Save room for dessert

Mike Johnson opens restaurants like he’s playing Monopoly, and in Maplewood, he’s got the deed to Manchester Road. With three houses already on the board – Boogaloo, El Scorcho and Fu Manchu – all that’s left is to build a hotel. But M.J.’s Maplewood row isn’t the place we’d take the boys, at least not for a few more years. In the meantime, though, he’s offered another option, tucked into a bucolic University City neighborhood – Bici Café. Bici trades the crazy ethnic mojo of Johnson’s other joints for a distinctly Euro bistro feel. No novelty seats here, just small tables, sleek décor and a menu influenced by all manner of Mediterranean cuisines. We had no wait for a table on our first trip, and the boys tromped after the server to our table on the elevated section of the floor, then scrambled up high stools to take their seats. Our server was with us quickly, producing coloring pages and crayons with a flourish. The boys had already decided what they wanted – each ordered the kids’ kabob platter, with the fish option (beef and chicken are also available). The best-rounded of the kids’ offerings, the platter comes with two sides. They each picked a fruit cup, and then Duncan finally proved he doesn’t have to do exactly what his brother does, ordering broccoli to Brendan’s carrots. Kathy and I went for sandwiches; she chose the grilled tuna, while I ventured to roast beef. To tide us over, we shared an order of falafel “popcorn” – marble-sized bites of chickpea batter, served with a thin tzatziki sauce. Brendan loved the falafel, but wasn’t as keen on the sauce. Duncan nibbled a bit, but otherwise seemed preoccupied. When the boys’ kabobs arrived, they both plowed through their fruit cups in no time at all. Their approach to the grilled fish was a bit more hesitant. With some help from us, they got the wooden skewers removed so they could bite their tuna, but both boys immediately dismissed it as “too chewy.” Kathy and I had to agree; the roughly 1-inch cubes were overcooked, leaving them dry and tough. Brendan pinched fries off my plate while he worked on his carrots, but Duncan only poked at his broccoli, though he said it was OK. The tuna on Kathy’s sandwich, on the other hand, was a beautiful pink on the inside, with a good sear on the outside. The rest of the filling – egg, tapenade and tomato aioli – worked well with the tuna, but she admitted that the whole-wheat bread was too strong a flavor up against the delicate fish. The caramelized onions and gooey Gorgonzola provided much-needed punch to my roast beef sandwich; the beef itself lacked flavor and was rubbery. When we went back a couple of weeks later, the room was full, but there were plenty of tables available outside. Since it was a nice evening, we took our seats on the patio. Jessica, our server, again produced kid-friendly cups and coloring sheets, but doing any real coloring on the metal-lattice table was an exercise in futility. Kathy taught them how to do crayon rubbings instead, capturing the tabletop’s texture. We all must have had pizza on the brain, as that’s what we all ordered. The boys both got cheese pizzas from the kids’ menu, leading Kathy to wonder why so few restaurants offer kids the option of other toppings. It was a nonissue, though, as we passed around slices of our own pies at the boys’ insistence. Kathy got a wild mushroom and pesto pizza that was earthy and rich; I went more traditional, with a combo of prosciutto, Italian sausage and roasted peppers. The pizzas had just the right amount of toppings, such that the flavors complemented rather than competed. The crust was crackly around the edges, with just enough chew in the middle. We stopped short, though, and left a few pieces to take home, so we’d be sure to have room for dessert. The boys were astonished when Jessica rattled off the available flavors of gelato; Duncan astonished her right back when he picked cappuccino, and she verified with us that he knew what he was asking for. When Jessica came back to check on Duncan, she seemed delighted that he liked it so much. Our little charmer, knowing he had his hook set, reeled her in when he politely asked for a napkin when he was done. Our desserts didn’t arrive till the boys were finished, so needless to say, their eyes wandered across the table to our plates. Then they gave up any pretense of patiently waiting for a bite and just started mooching. Kathy’s crème brûlée was as sweet and creamy as any. My more decadent chocolate croissant bread pudding was presented in four demure slices, perfect for sharing. A good bit of it went into the boys’ bellies; I figured their metabolism could handle it more than mine. With a few menu tweaks, Mike Johnson’s under-the-radar bistro has the potential to be the kind of great little restaurant that every neighborhood deserves. It’s the kind of place that’s urbane enough to be hip, while being accessible enough to families that it doesn’t distance itself from the residential neighborhood that surrounds it. Take your kids and have a good time – we sure did.