Marinated octopus at Bistro du Midi

^{Photo by Joel Veak}

Dine out long enough in a city, and you start to see ghosts — namely, the shades of beloved bygone restaurants. Walking into Bistro du Midi (272 Boylston Street, Boston, 617.426.7878), all I could think of was Biba, the innovative, gorgeous Lydia Shire restaurant that opened in that space in 1989 and was long a favorite of mine. Among other innovations, Biba introduced Bostonians to the joys of offal, 20 years ahead of the current trend. I dined there on my birthday minutes after I proposed to the future Mrs. MC. Its successor in that location, Excelsior, was a fine restaurant, but it was still Sammy Hagar to Biba’s David Lee Roth. When it closed, I shrugged.

But Bistro du Midi, the latest restaurant to occupy Biba’s old roost, looks like a real fresh start. Its attractiveness is modest, with muted tones of yellows and grays, slate floors, wooden beams, spare furnishings, and bistro touches like a zinc bartop in the dramatically reconfigured first-floor bar. That’s a continent away from the jangly, modern American look it supplanted. And the prices are a welcome step down from Excelsior’s lofty ones, if still a bit costly for the restaurant to comfortably wear the term “bistro” (most entrees are in the high $20s). The rent has to cover those swell views of the Public Garden, after all.

Chef Robert Sisca works against the backdrop of le Midi (the South of France), and the bold flavors of Provence are everywhere: fragrant herbs, mushrooms, capers, piquant goat cheeses, and rich charcuterie abound. Pissaladière ($11), the classic Niçoise flatbread, sports a thick layer of sweetly caramelized onions given depth by anchovies and fierce little black olives. A side of ratatouille Provençale ($5) is emblematically rustic, a soothing stew of eggplant, tomatoes, peppers, onions, and garlic. Given his long tenure at Manhattan’s fabled Le Bernardin, it’s no surprise that Sisca is a seafood adept, as is evident in his small plate of marinated octopus ($11). He slow braises a couple of tentacles, slices them into a little pile of coins, sprinkles on pignoli and wisps of eggplant caviar and dried tomato, and serves it with toasted baguette rounds. The result is faintly briny, tender, and thrilling — like a warm Mediterranean breeze. A few bites in, and you can imagine slipping into espadrilles, rolling back the canvas top on the 2CV, and bouncing down to the seaside. With its evocative culinary jaunt to the Côte d’Azur, Bistro du Midi may have finally found a way to exorcise the ghosts of its haunted space.