October 11–18, 2001

food

Nothing Lost in Translation

Mexican-themed Los Catrines is a fine addition to the one-time home of beloved French and N’awlins restaurants.

by Maxine Keyser

Los Catrines Restaurant & Tequila’s Bar

1602 Locust St., 215-546-0181
Lunch Mon.-Fri., 11:30 a.m.-2 p.m.; dinner Mon.-Thu., 5-10 p.m., Fri.-Sat., 5-11 p.m., Sun., 5-10 p.m.
Wheelchair accessible except for front step. No reservations. All major credit cards.

Lime and again: A margarita from Los Catrines. photo: Michael LeGrand

Since Peter von Starck’s death, I haven’t ventured into the beautiful building at 1602 Locust St. Too many memories of happy times at La Panetière, with his constant ebullient presence, kept me from accepting Magnolia Café, which was later housed there. I kept thinking that if von Starck saw those bottles of Tabasco on his tables, he would have given a fluttering sigh and turned away.

But time and tide go on, and here I am at Los Catrines Restaurant & Tequila’s Bar, which David Suro-Piñera, the owner, has moved from its former spot at 15th and Locust. What the hell, I’ll drink margaritas instead of Roederer Cristal.

I must confess that Suro-Piñera has done wonderful things with the decor, utilizing what was good, and adding his own south-of-the-border influences. The gorgeous crystal chandelier and rococo ceiling moldings are still there, only now overseeing a bar that is crammed with young things and suits gobbling down the excellent margaritas. The rest of the restaurant is divided into intimate, candlelit niches and brightened by the colorful Mexican artwork — large murals by José Clemente Orozco-Farías, photographs of family and Zapatístas, and best of all, the paintings of the authentic los catrines that greet you at the entrance. These skeletons in full dress symbolize the victory of the Mexican Revolution of 1910 and the end of the dictatorship. Large baroque Mexican mirrors are used to great effect in most rooms, and the table decor of hammered copper lay plates and pitchers completes the upscale picture. Colorful, fresh-tasting salsas and tortillas are set down with our margaritas ($5.50 and served in handsome, blown-glass goblets).

There is no doubt that Suro-Piñera is a patriot. Just read (or try to read, in the dim light) his lyrical descriptions of everything on the menu. He fills paragraph after paragraph with little bits of history and how it plays a part in the preparation of each dish.

Chef Carlos Molina’s empanadas ($6.75) features two large cushion-y turnovers of fried corn dough filled with a ground meat mixture, spiced with cumin and perhaps tomatillo. I don’t profess to know too much about Mexican cuisine — I only know what I like, and these are flavorful if a bit tame. Tame too, is the ceviche of fish and shrimp ($7.25). Though it is listed as containing fresh lime juice to cook the fish and tomato, onion, cilantro and Serrano chilies to flavor it, I find that the fish is overcooked while the shrimp are perfect, and the tomatoes sweeten the dish and obscure the desired heat. And why are there two cellophane-wrapped packages of saltines as accompaniments?

Taquitos de pollo ($6.75) are exactly that: crisp tacos filled with shredded chicken. They date from pre-Hispanic civilizations, we are told. The tortilla soup ($5.25) is more exemplary: a chicken-based broth flavored with tomato, chilies, a strange herb called epazote and fried strips of tortilla. (You may have it with or without shredded chicken.) But for me, the most interesting of the appetizers is the ensalada de Nopalitos ($7.50), which is labeled "the most Mexican of the Mexican salads." Leaves of the prickly pear are boiled (which rids them of their mucilaginous texture) and tossed with tomato, cilantro, onion and Serrano chilies and served with tortillas. I like the sour, tart, hot flavor balanced by the bland tortillas. At least this doesn’t have orange slices strewn over it, or broccoli florets — two favorite garnishes of the chef, it seems.

We like two daily specials. The fish of the day (grouper, $18.75) is lightly breaded, grilled, stuffed with guacamole and "seductively" paired with a mango and ginger sauce. It is also attractively decorated with scrolls of crema, the Mexican version of crème fraîche, but there is so much going on here that it is difficult to isolate a particular flavor. Mostly we get sweetness, from the fruity sauce, and a hint of the fleshy fish. It is also a huge portion, what with rice and refried beans on the side as well. My daily special is chicken ($18.75) that is breaded and stuffed with Chihuahua cheese and huitlachoche, that coveted corn fungus that is at once earthy and smoky tasting. Once more, there is a lot more here than I can finish, especially since I’ve asked for a side of mole poblano to try with the chicken. I won’t attempt to quote here the provenance of mole poblano (it gets a very long paragraph on the menu), but it is one of the most distinguished of Mexican sauces; it’s a blend of chilies, tomato, cloves, bitter chocolate, peanuts and more chilies. It is dark and mysterious and adds layers of flavor to the dish that was beginning to taste strangely like all the others. You can tell that I am not aware of all the subtleties of Mexican cuisine when I can make a statement like that.

Desserts are predictable and fairly dull. The flan ($4) is not only blah, but mortified by a Maraschino cherry on top. The crepe ($6.50), however, has a tasty caramel sauce and delicious real vanilla ice cream on the side. Thank you, but no cheesecake for me.

At a time when most restaurants in the area are still reeling from the recent terrorist attacks, Los Catrines is packed and noisy and continues to be that way far into the evening, I’ll wager. When we left, there was a line of people still coming through the doors. Granted, a great many of them come for the nachos, the guacamole and the margaritas, and that would be a shame, for they would miss the true essence of Mexican cuisine. I certainly learned a lot — I discovered prickly pear salad, and though I had had them before, I once more enjoyed the huitlachoches. I learned that there is a lot more butter in the cooking and lot less heat than I had expected, and on my next visit, I’m sure I’ll explore the vagaries of Mexican meat cookery. Reading the menu alone is like a short tour of Mexico itself. I still think I prefer the margaritas at Zocalo, but Peter von Starck can rest easy.