Boscos touts itself as “Tennessee’s Original Brew Pub.” I’ll take Boscos’ word for it. Even though Bohannon Brewing Company has been producing Market Street Beer forever, Market Street Public House didn’t open until 1994.
Still, I’m confused. According to Chuck Skypeck, brewmaster, partner (so says his business card), the Boscos on 21st Avenue South isn’t so much a brew pub as a restaurant that happens to brew its own beer. Skypeck didn’t tell me this, but I got it from a reliable source, who had asked why there were no televisions in a brew pub. (We were in the middle of March Madness, after all.)
The first Boscos opened in the Germantown area of Memphis in 1992. The Nashville Boscos occupies the long-vacant Hillsboro Village building that formerly housed Flying Fish, Multi Bob and, in the very distant past, Woolworth’s.
It’s tough to explain why one restaurant succeeds in the very spot where another has failed miserably. But I suspect it has something to do with time, and, as far as I can see, the timing is perfect for Boscos. It is exactly the right restaurant in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. So why am I being so picky, picky, picky? Because, doggone it, that’s my job.
I called Boscos two days ahead of our dining date and asked about reservations. I was informed, courteously, that Boscos does not take reservations.
When I arrived, ahead of my seven guests, on the night of our visit, I was told that tables for eight were only available in the smoking section. The only way a large party could be accommodated in the non-smoking section was for two small tables to be pushed together. That meant we had to wait for two parties to finish dinner. We waited for our non-smoking table in the bar area, where almost everyone was smoking.
Our server provided us with a list of Boscos’ beers, but she didn’t bother to mention Boscos’ beer sampler, which comes with smaller servings. I asked for a mild beer and, at the server’s suggestion, tried the Famous Flaming Stone Beer. I liked it a lot. My companions, who prefer a more robust brew, particularly liked Ed’s Porter and Boscos Nut Brown Ale.
The Boscos decor, with a purple tin ceiling that is easily 20 feet above the concrete floor, is exciting and dramatic. The walls are faux-painted to resemble granite, broken up by soaring Palladian “windows” that are actually mirrors that make the spacious room appear even larger. The huge stainless steel light fixtures resemble the cups of a huge, superwoman-size brassiere. The open kitchen provides a view of the grill, complete with the ubiquitous wood-burning pizza oven and a fleet of men in white kitchen coats and floppy toques.
All of this wood, tin, concrete and metal, however, contributes to a noise level that forced our waiter to shout at us all night long. Because of the noise, our party of eight broke into two parties of four. There was no way to hear everybody through the din. The next day, several members of our party woke up with sore throats.
Our waiter, doing his best Sam Kinison imitation, presented the day’s special and left us to peruse the menu. Chuck Skypeck is right: You will not find pub fare at Boscos. What you will find is an Italian-leaning selection of appetizers, salads, sandwiches, pizzas and pasta, with a steak and fish of the day added for good measure.
We gave our highest marks to the appetizers, particularly the marinated goat cheese, the antipasto platter with fresh mozzarella (not the freshest, but decent), and the toasted ravioli—plump little pockets, slightly crispy on the outside and oozing gorgonzola cheese inside. Skip the too-sweet marinara sauce. If you’re a fan of fried appetizers, you’ll like the fried artichoke hearts, but the hot spinach and artichoke dip was pedestrian.
The house salad, tender and fresh and pricey ($3.50), might have come directly from the mesclun bin at The Produce Place. The balsamic vinaigrette was good. The bread—presented as house-baked focaccia—turned out to be nice herb rolls, cold on the inside. Could they have been previously frozen?
When the entrées arrived, everything unraveled. The strips of lamb in the Aegean lamb pasta were fatty and gristly, and the penne pasta was woefully overcooked. According to one diner, the demi-glace sauce “tasted like the can it came out of.” Boullion cubes came to mind. They seemed to be around the next day at lunch, when I ordered the pasta special, tagliatelle—overcooked—with duck and diced Roma tomatoes.
Melissa’s grilled halibut was inedible—hardly cooked and icy cold in the center. The lunch order of grilled salmon fared better, particularly without the greasy lemon-dill-butter sauce. The $19.95 filet mignon, which was almost lost on the huge white plate, would have been flavorless without the glob of garlic butter that was plopped on top of it. The evening’s side dish—referred to on the menu as a complex carbohydrate—was a mound of what was supposed to be red beans and rice. None of us could find a single bean.
The saffron shrimp pasta featured a lovely and delicate sauce, but it didn’t quite make up for the mushy and watery shrimp. The Athens Salad—entrée sized—was a large bundle of tasty greens, but the roasted lamb slices had lost their identity. They might as well have been roast beef or veal.
Our resident Italian was disappointed by the hard, dry crust on his calzone. The Rialto panini—with mortadella, cappicola pepperoni, roasted red peppers, greens, Roma tomatoes, and oil and vinegar dressing—was presented cold on a slightly stale roll. The grilled sausage and pepper sandwich with melted mozzarella at lunch was far superior, but it wasn’t available at dinner.
I understand that Boscos is scoring high marks for its pizza, available in 18 versions. Personally, I like a little more substance to my pizza crust—Boscos’ is of the ultra-slim, cracker-like variety. If you lean toward a thin crust and like it topped with, say, gravlax, dilled mascarpone, pine nuts, shaved red onion, capers and caviar, then the Nova Scotia pizza is for you.
We ended the meal on a high note, sampling each of the five desserts. We were pleasantly surprised by the crème brûlée Grand Marnier and the fabulous sorbet of the day. If you like Little Debbie cakes, you’ll love the chocolate calzone. Ed thought it contained petroleum by-products. The espresso earned high marks all around.
Total for eight for dinner before gratuity was $186.57. Lunch for four was $44.28.
Boscos is located at 1805 21st Ave. S. (385-0050). All major credit cards accepted; open seven days.
