Something incredible is happening in Tijuana; a culinary renaissance of sorts, though culturally, it appears that much has remained the same. There are still atrocious warehouse bars serving jello shots, tattoos, and rides atop a mechanical bull. But something else is in the mix now. That wall put us in a mood, filling us with a confidence that the meal we were about to have would be spectacular.
And then, our cocktails came; each and every one, too sweet, unbalanced, and for the spicy drinks, not spicy. Confidence waned. Our decomposed waldorf came, as beautiful as the plant wall behind us, a narrow row of panna cotta celery mounds, subdued in flavor, sprinkled with candied walnuts and raisins.
The carnitas flatbread with lime cream, pickled red onion, and jalapeno tasted just as it should have, if not a little dry and in need of salt.
It was tasty, but not spectacular. Ditto the fresh fish, which was grilled, nicely browned, a little crisp on the outside, moist on the inside, served atop a bed of heirloom tomatoes and arugula on an asiago crusted sourdough base; a very simple and straight-forward dish.
Their version comes tossed with honey and sriracha…a lot of people like the addition of something sweet to balance the hearty, nutty taste of the cruiciferous veggies but I prefer them without.
