We swim in a river and it is perfect. It is a local spot a local recommended. We are not from here: Healdsburg, California. There is a long drive home ahead of us, but first we’ll eat. We land at a tapas restaurant called Bravas, a block from the town square. We go because it comes recommended by a local, but not the one who told us about the river spot.
We walk right through the restaurant, past the half the kitchen open in the dining room, and down porch steps into the backyard. It is 95 degrees out on a Sunday afternoon but in the tree shade it is much cooler than that. We are happy, me and my girlfriend.
I wonder out loud if I can be a food critic. We decide that if not a food critic, at least I can write about food. I have neither a refined palate nor a lame one. But maybe if I sit down and think about food, in the way that writing forces you to, then perhaps my palate will deepen.
But also, maybe not.
Regardless, it is hot out and I crave Sangria. My girlfriend orders a drink called Watermelon Watermelon Watermelon Watermelon. It is July and I am happy to hear the word watermelon repeated as many times as it cares to be. Our drinks come and if it is a refreshing contest, hers wins. It tastes of mint and lime and of course watermelon. It is a beautiful pink color, like snap dragon flowers. My Sangria is less refreshing, but still so. It tastes maybe a little watered down, as if it had been sitting in ice too long. But these are things I do not know. I am not a food critic.
She has me take a picture of the ingredients even though both of us know we will never recreate it. We order a modest four plates and the first comes out promptly: Pan Tomaté. It is toasted bread with diced tomatoes and olive oil. There is no salt and pepper on our table because it is that kind of restaurant. We ask for some and they bring it, not at all offended. The flavors are buoyed by the most common spices. It is a simple dish and maybe a poor choice, we could prepare this at home easily.
But still, we are happy. The backyard is pleasant despite an angry woman behind us who does not receive her check as speedily as she desires it. I sympathize with the server, I have been in her shoes.
We order an Andalusian gazpacho and it comes in a small glass in the classic way. It is a sherbet orange color and looks thicker than we know gazpacho. It is heavy and creamy and is our least favorite. We ask the server about the cream and she says it is not cream but bread crumbs and the consistency is typical. I don’t think we knew what gazpacho was. The refrain of this story is that I am not a food critic.
Our last dishes are proteins: Cider Braised Chorizo with Shishito Peppers and Duck Meatballs with Tomato Sofrito and Green Olive Tapenade. The meatballs are tiny sandwiches and this time a little too salty, but it all works with the tomato and tapenade. If this sauce had been on the toast from earlier, I would order it again. The chorizo is smoky and juicy and the grilled peppers have a crisp crunch. I don’t think I can convey more than this, I do not have the palate nor the language to compliment one: our food is good, but short of great. Were I ever here again, I would seek out a local’s curation; I have the feeling we did not uncover the highlights.
Besides the four we ordered, there are thirty or so small plates on the menu and also Paella and also large family portions of fried chicken and rib chops and crispy trout. If my girlfriend cared for saffron, I would be in for the paella without second thought. It is a dish I’ve craved since 2007 when I had it last in a Boston restaurant while visiting my sister in grad school. I am sure this is a footnote that a seasoned food critic would not include, but I am not a food critic and I do not know the rules.
The meal draws to a close and for small plates we are plenty satiated and not out very much money for a low-tier fancy place: $60 including tip, four plates, and two drinks. In sum, we arrived happy, and now all done, we leave happy.
I do not know what real food critics have in mind to impart upon their readers. But if you did read this through, then I hope you can imagine what it may be like if you were to go to Bravas in Healdsburg California on a hot Sunday afternoon after swimming in a river with someone you love. And if it does spark your imagination in any kind of way, then I wish for you to go and order whatever food you want and whatever drinks. It is your impression that matters, I am just one person who ate at one place one time. But if you do go, and are looking to me—a non-food critic— for any suggestion, it is that you should not pass on the Watermelon Watermelon Watermelon Watermelon. Summer is almost over.
July 28, 2019
Bravas Bar de Tapas
420 Center St; (707) 433-7700. www.starkrestaurants.com
Open for lunch and dinner daily. Full bar. Reservations accepted. $$$
Recommended: Watermelon Watermelon Watermelon Watermelon