Elisa Ludwig heads to Chestnut Hill where she visits Bocelli to find whether the top of the Hill has a spot worth heading.
All of this would be forgivable were the food better than just average. And with a by-the-book straightforward menu like this one, the bar should be reasonably attainable. Mostly, though, the cooking is just not careful. The antipasto plate is a series of helpless vegetables cooked into mushy compliance: crumpling slices of grilled eggplant and melted squash and limp blades of roasted pepper, all swimming in more olive oil than your bread can soak up. The only things not half-dissolved are vaguely sweet carrots, a handful of olives and undercooked potato wedges. Meanwhile, perfectly good mushroom caps are crammed with a gummy filling of crabmeat, lumps of sausage, spinach and roasted pepper.