Sancho Pistola's brings solid Mexican fare and a righteous beer list to Fishtown

LOOKIN' SNAPPY: A whole red snapper dressed with olives, capers and cilantro.
Neal Santos

When Adan Trinidad took over the kitchen at Jose Pistola’s, Casey Parker remembers, Trinidad “had people clean for the first four days.” Parker, who owns the Center City bar and its new Fishtown brother, Sancho Pistola’s, with business partner Joe Gunn, was pleased — and leery. “The first day, I was like, ‘Yeah, the kitchen needs that.’ The second day, I was like, ‘Yeah, OK, it must’ve really needed it.’ On the third day, when they were still cleaning, I was like, ‘Yeah somebody’s going to quit soon.’”

Nobody quit — certainly not Trinidad, who bestowed upon Jose Pistola’s the menu it always deserved. In what seemed like a week’s time, the word was out about its electric ceviches, exciting guacs and continent-jumping specialties like carnitas steamed buns and togarashi-dusted tuna tacos. Jose’s went from a no-frills industry clubhouse known for its righteous beer list to a destination for some the city’s best Mexican eats (and still a righteous beer list).

Piggybacking off the newfound culinary success of Jose’s, Parker and Gunn began hunting for real estate to house another bar, one where Trinidad would be partner. A tip from the guy who does Jose’s beer lines led the trio to Fishtown, where the hastily abandoned Bubba’s Texas BBQ proved too good to resist. Sancho Pistola’s opened on Super Bowl weekend. 

A kitchen full of new toys allowed for things like whole fish — usually red snapper or branzino, cooked head-to-tail and deboned with French precision — and flame-kissed steaks. “On my first menu at Jose’s we tried to do entrees like this, and they didn’t sell at all,” the chef reports. “At Sancho’s, we have the equipment to make them without smoking the place out, so we put a fish and a steak on.” 

That’s not bad for a bar — which Sancho’s most emphatically is. Sure, there’s a polish to the place, and unlike Jose’s, Sancho’s customers tend to hew to typical seven-and-nine dinner rushes without much of an after-hours bump, but this is still not a place to dine. The napkins are paper, the pacing jagged, the stools and high-top tables so squeezed together it feels like you’re riding coach on the red-eye from LAX. No matter; Trinidad’s food is worth the discomfort.

The tomato-based Veracruzana sauce forming a crimson moat around the whole snapper is like a Mexican puttanesca — punchy with crushed olives, salty capers and fresh cilantro. The fish’s salamander-broiled skin shone and crinkled like tinfoil, its flesh beneath moist and glistening as it flaked into the chunky sauce dammed by tender peanut potatoes and sweet fried plantains. I’d put it up against any whole fish in the city. 

Trinidad is a seafood lover, a passion passed down by his mom, Lidia Mendez. I think his ceviches here and at Jose’s are unmatched locally. Some are out there, others traditional, like the vivid mahimahi cubes acid-washed in lime for 12 hours, then dressed with habanero, onion, tomato, garlic, cilantro, red onion and olive oil. 

Malpeque oysters get buttermilk-battered, Southern-fried and piled into tortillas for crunchy po’ boy tacos, a clever hybrid that could be the next Korean taco. 

Fried oysters, Korean short rib and all the other “land” and “fish” taco proteins (the cecina — cured flank steak with flame-roasted poblanos and airy tomatillo espuma — is a must) rest on wonderful corn tortillas from Tortilleria y San Roman in the Italian Market. Trinidad turns them into fresh-fried chips as well. Layered with queso, tomato, jalapenos, onions and refried beans, they become a helluva plate of hot, gooey nachos. You’ll also find them chaperoning the ceviches and various guacamoles; my favorite is the version jeweled with quartered strawberries pickled with cinnamon, anise and allspice. 

Berries also figure into my favorite Sancho cocktail, the Big Mex. It’s as fuchsia as a shot an 18-year-old girl would order on spring break in Cancun, but the candy color hides triple doses of mescal, apple brandy and that jalapeno-infused tequila. Pureed strawberries and agave temper the burn into a ballet of heat, fruit and smoke. Try it with the excellent burger, a brisket-and-short rib patty topped with bacon, poblanos, onions and chihuahua cheese on Le Bus brioche.

The beer list focuses on the Midwest and West Coast, with some obligatory local stuff, Belgians and a nitro line. Parker and Gunn have some wacky finds buried in there, like the Saucony Creek Schnickerflitz, a dessert stout brewed with chocolate and cherries. It might help improve the steamed buns cradling soft, underseasoned meatballs glazed in the mole that Mama Mendez brews with chocolate and raisins — the only dish I didn’t like. I want to love the mole, because it’s made by someone’s mom and counts animal crackers among its secret ingredients. It’s almost too cute to criticize. But the sauce seemed muddy to this philistine. 

Trinidad’s churros have routinely disappointed me at Jose’s, so at Sancho’s I skipped them in favor of an elegant ancho-chili chocolate pot de crème and wobbling flan with a rich vanilla fragrance. Technically impressive and entirely delicious -— like the rest of this place.

SANCHO PISTOLA’S | 19 W. Girard Ave., 267-324-3530, sanchopistolas.com. Dinner, Mon.-Fri., 4 p.m.-1 a.m; brunch, Sat.-Sun., 11 a.m.-3 p.m. Appetizers, $5-$14; tacos, $8-$15; entrees, $11-$29; desserts, $7.