Eats & Drinks

Bobolicious

Wild Shrimp Bobó is the comfort food you never knew you needed.

HEATHER ANNE LEE

Unprepared. That’s how I felt when I walked into Pico Bistro in Winter Garden. Tucked in an unassuming plaza behind yet another 7-Eleven, I admit, my hopes were not high. Maybe an empanada, a glass of wine, and then I’d split.

With four decades under my belt, I should know by now not to judge a book by its (strip mall) cover. Some of my favorite haunts have been in much seedier locations. Still, judge I did, and thankfully I was wrong. So very wrong.

The atmosphere: charming in its simplicity. Fewer than 10 distressed wood tables simply adorned with bud vases. Fresh herbs, vibrant and overflowing, grow in well-tended planters along the window, their fresh scent dancing on the air to the tune of soft Bossa Nova. With nary a hint of pretentiousness, Pico Bistro feels like someone’s home.

I ordered a glass of Vinho Verde and settled in for the experience.

You should know, I’m a girl who likes to eat. I’ll order 10 things on a menu just to have a taste. And since I don’t do leftovers (it’s a thing), if you’re dining with me, you have the pleasure of toting home the extras. That said, it’s best to know the price for said take-home luxury is my fork in your plate. When it comes to food, sharing is caring. I will not be swayed.

So yes, I ordered a sampling of the empanadas, of which there is already a cult-like following. They did not disappoint. Delightfully light, housemade pastry dough, lovingly wrapped around your choice of traditional or inventive fillings, lightly fried in oh-so-clean oil. Truly a pocket-sized delight. Then again, you already know that.

What piqued my interest was the Wild Shrimp Bobó. From the description, I knew it would be owner and chef Romulo Costa’s version of the iconic Brazilian shrimp stew, Bobó de Camarão. Bobó, a popular dish from the Bahia region in northeastern Brazil, epitomizes the sweet, creamy, seafood-focused cuisine of the Atlantic coast, while paying homage to the West African influence on the region. Afro-Brazilian comfort food, if you will, meant to be served over rice.

Romulo’s version is infinitely more interesting. Baby shrimp and Andouille sausage swim in a chowder-like Brazilian puree made with yucca, coconut milk, amazon oil, herbs, and yellow and red pepper. It’s the amazon (aka dendê) oil that lends the glorious orange hue and a subtle heat. Warm and deliciously comforting, you could simply eat this with a spoon and no one would judge. But then you’d miss out on what is obviously the best part of the dish: the yucca puffs.

Starchy-sweet, but still paleo (if that matters to you), the yucca mash is ever-so-gently fried just long enough to form a tender crust and bind the yucca. An important detail, for this fritter is meant to be a vehicle for the chowder. You cut it in half, revealing the creamy, yet toothsome center, layer the wild shrimp on top, and generously spoon the chowder over it.

Yes, it was messy. There is no elegant or discreet way to fork a chowder, even with a caravan of yucca puffs. But that’s part of the charm. It’s meant to be unctuous and messy and comforting, all at once. Just like life. Just like home.

Pico Bistro's Bacalao

SIDEBAR: Bistro Bacalao

Truth be told, I also ordered the bacalao. Why? Because you rarely find it on Central Florida menus, and I’m a sucker for the word confit. Confit cod in homemade extra virgin oil on top of a potato and Portuguese sausage bed with apricot cubes. Yes, please.

Here’s the thing about bacalao. Culinarily speaking, it’s a Spanish term for dried and salted codfish, a method of preservation used long before there was refrigeration. Before it can be consumed, the fish needs to be rehydrated and the excessive amount of sodium reduced by soaking and changing the water several times over many hours. A laborious eff ort, indeed.

Pico Bistro’s cod celebrates the salt cod experience, then elevates it by poaching the bone-in fillet in extra virgin olive oil. What is delivered to your table is noticeably salty, yet melting tender cod. The potato and Portuguese sausage lend an earthy, roasted contrast, but it is the sweet slivers of apricot that are the unsung hero. To be sure, bacalao is an acquired taste. My dining companion was not a fan, but I remain enthralled.