 |
243-2122 EXT. 371 |
|
La Calaca Comelona 1408 SE 12th Ave., 239-9675 Open Mondays-Thursdays 11 am-9 pm, Fridays and Saturdays 11 am-10 pm. Children welcome. Inexpensive. Picks: Cactus salad, all the tacos, the Alambre combination, jericalla (a flan-like dessert) Nice touch: The room is filled with whimsical icons of the Mexican Day of the Dead.If someone tells me that a particular dish is "to die for," I'm tempted to dismiss the judgment as mired in linguistic banality and culinary incompetence. But what do you say about an entire restaurant that celebrates death, from its name, La Calaca Comelona (The Hungry Skeleton), to its decor? What is it like to consume a drink called a "Vampiro" amid cavorting bundles of bones, a photograph of Frida Kahlo in her coffin, skeletons flying from the ceiling and masks worn on the Day of the Dead? Somehow this Mexican dance macabre strikes a merry, not a lugubrious, note. But while I may book a table for next Nov. 2, the official Day of the Dead, I worry about what may happen on that holiday. Will the restaurant serve a Veracruz version of the lethal Japanese fugu? Will the dried maguey worm in Mezcal undertake mortal business? In the meantime, not to worry. La Calaca Comelona will send you out singing with cheer, very much alive. It's a small, simple, funky establishment, little more than a storefront in an unpromising building with a tiny parking lot. But Patricia Cabrera's food is as authentically of the people as the painted frying pans, the drill-press lamp, and the folk puppets and animal figurines scattered throughout the place. This is no ordinary cantina, for the menu advertises the restaurant's refusal to serve burritos. In place of such ersatz Mexican cuisine, you'll find such treats as soft and delectable tacos--thick homemade masa tortillas crammed with juicy meats, at prices that encourage you to try all five versions (you'll be surprised at the wonderful pork and pineapple one). But that's just the start. Keep in mind this is not Mexican haute cuisine. Think instead of La Calaca Comelona as Cafe Azul's day job, meaning that it's more a taqueria than a restaurant and probably more a lunch spot than a dinner spot (the menu is identical for both meals). Yet there is a nice variety of dishes, and you can eat in a hearty, if basic, way. The cooking here is obviously a labor of love from a woman whose Central Mexican home region furnishes plenty of inspiration, especially in the use of avocado, chilies, corn and other grains. Not only are the tortillas made on the premises, but so is the Mexican sausage--and the salsas. There are several nice, filling dishes, notably the Alambre, a sort of scrapple of peppers, onions, steak, bacon, mushrooms and Mexican cheese. It's actually less heavy than you'd imagine and very pretty on the plate, with its crisp and glistening earth tones. There are five such combinations, all meaty and quite satisfying. The salads are vibrantly fresh. Cactus figures in several dishes, and while I believe it's the canned variety, it's a perfectly adequate substitute for the real thing. Among the salads, I especially favor the Nopales (a sparkling mixture of cold sliced cactus pods, cilantro, serrano chili, lime and a shower of snowy Mexican cheese) and the Aguacate, which blends sliced avocado, lime and jalapeños. Even mundane offerings of beans have uncommon integrity. The beans are obviously soaked each night and cooked afresh, for they deliver crunch and considerable flavor. A plate of chili negro chicken slices, while hardly as complex as a mole that's been simmering all day with 20 or more spices, nevertheless has the dark, almost sinister look that suggests serious attention to detail and a concern for the right ingredients. When such a dish is enhanced by pickled peppers and purple onions, things come alive with a startling medley of tastes. Even ordinary quesadillas serve as lessons in authenticity, since they are toasted on a comal (cast-iron grill) and mounded with Mexican cheese, along with a host of other fillings according to your preference. For major trenchermen, the Morisqueta is the ticket, with rice, beans, cheese and salsa heaped in mouth-stretching abundance. But you never sense that the goal is simply to fill you up, as you frequently do with gringo-inflected burritos; here the quesadillas maintain a certain delicacy of taste despite the generous portions. If you crave a cleansing dish, I'd recommend the shrimp cocktail served in a tall tulip glass crammed with rock shrimp, cilantro, cucumber, onions and a bracing sauce--it feels almost like a salad in a glass. A beer and wine license is in the works, but meanwhile some adventurous beveraging is possible. The blood-red Vampiro is made of beet, carrot, celery and pineapple juices; it's not a classic smoothie combo, but it's among the less curious drinks. Circulacion de Sangre claims to get the blood going, though it glows a luminous green, with celery, carrot, cucumber, parsley and lettuce. A dozen such mixtures appear to have originated from a pre-Columbian juice bar. You can follow these flavors with a jericalla, a kind of firm flan with caramel syrup puddled at the bottom and said to be concocted by Sor Juana de la Cruz. Who knew that 17th-century nuns had such sensuous tastes? Be warned, however: Just when you crave a pot of lampblack coffee, you discover La Calaca Comelona does not serve any at all. Perhaps bone-rattling skeletons have no wish to be more wired than they already are. From the wooden bowls on the counter crammed with avocados and limes to the hand-painted telephone booth shaped like a giant ear, this is a distinctly personal place. You can watch the cook at work in the open kitchen, performing her work with intense seriousness. No place could be more casual (you procure your own silverware and place your orders up front), but that's part of the fun of eating at this friendly and welcome little spot. Keep your eye on the food, and don't let all those whistling scythes and grinning skulls get to you.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
|
