Frankly, Berix Coffeehouse & Deli has the wrong name. Located in the Little Bosnia area near Bevo Mill, the coffee flows mightily, but there is little more about the place or its menu that resembles either a coffeehouse or a deli in the American sense: The coffee of choice is Turkish, and the “deli” serves up traditional Bosnian specialties.
Of course, the big question is what exactly “Bosnian specialties” means; after polling my co-workers, I found that many are under the misguided impression that Bosnian cuisine is somehow similar to Russian. The reality is that, thanks to their mutual heritage of Turkish flavors and a tendency toward dishes containing a meat (usually beef or lamb), a starch of bread or rice, and a sparse vegetable or two, Bosnian fare is strikingly similar to that of another Balkan country, Greece.
Inside Berix, European techno music clashes wildly with the dining area’s homey, family vibe. To one side, a long counter running the length of the restaurant houses a glass case of assorted Bosnian desserts, heated flaky-looking savory pastries spiraled tightly like giant cinnamon rolls, and, of course, the coffee bar. Table service is not offered; the welcoming staff is sometimes difficult to understand, but pictures of virtually every dish hang on the wall behind the counter to assist in choosing wisely.
Similar to a gyro, the doner-kebab will be familiar to most: a spiced mixture of beef and lamb is carved thinly from a rotating spit and piled high on a soft, spongy Bosnian bun that’s similar in texture to the bread used on Mexican tortas. Lettuce, tomatoes and onions are added before being topped with a garlicky yogurt-based “Turkish-style dressing” that tasted identical to tsatsiki. While you can pick up a torta or gyro, however, this messy sandwich is best tackled with a knife and fork.
Sarma, or cabbage leaves wrapped around a ground beef and rice mixture, is another Bosnian dish with a familiar Greek counterpart; the interior reminded me of dolmades. But the similarity ends there, thanks to a smothering of cheese sauce tinted orange by a liberal addition of paprika; it tasted like American cheese gussied up with a heavy helping of rich cream. Although the meaty notes were hidden behind the layer of ooze, a side of soft Italian-like bread lent a sort of homey novelty and made up for the possibility that a processed cheese was used – I happily sopped it up like a Bosnian fondue.
A flavorless and oil-slicked gulas (beef stew) threatened to spoil another meal, but a second entrée, kombinacija-raznjici, cevapi, sudzukice, pulled through in a clinch. The first part literally translates to combination-kebob and the other items are two of the more traditional Bosnian meat products. Typically scented with clove, cevapi is a spicy ground beef mixture shaped like a breakfast sausage (this one also had a little bit of lamb in it). Since it doesn’t have a casing, its texture more closely resembles a breakfast patty. With my first bite I detected a flavor reminiscent of clove and knew I had found my favorite; cloves – like cinnamon and nutmeg – are traditionally viewed as a baking spice by Americans, who often underestimate the unusual highlights with which they can enhance a savory meat. By contrast, sudzukice are beef sausages potently scented with garlic and tinted red like miniature kielbasas. Penetrating their snappy casings releases the juicy fat and leaves you scrambling for the chewy side of mildly greasy bread that’s sliced in half vertically and toasted on its ends. The only other accompaniment is a cup of diced, raw white onion.
As you leave Berix, you’ll have to pass back by that strategically placed dessert case. Twelve desserts are listed on the menu, though I found two mainstays were easily the best. Tulumba involves a piped and fried batter with a similar interior texture to funnel cake, but it is served cold and becomes moist and slightly spongy after a soak in a sugary syrup. The second and better of the two, cupavci, is a moist white cake cut into perfect cubes, iced on all sides with chocolate and rolled in just enough coconut to enhance the cake’s flavor without becoming overwhelming. It was the perfect conclusion to our meal.
I left with the feeling that perhaps I should have pulled up one of the tall stools near the door, grabbed a potent Turkish coffee and stayed a while to enjoy it; such a perch would provide a great window onto the neighborhood culture. The name might be wrong, but with the constant stream of neighborhood Bosnians coming and going, it’s clear that the food at Berix really is the real deal.
This article appears in May 1-31, 2008.