Bouche

603 Bush St, San Francisco, CA

It’s one of those little restaurants that seems too modest for the talent it hides. Tucked between Nob Hill and Union Square, with antique walls, dim lighting, and a two-level intimacy that suggests secrets are meant to be shared. (We always try to get a table upstairs, where the ambiance takes you to another place…namely, France).

The menu changes every few weeks, a savvy mask for predictability. Bouche leans Mediterranean with Northern French bones — you taste heritage more than trend. Your first bites will force your attention. Chestnut soup with sage and bacon fat — that’s the kind of soup that lingers in memory. Lamb, sous-vide for twelve hours, arrives with onion marmalade and chickpea purée, complex without being clever. Dessert — white chocolate tart with pear and almond genoise — hits like an old friend: comforting but with enough edge to stay interesting.

If you dine here, resist the urge to order everything. Pick what calls you and let it speak to you. Bouche is not a destination for noise — it’s a place for listening.