Oct. 30th, 2006 09:49 am
Something fresh in Pilsen
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muckefuckHave a look a the (out-of-date) menu available here and maybe you can begin to understand why, if Mundial were located down the street from me, I'd be eating there all the time. Yes, I loves me some good greasy family-style Mexican food, but there's more to life than milanesa and carnitas. Like the turkey in mole rojo of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu's torta de Don Chemo or the chicken tinga on my tamales nejos. The last are completely unlike any tamales you've had before; they're milimetres thick, steamed flat between two banana leaves, and made with ash according to a technique originated by the P'urhépecha of Michoacán State. The butternut squash empanadas kicked ass, too, as did Gus' mojarra, which was delicately flavoured with a perfect firm texture and a tasty stuffing. We were all amazed by the salad of lentils and carnitas, which sounded queer on the page but was a revelation on the plate--a very attractively arranged plate, to boot.
If it all sounds too frou-frou, well, menus can never tell more than half the story. It's an unpretentious little storefront (they eschew the much-abused word "fusion" in favour of the homey "mestiza") with friendly, efficient staff. Diego--who'd just been to the diametrically opposed Olé Olé the night before--was impressed with the calmness of the exposed kitchen. It wasn't that business was slow, but that the chefs were skilled and comfortable enough not to raise chaos. I would love to slip in there for a relaxing dinner at least once a week, but--alas--it's about five miles too far from my door for that.
monshu's torta de Don Chemo or the chicken tinga on my tamales nejos. The last are completely unlike any tamales you've had before; they're milimetres thick, steamed flat between two banana leaves, and made with ash according to a technique originated by the P'urhépecha of Michoacán State. The butternut squash empanadas kicked ass, too, as did Gus' mojarra, which was delicately flavoured with a perfect firm texture and a tasty stuffing. We were all amazed by the salad of lentils and carnitas, which sounded queer on the page but was a revelation on the plate--a very attractively arranged plate, to boot.If it all sounds too frou-frou, well, menus can never tell more than half the story. It's an unpretentious little storefront (they eschew the much-abused word "fusion" in favour of the homey "mestiza") with friendly, efficient staff. Diego--who'd just been to the diametrically opposed Olé Olé the night before--was impressed with the calmness of the exposed kitchen. It wasn't that business was slow, but that the chefs were skilled and comfortable enough not to raise chaos. I would love to slip in there for a relaxing dinner at least once a week, but--alas--it's about five miles too far from my door for that.
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