Thornton Park bar potentially potent
Thompson: Chili-spiced salmon taco is among the treats at Felipe Rodriguez Tequila House.
There’s a reason most food writers won’t venture an opinion during a venue’s early days. Restauranting is hard. Processes, front and back of house, are getting refined, menus and recipes tweaked as the place finds its footing and hopefully listens to feedback.
So, when some colleagues and I went to Felipe Rodriguez Tequila House for the midday repast, it was supposed to be recon only. The restaurant was nearing the end of its “soft open” window.
Felipe Rodriguez is one of those places you really want to like. And since you’re all an extended version of the friends with whom I’d share a candid report of my experience, I’ll tell you this: I liked it. And there’s a lot to like. You can hit the Thornton Park fountain with a tortilla chip from its covered corner patio, which is dog friendly. The location is prime.
Renovations have turned it into a space you might hit up for lunch, but immediately imagine for date night or happy hour. It’s loungey. The low, curved-back chairs are comfortable. The vibe is hip, but not pretentious.
The music was too loud — but that’s an easy enough fix — and I could forgive a lot for the mini tuna tartare tacos ($12) I ate on that first visit.
Full disclosure: I happen to love heat. But many eateries dial it back for the average American palate. So, when I cracked into these and was afforded a pineapple-accented habanero explosion amid the Asian-marinated ahi, a blast tempered only mildly by the creamy avocado and crunchy purple cabbage, I was pleasantly bowled over.
These were delicious! The flavors and textures penetrated, even as those frisky Scoville Units did their thing. They were the highlight for me, but overall, it was quite a nice lunch.
The guac ($9.50) was garlicky and fresh and generously portioned. The chips were weighty, fryer-warm and well-seasoned, which was the case on my later visit, as well. On both, they were consciously set aside to prevent filling up.
The veggie and shrimp quesadillas ($9 and $13) were generous and tasty. And my chili-spiced salmon taco ($4.75) had ample value to match its ample flavor. A lovely, moist slab of fish lay beneath a blanket of color well suited for Mexico — purple cabbage and yellow corn, black beans and green guac studded with red tomato and dark flashes of cilantro.
But those tuna tacos were tasty enough to haunt me a little, and I was eager to revisit that experience with a different dining partner when I returned (most definitely within
review-appropriate zone) for Sunday brunch.
Alas, when they showed up at the table, it was already clear they’d made some changes.
Gone were the purple fireworks of that shredded cabbage, and with it that fresh-veggie crunch. Gone was the Asian marinade; the ahi was completely unseasoned. Most startlingly gone was that pineapple-habanero wow.
There was no heat whatsoever. Zilch. Soft fish, even softer avocado (which now offered nothing in terms of contrast) and oddest of all, a squirt of what appeared to be chipotle barbecue sauce.
This couldn’t be right, so I queried.
The server, dutifully dismayed, mentioned they’d changed up the staff in the kitchen, so there’s a possibility no one was keeping an eye on the newbies. The tacos reappeared, three new ones, made “the old way” (though still sans cabbage). They’d found a bit of “the old sauce” in the back.
I lamented the phrasing. “The old way” was the reason I’d been eager to return. “The old way” was still listed on the menu.
Even on that first visit, I’d reasoned this fiery appetizer might prove too hot for the average guest, that perhaps a scale could be implemented.
“Mild, medium or blowyour-mind?” the server could query at order time.
Or maybe these tacos could become a signature item, designed for cultish fans of the habanero. A sexy snack that could take the local Foodstagram feeds by storm and funnel-in folks eager to see how they fared against the heat level, to fan their mouths for cute pictures, or eat 10 and proclaim themselves spicesuperior…
But I didn’t expect such a 180 from that lunch.
What was the same, I noticed, was the too-loud music, this time in direct competition with the sports action on the TV (also too loud).
Yes, yes, an easy fix, but my brow was furrowed. Tequila sangria ($8 glass, $17 bottomless), I reasoned, would smooth it out, but it hadn’t shown up yet. We were told they were still making it when we sat down.
After the tuna taco snafu, I was duty-bound to take the chili-spiced salmon for a second spin, as well, and felt a little better afterwards. It was much as I’d remembered.
Next, we mixed it up, sampling Felipe’s Chimichurri Skirt Steak ($17) from the brunch menu. I realized after ordering that no one asked about temperature, and so was pleased when it showed up medium-rare. The two eggs alongside were over light and runny, offering up a thick yellow “salsa” for tortilla mop-up.
We pondered whether the large folded tortilla it came with was ideal. Smaller pieces would have made it neater (this delicate blanket came in one piece, folded and tucked beneath the steak). It looked pretty, but it got the thin wrap a bit greasy for ideal handling.
In the end, we agreed that tearing it was fun, something akin to eating injera at an Ethiopian place. It’s a more intimate food experience, not for everyone — but you could always knife-and-fork it. The meat was nicely seasoned, and though we’d have liked a bit more of the onions and peppers in this brunchy take on fajitas (we ran out mid-meal), it was a pretty nice dish.
The carnitas taco ($4) popped with fresh color but was far less ample than the salmon, and without the house party of the pineapple-habanero salsa we had on hand to employ, woefully flavor-light.
That’s a distinction I’d use for the tequila sangria, as well. It did eventually show up. The color was gorgeous, and it wasn’t too sweet, but on a return visit I’d opt for a cocktail or sipping tequila instead.
In fact, until they iron out the kinks — though service was courteous (they took those tuna tacos off the bill voluntarily), it was slow, even with the restaurant mostly empty on both visits — I might make happy hour my mantra.
Despite all, I’d still be willing to pop in for a $6 house margarita or $2 taco special. You might, too, if you’re curious.
Felipe Rodriguez Tequila House has so many things going for it. And likely an army of Thorntonites who, as I do, really want to like it.