read.
Boka
A FAMILY AFFAIR / August 2009
Privileged. Independent. Sophisticated. Accomplished with a slight air of heir-apparent elitism.
There’s something about the first-born.
Accuse me of narrow-minded stereotype-pandering all you want, but admit it – those hackneyed ideas about birth order are trite because they’re generally true. And besides, I’m not talking about you, narcissist. Though while we’re on it – only child, right? (Thought so. Takes one to know one.)
And since I was raised to believe also that I’m never wrong, I’ll tell you something else: restaurants, like kids (totes analogous), are far from impervious to their relative place in familial history. Whether by play or plate, it takes little to discern a first-born.
And BOKA has eldest written all over it.
The inaugural venture from city pseudo-celebs Kevin Boehm and Rob Katz, the Halsted St. culinary veteran garners its title from the surnames of its founders, a veritable portmanteau of proud parenthood. After six years and two-ish more restaurants under their belt – Landmark, Perennial and the soon-to-be-opened Drunken Goat (hence the ish) – BOKA still wears its first-born badge proudly. With the accolade-adorned Chef Giuseppe Tentori at the helm (accomplished, check), BOKA drops progressive contemporary American cuisine (there’s independent) at the highest price point in the group (God, so privileged). As for the service/space/sustenance trifecta? Sophisticated. How fitting.
Take, for starters, the Big Eye Tuna, a mini-but-mighty crudo composition that stands out as the best of the raw menu. Sumptuous on its own, the fish dish owes its complexity to the wasabi-edamame puree, dashi gelee and spicy quail egg accoutrements that, when combined, create something approaching liquefied heaven. The flavor profiles are diverse, but distinguishable, and all manifest in a single, delectable bite. BOKA’s Big Eye is like the Mr. Right of raw fish: rich, bright, and with a touch of spice.
You’ll find a likewise layered affair in the whitefish entrée, its black garlic emulsion adding depth to the candy-don’t-hold-a-candle-to-it sweetness of the corn puree. Maitake mushrooms lend their earthy, fungal flair, the fish’s ancho chili dusting kicks in with a flicker of heat, and your tongue delights in the sensory bonanza of it all. This dish is your so-not-vanilla whitefish – and nowhere is Tentori’s talent for combining flavors in a manner both creative and clean more apparent.
If you’re seeking poise-cum-panache, however, look no further than the cocktail list – mixologist Daniel de Oliveira’s polished compositions make for ideal aperitifs you more than just might find yourself revisiting post-meal. Don’t neglect to order the High Voltage, a passionfruit-and-egg-white wet dream that has tart/tang/froth and bitter in all the right places. It’s the brûlée on top, though, that makes it brilliant. Daniel’s drinks are sexy and refined, the kind you want to consume with reckless abandon and then fantasize about afterward. If it weren’t for the cocktail’s stiffness coupled with the fact that I am, at best, a two-drink drunk, I would have been epicureally obligated to order another. I pass the responsibility on to you.
Admittedly, BOKA’s ambition doesn’t always result in flawless execution; the spinach-and-pineapple stuffed squid tasted little of either and the sweetbreads – a usual Serena gimme – were just too pancreatic for my palate (though the plate-sharing veal tongue was delicious). But for its occasional misses, there are scores of redemptive hits. And when the food fails you, you can savor in something else – like, say, the way affable servers, or the quintessentially charming space. For me, the twinkling light-bedecked back patio does the trick. And if it doesn’t, another High Voltage certainly will.
After six years, Rob and Kevin have cultivated quite the culinary family, each distinctive in its own right: Landmark as shape-shifting middle child, Perennial as the attention-grabbing scene-stealer. And BOKA will likely forever be the pièce de résistance progeny. Its fare is also, according to one candid server, “so much better than Landmark pizza.”
Such a typical first-born thing to say.