Muy Bien

Cork’s only Mexican restaurant, Café Mexicana, caught my eye as soon as we arrived in this fair city six months ago. I am quite fond of Mexican food. From the time we were of legal driving age, my group of friends would seek out new “authentic” Mexican joints to sample––which, on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, amounted to about three different locations.

Nonetheless, I consider myself rather experienced with the cuisine. In fact, Mexican is the one culinary territory where Europeans will concede that I know more than them. Regarding French, Italian, or even Indian food, I am a sorely uneducated American. But with Mexican (in addition to anything that involves maple) I achieve expert status. This is, of course, because as an American I live closer to Mexico than the Europeans, and we all know that being in close proximity to something results in expertise.

Nevermind that my Mexican-food street-cred is laughable compared to a southern Californian’s, or––God forbid the comparison––an actual Mexican’s. It didn’t matter for the first six months we were here because we avoided that lone Mexican restaurant. We’re in Europe after all, let’s indulge in the fancy European things that don’t exist in the States. And indulge we have: I have many pints of stout and many chipper visits under my belt. But deep down I always knew that one day I would have to confront Café Mexicana.

That day was today. I donned my Expert of Mexican Food cap and we headed in for lunch (their lunch menu is considerably more affordable than the regular offering). The décor, I must say, is spot-on. Brightly colored chairs and tables, and the obligatory pictures of Zapata gracing the walls. Good music too.

Your man Zapata.

The first hitch was the appetizer offerings. They were all labeled as “nachos”. Not a huge problem, but it’s debatable whether or not they can be considered authentic Mexican. And the practice of heaping everything under the sun on top of a pile of corn chips and broiling it is a delicious, yes, but purely gringo invention.

I quickly recovered from this and was considering the beef enchilada when I noticed it. The smell. A familiar aroma––smoky and pleasing…oh God, they’re roasting potatoes. A quick scan over the menu confirmed my suspicions: an appetizer of potato skins.

And so I ate my enchilada not enjoying the scent of cilantro (none to be see in the place!), but of potatoes. I really mean it because my dear wife, Katherine, ordered the potatoes and ate them right in front of me. I can’t pretend to be too amazed by this, we’re in Ireland after all. It’s mainly the deficit of cilantro that’s tough to wrap my mind around.

Based on the Mexican food you can get in the States, Café Mexicana earns a five out of ten. It’s a good start, but there are some gaping holes that purists will find tough to ignore. But it’s only fair to have a separate grading scale for Mexican food available in Ireland––and with that rubric Café Mexicana earns a nine. It’s the only game in town!