The Imperfect Beauty of Bossa

Food, art, and conversation in a slow, savory setting.

By Rekha Murthy

Bossa is the kind of place you try to describe, but you end up with more like a list of parts. What's so pleasant about the place and its menu is that the parts sound disparate, but they come together in a warm, homey harmony. The atmosphere is set with intimate lighting that you can still read by, music of varied genres at a level you can talk over, and an arrangement that gives a sense of salon without banged elbows.

Looking at Rachid, a proprietary figure decked in urban black, it's a bit of a stretch to imagine he literally built Bossa with his own hands. From the look on his face when he tells me the previous tenant was Red Sea, an Ethiopian eatery, I can tell it took a lot of work. And a lot of thought. When I ask about his vision for the space, Rachid quotes the architect, Marcel Breuer:

Colors which you can hear with ears;
Sounds to see with eyes;
The void you touch with your elbows;
The taste of space on your tongue;
The fragrance of dimensions
The juice of stone…

My friends and I tried hard, but we couldn't find anything wrong with the menu, which was much more affordable than the quality and ingredients might indicate. There was one exception: a gummy chocolate tart with a lackluster crust. But many quite excellent options remained.

I cut my pistachio-crusted rack of lamb with a dinner knife. Anna and Julia barely spoke as they savored through their gnocchi, which had little to do with potato dumplings; these were gnocchi a la Parisienne, made of feathery light pate a choux. Janko and Marcy chewed their beef tenderloin slowly, not because it was tough (which it wasn't), but because the meat and its mild peppercorns deserved extra time on the tongue. Eli had to be gently pressured to share her exquisite salmon garnished with caramelized onions. Accompaniments were well chosen, such as shiitake mushrooms and white bean ragout. The bread, made on the premises, was warm and good.

The best part was that no one lapsed into food coma, even though we cleaned the copious plates. I suspect it was the judicious use of oil that kept everything light and clean. Rachid claims it's because the meats are free range and the fish is not farmed. Whatever the reason, we all had room for dessert. Get the cheesecake or the crème caramel, both tasty complements to the meal.

Bossa has enough space, in a diversity of treatments, to appeal to all but those in a rowdy mood. There's more than the food, in keeping with Rachid's eclectic vision of a space that encourages visual, aural, and conversational arts. Poetry readings on the second Monday of each month are open to all. Live music on Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday aims to enhance, not dominate, the atmosphere, with a mostly house, downtempo, and Latin mix. Same with the DJs who spin on weekend evenings.

"My mother told me there is beauty in imperfection," says Rachid, as he scans the irregularly exposed brick and brightly colored paintings on the floor along the walls, where they will stay. I'm seeing the beauty, too.

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