Grease Is the Word

Face it, folks: Tommy's sucked. The perpetually undercooked burgers, as the staff rightly notes, hardened our arteries, and the fetid French fries sat heavily in out stomachs like so many rotten matzoh balls. Sure, Crimson editors have frequented the joint for two-and-a-half decades, but not for the oily atmosphere, astronomical prices, unfriendly help or intolerable faux-cuisine.

What, if anything, did we like about Tommy's? Well, it wasn't far away--only a few dozen paces from The Crimson. It did business long after Bartley's and Au Bon Pain closed each night. And it served a passable cup of coffee.

These are our main concerns, and we hope that the new, pizza-peddling avatar of Tommy's will take them to heart. The new management should remain open at least until 2 a.m. and should keep the java flowing.

Although one more pizza place may oversate the Square's appetite for pepperoni, Neo-Tommy's will inevitably improve upon the sad-sack hole-in-the-wall it replaced. The new owner may give the place the thorough scrubdown it deserves and may follow up, with any luck, by replacing the grumpy old staff.

Besides, the food can't get any worse.