Besa might be Spanish for kiss, but when it comes to Bondi tapas bars it’s chef’s kiss

Dinner and drinks? Drinks and a snack? Just snacks, no drinks? It’s all possible at this intimate, moodily lit tapas bar.

This Bondi newbie is brought to you by Esca – the hospitality group behind Aalia and Joji in the CBD and Nour, Henrietta and Ito in Surry Hills. Here, chefs Alan Kropman (Aalia) and Ibrahim Kasif (Nour) are serving a small-plates menu of deeply flavourful, refined Spanish food.

To me, Besa works best as somewhere to squeeze in, eat up and roll out. You might drop in for a gilda (today’s one-bite skewer is sweet red pepper, anchovy, green olive and gherkin, punctuated with a guindilla) and an apricot spritz (a long, tall glass of refreshment combining apricot soda, white vermouth and mezcal, sweetened with a little spiced sugar syrup).

Or maybe you’re keen for a super-eggy, just-set tortilla, stuffed with fluffy confit Dutch cream potato. Meanwhile, pan con tomate features a thick slice of charred sourdough covered in a generous layer of oxheart tomato, grated to order and seasoned with olive oil, Spanish vinegar, pepper and garlic.

The 65-seat room, designed by architect Matt Darwon, is a study in making the most of a dinky space. The walls and low ceiling are textured in what looks like shaggy concrete and painted deep red. Between the shaggy surfaces and the chrome pillar in the middle of the room, it feels like dining inside a saffron crocus. Or some late 𝄒60s sci-fi director’s weekend smash pad – I can’t decide. I like it, though.

Back at the table, and here’s the patatas bravas. At Besa, the popular Madrid tapa of fried potato covered in a paprika-rich sauce is more of a crisp, fine cake, served with squiggles of aioli and a heavily spiced red capsicum sauce, finished with a scattering of chives.

Raw pink snapper dances somewhere between crudo and ceviche. The fleshy raw fish is dressed with avocado, red onion and parsley, a little lemon juice and napped in a vinegary gazpacho sauce, served with some well-oiled toast thins. It’s particularly delicious with the Michelada (lager spiked with hot sauce, worcestershire, oyster sauce and lime).

Plenty of well-loved classics feature, and one or two you may not have seen before, such as fideua negra – a Valencian version of paella, only made with chopped egg noodles instead of rice. For my dime, it’s the menu’s big showstopper. The aforementioned fresh pasta is coated in a smoky, musky squid-ink sauce, mixed with pieces of calamari, topped with half a juicy grilled chicken, all finished with a few dabs of aioli. It’s rich enough and large enough to serve four, with a few support acts.

Do I love that the toilets are shared with a neighbouring Harris Farm? No, I definitely do not. It immediately breaks the spell of the restaurant, especially as the loos are not kept in a particularly fresh state on one visit. It’s also a bit of a mood killer when you can hear someone scanning a bag of imperfect avocados as you’re washing your hands.

The aforementioned dinkiness also means extremely snug banquettes, where tables of two are forced to sit side-saddle. For me, it’s a little too close for comfort. Personally, I want to make eye contact with the person I’m eating with, but if you like to dine confessional-style, maybe this’ll work for you. To the credit of the friendly floor team, they dig up a stool for my friend to sit on so we can face each other. Or you can ask to sit outside at one of the bistro-style tables.

On a Friday night visit there’s a DJ in the corner spinning some big Spanish house. If this is where you’ve found yourself, I suggest you kick back with the Kalimotxo – an updated version of your usual Basque party drink of red wine and cola (a not-so-secret pleasure of mine). Here it’s a combo of rye whiskey, amaretto, cream sherry and chinotto topped with an orange scented foam. Much like the general pitch here, it’s a big vibe but a friendly one.

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