Right next to Bertucci’s in Central Square is a mysterious storefront ‘-‘- painted banana-yellow and with dimly lit windows shut out by thick curtains, it looks like an early 19th-century brasserie, with an oversized, plaster flapper girl beckoning you to see what’s inside.
So in you go, and you’re greeted by a pink-coiffed hostess wearing a mink stole and immediately memories of the Britney shaved-head-possibly-pill-popping era fill your head. You wonder whether you should just eat your dignity and go next door for the macaroni marshmallow pizza parmesan from Bertucci’s, but the rest of Cuchi Cuchi, decorated like (what they think looked like) a Parisian speakeasy with plush, darted sofas and beaded, sparkling drapery massages your shoulders and invites you to come in for a drink.
Our group sat in the back of the restaurant ‘-‘- not as elaborately decorated as the front, but still retained the ambiance ‘-‘- even with glimpses into the clamoring kitchen as costumed wait staff flung doors open just a few feet away from our table.
Cuchi Cuchi is known for their classic cocktail list as much as they are for the garish d’eacute;cor. Some highlights include the Thai basil cocktail and the raspberry lime rickey Ricardo, or the blood orange sidecar, all made with freshly muddled fruit and herbs. The bar also offers a plethora of martinis and the classic pisco sour, made with egg whites and bitters
The food concept is small-plate ‘-‘- but NOT tapas. The Cuchi Cuchi people specify that tapas be specifically from Spain, whereas their menu offers ‘globe-trotting’ dishes. Each dish runs $10 to $18, and guests are suggested to get two or three per person. Everything comes out as an entr’eacute;e, so the best bet is to order two, share and barter among the table, and don’t be too much of a pig that you forget room for dessert.
The ‘Cuban Cigar’ ($13), beef short ribs and salsa wrapped in dough, was the table favorite. Larger than the other dishes, the ‘Cigar’ is overstuffed with moist beef and black beans with a flaky shell.
Mushroom risotto is also a hit; the creamy rice laced with wild mushroom pieces ($12) and is a great vegetarian dish, along with the gratin dauphinois ($9), layers of razor-thin potatoes alternating with cream and saut’eacute;ed onion.
The duck a l’orange ($13) is wrapped in savory crepes and drizzled with honey-orange sauce and is great for those avoiding red meat, or opt for the seared tuna ($14), thin slices of clot-red fish pair great with the watermelon ‘tartare’ even though I’ve always though referring to chopped raw fruit as ‘tartare’ was pretty stupid. The Brie en croute ($13) is decadent, melting out of a puff pastry dotted with crispy, fatty lardons of bacon.
The baby beet and sheep’s cheese salad ($10) served with spinach with balsamic reduction was decent, but the beets were flavorless and the dish would have been better suited with simple red garden beets. The St. Jacob’s zucchini ($9) deep-fried and sweet was nice between heavier plates.
Desserts ($12 to $13) were larger than the entrees and almost certainly must be split. The tiramisu, served in a martini glass, was basically a drunken pudding with all of the flavor elements of the more structured rendition. The tartufo, featuring fresh strawberry, pistachio and chocolate gelato, is wrapped in a silken chocolate shell and kissed with a maraschino cherry. The leviathan of the dessert menu, the French banana bread extravaganza, is mountain of fried banana toast, burned and caramelized fruit, cinnamon gelato and fluffy mounds of whipped cream.
Cuchi Cuchi is a destination spot perfect for groups and celebrations, with overall good fare, creative drinks and amicable service, even if the concept itself is a little kitschy kitschy.
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