New Haven Register (Sunday) (New Haven, CT)
‘Real mole, real adobo, fresh tortillas’
At Los Charros in Branford, chef Colt Taylor focuses on authentic Mexican cuisine
“The two things I miss most about Los Angeles are the Mexican and Korean street foods,” says chef Colt Taylor when I revisit Los Charros in Branford. His name may be more familiar to most people atop the menu at his award-winning fine dining spot, The Essex. I’ve just asked him how he came to open a Mexican restaurant in the state.
“Circumstances dictate direction.”
On my first trip I sit at the bar and notice a nice selection of Mexican and local Connecticut beers fronting a tempting collection of tequilas and mezcals. My first sip is a Conquistador cocktail, smokey with mezcal, while Aperol and amaro add bittersweet depth underneath bright and sweet citrus. This, and the spicy piña picante cocktail I had on a later visit (both created by bar manager Nacy Wood)are ideal starters to warm up the palate.
Los Charros is mediumsized, with an L-shaped bar and large windows inviting you into a bright space. The decor is thematic but understated, with several paintings by the chef’s mother, a large mural in the style of Diego Rivera at the back, and a central lounge area with couches and tables tying the room together.
My appetizer arrives in the from of wheatberry esquites served in a screaming hot iron skillet. The sweet corn stew is almost a chowder, topped with crisp chip crumbles made from the same corn, crumbled cotija cheese, and whole grain spelt kernels which pop in the mouth, adding both texture and malty depth. It’s a very satisfying little dish for anyone coming in from the dark and cold of a winter night.
I sipped an Estrella Jalisco beer next, alongside Los Charros’ chicken a la brasa tacos. There’s a pleasant, subdued spice to the chicken, and a good hit of garlic. These, like all the tacos, are first spread with a fundido of beans before being topped. I liked this for the flavor component alone, but they’re also an excellent sop for the juices and sauces which can dissolve corn tortillas and turn them into something less hand-held than lap-splashed. Bonus points there.
The idea for Los Charros began as a Thursday weeknight special in Taylor’s original location of The Essex in Centerbrook, in 2017.
“I always say in the restaurant business you don’t make your money on Friday, Saturday nights,” he explained. “That’s your overhead. You make it during the week. We had a Wednesday night burger special and a Thursday taco special and when we looked at the numbers, it was 3-to-1 tacos.”
The cavernous, 12,000 square-foot space of the original Essex was transformed, housing both The Essex and Los Charros until the more fine-dining Essex was moved to Old Saybrook in 2019, a location from which it would win Middlesex County Restaurant of the Year at the 2023 Connecticut Restaurant Association CRAzies awards.
Taylor had spent time in Los Angeles, soaking in Mexican culinary tradition before moving back to Connecticut. Tacos were a natural fit after this period, where spent time with his aunt’s husband, a Mexican national who also owned an agave plantation in Guadalajara.
Charro refers to ornately dressed Mexican cowboys or rancheros. The restaurant’s name is a tribute to Colt’s uncle, Oscar. Colt learned more about Mexican cooking from Oscar’s 90-something-year-old mother.
“Real Mexican is not what you find in the northeast,” he says. “Real mole, real adobo, fresh tortillas – we don’t open a can with the beans, we’re buying dried beans and making them the old fashioned way — fresh epazote (a type of Mexican aromatic herb) in the black beans. We’re getting corn from Oaxaca, nixtamalizing it here and making the tortillas.”
Chef Taylor says now when his uncle visits he tells him it tastes like home.
Los Charros’ new home since 2022 has been Branford, where a larger population in the New Haven metro area immediately off I-95 has been able to support this “everything from scratch” concept of Mexican cooking. The ingredients, the labor, and the time aren’t cheap, and neither are the prices. You can expect to pay $16-25 for two or three tacos in a landmark case of “you get what you pay for,” but those prices drop to $5 each during the 3:30 – 5p.m. happy hour, Tuesday through Saturday, with additional drink specials at a late night happy hour from 10p.m. — 2a.m. Friday and Saturdays.
I try more tacos, this time an off-menu Tuesday special surf’n’turf, made with that bean base, smokey, spicy ancho coated strips of grilled skirt steak, and a duo of grilled shrimp riding atop flavorful stripes of guacamole and milled cotija cheese. It is boldly spicy, extravagantly flavorful, and texturally pleasing, with the contrasting crunch of shrimp, creamy beans, and chewy steak. Keep ‘em coming. “One of our signatures is our salsa game. We came up with this Seven Regions of Mexico salsa plate,” the chef says gesturing to the flight of small ramekins, looking like a painter’s palette, but with a considerably more enticing aroma. Avocado salsa, roja, roasted pineapple, chipotle, peanut, verde, and habañero, each made in the style of one of Mexico’s regions.
“People tend to think of Mexico as this one place —
the northern region with cattle and grain, steaks and burritos and flour tortillas — but most of the country isn’t cattle country, the majority of the population lives in the other six regions, so many different food cultures!”
The different salsas are examples either cooked-into or able to be added to your food to explore the flavors: smoky spicy Ancho marinade from Baijia; Tijuana roasted salsa rojo and moles from Oaxaca; Mexico City-style guacamole, which confoundingly contains peas, and is topped with hulled pumpkin seeds.
Chef’s favorite is the chicken adobado taco, served with chunks of cleanly spiced thigh meat, cotija cheese, green onion, and strips of radish. (As strong a signal as I’ve found that someone learned cooking in an actual Mexican kitchen. Keep an eye out for radishes.)
Having a Mexican uncle started an ongoing series of critiques of Taylor’s food.
“The last time, he told me my birria tacos are good, but that’s not birria,” says the chef of his uncle’s review. “He told me birria tacos are made with flour tortillas in Mexico, and I thought that makes so much sense because the flour does so much more to absorb the consumé.”
As a result, the birria tacos at Los Charros arrive almost pumpkin orange with the spiced beef consumé , crisp and blistered, with all the juices inside until you cut in. A ramekin of the consumé itself suitable for dipping or pouring arrives on the side. They’re delicious, despite Colt’s complete rejection of one piece of his uncle’s advice.
“He also said they’re only made with meat and a tortilla in his village, no cheese,” he laughs. “I said no way, I like cheese.”
I was particularly impressed by the mole coloradito — a dark brown sauce whose name literally means “staining.” Taylor uses this on his enchiladas, but I’m a mole freak and tried it on its own, catching a huge bouquet of sweet, smokey texture, lively with spicy heat. He says they use chipotle, cascabel, d’arbol — a marriage of dried chilis — and blend new batches with starters of the previous one, like making balsamic vinegar. It’s easily one of the top two best I’ve had in the state.
“Mole to me is the main course,” says Taylor. “Whatever you put in it — chicken, whatever — that’s the garnish.” I couldn’t agree more.
Brunch is an option at the new location starting this year, and will include drink specials, huevos rancheros, migas, and one of my all-time favorite hangover foods: chilaquiles, made with chips braised in stock, cotija, the house salsa verde, and a fried egg.
“I decided if I was going to make the food of another culture, I was going to research the heck out of it with ultimate respect. We put quality above everything, in every ingredient,” he sums up, tipping a glass. “And we make strong margaritas.”