In Praise of Bistro Europa
By Wesley M. Brown
Last night a man and a woman fed me and I wept.
Let’s clarify. I am a big, fat, white guy, with no more gastronomic sophistication than a coyote. I am no foodie, and my idea of fine dining is any entrée that does not require a covering of ketchup.
But our dear cat-herder-in-chief, Roy, insisted on taking my wife and me to Bistro Europa on Elmwood Avenue in Buffalo. Admittedly, I was wary of his eagerness. While his support of local restaurants is admirable, too often I have sat at places where the word “fusion” on the menu fills me with dread. I leave the table both hungry and wishing that the chef would understand why Cajun and ice cream really can’t be friends. Frankly, as a culinary matter, I am of the opinion that foods can only be fused if the underlying countries have warred upon each other at least once, but I digress.
Bistro Europa is a tiny place. The cozy atmosphere inside is a reflection of the warm personalities of husband and wife owners Steve and Ellen Gedra. As my wife reflected, both the food and the ambiance felt more like eating the best dishes in the kitchen of someone’s favorite foreign grandma (you know, the types who speak broken or no English and abuse you verbally for both weight gain and failing to be married by the age of sixteen). But here’s the essential difference: every grandma has one or two dishes that are outstanding. At Bistro Europa, they collected the best European dishes from everyone’s foreign grandma.
I won’t go in to the play-by-play of each dish. That would take far more time than I have to describe them well, and even I do not believe that I have the words to do any of them justice. But, each dish supported and surpassed the one before.
By the end of dinner, I surrendered fully to the Gedra’s brilliance. And, when I stopped in to the kitchen to congratulate Steve, I wept.
Now, maybe I just needed a good cry and this meal was merely the conduit. Or, maybe, Steven and Ellen are my long, lost soul parents in some alternate reality (I would of course forgive them for denying their spiritual parentage of me in this instance). Either way, they are to be congratulated for making a most memorable meal.
It’s not hard to fill up a fat guy. Every poor Chinese buffet owner I know can attest to that as they shuffle me out the door. And, it’s only a little bit more difficult to prepare a good and satisfying meal. But, it’s another thing altogether to speak so significantly to the emotions and soul of your customers.
Last night a man and a woman fed me and I wept.
