In the early part of the millennium, music lovers had a choice. Did they thrill to the likes of Franz Ferdinand, Keane and the Kaiser Chiefs, who produced often excellent but profoundly undemanding songs? Or did they spend time delving into the latter-day work of Radiohead, who had moved a long way away from their early career writing the likes of Creep in favour of altogether more experimental and challenging music? It was an easy decision for many, but it should be noted, almost in passing, that Radiohead continue to have an almost deity-like status amongst many, and Kaiser Chiefs – bless them – do not.
So it was that Larry and I assembled one day to try the new Brazilian restaurant Bossa, situated – naturally – by the Brazilian embassy near Marylebone. Early word had suggested that chef Alberto Landgraf, a two Michelin-star holder for his restaurant Oteque – had planned something ‘fun and relaxed’, and when we walk into the chicer-than-chic dining room, kitted out with modern art and a stylish glass bar facing onto the street, we were immediately impressed.
This was a place with eye candy to spare, and the friendly and knowledgeable staff were operating at an infinitely higher level than most of their peers. Delicious bread arrived on the table – with oil, not butter – and Larry and I rejoiced in a couple of fine cocktails, including a semi-deconstructed Mojito for me. (‘Wish I’d had the Caipirinha, old chap’, the great man said.) And then we looked at the menu, and the Radiohead part of the evening began.
Calling Bossa ‘fun and relaxed’ is not untrue, but the two parts do not especially gel together. The menu, clearly put together with a great deal of care by Landgraf, defies easy categorisation. If you thought that Brazilian cuisine was all heavily carnivorous, then you’d be surprised by such starters as scallops with leeks, buckwheat and tucupi, or yellowfish bottarga with dried berries and kombu.
There is a bone marrow dish, but you are expected to load pancakes made of tapioca with it. The wine that the splendidly knowledgeable sommelier offers us is Swiss, and deeply unusual. This is challenging, trendsetting, superbly accomplished food; none of it is remotely conventional.
I have the closest thing to a normal dish that we try all night with the main course, an elegantly cooked rump of lamb with aubergine and creamy borlotti beans, accompanied by a fine Chilean red. It’s superb, technically accomplished cooking, but I wonder if the charming staff think I’ve bottled out. Trust Larry, then, to go full Kid A with the ‘seafood moqueca’, which comes with rice, banana farofa and beans vinaigrette. The quality of the ingredients and the presentation are breathtaking, but this is not remotely what one would expect from a conventional seafood dish, Which is, of course, the point.
By dessert, Larry has gone full Colonel Kurtz and is demanding that we order the most experimental things on the menu. I’m diverted away from my preferred choice of a chocolate tart with cashew nut praline and instead we have tonka bean flan with cupuaçu jam and cacao nibs, which works nicely, and acai sorbet with sugar cane crumble, spiced chocolate and dried acai, which is far too strange for either of us and regarded with suspicion. A couple of glasses of Jurancon are the most conventional wine we drink all night, and then before we know it, our Bossa experience is over, and we pass a Very Famous restaurant critic on our way out, who appears to be relishing his meal.
Larry and I pass judgement on the way back to his bike. ‘That was extraordinary, old boy.’ ‘In a good way?’ ‘Yes, for the most part.’ ‘Not cheap, was it?’ ‘No, but cooking of this nature shouldn’t be.’ Bossa will be, I suspect, one of 2023’s most talked-about openings, and you’ll struggle to get a reservation there any time soon. If you want something normal, go to Franco Manca. For the rest of us, reveal in a full-on experience that challenges, surprises and stimulates. Just like Radiohead, then.
Bossa, Vere Street, London W1. For reservations, please visit www.bossa.co.uk.
