I must say, I expected a little fanfare. I expected stars and stripes. Hearty American burgers accompanied by hearty American fries. Waiters with flag tattoos fluttering across their bicep.
But I got none of the above. Rather, as I pushed open the solid oak door of the "Yankee Doodle," I was greeted by a room that suggested a good mix of the sporty Irish pub, the dim, woody, severity of a Scandinavian hunting lodge and "Middle Earth." In fact, the only decisively Yankee Doodle characteristic of the taproom was the painting itself — a gift from Norman Rockwell that now hangs above the room's hemispherical oak bar.
Taproom
This is not to say that the taproom lacked character. On the contrary, it seemed to effuse flavor, free, as it was, from an allegiance to any cohesive theme.
From an ambiance standpoint, the restaurant offered an interesting blend of genres. I ate among women with sweater sets and jeweled purses, yet whenever I looked up from my dinner I encountered the poster-white, parted thighs of an early Princeton men's basketball team.
Our cloth napkins were elaborately folded, but the plastic straws were delivered inside their paper wrappers. Candles in our booth created a sophisticated atmosphere. They also illuminated the table's centerpiece which consisted of a vase of wilting flowers.
Perhaps the most curious decoration was the restaurant's window wells. Outside the glass, the convex aluminum siding was painted with jungle scenes, rivers spilling through layers of tropical fauna, and in any other location, they might have contained fossilized trilobites and plaques outlining the climatic peculiarities of the Pleistocene era.
Like the ambiance, the food at the "Yankee Doodle" transcended classification. I anticipated a menu showcasing such patriotic monstrosities as the Denny's Fourth of July waffle. Again, I was pleasantly surprised. The taproom offered the classics: burgers, grilled sandwiches, strawberry shortcake. But even the superficially American selections sported a nice European spin.
Though the waitress recommended the vodka scallops and the steak Caesar salad, I could not help but go with the obvious oxymoron: marinated duck and wild mushroom quesadilla served with a topping of fresh mango salsa. For the price of a very mediocre plate of fish and chips, I experienced a culinary and cultural masterpiece. The duck was both tender and flavorful but subtle enough not to overpower the satisfying smoothness of cheese.
The desserts were equally impressive. Making the most of my budget I sampled three: peanut-butter chocolate mousse, a Bailey's Irish Cream white chocolate cheesecake and strawberry shortcake. Not only was presentation elegant, but taste was superb. My personal favorite was the cheesecake although the mousse was also terrific. Ironically, it was the red and white shortcake that was least inspired of the three.
Service
Service in the "Yankee Doodle" was slow but pleasant. In another setting the languor might have inspired frustration. But in the taproom, it seemed natural. It gave a sense of timelessness, and it allowed me to sink over the course of the meal into my wide oak booth until I was sure I had grown back in the history of the place itself.
Indeed, it is probably the taproom's shifty history that gives the restaurant such an eclectic feel.
The "Yankee Doodle" is actually the lowest level of Princeton's "Nassau Inn," which was built in 1756 by Judge Thomas Leonard and has served a host of functions and a plethora of peoples since. The inn originated as a type of hostel for college students.
By the late 1700's it had grown to become the center of Princeton's activity, and soon, not only students but prominent members of the upper class frequented the hotel as well. Paul Revere, the First Continental Congress, and select signers of the Declaration of Independence all stayed as guests. During the civil war the inn converted to a type of military refuge. Not until 1937 was it renovated to the "Nassau Inn" it is today.
Even today the taproom appeals to an odd mixture of social class. Students are represented, in pictures on the wall, and in person. Professors wander in for an evening pint and live entertainment. And business elite make up perhaps the most sizable chunk.
But even the sophisticated can have their fun in the "Yankee Doodle." Across the room at the bar, a group of suit and tie sporting men shake their mugs at the football game and bark "hoi, hoi, hoi" when the waitress brought them another round.
I ask her if she gets people like this often. "Yes," she says, "the business type comes here a lot. It's convenient for them. I don't always no where they're coming from, but they leave $90 tips, so they can say anything they want to me."
Anecdote
Before I leave I ask her to tell me one anecdote about the place. At the beginning of dinner I had noticed the tables were completely covered with etchings. "Ok," she says, "I got one. Einstein carved his name into the table over there." She points into the corner. "Thank you," I say. As I stand to leave, I push my own plate out of the way. "DICK" it says.
But these inconsistencies do not seem tacky. Rather, they refresh. These ironies are the charm of the place.
As for the window wells, there are no apologies.
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