Newsflash. I am neither distinguished nor a gourmand. I am lacking in both success and authority. I do not command great respect. I am afraid of eating. In fact, before 2008, I’m pretty sure the last time I even consumed 1,000 calories in one day was when I was in high school. Food, for me, is a chore. It’s not something that I derive any great pleasure from. It’s a frustrating and oftentimes angering routine that most normal folks perform at least once daily.
Which is why I’m going to start reviewing all the restaurants I eat at here in Los Angeles. For starters (or, as they say in the chef-ing business, “for appetizer”), I know nothing about food preparation. I once cooked pasta, bur normally I just make omelets. Two out of every three omelets turn out bad. My inexperience with cooking makes me a perfect candidate for writing a food column because I have no vocabulary with which to describe what I’m eating. Second of all, my palate is elementary at best. No, make that pre-school. I’ve got the basic “hot”, “cold”, “sweet,” “sour” thing down, but that’s about it. Again, this valuable (and sometimes overlooked) asset makes me a strong candidate to critique eateries. So, without further ado, my first ever restaurant review.
Open seven days a week, Bossa Nova (7181 Sunset Blvd) offers Italian/Brazilian fusion cuisine. Actually, it is more like Brazilian/Italian, because it’s mainly Brazilian food. Plus, the t-shirts they sell had drawings of what (politely…politically correctly…) appeared to be…cultural…uh, dark-skinned, dread-locked characters on them. The predominant colors on the shirt were yellow and green. Perhaps not surprisingly, these are Brazil’s colors. Or at least their World Cup soccer team. The point is, Bossa Nova serves food. Some Italian, some Brazilian. Mostly Brazilian.
Arriving at 8:30 on a Saturday night, a party of two can expect to wait anywhere from twenty to thirty minutes before being seated. During that time, one can survey the grounds, such as the outdoor (or al fresco) patio dining area, or the cozy, water-fountain-featuring inside eating room. No wait — dining room. The subtle sounds of…music fill the air. There was a Michael Jackson song playing. It wasn’t overbearingly loud. One could still carry on a conversation, be it about the anticipated meal, or perhaps something more important, like the day’s baseball scores.
The drink menu features a variety of options, such as “tropical drink”, which is a combination of iced-tea and lemonade — wait for it — mixed together like a slushee. Yeah, real tropical. The beer menu offers three Brazilian beers, one of which is currently (and perhaps permanently) unavailable. The 12 oz. bottle of Xingu poured dark brown, with a modest tan-colored head. The aroma was mostly malts. Sweet. The taste was also malty, and somewhat bland. Crisp and easy to drink. Not bad. Not good.
The open-top container (otherwise known as a basket) with bread in it — placed expertly on the table by a waiter in a baseball cap — featured delicious carb-filled goodness. Cut into squares measuring roughly 1 3/4″ by 2 5/8″, the flour-water-yeast baked-goods were covered in tomato and other stuff. It was savory and nice. Picture bruschetta, but not as crispy. Less toasted, but still warm, buttery and fluffy. Like the density of cornbread with the toppings of bruschetta, Call it…Bruscornetta bread.
Coxinha (pronounced Co-sheen-ya) or “little thigh” is a fried pear-shaped appetizer that is packed with chicken and cheese, battered and deep fried. Served with a small bottle of Cholula, the manageable (read: small) dish makes a warm and tasty start to any Brazilian meal, though it is not mandatory.
Marsala marinated fresh skinless boneless chicken breast arrived grilled and seasoned in a variety of traditional Brazilian spices and junk. The flavor was that of chicken potentially marinated, though it was not entirely obvious anything had been done to the chicken aside from it being thoroughly grilled on both sides. Moving clockwise from the chicken (which was position at six o’clock) the plate consisted of a large portion of white rice, a small container of ketchup, a scoop or two of fresh salsa, something called yucca flour, and a pile of french fries. There should have been a bowl of black beans included, but certain distinguished gourmands prefer not to consume such foul culinary abominations. The choice given to diners was between french fries and fried plantains, but the coxinha was fried enough to not warrant more fried foods on the plate. French fries, as everybody knows, are not actually fried, they’re deeply steeped in a vat of lard or oil. Those are two totally different methods of cooking. Yucca flower, by the way, was completely unfamiliar to this diner. Attempts to mix everything on the plate together before taking a bite proved to be “meh” at best. The fresh salsa and rice went well with the chicken. The yucca flour and french fries were less appetizing.
Bossa Nova’s menu includes many other yummy sounding dishes. The corquete de Camarao (shrimp and cheese in a fried, breaded dough), kibe (a Brazilian-Arabian delicacy made up of deep fried bulghar wheat mixed with ground beef and herbs) should provide eaters with something positive to say. It is no small coincidence that they are both fried dishes. Fried dishes are generally known to be incredible. Other main courses include sandwiches and other grilled items (vegetables, seafood, steak). There are main course salads, but you’d have to be a woman to order a salad. Disregard the Italian food. If you’re looking for a high-quality pasta or pizza, try an authentic Italian restaurant, where the preferred house music consists of famous arias, not a Best Of Michael Jackson compilation.
Carefully chosen for it’s easily accessible Brazilian dishes, Bossa Nova is a good starting point for diners who are unaccustomed to foreign cuisine. There are enough deep-fried offerings to make it comfortable and edible for even the staunchest of culinary Scrooges. Bah humbug? Bat Macumba!
