For Leaving Clover
In many ways, it is just like any other evening at the eclectic Harvard Square mainstay Clover Food Lab. Flannel-clad, dreadlock-sporting 20-somethings mix breezily with briefcase-toting button-ups. The restaurant’s chipper staff affably fields orders for its locavore offerings, and a somewhat bemused group of new customers stands around trying to make sense of the eatery’s unusual ordering system.
But tonight is louder, boozier, and more emotional: Clover is holding a “farewell party” to say goodbye to its location at 7 Holyoke St. in the Smith Campus Center.
Hints of nostalgia abound in the industrial-themed, spartanly decorated restaurant. A shaky handheld video of the restaurant’s first day of business plays in a loop on wall-mounted televisions. A circuitous timeline covers one of the walls, recounting Clover’s short but environmentally-sustainable history.
As I wade through the motley crowd of Cloverites enjoying beer and vegetarian fare, my ears are graced with the melody of a live band twanging the dulcet tones of Pure Prairie League’s “Amie” on banjo and fiddles from Clover’s mezzanine.
As a frequent patron of Clover—the first restaurant I ever ate at in Harvard Square—I share the nostalgia of the employees, customers, and members of the wider Clover community exchanging hugs over the lilt of soft rock.
Suspecting that the staff shares my gnawing sense of sentimentality, I track down Lucia Jazayeri, Clover’s Director of Communications, to ask her how she feels about the move.
“I’m getting kind of sad now,” Jazayeri says, glancing up from her work on a Clover-themed photo montage. But Jazayeri says she is optimistic about HSQ2—the name of Clover’s new Harvard Square location—and notes the 1326 Massachussets Avenue address’s historic value.
The new location’s tilework is original, dating back 103 years, to the days of the historic Waldorf cafeteria, an eatery founded in 1913 and popular with undergrads through the 1950s. The new location opened Tuesday.
Though Clover’s history is much shorter, it’s inspired its share of loyal customers, according to Jazayeri.
“I was taking orders today and I met a couple of customers that have been eating with us since the beginning,” Jazayeri says. “Just random people in line that have literally been coming here for the past five years.”
One of such faithful customers is Troy Schuler, a skinny-framed, mop-headed Law School graduate who fits the Clover mold well. He tells me that he used to patronize the restaurant about three times a week in his Law School days.
“I took multiple exams here—eight-hour take-homes—so I have a lot of attachment to this space,” Schuler says.
While it may seem an odd place for a take-home (the brutalist, concrete Smith center is far from inviting), Clover manages to maintain a cozy ambience. A long-time employee tells me that the ivy covering the back wall dates back to the restaurant’s first days, and exists only as the result of diligent and loving employee care. The other walls are covered by children’s drawings, many of which mention Clover. “I can’t eat your food…. But I love the smell,” proclaims a hungry robot, who spares the restaurant its mechanical fury.
Perhaps none are as distraught by Clover’s move as the 51 undergraduate members of Clover Watch, a Groupme dedicated to all things Clover.
On the day of the closing, one heartbroken member of Clover Watch posted a photograph of a tall cup of Clover’s signature lemonade bearing a “HSQ1 Becomes HSQ2” sticker.
“Bittersweet :/ (not the lemonade, that shit is great) but gah hsq2’s gonna be tiiiiiiny,” reads the caption of the photo, a copy of which was obtained by The Crimson.