April 22-28, 2004

food

Gracias Land

Changing its spots: El Vez, in place of Trust, updates the presentation of simple dishes such as carne asada (pictured). Photo By: Michael T. Regan

El Vez gets the flavor, if not the feel, of Mexico.

by Maxine Keyser

EL VEZ 121 S. 13th St., 215-928-9800

Lunch: Mon.-Fri., 11:30 a.m.-3 p.m. Dinner: Sun.-Thu., 5-11 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 5 p.m.-midnight

Appetizers, $3-$12; entrees, $8-$24.50

Wheelchair accessible. Smoking is permitted in the bar area. Reservations suggested. All major credit cards except Discover.

Does Stephen Starr ever have insomnia? If he does, I’ll bet he counts concepts, not sheep. Inuit cuisine in a faux igloo? Mongolian hot pot in a yurt? I can see Alfred Portale and Thomas Keller, Cha lie Trotter and Marcus Samuelson dancing across the fields of sleep, all filling his fertile mind with yet other restaurant ideas. Right now, the latest restaurant-theater that we have from this entrepreneur is the fantasia Mexicana, El Vez.

Where Trust died a lingering death, El Vez blooms. The big, round bar that they have retained is packed three-deep with lots of exposed navels, and it's topped by a gold-plated low-rider. (Although that may be a reference to Elvis, there's no mention made of El Vez himself, a Mexican-American cabaret performer).

We prefer one of the gold or deep-red plush booths to the crowded bar; they feature benches in multicolored stripes, a pattern repeated in the light fixtures as well. There are slatted wooden ceilings and drum-shaped lamps over each booth, both very Starr touches, and slanted window shades that display the same scenes of Mexico that appear almost as palimpsests on the lampshades. Pierced tin Mexican lamps provide even more light, and yet the scene, complete with los catrines dioramas on one wall, remains murky. After the first house margarita, spiced nuts and tortilla chips with a very pungent salsa, we could be sinking into a Jimmy Buffet mood. But one companion complains about the noise, stating that the music sucks. I agree: Perhaps we need a little Los Lobos?

Anyway, I'm happy to report that everything else is fine. As always at a Starr restaurant, the young, black-shirted staff is courteous, speedy and knowledgeable about the menu. We can tell from the very first bite that the young chef, Jose Garces, who earned his chops (and still does) at Alma de Cuba, can groove with the best of them. In fact, the starter, a prepared-to-order guacamole, is the lowest spot of the meal, for me at least. The mixture is very buttery and creamy, served with panache in a black-lava-stone molcajete, but lacks enough cilantro, lime and jalapenos to punch it up. It is more user-friendly than the potent kind that I like to whip up at home, but the margaritas make up for that lack of potency.

Wandering all over the menu seems to be encouraged, so we start with the roasted corn soup -- so sweet with the very essence of corn that it almost overshadows the huitalacoche-stuffed quesadilla floating in its pale yellow depths. Huitalacoche, a fungus that grows on corn, has an earthy flavor and texture that may remind you of Chinese cloud ears. Next come the sopes mixtos, three crisp boats made of cornmeal, containing a delicious, creamy crab salpicon, chunks of chicken molé and sweet plantain with black beans. We love the plantain sopa too -- it is sweet and gooey -- but the molé seems to have no dimension. I've had molés where it takes a while to deconstruct the layers of taste.

Queso fundido is a guilty pleasure: lots of melted Oaxaca and Chihuahua cheese, mixed with salsa and spicy chorizo, to be mopped up or rolled in fluffy, light tortillas. It's the kind of dish where everyone digs in and then wants more and more. I do want more of the flautas made of duck confit. Served with a poblano-avocado sauce and cojita cheese and crema fresca, they are like deep-fried egg rolls, with a shattering skin and a filling that is dense, meaty and utterly irresistible.

In San Diego, I developed a passion for fish tacos, and the one made with mahi-mahi does not disappoint. Crisp fish, soft within, sprinklings of red cabbage and the necessary creamy remoulade spiked with chipotle red pepper, all in a soft tortilla, completely fit my bill.

The highest point of the meal is the carne asada, a perfectly rare and glistening slab of skirt steak served over a tart, jade-green bed of tomatillos, and sauced with three different chiles. We devour it with great pleasure, despite the feeling of fullness that the other dishes had induced. We also are impressed with the simple, porridge-like corn and rice that comes on the side. It is nursery food with a poblano kick.

With nary a flan in sight, we turn to Kate Honeyman's desserts, trying the airy sopapillas. Deep fried and sugary, they are similar to beignets, but have a cream-and-honey dip to melt into their insides. A trio of ice creams is also fine, and that night features a rich chocolate, banana fudge and vanilla. We couldn't handle the "El Vez" -- a flourless chocolate cake with peanut butter and roasted bananas -- nor the white chocolate mango cheesecake, but I'm sure that they are both terrific.

For someone who is not a particular fan of Mexican food, El Vez is a pleasant surprise. Garces's cuisine is full of the right flavors, never overwrought, and even when he strays from the dictum -- like putting duck confit in the flautas -- he is on target. Despite the noise, which I'll have to admit, supplies some of the energy in all of Starr's establishments, you can have a relaxed, Cadillac Bar kind of evening, with a sense of fun. It's another hit -- pretty soon, perhaps all of Philly will become one big Starr-light ballroom.