Something about this new place at Main and Allen, Plaza Mexico, told me that an adventurous order could take me back to my honeymoon in Mexico City, and a safe combination plate order would recreate Casa Grande or Mexico Restaurant, right here in the Fan.  Karen agreed, and asked me to pick her up some tacos al pastor (a favorite from our stay in Puebla), and I ordered Chilaquiles sin pollo (the art form that makes a meal out of soggy nachos).

But there’s so much more to a successful restaurant than perfected authentic recipes and quality ingredients.  Seated at the bar while waiting for my carry out order, I asked the proprietor, Enrique, about his vision for Plaza Mexico.  “Where do you live?  If you order $25 or more, we’ll deliver.  GPS, no problem.  Maybe you have a couple beers at home, we’ll bring you the food.”  Not a bad idea.  Even though the entrees are a buck or two higher than other Mexican restaurants, Karen and I would still need to go in with my neighbors to break $25.

After picking out a Jarrito’s bottled soda (natural grapefruit flavor, my fave), I asked Enrique about his ABC license.  This got him excited, even though he didn’t know how long the process would take.  “When I get the license, that will be the real opening.  There will be signs out front: Draft Beer, $1.50.  Bottles, $2.”  That should bring people in.  The Fan loves its watering holes.  But, what kinds of beer?  “On draft,” he points to the taps behind him, shining and ready to go. “The normal stuff, Bud, Bud Lite, Coors, Dos Equis.” Dos Equis!  I perked up.  “Oh yeah, we’ll have Mexican beer, but in bottles.  Corona, Pacifico, Modelo…”  Don’t forget the $1 cans of Tecate.  He smiles and nods, probably realizing that he’s wasting time chatting up a cheapskate.

So far, none of this really grabs me.  The place looks just like it did when it was Cirrus (stark white booths, shimmering lighting fixtures).  What are you gonna do to establish this place and set Plaza Mexico apart?  I don’t say it aloud.  Instead, I talk about my desire to see the good Mexican food places flourish and the bad ones going out of business.  “Anything you want.  If it’s not on the menu, call me and I’ll make it.” Ceviche?  He smiles.  “Today, two people came in and asked if I make ceviche.  Give me an hour and it will be ready.  Seriously, we can make anything here.”  (here’s the number, yall: 804-248-9944.  Ask for Enrique.)

Back at the house, Karen tears into her tacos al pastor and I ask her how they are.  “Only slightly taking me back to Puebla.”  With every bite she moves her fork between the red salsa, the pico de gallo, and the salsa verde.  “Actually, these tacos are growing on me.  I’m getting pineapple in some of the bites.”  That’s good?  “Yeah!”  And the Jarrito soda?  “Yummy.  Just like Jamaican Ting soda.”*

At my end of the coffee table, there’s a dish that looks suspiciously like nachos.  Before eating, I remind myself that I messed with the order by asking for my chilaquiles vegetarian instead of with chicken.  The thing with chilaquiles is the stale tortillas partially absorbing the ranchera sauce.  Enrique said that in Mexico, it’s something “the mommas” make.  They leave the tortillas out over night, tear them up, slather them with sauce and bake them.  The perfect hangover food (he said, “if you have had a few beers,” but he said it twice.)  The dish before me had a nice sauce (maybe part enchilada red sauce and part white cheese dip.  Tasty.  Wish there was more.  The tortillas were plain old chips, but some of them were soaked through and very satisfying (supposed to be al dente, if authentic).  After putting in my time at the trough, I turn to Karen.  She’s throwing in the towel, totally sated after just one of the three tacos and a few bites of her refried beans.  How the heck am I supposed to be a good vegetarian with that kind of temptation?

On a previous visit, I watched my companion work on an enormous Burrito Texano with chicken and chorizo.  He liked it. Chorizo is all over the menu.  If you eat meat.  You should probably be sure to get some of that spicy Mexican sausage.  For my money, I’ll be trying the fish tacos next, or maybe challenging Enrique with an obscure dish from Oaxaca, or something with mojo de ajo, pescado veracruzano…  On second thought, maybe I sahould hold back on my high maintenance tendencies until a few of you have eaten there and mentioned “RVA foodie.”  But, considering my affliction for Mexican and causing trouble…  We’ll see what happens.

Plaza Mexico

1731 W. Main St.

Richmond, VA 23220

804-278-9944

*Did I ever tell you about my FREE trip to Jamaica?  Here’s the short of it: Karen bought a Ting soda at Ukrops before I had even met her.  Weeks later, she gets a message on her voice mail from someone at Ukrops and it says she’s won a weeklong stay in Jamaica, sponsored by Ting.  The only reason she took it seriously was because she didn’t figure Ukrops was gonna stoop that low and scam her.  A quick meeting with the Ukrops rep confirmed it.  Months later, Karen is single and dating this anarchist playboy from Barton Heights.  It’s looking like it’s more than a fling and she pops the question. “Do you wanna go to Jamaica with me?”  To be continued…