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| Zocalo by Suzanne Wright What’s not to like about a petite, open-faced chef in a red bandanna? Lucero Martinez is back at Zocalo, the restaurant she runs alongside twin brother Luis and older brother Marco, with their parents as the main investors. On a recent blustery Saturday night, my friend Sam and I paid a visit to the eatery that first brought authentic Mexican food to Anglos. Both of us live in the neighborhood. We tried to remember a time when Zocalo, with its wagon wheels and bright exterior paint wasn’t there. The first tenant on a now-popular corner in Midtown, Zocalo (which means “town square” in Spanish) opened on July 4, 1995, giving us independence from banal Tex-Mex. But there have been culinary and family challenges. Although heralded by critics for its genuine menu, diners complained about the perfunctory salsa and chips and lack of familiar items like quesadillas. The siblings began reluctant tinkering; Lucero left to start Orange & Scarlet’s. “It was a magic moment when we came back together,” says Luis of Lucero’s October 2003 return to the kitchen. As we nosh on a basket of tricolor chips with a smoky, housemade salsa (miles away from the acidic, bottled stuff), Luis explains the concessions. Chips were added just eight months ago, as a “surprise” to diners. In Mexico City, where they are from, margaritas aren’t served; fine tequila is sipped straight. “But we knew we had to have margaritas,” he says with a smile. Although Sala is better known for its selection of tequilas, Fortune Magazine has named Zocalo’s collection one of the biggest stateside, with more than 400 offerings (not all available to guests.) The current winter menu is a triumph and the compromise is something everyone can live with: 70% of the dishes are authentic recipes from across Mexico; 20% are Lucero’s own creations; 10% are “North of the Border” items like queso fundido. It appears to be working well: the place is jam-packed with more people huddling at the entrance, awaiting tables. The variety in the crowd is staggering: families, couples both gay and straight ranging from early 20s to late 60s; groups, Hispanics, Angelos and a table of African-American men in cowboy hats (they’re headed to a rodeo). By the time this article prints, there will be a second location in downtown Decatur. The décor is simple: straw baskets hang from the ceiling, punched tin sconces emit low light, terracotta walls display framed black and white pictures, hardwood floors, tables topped with white butcher paper and paper napkins. Gloriously open in summer, heavy plastic and tall heating lamps keep the place warm in winter. The place used to be a gas station and the kitchen is where oil changes were done (you can still see the garage door). Our waiter Sergio is unfailingly polite and quietly enthusiastic about our choices. (“That is my favorite,” he says.) For starters, we order the tequila cream mussels, poblano soup and calamari picoso. Dishes arrive in colorful, mismatched plates; the mussels’ heady scent arrives before the bowl is set on the table. Diced tomatoes bob in the white broth, along with the black shells encasing the sweet mussels. Sam declares we could eat the broth with a spoon; we sop it up with bread. The soup’s lovely spring green color and mild taste are pleasing. The calamari features fried jalapenos and green olives and a sweet/sour, vinegar based sauce, an unusual twist on the mundane. For entrees, I opt for pork loin Zocalo, one of Lucero’s creations, and Sam has the pescado Zocalo. Lucero explains that the pork has been marinating for six hours in a brown sugar mixture; the result is a savory piece of meat sitting atop sweet mashed potatoes—a new winter classic. The generous red snapper filet is propped on black bean empanadas, which we both adore. Sam finds the clear sauce of tomatoes, capers and olives a bit too vinegary, but I like it. We also can’t resist the complex chicken mole, a thick sauce made with roaster peppers, nuts and cocoa. Wanting to save room for deserts, we reluctantly passed on garlic shrimp. We cap off our meal with flan, the classic custard dish, and tres leches, white cake soaked in three kinds of milk (condensed, whole and goat). Both are fine, but I’ve got something else in mind. I mention to Lucero my desire for a chocolate and chile finale, similar to what I had in New Mexico some years ago. She is working on spiked fudge, she says with a winning smile. What’s not to like? Zocalo is located at 187 10th Street, Atlanta; (404) 249-7576 and is open seven days a week for lunch and dinner. Also try their second location newly opened in Decatur! |
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| From top: Squash blossom and corn truffle rissoto, aka lava rock; Chicken taquitos, sour cream and tomatillo salsa; Lamb Chops; Flan; Chef Lucero Martinez. | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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