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Revival on Brattle Street The Harvest, recently gathered in, sprouts anew. Chef John Delpha proffers a grilled filet mignon with melted marrow. Photograph by Stu Rosner

Until 1975, Cantabrigians ate only beans, cod, and hasty pudding. Then the Harvest restaurant opened, the creation of architect Benjamin Thompson, chairman of the department of architecture at Harvard from 1963 to 1968. He also owned Design Research, the store that clothed us in Marimekkos and put Danish plates on every table. Harvest was at once a showcase for Thompson's crockery and fabrics and a restaurant that offered fresh, seasonal food prepared innovatively. Many notable chefs served apprenticeships there: the establishment begat Lydia Shire of Biba, Frank McClelland of L'Espalier, Jimmy Burke of the Tuscan Grille, and Chris Schlesinger of the East Coast Grille. Harvest fell into a swoon in the '90s and expired in 1997. But for a time, it was the only place to get a very good meal out in Harvard's neighborhood.

That was then. Now, one may dine finely at Rialto or Up Stairs at the Pudding and agreeably at Sandrine's, Giannino, Café Celador, Chez Henri, and other local spots. We have been taught a bit about food and now require Rialto to offer us an appetizer pizza of brandade (cod, with attitude), chanterelles, and greens, anointed with truffle oil containing flecks of gold.

Courage may or may not be needed to launch a restaurant in today's market. A team of investors, led by principals in Boston's Grill 23 & Bar, seem possessed of it, for they have signed a long-term lease on the old Harvest's space, pumped money into reshaping and décor, and hired John Delpha, former sous-chef at Mistral, to mastermind the kitchen. The resurrected Harvest, serving new American cuisine, opened in September.

I would rate it very good but not outstanding. Others I've dined there with --including a restaurant snob from San Francisco--would rate it not yet very good. It needs fine-tuning. The flavors of one's lobster-and-baby-artichoke salad on a warm basil potato pancake are trampled by an assertive dressing. One's grilled veal chop with sage jus arrives untrimmed and coarsely large, like a slab of something at a steakhouse on Route 1. The turnip-and-duck soup is interesting, but one doesn't like it. Yet the blinis with smoked salmon are delicacy itself, the mashed potatoes laced with a subtlety of ground corn are pleasingly inventive, and the desserts--the work of pastry chef Maura Kilpatrick--bring dinner to a refined and delightful conclusion (try the chocolate and sour-cherry bread pudding garnished with pomegranate seeds). Cantabrigians are prepared to be patient, even at about $60 per person for dinner, including wine and tip. Says one, "Yes, the sauce on my steak was both too sweet and too salty, but it's good to have Harvest back."

The waiters and waitresses operate to a high standard and are knowledgeable about the long wine list. They wear a costume of khaki pants, blue button-down shirts, and identical rep striped ties--a nostalgic bow to college garb of the remote 1950s, truly the culinary Dark Ages.

~ C.R.

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