Many Tex-Mex bright spots shine at Calle Onze
Bar does some glorious work and kitchen is surprisingly good in fits and starts
I still can’t quite believe that I licked an oyster shell in public, and that I felt no shame.
It happened at Calle Onze, the trendy new Tex-Mexican barstaurant in a big industrial box at West 11th and Yale. If you’ve driven by on an evening, you’ve probably seen the prosperous looking, ne o-Heights ian crowd filling the outdoor tables and lounge seating out front.
Inside, they cluster at the bar on one end of the room, inhabit concrete-topped tables with pretty wood-slatted chairs and perch along the counter overlooking the open kitchen, where a mesquite grill flares and sputters.
That’s where those oysters start their journey to the table, nursed to a state where they’re still a little dewy-fleshed, then set upon some smoldering wood chips for service, so that every time you pick up a shell to tip the meat in, you get some of that intoxicating woodsmoke aroma in the bargain.
After I had sipped out the juices — a bright sluice of oyster
brine and lime butter darkened by herbal chimichurri — a little still clung to the half shell. So I picked it up and licked it off. I didn’t even stop to think about it. And I’d do it again.
Striking moments like that sneak up on you at this uneven restaurant, where the bar does some glorious work and the kitchen can be surprisingly good in fits and starts.
Calle Onze — which means “Eleventh Street” in Spanish — is a project from the proprietors of Edison & Patton, a 2-year-old gastropub on the near northside that has made a name for itself with its patio and popular brunch. Calle Onze is more geared to indoor restaurant seating than its progenitor, but the emphasis on the bar, with its specialty in agave spirits, is apparent when you compare the 21-item, one-page food menu with the three-page cocktail, beer and happy-hour list.
There are some familiar TexMex and Mexican favorites on offer, as well as more ambitious dishes that proprietors Christopher Manriquez and Mario Sandoval have labeled “Experimentales.” They’ve given nods to Hugo Ortega and Pastry War as inspirations, traveled with staff to Jalisco and Oaxaca, Mexico, for research and seem determined to go beyond the kind of safe, combo-plate Tex-Mex that would no doubt sell like crazy in the Heights, with its young families, empty-nesters and visiting hordes of young professionals lifting a glass after work.
Sometimes the ambition pays off, as with those marvelous oysters; or with an unusual confit duck leg marketed as “Duck Carnitas,” its meat soft and shreddy beneath a beguilingly crisped and sticky fat-glazed skin. Its blanket of vivid brickred mole sauce is terrific stuff. The contrast of pickled green tomato slices to cut all that richness is a clever one.
My only sorrow was that the duck fat used to make the two flour tortillas served alongside the duck did not register as strongly as I had hoped. They were good, but the mole had primed me for great.
I got “great” in the lively cornon-the-cob extravaganza Elote Asado, though, the kernels tinged with woodsmoke and dancing with lime, spicy-hot mayo and queso fresco; and in the mesquite-grilled chicken fajitas. Yeah, I said it: The chicken fajitas here are great, expertly tended over the fire so that they emerge smoke-kissed and juicy. They’re definitely on the pricey side at $22 with all the trimmings, but I liked them far more than the toughish, aggressively marinated beef fajitas in a mixed order. Had I paid $26 for those, I’d be unhappy.
There’s guacamole, of course, but it tasted inert on one visit and under-seasoned on another. A roasty red table salsa and charro beans with smoky bacon and a bit of andouille hit all the right notes.
So, astonishingly enough, did house-made ravioli stuffed with four cheeses and garnished with corn kernels and hunks of respectfully cooked lobster claw. It sounded like luxury-ingredient nonsense, but it tasted like indulgent fun, thanks to a lush poblano cream sauce sharpened with guajillo, and a pillowy blend of ricotta, Parmesan, pecorino and mozzarella inside the pasta packets. The $22 price tag for four ravioli was sobering, though.
Other notions from the “experimentales” section brought less joy. Huge seared U-10 scallops came with under-seasoned lentils and a wan, pinkish “peppers purée” that had little to say for itself. Snapper roasted in its skin came out marginally overcooked, and the fish never quite connected with its base of crusty papas bravas and green herb topknot dressed with “Mexican mignonette.” At $26 and $32, respectively, both dishes were let-downs.
What thrills consistently at Calle Onze, though, are the cocktails by young talent Cameron Inglis and his crew. The drinks, composed with cheflike skill and lots of fresh ingredients, are based largely on the agave spirits: tequilas, mezcals, even a rogue raicilla — a delightfully funky, moonshine-type mezcal that here finds its way into the Tabernas 75, which with the addition of lemon, agave nectar and Cava becomes the friskiest version of a French 75 I ever hope to meet.
There are margaritas and more margaritas, of course. My favorites were a pineapple variant with aged tequila and lime up front, with beautifully modulated jalapeño on the back end. And a tamarind version made with mezcal had sweet-and-sour gravitas, warmed up with ginger and allspice.
Mexican rums and even an Argentinian gin make appearances on the list — the latter, from Los Apostoles, with mate and huacatay in the botanicals. Add it to clarified lime and a bit of sugar, and you have Calle Onze’s haunting Gimlet.
I’m particularly impressed with Inglis’ ability to balance out complex favors, so that cocktails that sound too complicated on paper end up making sense on the palate. The Bosque de Dia sounds risky with its crema de Mezcal, stone pine liqueur, Creme de Violette, watermelon and notes of honeysuckle, blackberry and rosewater. But it tastes gorgeous: floral and woodsy and mysterious.
That’s the kind of thing that will bring me back. Plus the chance to lick a few more oyster shells clean.