On approach, the Black & White Grilled looked like a roadside drive-up where you’d stop for an ice cream cone or, perhaps, wieners and a soft drink and eat at one of the picnic tables. Then, after a closer look, you might notice that it has more of a sense of permanence, like one of those mid-century roadhouses that used to scatter the countryside before the Interstate system siphoned off so much of the traffic.

In reality, the Black & White is a bit of both those things. More importantly, and much to our delight, it’s also a place to sit down and enjoy some delicious cuisine. Once we’d walked past the picnic area and ice cream window and actually stepped inside, we faced a sports barish lounge area and, to our left, a small dining room with a half dozen or so booths. The place gave off a friendly, embracing vibe.

After my friend and I selected a booth, Emily, our server, introduced herself and assisted me in choosing a glass of beer. She’d prove to be “a natural” at the hospitality gig – always there when needed, knowledgeable about the menu, enthusiastic and honest in her advice. My first taste at the Black & White was from my glass of Amherst Jess IPA. Absolutely delicious, with a balance of bitter and citrus. A theme was advanced.

In choosing appetizers, my attention was immediately drawn to the Honey Sriracha Shrimp. We decided to share an order. If there’s a better item on their menu, I’m going back tomorrow! Six jumbo shrimp had been fried in a tempura-like batter – golden brown and puffy, crisp and light. Then, they were coated in warm, honey-infused-withthe-spiciness-of-sriracha chili sauce and drizzled with a creamy cucumber wasabi dressing. From juicy shrimp to tasty coatings to spicy breading, we savored every bite. And, I admit, I even ate the tails and licked honey from my fingers. Basically, everything around me was sticky after this appetizer.

When it came to entrées, I backed down on my personal decision to curtail fried foods and ordered the Whole Belly Clam Dinner. It was, after all, one of the last hot days of late summer; this was probably the final chance to observe one of the season’s finest traditions. In my opinion, the universe of fried clams divides neatly as thus: Strips (industrially processed) or Real (fresh and whole-bellied); Greasy or Crunchy (both have their place). Black & White’s clams were superior in every way. These medium-sized clams were free of grit, fried in impeccably fresh oil and served in huge quantity over a shallow bed of crispy French fries. No oily texture. No strange-flavored, overstuffed bellies. These were sweet and tender morsels that set the satisfaction meter to “sets new standard for excellence.”

My friend’s entrée approached the Black & White’s claims to homemade from another direction. His choice of Chicken Cordon Bleu was gamble based on its sorrowful history. Anyone attending just about any banquet event in the ’80s will remember this menu item as a dried-out travesty, with chicken breasts that tasted as if they’d been extruded from an imitation food machine, cooked hours ahead of time and left to sit withering under heating lamps. Cordon Bleu got such a bad reputation that no one’s been willing to touch it in years. Until now, that is. Black & White took real chicken meat, folded it around slices of tender ham and Swiss cheese and baked it in a mild cream sauce. It was not overbaked – the ingredients were moist and their honest flavors had melded together – but it was still served piping hot. Give the chef the blue ribbon! It came served with a huge baked potato and a medley of late-season vegetables.

This had been a lot of food, but it was such a surprising encounter with distinctive flavors and accomplished cooking that dessert should at least be considered. Pumpkin items had already crept into the dessert offerings, but – primarily based upon Emily’s recommendation – we opted for a wedge of Pistachio Layer Cake. Nice choice. This looked like it came from grandma’s kitchen; two layers of white cake slathered with thick and rich pistachio cream frosting. In the center of the middle layer was a contrasting filling of raspberry cream. For good measure, it was topped with a cherry and fluffy whipped cream. We attacked it in a blaze of fancy fork work. And then it was history.

After such a tasty meal, I was left wondering: Why did it take so long to find this place? Does the town of Spencer consider the Black & White to be its own big secret? That aside, I was happy to have finally discovered it. The Black & White’s coziness appealed to me as perfect for any time of year. Certainly a return trip, as we head into autumn and ice cream cones become a thing of fond roadside memories, is in order.

Black & White Grille
206 N. Spencer Road, Spencer, MA
(508) 885-5018
Blackandwhitegrille.com

Bernie Whitmore