Power-shopping at Hastings is hard work. No need to tell me I know about the exhausting search for a decent five-day rental. And when hunger threatens, I'll grant you that Ixtapa offers a convenient next-door rest stop. But although the food is fine, it's undermined with careless service and an uninspired atmosphere. The tiles inset in the tables say "Welcome," but one hopes for better than a grouted greeting. Where is that famous Mexican conviviality?, I wondered. Where is that graciousness? Where, for that matter, is the waitress?
First impressions are not first priority at Ixtapa; our host's outfit showcased his sneakers, and he shuffled us off to a table with barely a word. The wait staff was better dressed, but the attitude remained, if not exactly unfriendly, still far from embracing. Small talk tongue-tied our waitress, and she seemed unenthusiastic about fulfilling the slightest special request.
Ixtapa provides south-of-the-border specialties such as Chicken a la crema, which owner Jesse Garcia balances in his left hand.
Really, how hard is it to bring flour AND corn tortillas?
Bright pictures painted directly on the walls strive to evoke Mexico's cheerful reputation, but this goal is largely sabotaged, however, by a too-tall wall erected through the middle of the restaurant. At best this divider is meant to create "intimate spaces," more likely it's there to facilitate cramming in more tables, but either way it's claustrophobic and precludes any people-watching. The best part of this room arrangement is that it forces the waitress to walk by your table occasionally. A TV broadcast a soccer game "That's kind of authentic," volunteered my guest; unfortunately the other TV the one in my sight line was blank, forcing me to fixate on the ugly light fixtures.
Occasional sizzle
Mercifully, chips and salsa arrived to refocus our attention. It was standard stuff and we munched it obligingly as we read the sporadically bi-lingual menu. Some of the headings are in Spanish, but only if the English translations are obvious, like "Combinaciones" and "Ensaladas."
Rating: **
My companions chose from the English-only category of "Sizzling Fajitas," but actually the fajitas didn't sizzle that much, not with the fanfare of some of those Tex-Mex chains. I chose no sizzle and no steak, instead going with a vegetarian blend that included lots of different types of vegetables but little variety of size or texture. Although a smidge overdone and slightly oily, they perked up under the influence of guacamole that didn't skimp on the salt and lemon necessary to define the avocado taste, and of pico de gallo that was laced with carrot for a pleasant bit of crunch.
Good guac and gallo do not a fajita make, however, and overall the eating was better across the table with the carne asada tacos. The chunks of seared beef were higher quality than I expected: I always chew carefully, dreading those gristly bits, but these had been carefully trimmed. It was in stark contrast to the pulpy ground beef stuffed in the enchiladas.
There's a lone pork entramid the 14 beef and chicken dishes, and this chili verde version is a winner, composed of tender pork chunks in a delicate tomatilla sauce. It was a wonderfully subtle dish, mild without being boring. It also comes on a very hot plate, a fact the waitress thoughtfully imparted to me before abandoning it at table's edge for me to slide it into position with my napkin.
Mi casa es su casa
The TV soccer game must have inspired us, because at dessert we invented a new sport called Eat the Fried Ice Cream. In this game, two to four players wielding flimsy spoons hack at the frozen ball, skidding it dangerously close to the lip of the plate without going over until a piece of ice cream falls off. However, after tasting the coating on the ice cream, the whole point behind this high-concept dessert, I decided not to undergo the intensive training necessary to become a star player at this game. Much easier to manage were the sopapillas, which were a deal and a half at only a dollar and a half. A plate of deep-fried tortillas drizzled with caramel and topped with whipped cream, this dessert was downright delectable.
I respect people with strong convictions, but our waitress's strong stance against clearing the table was somewhat inconvenient. Stuck with us for a few more minutes after reluctantly asking, "You guys didn't want any dessert, did you?", she still left all the dishes on the table, then reappeared with our dessert, our to-go boxes and a very vague plan for transferring it all to the table. There was no room for my coffee, but she remained unfazed, simply holding it out to me until I took it.
This seems to be Ixtapa's modus operandi. They hold it out; you can take it or leave it. Mi casa es su casa, said the table tile my house is your house. I wish they'd treated me like a guest.
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