By Anne DesBrisay
The captain’s chairs have the gnarly look you want from a place that calls itself a tavern. So do the checkered linoleum floors and the beat-up table bases.
But where did the white linen napkins come from? The reclaimed wooden table tops? What about the luscious beurre noisette in the butter pot? That same noon hour at the Elmdale Oyster House & Tavern, sitting in front of me was a stainless steel bowl with a pound of the best mussels I’ve had all year. If this is the tavern for the modern age — with a kitchen and a bar that shucks oysters — I’m for it.