Tom always lamented the cruel reality that Mexican food in America is really American food with a little twist. He felt that actual Mexican food was delicious. But real Mexican food has only recently been making inroads into the culinary scene in America. Serious Mexican chefs in the United States also had their frustrations about this situation, sometimes voicing their real feelings that their native cuisine as represented in America had to be “cheap.” One Michelin-starred L.A. chef told me he’d have to charge $25 a bag for his housemade tortilla chips when his silent partner asked him to sell them. Things have begun to change. It’s only been about five years that we’ve seen mole on menus, even in places serving the Americanized version of “Mexican” food.
Enter Anna Castro, who a few years ago opened a prix fixe gourmet real Mexican place called Lengua Madre. (Mother’s tongue.) It featured a tasting menu celebrating the flavors from her homeland. It wasn’t around long, but it was critically acclaimed. She came back about a year ago with Acamaya, another critically acclaimed gourmet Mexican restaurant that offers an a la carte menu. Much better. No commitment required.
It’s in the Bywater neighborhood and I passed it not long ago. It looked most interesting, and I resolved to put it higher on the priority list. The opportunity presented itself, and I went to see what the hubbub is all about. When I think “real” Mexican restaurants I think whitewashed walls of Oaxaca, or vibrant colors like Mexico City, but this place is neither. It is dark and glamorous, with muted colored tiles standing upright. Tables line windows and there is an interior space featuring communal tables with a great view of a busy kitchen.
The two spaces are separated by Breezeblocks of the restaurant’s logo, which seems like it could be a Mayan or Aztec hieroglyphic. The place is mesmerizing.
The focus of it all is the bar, which is buzzing, and to the right is the kitchen, which is rocking.
These are true professionals who work seamlessly together to turn out polished food. The counter in the kitchen is low enough to see everything. An almost tangiable buzz engulfs everything.
I went in without a reservation, because even though Acamaya is a media darling, it has been around long enough for everyone to have gone. It wasn’t until well into the meal that I realized why there was only a place available at a communal table. This type of dining is not a preference for me, but I have done it a few times, and enjoyed all of these experiences. But the communal table meal I had this particular evening could make me a die-hard advocate of the communal table.
I sat at the communal table with a lovely young woman who was eating the sope when I was trying to decide what to order.
She suggested what she had so I got it, mainly because I was struggling to find something. I had already ordered the heirloom bean salad. And I was planning to get the flank steak, so the sope would be an intermediate course. I was already intimidated by the set up when I sat down.
It was great that she offered the suggestion, not because I really needed the nudge, but more because that suggestion sparked a conversation that I thoroughly enjoyed. This conversation could have gone on long past my desire to eat. It made the evening. And when she left, another interesting woman and I found much to talk about.
The heirloom bean tostada I ordered first arrived and it was beautiful. These were not the legume black or pinto beans, but green beans. Underneath the beans, the tostada was dark and flecked like a molcajete made of volcanic rock. It was thin and crunchy. On top was more of a salad with two types of crunchy green beans, pepitas, and plenty of cilantro and lime. These last two always make any dish better in my view, and this was no exception. I’m generally not a fan of crunchy vegetables, but this vinaigrette made up for it.
The sope came next, and it was more of the blue corn, this one doubly thick, which made it even harder to eat. Like the bean salad, it was the filling that I loved in this sope. It was essentially Crabmeat Maison with slices of creamy avocado on top. The overall sensation of this crab salad was creamy and a light touch with the crabmeat, which I always appreciate. Our local crabmeat is so good the lightest touch possible is the best. This was very good.
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The flank steak came centered in a moat of Pipián Verde and epazote. It was beautiful, with a bright red rare center in the tender slices of beef and a nice crust on the outside.
I ordered Ayocote beans with this as a side. They came in a bowl with crema and Queso Fresco crumbled on top. The large plump black beans were wonderful, with clear definition of bean to sauce. I know there is a camp for mushy beans, but I am not in this camp. It was a good choice of a side for this hearty meat dish.
I completely forgot that there were corn tortillas to accompany this entree. The presentation was pretty, with tortillas completely wrapped in a napkin, with a slice of lime on top. I just registered a napkin. It wasn’t until the waitress asked if I wanted them wrapped that I realized they were there. This was disappointing because they would have made a great taco.
When I had them the next day at home, these were housemade tortillas unlike anything I have had before. I loved their color and texture.
My first companion at the communal table didn’t get an entree, opting instead for two desserts she had a Dulce de leche cake and a flan.
Both were exquisitely crafted just like everything else from this kitchen.
As top level as everything was here, what would bring me back is the experience of sitting in a beautiful place, watching top professionals who are very serious about their work offer the results of their labor to their excited guests. The place is, in a word, captivating.
