A ripoff at half the price

[muckefuck]

Many many years ago, my friend Destiny and I vowed that we needed to be wrong about things more often. Ever since That Mexican Cafe moved into monshu's neighbourhood, I've desperately wanted to be wrong in my judgment of it. But it's fruitless: Everything about it screams "terrible Yuppified Mexican" so loudly that a visit is completely superfluous. (The flagship restaurant is in Evanston; 'nuff said right there.) We tried so hard to be game when one got foisted upon us, but it was predictably in vain.

I got the duck fajitas. They were burnt--not pleasantly charred, burnt. I blame the frazzled state of my nerves that I rudely blurted this out in front of the friend who treated us. "You can send it back," she said. I could--and then wait another half hour for a second order; no thank you. At least I could cut off the burnt skin and be left with a reasonably palatable piece of meat, which left me far better off than poor monshu. He was doing his best to conceal how often he was removing from his mouth inedible stringy bits of whatever vegetable was stuffed inside his bland, mushy mockery of chiles rellenos.

Once we were safely out of earshot, he pronounced it "the worst dinner I've had in some time". The one compensation was that weren't paying--and we did offer to! It's too soon to tell how the place is faring, but I'm amazed it has custom at all given that there are two perfectly good taquerías a mere block away. (Is having a mediocre mojito with your meal that important?) At least in Evanston, there's the excuse that all likely competition is every bit as bad. Seriously, the best Mexican restaurant in that town is Chipotle. (I wish that were pure snark, but it's the sad honest truth.)

Comments

[jhvilas.livejournal.com]

Isn't it nice to be right every once in a while? Especially when you're going off what feel like a set of stereotypes? It's a first-rate guilty pleasure. If there isn't a word for it in German, there ought to be.

[gopower.livejournal.com]

I wouldn't say that that the food at That Mexican Cafe is terrible, but its certainly nothing special. For the same (not small) price point, the new Little India restuarant just east of it is a much better choice.

I've only eaten at one of the taquerías. The food did not make me ill, which exceeded my expectations. But it is open at 2 a.m.

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

monshu actually suggested it (we ordered delivery from them just last Sunday), but our friend told us Indian didn't agree with her.

There's no accounting for taste, but the entrees we got last night weren't just bad Mexican, they were bad food. I expected bland, but I draw the line at burnt (mine) and stringy (monshu's). I would be disappointed to get served food like that in a greasy spoon at a third the price.

[innerdoggie.livejournal.com]

What are your favorite Mexican restaurants in the city?

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

We recently tried La cocina de Frida in Andersonville and found it quite good; it is hands down the best upscale Mexican in that area. (Olé Olé is what I was hoping for from That Mexican Cafe--overpriced and bland, but at least edible.) Of course, that's rather like saying, "The best barbecue joint in Iceland," but in this case it really is meant as praise.

In general, you have to go to the barrios to get reasonable Mexican food in Chicago. There are dozen places in Pilsen I love to go--Casa del Pueblo, Carnitas Uruapan, Cocina Mundial, etc. Really, it's hard to make a bad choice on 18th Street. I actually find Nuevo León rather average by neighbourhood standards, but it's so much better than your typical North Side Mexican that my friends love it. There are also a string of taquerías clustered along Clark Street in Rogers Park that are all well worth a visit.