Forget the news media for a minute. Let’s talk about a place that exudes the fullness of sensual experience.
Paradise flourishes blissfully in the lush, rear courtyard of a 16th-century building that once was the governor’s residence in Old San Juan. And heaven on earth has a name -– the Ostra Cosa restaurant at 154 Cristo St. in the oldest part of Old San Juan and a minute’s walk from the majestic San Juan Cathedral where Ponce de Leon’s body is entombed.
My wife and I stumbled across Ostra Cosa a couple of Sundays ago while exploring the colorful neighborhoods and shops that line the cobblestone streets not far from Plaza de Armas. What caught our eye as we meandered along Cristo Street’s narrow sidewalks was Ostra Cosa’s menu posted in a small showcase on the exterior of yet another well-aged legacy of 17th-century builders.
Ostra Cosa’s menu was designed with elegant typography that one typically encounters at high-end restaurants, but there was a playful twist that intrigued us. The Puerto Rican fare (seafood and beef mostly) was placed in the context of impact on diners’ libido with dishes’ aphrodisiac intensity ranked with stars and descriptions such as “Ay, ay, ay!” And prices struck us as surprisingly reasonable.
From the street, we could see the entrance to the restaurant at the far end of a wide, open-air breezeway with shops on both sides at the front. And we could glimpse a bit of Ostra Cosa’s heavily shaded, lush tropical setting. Dinner there tonight, we agreed.
And when we arrived around 7, we encountered stunningly picturesque old-world intimacy contained within the colonial courtyard’s small gardens set against weathered, high brick walls and bricked patio. A canopy high above the eight tables protected diners from rain but didn’t dampen the cheerful chirps of tiny coqui frogs that inhabit the gardens and a huge quenepe tree in one corner.
Dimly lit by strands of small lights and candles placed here and there, the ambience was that of a peaceful sanctuary outside of time and free of contemporary convention. The head waiter, Andreas Rodriquez, a gracious and welcoming Puerto Rican, led us into the courtyard down the six-step brick stairway and seated us.
When I ordered a mojito, Andreas asked if I would like to try Ostra Cosa’s version. Sure, I said, and he brought a seductively light and simple drink concocted with excellent white rum and fresh limeade on the tart side. I was hooked. Had to have a second one. I've never had a bad mojito, but I've also never had one better than Ostra Cosa's.
Our food was prepared with that same simplicity, allowing the salads, filet of sole and a long ribbon of exceptionally tender beef to spread their fragrance and flavors undisturbed by interference from effects that would have masked their essence. After all, at Ostra Cosa, the idea is to escape into higher reality, a.k.a. fantasy –- to be one’s self, unaffected and comfortable as is, we were told by the elegant Ostra Cosa owner, Alberto Nazario.
Alberto visited with us for a good while, as he often does with his guests, answering our questions and chatting about Old San Juan where he resides. He told us how he had followed a career in advertising for years in the U.S., including a long stint with that giant among ad agencies, J. Walter Thompson. But he longed to return home to San Juan.
He owns a much larger restaurant in the city but keeps Ostra Cosa as his personal refuge and unique expression, which he joyfully shares with whomever is led there for whatever reason, including many celebrities such as Gene Hackman who know that here they can be themselves in a gentle refuge and the warmth of good company.
Even though his background is in high-level advertising and marketing, Alberto opts not to advertise Ostra Cosa nor has he launched a Web site (that’s why there’s no link in this post). He neither needs nor wants those platforms. Word of mouth is plenty, and there are many reviews on the Web.
He also is perfectly satisfied with Ostra Cosa as a small and intimate venue. Such a setting gains even more lushness when the rich phrases of classical Spanish guitar fill the air as it did on the Sunday night we were there.
Toward dinner’s end, master guitarist Felix Rodriquez, a native of Old San Juan, sat across from us, playing exquisite compositions such as Preludio Num. 1 by Heitor Villa-lobos and chatting with us about his music and his career that began in 1976 when he was just 17.
Felix’s fingertips coaxed a voice and subtle vibrato from his guitar that attained angelic heights, depths and complexity. God's music, it seemed. And that was fitting at Ostra Cosa, we thought. After all, for a while there we were in heaven.
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