Metro Pulse/Restaruant Rover/Taqueria Lindo Michoacan

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Taqueria Lindo Michoacan
Chapman Highway
609-2407

by Connie Seuer

We all have those days that make you curse everything: the jerkwad in the pickup truck riding your tailpipe, the mercenary phone solicitor, the back-stabbing co-worker, the whining beige doorstop masquerading as a computer, the tax audit, the ripped pants, damn it to hell, curse it all. These are the days for which Mexican food was made. When in need of panacea, of comfort and kindness, of forget-it-all spicy, of happy belly and happy wallet, nothing beats the cuisine from South of the border.

A recent jueves brought such a day. The favors of week's end were palpable—the ability to sleep a bit later, move a bit slower, linger a bit longer—but so still were the tribulations of Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. It was the perfect night to wave goodbye to our home kitchens and say hola to Taqueria Lindo Michoacan, a new Mexican diner just a short drive out Chapman Highway. Lots of folks will know this spot by what used to be there—it previously served as home to Southern Vittles. The shopping center locale of Lindo Michoacan may be a bit sketchy, but don't let the lack of pomp put you off. This Taqueria is all about homestyle and kick-back easy, not about impressing the neighbors or keeping up with the Joneses. Thank goodness.

From the storefront window, lined by attractive cowboy boots (for sale, nonetheless!), to the straw sombreros hanging from the ceiling, there's a haphazard quality to the decor. Adding to this setup are a couple of televisions broadcasting Spanish soap operas and a stereo system playing such favorites as "Love Hurts" in old Espa�ol. Marlena, Ullrich, Henrich, and I were flush with stoopid things that happened to me today anecdotes and didn't miss a beat as we slid into one of the brown and green booths.

In a quick moment, our conversation was punctuated by ravenous crunches of the fresh chips and mild salsa delivered to the table. And as we reviewed the menu, we hit our first, and only, obstacle. No beer. No margaritas. This wouldn't have been as bubble bursting had we known ahead of time (this is your heads-up) but the food was absolutely worth the dry night. We ordered Pepsi ($1.50, which arrived in real glass bottles with accompanying cups of ice) and toasted to the good news: Lindo Michoacan is looking to become BYOB soon.

We each ordered a different entrée and ate family style—it just seemed the appropriate thing to do. Soon, our table was filled with hot and heaping plates of quesadillas, flautas, burritos, and sopes, and our conversation came to a succinct halt. The carnitas quesadillas ($5) were beautiful, bountiful triangles of pork and onions, peppers and cheddar cheese, centered by a mound of guacamole, pico de gallo, jalape�os, and sour cream. One by one we sampled the dish, mmming and nodding surprised satisfaction at the homespun dish. The rich, pork taste, however, did not come without a price. It was Marlena that first stumbled upon a dense twist of pork fat in her quesadilla. But hey, that's homestyle, and the extra fat was to credit for the extra flavor.

Carne de res flautas ($6) were equally large in proportion—five fried corn tortillas densely packed with good cuts of thinly sliced beef. But the flavorful meat, a pleasure all on its own, was diminished by the over-fried and tough corn tortilla shell. Pico, guacamole, beans, and rice partnered with the flautas, as did a special salsa that made immediate fans of Ullrich and Heinrich. This stuff was chili-seedy but not instantly hot. It introduced itself with a faintly sweet taste, followed by a piquant, tomato-based flavor, and parted with a whispering heat that waited until you were dipping for more before showing its true colors.

Heinrich insisted on our getting a chorizo burrito ($5), as he considers himself a sort of gastro-ambassador with the diplomatic mission of spreading the good news about this uniquely seasoned pork sausage. The chorizo passed Heinrich's test for bold taste and as a burrito, it was more than one man could handle. Marlena and Ullrich took their first bites of the magic C and their eyes widened, necks straightened, and forks went out for more.

A surprise of the evening was the homemade masa flour cakes serving as base for the sopes ($4.50). We'd expected them to be your basic corn tortilla, or even a thick, flour tortilla. Instead, we got two thick and flavorful cakes made of corn-meal flour (masa) pan fried and decked with beans, lettuce, onions, and cheese. Sturdy and stout, the masa cakes made it possible to eat the sopes by hand. They also provided adequate simplicity to balance the salty, specialty pinto beans of the dish.

For sweets, select the homemade flan ($1.50). Its size may be irregular (no carefully sculpted discs here) but its honesty comes through in every bite. Creamy and custardy, just as it should be. In fact, the flan serves as a good metaphor for little Lindo Michoacan—it may be plain, it may be low frills, but it's satisfying to the last bite.