Restaurant Review: 30Boltwood’s Ambiance and Dishes

Ever since my freshman year at Amherst College, the Inn on Boltwood has loomed large in my imagination — a sort of mystical beacon of an opulent life after Amherst — and, for students lucky enough (looking at you, economics majors), the setting of many an alumni networking dinner.

Founded in 1926 and owned by Amherst College, the Inn on Boltwood boasts classic New England architecture; a ballroom; cozy common room; outdoor braziers; and, of course, the subject of my article, the 30Boltwood Restaurant. Coming from California, I found that the entire institution embodied the quintessential New England glamour I had romanticized in the year leading up to my matriculation at Amherst.

I arrived at 30Boltwood last Friday, sometime after 6 p.m., armed with the funds from six-and-a-half hours of teaching assistant work and two of my closest friends whom I somehow managed to rope into (putting it politely) stimulating the Amherst economy.

Upon arrival, we could not find the entrance and wandered through the inn lobby, resisting the urge to snag a complementary sugar-encrusted apple cider doughnut off the pile glittering on a glass tray. A fireplace crackled warmly in the corner, surrounded by plush couches. A walk through a narrow, seemingly dead-end hallway led us, at last, to the main indoor dining room, a dimly lit, umber-hued expanse punctuated by gleaming crystalline glasses. 

Our waiter seemed slightly perplexed by our presence in the restaurant, not sure what to make of three college-aged girls dining among a sea of white-haired businessmen on weekend vacation and prospective Amherst students with their parents. 

We were seated outside on the rooftop balcony, overlooking the grassy expanse behind Porter House on one side and the white brick walls and slanted roof of the inn on the other. String lights cast a soft, golden glow on our table. Crisp white napkins trimmed with navy blue added to the canonically New England feel. Our water was poured into large wine glasses, and an elegant, textured glass water vase was left on our table. 

The menu leans New American, with a distinctly New England twist. It includes classics such as clam chowder and lobster bisque pasta, as well as staples like cheese boards, seasonal salads, an impressive array of seafood and meat entrees, and a smattering of vegetarian options. 

First came the complimentary bread course: three warm, golden squares nestled in a wicker basket with a side of perfectly softened butter. The bread itself was adequate — reasonably light and crispy, though a tad bland and stale once cooled down — definitely not baked in-house. The real highlight was the butter: light and perfectly salted. 

To start, we ordered the tuna and salmon ceviche. The fish was mixed with mango and finely chopped onion in a coconut-lime-cilantro sauce and topped with rice crackers. Visually, it was stunning — a well of finely chopped seafood nested beneath a light shell of puffed rice. Taste-wise, I was underwhelmed. Perhaps I have been spoiled by a summer of quality seafood in Seattle, but the fish had a distinctly fishy flavor, as if it had been aged slightly past its prime. The overall texture was quite soft and homogeneous, evoking images of a large vat of it marinating in the back of one of the fridges. The sauce was decent, but the creaminess of the coconut milk muted the lime’s sharpness. It needed more cilantro flavor and a hint more salt to overpower the slight but undeniable fishiness. The rice cracker, while visually beautiful, was also slightly soggy, ruining the textural contrast.

As for my main dish, I ordered the Faroe Island salmon, which was served with shaved fennel, mint, peas, chorizo, and strawberry Calabrian chili coulis. The salmon itself was high quality and tender. The strawberry coulis was delicious, and the mint fennel garnish complemented the salmon perfectly. In fact, if the chef had simply left the dish at that, it would have been great. However, the peas were slightly overcooked and seemed to be reheated. The chorizo was overly salty and savory, which overpowered the delicate balance of the other ingredients. It also added an unpleasant richness and oily quality to the overall dish. 

One of my friends ordered lobster bisque pasta. If I’d been served it at Betty’s Kitchen, I would have been wowed. However, for $28, I was not impressed. The bucatini was straight from the box and limp from being slightly overcooked. Unsurprisingly, the amount of lobster was meager and diluted by copious amounts of cream and tomato sauce. Crispy breadcrumbs added a welcome garnish, but overall the dish was overly heavy and underseasoned. 

My other friend ordered the Reed Farms chicken, which was decent, if uncreative. It is the sort of dish you could imagine having been on the menu since the restaurant’s founding. However, it was tender and nicely complemented the glace, mashed potatoes, and roasted carrots.

Perhaps growing up in Northern California has left me spoiled by an overabundance of good New American food, but I was unimpressed by my meal. The ingredients were decent, and the menu concept was promising. However, the distinct lack of attention to detail prevented the dishes from being catapulted into the realm of deliciousness. The ingredient ratios were off, and the flavors often didn’t harmonize as well as they could have. In terms of ambiance, the service was rather leisurely and not altogether warm or inviting; however, I must say I could not have asked for a prettier, more idyllic setting.

The final verdict: go for the vibes 100%. However, maybe just leave it at drinks and dessert, and the occasional charcuterie board. And lest I, the resident food snob, sound ungrateful, know that I had an amazing time regardless. Mediocre, overpriced food or not, the most important thing about a meal is the company, and I couldn’t have asked for better. And yes, we grabbed a doughnut on the way out.