Latin Explosion

I went to a "Mexican" restaurant for dinner last night. I use quotes because I don't think they exist in the Land Down Under. My tour guide was an Aussie who saw my eyes light up when I heard the words "Mexican food." After a bit of scavenger hunt in Surry Hills via taxi, we found Cafe Pacifico. The entrance to the establishment was crowned with a red neon sign, under which was a set of stairs and red walls leading up to a door with a pot holder duct taped to its edge to prevent the door from making loud slams when shut. I felt like Alice in Wonderland about to see what was the bottom of the rabbit hole.

As I opened the door it creaked eerily like a haunted house, then before me a puppet tied to a lever to the door ascended while another puppet descended. To our right was the receptionist counter where they informed us our table was not yet ready. As we headed to the bar to wait for our table, I took in the decor. The restaurant was dimly lit, tables had free standing candles. There were barn like beams in the ceiling and the walls were lined with kitschy latin paraphrenlia ranging from Frida Kahlo to bull fighting matadors. It was like a ho-down meets dia de los muertos fiesta; in other words, it was like TGIF meets El Torritos.

The bar had an extensive and excellent selection of Latin spirits, ranging from Cachaca to Tequila. This is where the confusion lies. I think the word "Mexican" loosely translates to Brazilian/Cuban/Spanish/Mexcian in the restaurant and perhaps continent. It took me a while to find the margarita section. I was happy to learn they served old fashion margaritas on ice but they still shook it like a cocktail; I'll let that slide. It was a bit on the sweet side but still by far the better margarita I've had out here. Dos Equis (pronounced Dos Ee-kwis here) was a disappointment. I swear they must import stale Mexican beers out here, or they don't know how to keep it fresh.

The menu looked promising, and I went with the shredded beef burrito. It arrived on a super hot plate that scalded, just like the Mexican joints back home. On it was the burrito covered with melted cheese and a red sauce topped by a very generous globe of sour cream topped with a single olive (olive? really?). The burrito was then bordered by a pool of refried beans flagged with a single tortilla chip and a pile of spanish rice with what appears to be a small wedge of orange, almost just like home. The table was set with a small bowl of chips and salsa, not as generous as back home but at least it was free. The salsa was good, had a sneaky kick to it, and it was perhaps the best part of the meal as the beef was devoid of any real flavor. Too bad the salsa came in such controlled portions.

Part way through our meal one of the waiters brought out a slice of chocolate cake with a sparkler lit on top. He delivered it to the birthday girl at the table next to us with a giant sombrero to be her momento. (Getting pretty damn home sick at this point). Then the waiters started throwing colorful streamers throughout the restaurant, some even caught on fire from the candles but it was under control. Then out of nowhere our waiter delivers shots of unsolicited tequila and sangrita. (I'm in love).

To wrap up this chimichanga, Cafe Pacifico was a little bit of home and everyone else's latin moms combined. I am not sure if they were confused with what the definition of Mexican was, or they were the one-stop shop for a taste of everything latin. While I still don't understand why it's so hard to find decent Mexican food outside of the States (when you can always find a decent Japanese place anywhere on the globe), I at least now know one place in Sydney to get my margarita and salsa fix.