More restaurants should have pictures of me on their wall. I’m a comforting sight. I’m easy on the eye. I’m a stone cold stunner. I actually don’t know why I’m still there. Patricia is right; I haven’t been enough recently, certainly not enough to warrant the space near the kitchen pass, underneath JC himself. In the five years since I first wrote about A La Mexicana – the ball that started regional and then national coverage and led them from going to unseen to having people travel all over the country to them – I have been just five times. Twice with Nathan to watch him eat and drink more than is sensible, once with Sophie, and now twice with Russell and family who live ten minutes walk away and have a liking for Mexican food. We’ve come for Taco Tuesday, the first of what will hopefully be a regular event with £2.75 tacos and two-for-one paloma cocktails.
Maybe it’s the absence, but the food is even better than I remember. The guacamole is a chunky, chewy affair of avocado licked with plenty of lime and chilli. An absolute masterclass in how to make it. The nachos are a jumble of freshly fried tortilla, cheese, refried beans, pico de galle, and jalapenos. There are salsas that range from mild and smokey to ferocious with the blunt green heat of chilli. We drink paloma’s and then move on to margaritas. At one point I ordered a mezcal that has been blended with tamarind pulp and tastes like sticky toffee pudding. Nobody else wants to join me in drinking it.
Between the five of us we try all seven of the tacos available, each far too generous in filling for the couple of quid each they are charging. There are vegs ones, and a steak one that Sophie thinks is the weakest link. There are chicken ones that seem to be tinga-like in style with the ashy backnote of chipotle in the background. I get three different types of pork; the quite incredible housemade chorizo that leans into the smokey notes of paprika, the shawarma-like al pastor, soft and with yielding layers of fat, and kissed with heat. And the special on that day; conchinita pibil, that gorgeous Yuchatan-style slow cooked pork, complex with cinnamon, lots of clove, citrus, and achiote chilli. Just divine. To paraphrase my friend Tom, all wear as many salsas as I can muster, and dribble as they are devoured.
The bill for the five of us is £108, which seems bonkers given hospitality right now. And I’m not going to score this for one simple reason; when I asked if this was going to be a regular thing they weren’t sure. They think it will be once a month, though they haven’t decided when just yet. With a full dining room, one would expect it to return, and I really hope you get to try it. That said you could just book and go to A La Mexicana on any of the other nights they are open. I haven’t been nearly enough.
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