Steve K.
Yelp
Forget setting up cable accounts and moving couches up five-floor walkups: the real problem with moving across any major body from where all your friends live is figuring out where to meet in the middle to get your booze on. Unfortunately, recently, this has meant that the exact middle ground is somewhere smack dab in the middle of downtown overpriced cover-charged alco-hell.
Confession: I do love the big-fancy-beer-list opportunities that drinking downtown can afford, but when I actually can't afford them, there's nothing I like better than a dive.
Hence the solution: Eddie C's is about as divey as it gets without landing in the harbor, and I don't really care to know anyone who'd turn down the occasional $8 pitcher of 'Gansett and free plate of mini-pretzels.
In terms of victuals, Eddie's is about as no-frills as it gets. There's something like five taps, I defy you to find a pint (all of which come served in plastic glasses, mind you) that'll run you more than about three bucks, I've never seen the bottles behind the counter move, and the bar menu includes such fare as (I kid you not) Hot Pockets. (If you want to feel really authentic, though, grab a burrito from across the street and take it to the bar. No one'll look twice.)
Worth noting, though, is the atmosphere. The only real light comes from promotional neon, the walls are plastered in all sorts of signs and clippings best described as "creative", the tables have a habit of being a bit wobbly, "the game" is always on no matter what sport's in season, and the playlist stays somewhere between Barry White and the Bee Gees.
Is it a little dingy? Sure. But if it leaves you with any concern about your personal safety, I have it on authority from the quasi-bouncer (a lifetime East Bostonian who will always chat you up if given the chance) that the owner's status as a former Boston police officer ensures a special kind of security.
Bottom line? You either love it or hate it; for me, Eddie C's makes me realize that there are still bars in Boston where you feel like everybody could, one day, know your name.