The Background: Sometimes, you just want some tacos for lunch. Guanajuato Groceries is one of those places that you wish you could go back and take more pictures of. Because it’s a taco stand. In the back of a grocery store. It’s a tidy and compact operation.
And it’s cheap. Super cheap. I walked out of Guanajuato’s with two steak tacos and one carnitas (pulled pork) taco for less than $5. In hindsight, I should have gotten two carnitas and one steak as the carnitas was mouth-wateringly luscious and fatty and soft. The steak was a little overdone.
But drizzled with cilantro and onions and accompanied by a very spicy salsa? Not a bad lunch.
The Verdict: There’s something very compelling about Guanajuato’s. The only thing that’s got me thinking is that it’s been so long since I had a proper taco that I’m not quite sure what a good one should taste like anymore. So I think I need to do some more exploring before I return to Guanajuato’s.
The Background: Molly is my friend Sangeeta’s friend. Molly moved to London months and months ago, and we’ve played e-mail about meeting up until finally, the stars aligned, and Boho Mexica it was.
The Entrance: The music is LOUD. And there’s no one in Boho Mexica. It’s early though. 6:30ish on a Tuesday. I’ve made a booking and despite the restaurant’s emptiness, they attempt to sit me next to the only other occupied table. Uh, I don’t think so. I convince them to let me take another table. It works.
The Drinks: I order a margarita while I wait. It’s good. But served in a tall glass, which strikes me as odd. There’s also not a lot of salt. I like a lot of salt.
The Food: Once Molly arrives, we order some chips and guac, an assortment of tacos, the empanadas, and the Bistec a la Mexica. Boho Mexica serves food in pretty small portions, so although everything is very attractively priced, you need to order a few dishes to really fill up.
I have no complaints about the food. It’s all pretty competant and delicious. The empanadas are perhaps a bit too doughy, but the tacos are pretty perfect and I dig the steak.
It’s the service that I can’t deal with. They’re freakin’ CRAZY.
The Service: I swear to God, we had to repeat our order three or four times to make sure our server got it. And we’re not complicated people. And this wasn’t a complicated order. And I still swear that we didn’t actually get what we ordered. (I’m not sure we ordered the steak.)
Ah, and then the chips and guac. We had one order. It was good. Suddenly, a second order appeared at our table. I told the server, “That looks great, but we didn’t order that.” He shrugged and said, “Well, you can keep it.” He left the dish on our table and walked off. Molly and I kept chatting.
And then I looked down, just as another server was sneaking the “complimentary” chips and guac off the table to give it to the table next to us. I can keep it, my ass.
Ah, and the constant parade of dishes, as servers dropped by our table…”Here are your Enchiladas!” Um, we didn’t order those. “Oh! Sorry!” “Here is your sea bass! Enjoy!” Um, we didn’t order that either. “Oh! So sorry.” Honestly, the service was so bad, it was funny. It became a game…what will they deliver next that we haven’t ordered??
The Verdict: You know I like Mexican food. So I’m going to give this another shot. And I’m going to videotape it because if the service is as ridiculous the second time around, I have a YouTube hit on my hands!!!
The Background: I’ve done something stupid. My flight from Barcelona landed at 9:45 p.m. on Sunday night, and I have myself booked on the 7:45 a.m. flight to Chicago on Monday morning. Uggh. Luckily, everything goes to plan. I land at 9:45 p.m. I have IRIS and I’ve carried on. I am home somewhere between 11:15 and 11:30 p.m. I go straight to bed and wake up at 4:15 a.m. for my taxi at 4:45 a.m. I am at Heathrow at 5:25 a.m. Perfect. AND I sleep three hours on the plane.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in Chicago. And I’m struck immediately by how much the city has changed. There are buildings where beforehand, there were none. (My employer, for example, is operating out of an entirely new building in the Loop, a property that stood empty for ages.) When I step off the El at Irving Park to meet Aileen, the station has been completely transformed…no more rickety wood. No more dodgy station. Chicago seems more grown up. More serious. And in comparison to London, it’s hot. And sunny. And the skies are blue.
The Entrance: Aileen, Brady, Eileen and I head over to El Tapatio to meet Bob. El Tapatio is on the edge of my old ‘hood, but although I lived in the area for five years until 2004, I never visited El Tapatio. We take a seat outside and peruse the menu.
The Drinks: I order a lemonade and it is HUGE. Bob, Aileen, and Eileen all get iced tea (God bless America) and their iced teas are HUGE too. I would order an Arnold Palmer if it wasn’t for the no caffeine thing. Oh, and there are free refills. And huge glasses of tap water that are continuously refilled throughout our meal.
The Food: There’s complimentary chips and salsa to get us started. These are okay. The chips are just the tiniest bit stale and the salsa is the watery kind. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong, it just means it’s hard to scoop up.
For my main, I go for the Guadalajara: an enchilada, crispy taco and a tostada, served with rice and beans. (Hey, I’ve been gone for a while.) It looks like a mess, doesn’t it? The refried beans are good (hard to mess up beans) and the rice is okay. The steak taco is just average…the steak tastes rubbery and old. I feel better about the enchilada and the tostada. (Crazily, while I’m at BlogHer, there’s a Mexican buffet one day. It was fantastic. I wanted to hug the chef. In hindsight, I should have.) In short, this meal takes the edge off, but it’s not the Mexican fiesta that I’ve been dreaming of. DO OVER!
The Verdict: Well, I was happy to be with old friends in my old neighborhood. There’s nothing that really compares now, is there? But I wanted to be happier with my food. Oddly, everyone on the Internets loves El Tapatio. So either I’m the outlier or the chef was off that day. (It was a Monday.)
Mestizo 103 Hampstead Road NW1 3EL London Date of Last Visit: Saturday, May 2nd, 2009
The Victims: Gerry, Ben
The Damage: £40ish?
The Background: I went to Mestizo with Gerry and Ben back on May 2nd, but somehow never managed to write up a review. That might be because Gerry
and Ben and I had already had our fair share of beverages that
day. Mestizo was kinda muddled into this hazy memory of Shakespeare and Stratford-upon-Avon and flowers and trains and pubs and Marylebone Station.
Because, you see, we'd spent the afternoon visiting the birthplace of Shakespeare in Stratford-upon-Avon. And after lunch
and with not much else to do before our train, we went on our own little pub crawl. (No place really super memorable to report.)
The train back to London from Stratford-upon-Avon takes a little over two hours, which was just
enough time to work up enough hunger that it made sense to talk about
dinner plans. Mexican, it's unanimous.
We figured it out with Google Maps. The train gets into Marylebone. We
can take a bus east from there to Euston, and then we can walk to Mestizo.
Even More Background: I've been wanting to go to Mestizo for ages because a year or two ago, I went to my friend Con Ann's holiday party and there were a few Mexicans at the party. I asked them what their favorite Mexican place in London was, and they said hands down, Mestizo. They felt it was the most authentic.
The Entrance: We get a table by the window and place our orders. The complimentary chips and salsa are nice, but it's a small portion for three people. Maybe we could have gotten free refills? Not sure. (In most Mexican restaurants in Chicago, the chips and salsa are free and keep coming, and you usually pay a small
supplement for the guac.)
The Food: Then we start ordering margaritas (should have taken some photos) and it all gets even hazier after that. I order the Pabellon Criollo, which is described on their menu as, "shredded beef marinated with onion, red and black pepper sauce, fresh garlic and sweet chiles, served with rice and beans." The plantains that arrive with the dish are a nice surprise.
It's all okay, but I find the beans a bit watery and even the shredded beef is too watery. (But maybe that's what the rice is for.) And plus, it all seems a little bit cool. As in not hot. And I feel like, at £12.50, it's a high-margin dish. Maybe the cost is in the spices. I don't know.
Other Items of Note:
Gerry gets very excited because Mestizo also sells a small variety of mexican products. (Gerry is Costa Rican.) She buys a bunch of stuff before we leave.
We were slightly transfixed by the flat-screen TV which seemed to infinitely loop a program of Mexican dancers.
The Service: A bit surly at first, but she warmed up to us later.
The Verdict: I was disappointed, as you can probably tell from this review.
When I learned that Tortilla opened a few days ago–just a few doors down from Mucho Mas–the first people I told were Stacey and Canadia Boy. Being the international jet setters that they are, they went straight there on their way back from the aiport. They crack me up. So I suggested Canadia Boy "guest blog" and give us all the low down. Here' he is, in his own words…
13 Islington High Street N1 9LQ 0207 833 3103
It's amazing what can happen when you have faith. After nearly three years of hoping against hope for decent Mexican in my part of town*, Mucho Mas opened for business right down the street and has been going strong ever since. Someone must have thought this was a good idea because, lo and behold, no more than 1,056 feet south** lies a new entrant into what shall henceforth be known as the "Upper Street Burrito Battles***," the ingrediently-named "Tortilla."
So, without further ado, here's how the skirmish went down (in true Londonelicious style — it is Krista's blog, after all):
Name: I've got to award creativity points to Mucho Mas — plus, it's simply more descriptive of the goods and services provided. "Tortilla" could be anything from a chip (crisp, whatever) to a wrap or a Spanish (or South American) omelet. My guess, given the proximity of Spain to London over Mexico, the general population will assume the Spanish meaning as opposed to the Mexican. Plus, what do you think is going to happen when you Google "Tortilla" vs. "Mucho Mas?" Yep, you guessed it — the former comes up with entries that no brand of black-hat Search Engine Optimization will be able to replace (specifically, the erstwhile Wikipedia page on the subject), while the second link**** (and first paid link) for the latter takes you where you need to go. You need a good Google name in this day and age. Mucho Mas 1, Tortilla 0.
The Background: Stephanie, my cleaning lady extraordinaire, is leaving me. She’s having a baby. I can’t even tell you how guilty I feel about having a cleaning lady. Make it a pregnant cleaning lady and well, I am swimming in guilt.
But life goes on. So here I am, working from home, making sure my new cleaning lady doesn’t rob me blind. (I have such trust in people!) Her name is Lily and she seems really nice and I can’t imagine her robbing me, so that’s good.
So I take a break for lunch and head over to Exmouth Market for a burrito! I am so excited! I have been wanting to try Freebird for ages, and it’s not too far from me, but it’s been hard to get a day at home where I can give it a try.
The Approach: The stand is quiet when I get there. I’m the only one there. Then I recognize the two owner dudes from my night at Mucho Mas and try to drum up a conversation. I remind the one guy that I met him at Mucho Mas. I don’t think he remembered me. I think he just thought I was a crazy American who was really excited to have a burrito for lunch.
The Product: I get a pork fajita burrito. (Pork = Carnitas.) They make it in front of me, which is cool. I get a little worried though when they wrap it up. They don’t wrap it so well. It looks like it’s going to fall apart. But I take it and go. Not before forgetting to pay, of course. I am nothing if not classy.
Back at Home: I unwrap it and it falls apart. It’s just not very burrito-y. It’s a mess. A delicious mess, but a mess indeed. I like the carnitas. Really nicely seasoned. But then–I went with the medium salsa, and it’s not got much of a punch to it. It’s just a bunch of corn. Hmmm.
The Verdict: Not bad. But not knocking my socks off either.
The Background: There is a lot of background to this post. But I will try to be brief. So you know I just got back from Mexico. And somewhere in there, you might know that Beach Burrito on Berwick Street (home of "Your ovaries are dying") no longer exists. Well, I was randomly trolling the Internet–Which should always be spelled with a capital I, by the way. And Web site is two words with a capital W, I swear–and somehow came across a posting about a new Mexican place opening in August. This London food blogger blatantly asked to be invited to Opening Night. Denied, sadly, as there was no opening party…but this was actually probably wise of them.
Meanwhile, back on the ranch, Meredith in Chicago e-mailed all us Londoners something about her dad’s nephew’s friend or somebody opening up a Mexican restaurant in Islington.
And then out-of-the-blue, Bryan texted (texted? is that a word?) Wednesday night, asking if I was up for a burrito on Thursday at this new Mexican place in Islington.
Yes, in a 10 day period, all anyone wanted to talk to me about was Mucho Mas.
As it turned out, Bryan and Stacey had already been to Mucho Mas–on Wednesday night. And they had told the co-owners about me. But Eric already knew who I was because of the wonders of social networking. My cover was blown. (Not that I really have a cover. Or that anyone really cares about it. But it does sound so dramatic, no? I have, as my mother is oft to remind me, delusions of grandeur.)
The Entrance: Mucho Mas is not big. On the ground floor at least. There are two tables that can probably fit 10 to 12. Work is underway on the upstairs.
Palpable energy, for sure. It was really fun to be there on opening night…everyone was talking to everyone else. People from my country were not infrequently through the doors. Good times.
The Food: I don’t want to compare them to Chipotle, but I’m going to have to, sort of. So you go to the counter and place your order. You can select from chicken, shredded beef, carnitas (pork), and sliced beef. Burrito or taco it up. And then walk along the counter with your server as they add everything else (by request), including a number of different types of salsa.
I went for a carnitas burrito with salsa verde. I love salsa verde. Have I mentioned that before?
On opening night, everything was going for £5, but prices will be a tiny bit higher over the course of the next week. We grabbed some cervesas and took a seat.
The First Bite: The burrito was fantastic. I loved the salsa verde and the black beans. (Salsa verde product line extension? Please?) Seriously. I was very happy. Bryan and Stacey were equally and ecstatically happy. Eric was worried about the temperature of everything (Celsius, don’t you know), but it was totally fine. We were so very very happy.
Bryan hopped up to get some tacos. Wise man, he got us a variety–chicken, shredded beef, and carnitas. The carnitas, for me, again reigned supreme. In general, I thought the tacos were nice, but not as nice as the burrito. We loved the fact that we were the first to use the hot sauce bottle.
Our Tablemates and Other New Friends: We quickly made friends with fellow country-people, Marty and Megan, who also turned out to be bloggers. I am very jealous because they got a post up THAT NIGHT all about their experience. Bryan and Stacey were good about reminding me to self-promote, so I gave out my Londonelcious blog cards to anyone and everyone who would take one. As it turned out, Simon from Luardo’s was there, as were the guys from Freebird Burritos in Exmouth Market, which I have yet to try out. It was a fun totally random night.
The Verdict: Mucho mas, por favor. (That’s a yes.)
So I keep forgetting to mention Luardo’s. I feel bad about that because when I dropped by a few weeks ago, I chatted wtih Simon, the proprieter, for a bit and he seemed really nice. (And he sorta knew who I was because he had read my Mexican round-up on Londonist, as well as my interview with Daddy Donkey.) Two other London blogs have beat me to the punch in covering London’s newest Mexican offering–I really don’t know how Dos Hermanos do it! And of course, there’s the ever-dependable Londonist.
But now that I’m back from Mexico (and jetlagged off my butt, thank you), it just seemed like the perfect time to mention Simon and his cool Luardo’s van. And his very nice quesadillas.
Now when I chatted with Simon, he said he didn’t have a Web site yet, but would soon. I’ve done a bunch of searches and can’t find anything except a MySpace profile that seems more personal than fajita-oriented, so I can’t really tell you where or when to find him.
But look for him on Whitecross Street every so often. (I’ve seen him there a couple of times now.) Order a quesadilla. And say Hola for me.
So I keep forgetting to mention Luardo’s. I feel bad about that because when I dropped by a few weeks ago, I chatted wtih Simon, the proprieter, for a bit and he seemed really nice. (And he sorta knew who I was because he had read my Mexican round-up on Londonist, as well as my interview with Daddy Donkey.) Two other London blogs have beat me to the punch in covering London’s newest Mexican offering–I really don’t know how Dos Hermanos do it! And of course, there’s the ever-dependable Londonist.
But now that I’m back from Mexico (and jetlagged off my butt, thank you), it just seemed like the perfect time to mention Simon and his cool Luardo’s van. And his very nice quesadillas.
Now when I chatted with Simon, he said he didn’t have a Web site yet, but would soon. I’ve done a bunch of searches and can’t find anything except a MySpace profile that seems more personal than fajita-oriented, so I can’t really tell you where or when to find him.
But look for him on Whitecross Street every so often. (I’ve seen him there a couple of times now.) Order a quesadilla. And say Hola for me.
The Damage: Oh I forget. But I think it might have been just £20 each.
So the other Sunday, I was bored and actually cooked for myself. I use the term "cooked" loosely as always. "Cooking" involved stopping into Tesco Metro and buying Old El Paso Enchiladas in a Box, along with some chicken, which was–as it should be–already cut up for me. I am nothing if not efficient. "Cooking" also involved setting off the smoke detector a couple of times, which always keeps things exciting. (No pots or pans or appendages were burned during my cooking, I swear) Ah, my neighbo"u"rs must love me.
Well, my Enchiladas from a Box were delicious–particularly because I ditched the packet of ueber-bland tomato sauce for 1/2 a jar of salsa from Whole Foods. Hot!
So this had me totally geared up for a night of Mexican, by real people who could cook! Ben & Gerry are thinking of moving to Stoke Newington, so I hopped on the 243 and headed up to meet them after their day of flat hunting. As a FIRST, I actually had a conversation with an entirely normal person on the bus (as opposed to the crazies I normally talk to). I was afraid that I had missed my stop, so I asked the guy next to me for help. The good news is that he was heading to Stoke Newington Church Street too. The bad news is that he wasn’t my type. (Or well, I wasn’t his.) But he was nice and gave me lots of Stokey recommendations. (Can I call it Stokey?)
Mercado was not one of his recommendations. His actual quote was something like, "It’s awful. Unless maybe you like all that fried bean stuff thrown onto everything." (And ummm…I’m thinking, "Well wow yeah, like that sounds totally good.")
And the guy behind the bar at The Rose & Crown? He said the same. He said everything was drenched in mole sauce, and the guacamole was awful. And he is a chef. Sometimes. Except when he’s not working behind the bar.
So we made some back-up plans. But then…
The Snacks: The chips and salsa are quality. Gerry, who was born in Costa Rica, very much approves of the guacamole. And you know what? I trust her judgment implicitly. The queso fundido is nice too, but you can’t really get cheese and chorizo wrong.
The Service: Is not from Mexico, but it’s friendly. There’s a woman behind the bar, and she is definitely speaking Spanish. And I ask about the chef, and his name is Alberto and he’s from Mexico. He replaces the previous chef, Carlos, who has gone back to Mexico…but Carlos is coming back at some point.
The Food: I have the enchiladas, and they are indeed covered (drenched) in mole sauce. So I check this out the next day with Arturo–my co-worker of Mexican American origins–and his response is something along the lines of "Mole? Pour that sh*t on."
The Loos: Just a few words: High pressure water cleaning. Por favor, mis amigos.
The Verdict: I gotta be honest, I liked my food. And so did everyone else. That guy on the bus and that guy behind the bar? They don’t know what they’re talking about. If I lived closer, I’d go here all the time. As long as Alberto is cooking. I’m wondering if the bad rap has something to do with that Carlos guy.
The Victims: Feathers, Jen, Julie, Stacey, Becky, Kellie, Monica, Anna
The Damage: 30 quid a head
The Scoop: We had originally planned on a return to Crazy Homies, only the best place in the world ever. But I managed to convince everyone that we should try a different Mexican restaurant–Green & Red. So we did! And we were very happy.
But first, well, we were a little lost. I mean, we knew where we were going, but you don’t walk down Bethnal Green Road most days. It’s a bit, well, as my estate agent put it, it’s in a vibrant neighborhood.
We arrived early and were seated by a very courteous and nice guy who had once been to Canada to the top of the CN Tower in Toronto. There’s a glass floor in the CN Tower, which can be totally petrifying because you’re so far up. Green & Red had the same. Only we weren’t so far up. But it was still freaky.
Starters: We had the chorizo–which was lovely. And the guacamole, which I thought needed salt, but that could just be me. The chips were good. They weren’t made in-house like they are in Crazy Homies–that I could tell, but maybe there was a chip-making-dude somewhere. Like under the glass floor.
Drinks: We went with pitchers of margaritas. Served about 6. 31 quid each. Not cheap! But I still think we got 4 for the price of 3. And they were tasty. Although–very high margin.
Service: Friendly, informative, attentive. Really good. I still need to find out what the manager said to Kellie about her shrimp dish. (Um, sorry, I meant prawns.)
Toilets: Eh. Below average. Good use a good scrub-down.
Mains–I’m Forgetting the Mains!: Pork belly makes me nervous, but our waitress told me it was her fave, so I did it. And I did not regret it. It was delicious. Feathers had the lamb and was heard on multiple occasions saying, "Look at my lamb! The meat is falling off the bone! Look at it!" I wish there had been more refried beans. I know people think they’re gross, but I love them. Many enjoyed the carne asada; it looked very good indeed.
Areas for Change: Clean the bathrooms. Introduce happy hour for the margarita pitchers. (1/2 price before 8 p.m.?) Provide free chips and salsa in addition to the complimentary pickled carrots and cauliflower. Unlimited refried beans!!!
The Verdict: This was a little more upscale than I like my Mexican restaurants to be. They specialize in a particular area of Mexico, so you won’t find fajitas or enchiladas or any of that Tex-Mex fare. That being said, the food was lovely.
Given my previous day, it was time to re-celebrate my birthday. Julie and I met up at The Westbourne, where we were instantly sad we weren’t Swedish and wearing dark sun glasses. Al & Louise joined us before jetting off to the theatre and we passed a leisurely few hours.
But then it was time: 6 p.m. I had been planning this for weeks. Crazy Homies. Mexican food. Yes. Mexican. Si. Si. Si. I had eaten at Crazy Homes before–sort of…Rutton ordered take-away from CH for the Superbowl back in January, so I was familiar with their guac and some of their different salsas. But I had never actually eaten IN at Crazy Homies.
Although I had been muy triste the day before–mis Cumpleanos–I was muy contento on May 1st, sitting there, drinking margaritas and eating tortilla chips and guacomole and all different types of salsa.
The chips and salsa at Crazy Homies is truly to be commended. It’s fantastico. Really. We could not get enough. It was a big bowl of chips (I’m wondering how long this will last–this big bowl) and delicious guac and interesting salsas. And they refilled all without charging us any extra. (Secretly, behind now used to London, I’m wondering if they just forgot about charging and if we were, instead, just lucky.) On the upside for them, their margaritas were delicious but so full of ice that they were all margin. So maybe that’s the secret.
We had many margaritas. Many. And then we ordered our food. Now, I used to eat Mexican (or Tex-Mex or whatever you want to call it) quite often, so when I saw Gringas on the menu, I was a bit intrigued. I had never heard of Gringas before, although I know Gringas means white girls. Being as such, I ordered the Gringas.
And I learned that Gringas means Quesadilla in Crazy Homies parlance. This makes me sad because Quesadillas to this Long Island girl are not MAINS. They are starters. So I wasn’t too excited.
My gringas were delicious though. I cannot truly complain. I just wish I had ordered the Burro (aka English for American "Burrito"). I do enjoy a delicious burrito.
I must mention that during the time we were there, this crazy homie came in and played 50s and 60s ska and it was so perfect. And he had dancing Barbies. It was cool.
Ah, well, I suppose that is all. We loved our chips and salsa. We loved our gringas. And the music. And Adrien loved his burrito.
And it’s cheap. Super cheap. I walked out of Guanajuato’s with two steak tacos and one carnitas (pulled pork) taco for less than $5. In hindsight, I should have gotten two carnitas and one steak as the carnitas was mouth-wateringly luscious and fatty and soft. The steak was a little overdone.
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