I have to admit that the restaurant makes a strong, cinematic first impression and there's a long, well-stocked tequila bar. This is actually a project of No Mas furniture importers on Huff Road. There were lots of sliced strawberries.Īs if that weren't enough, you can buy the restaurant's furnishings, glassware, even casual clothing in a showroom next door. Here, it is dry and topped with a Kahlua frosting that will make you imagine a serape-clad Loretta Lynn spreading Crisco on a cake. The gigantic slice of cake - more than enough for two - had more in common with strawberry shortcake than tres leches, which should have a very moist texture. Dessert was "cuatro leches" - a version of the classic tres leches cake. Sides were the usual mound of orange rice and enough lettuce to make 12 BLTs, along with some decent refried beans, more of the guac, sour cream and a dollop of salsa fresca. The shrimp were round, greasy and tasteless.
The menu included the de rigueur description of them as "sizzling." In fact the steak was room-temperature and the shrimp were little hotter. I chose a combination of steak and shrimp. They are made with giant flour tortillas and a jicama coleslaw moistened with "pink chili mayo." No salsas were offered.īut I actually found the fish tacos superior to my own order of fajitas. Honestly, it is something of a stretch to call these tacos in any ordinary sense. He considers himself something of a connoisseur of fish tacos, preferring the ones at Sundown Café above all, but lately enjoying the ones at Six Feet Under. Wayne ordered tacos made with fried tilapia. I might mention that you will be eating your hand-mash with very greasy fried tortilla chips which are also served with a decent chipotle-spiked salsa. In any event, it's virtually pureed, no better than average and will certainly make you pine for the luscious, chunky stuff at Rosa Mexicano. It is "hand-mashed," a description that evokes images of a very messy game of Patty Cake. Guacamole is piled on a lettuce leaf stuffed in a goblet. It, along with juicy slices of jalapenos, was flash-fried in a light flour coating and served with avocado cream dip and, um, chipotle-ranch sauce. Perhaps we should call the menu "Mexican-inspired." Calamari, a starter, was probably the best thing we ate. But, gracias a Dios, there is hope: I pored through the menu and did not find that midnight stoner munchy I used to encounter in Houston: chili and cheddar dumped over Fritos. How is it that in a city with an enormous Mexican population, No Mas Cantina manages to produce a menu that feels like it belongs at a Tijuana Disney World? It's not really Mexican and it's not the border cuisine we call Tex-Mex.
Let's begin with that delusion, shall we? It's the main point of confusion you are going to encounter with the cuisine at this very strange, huge restaurant in Castleberry Hill, the oh-so-boho, gentrified section of downtown Atlanta once only known for the Peters Street U-Haul Center where, in my young career as an underemployed poet, I made emergency rentals to escape eviction. "What's the difference? They all taste the same," he barked in return. "Is it Mexican, border cuisine or Southwestern?" I snarled. "With the name No Mas Cantina, what do you think it might be?" A decorator friend was telling me about No Mas Cantina (180 Walker St., 40) over coffee last week.
0 kommentar(er)
