Greece and Bulgaria collide in University City
By Dave Lowry
For about a decade, balsamic vinegar has been to American cooks what sequins are to ice dancers. And, as with those sequins, it is over- and ill-employed. Properly, aceto vinegar is thick, almost syrupy, and should be used with more discretion than the credit card of a congressman on a Vegas junket. That’s one reason the octopus at Sofia Bistro is such a delight. Three hefty tentacles curl on the plate, marinated in a near-perfect reduction of unctuous balsamic vinegar along with a slightly lemony garlic sauce that provides a spectacular, glossy complement to the meat without overwhelming it. The octopus made an impressive start to our meal, consistent, not incidentally, with every other appetizer sampled at this relatively new eatery in University City.
Eyebrows rise at the menu’s “Bulgarian feta,” a cheese included in most of the starters at Sofia. Bulgarians and Greeks are the Balkan equivalent of Brad and Jennifer, and one wonders why the Bulgarian owners here opted for a Greek description for the cheese they call sirene. Never mind; it’s gloriously implemented: stuffed, along with ricotta and sautéed peppers, in flaky burek pastries; crumbled over flash-fried spinach; starring in a splendid appetizer, a luxuriant slab of feta baked in a clay pot until it’s warm, fragrant and gooey and served with wedges of pita. Toasted walnuts and a sprinkling of feta with a very light vinegar dressing make for a refreshing asparagus salad. For something a bit more daring, try the spinach dressed with a citrus-smacked vinaigrette and topped with shredded crab, mango slices, boiled eggs and tomatoes.
Sofia’s menu is short and dominated by house specialties, making the place St. Louis’ closest approximation of a true bistro. The emphasis is on a pleasant mix of Mediterranean and Italian. Pastas tend toward the traditional Italian: bucatini smothered in a ragu, penne with a garlic-infused sauce of eggplant and tomato, lobster tucked into ravioli with a tomato cream sauce. There are two risotto dishes, one with shrimp in a saffron-and-tomato rice and another, highly recommended, studded with big meaty mushrooms and tomatoes and topped with Parmesan. Grilled eggplant and tomatoes give a Mediterranean touch to a Parmesan-encrusted chicken breast. Big brochettes of chicken or beef tenderloin are skewered and grilled with green peppers and other vegetables, then served on a pillow of
rice pilaf.
Of course, adventurous diners will want to sample the few Bulgarian flavors at Sofia. Plakiya—a slow-cooked stew enlivened with tomatoes, sweet peppers and onion, which here accompany broiled tilapia—is at the heart of Bulgarian cuisine. It’s a colorful arrangement that will be familiar if you’ve eaten fish Veracruz style, and it’s topped with a scattering of feta ($16.95). Accompanied by a classic Bulgarian shopska salad of tomatoes, cucumbers, sweet onions and peppers, the plakiya is a meal so authentic, you might develop a yen for dumpy clothes, a dumpier Euro-mobile and the compulsion to stand in three-block lines to buy Politburo-produced facial tissue.
Sofia calls its version of the famous Greek casserole moussaka “Balkan style” and uses the Bulgarian spelling; oddly, the casserole is made with both eggplant and potatoes (instead of the usual Balkan preference for just potatoes, that is; it’s mostly the Greeks who do the eggplant thing). This moussaka is utterly worthwhile: a generous portion of ground lamb between layers of sliced eggplant and potatoes, a touch of garlic and a light sprinkling of onions, all baked until a delicate crust forms, the insides tender and steaming. The yogurt-based béchamel sauce on top is not entirely traditional, but it gives the casserole an added dimension in flavor. Another worthy Bulgarian dish is the carefully braised lamb shank, again sprinkled with feta—a hearty, earthy preparation that renders the meat flaky and juicy.
Well-intentioned but disappointing was a filet mignon split and stuffed with shrimp, then smothered in an ooze of mild cheese—a combination that just doesn’t come together. If you’re in the mood for beef, go with the tenderloin, marinated and brushed with crushed peppercorns, then grilled with an aromatic Dijon-and-cognac sauce.
Sides accompanying some of the main courses are vegetables, nicely sautéed in lots of butter; they work but are hardly inspired. The ball of mashed potatoes accompanying some dishes was bland and dry, utterly unworthy and out of place.
The wine list was adequate, but included too many lackluster Merlots. Try the American Cabernet Sauvignon Hess Select ’03 if you’re having the lamb or the beef. Castle Rock Winery has consistently lived up to the hype surrounding it; at $22, an ’04 Petite Sirah is a good example of Castle Rock’s ability to put out a first-class wine at a remarkably affordable price. You will do well, however, to try a glass of Bulgarian peshterska, a grappa-like digestif with the delightfully sweet musk of Muscat grapes and just slightly more volatility than jet fuel.
Trim and thoroughly modern, Sofia’s interior is handsome and relaxing, displaying a happy balance between the formal and the casual, another feature of a real bistro. There’s a small bar at the front. Starched linens and comfortable blond chairs go well with the thick, gaudy Majolica dinnerware that adds to the Mediterranean atmosphere. Walls are sparingly decorated with a starving-artist motif. The kitchen is in the rear, bucking the trend to place it right in the center of things, and so meals are comparatively quiet, uninterrupted by the racket and buzz of cooks and waiters at their chores. Sofia is located in a residential neighborhood, making it a popular destination for many diners within walking distance; this time of year, many come for the al fresco dining in addition to the food. A sidewalk array of wrought-iron tables and chairs and small plum trees festooned with tiny lights make for one of the best outdoor dining spots around. Service is efficient, friendly and well paced.
Trust us: Sofia Bistro will have you at those octopus tentacles.
