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| - Zocalo no es muy bueno. Arriving last night for our 5:30 reservation, made by phone three weeks earlier, we were told by the snippy hostess that they weren't taking reservations for the night. She proudly showed me the blocked-out reservations book to prove it. Well, I had made reservations and told her so again. She asked "well, who did you talk to?" and I told her it is not my job as the customer to make a note of who I talked to. It was Cavs playoffs night #5, but that fact hadn't been known three weeks earlier and nobody at this very poorly run establishment had bothered to call us to let us know not to come down. If we hadn't been meeting mobile phone-less friends, we would have left immediately. Not to mention we had already paid the bargain rate of $15 for a surly pizza-eating valet to park our car. The decor of the place is comic-book Mexican, bright colors and fake rusticity all around. The atmosphere is one of already-tattered and deeply unsanitary lack of caring on the management's part. The blank-eyed hostess reluctantly led us to a basement booth with a panoramic view of the chaotic dish room, conveniently located next to the ladies' room (no soap in the soap dispenser and water all over the floor on two visits that evening). We refused that booth and got one two seats away with the same features. The mirror at the inside end of the booth was spattered with some long-dried-on liquid that I couldn't take my eyes off all night. We were greeted immediately by a very lively, friendly server named Debra. She continued to be a doll the entire evening, the single highlight in a grueling culinary trek. Menus (plastic, Denny's style) were doled out. If you've ever eaten in any generic Mexican restaurant, I really don't need to go over the listings. All the usual banal offerings were there. We ordered a pitcher of "Cosmoritas", pink sour-mix lacking any discernible tequila. We also ordered the table side guacamole. It was fresh and chunky, quite delightful. The chips were sturdy and warm. After much discussion, we ordered a combination platter consisting of a shredded beef burrito (very small and with very little filling), a chicken tamale (dry and gummy; how did they achieve both of these failures in one teensy tamale?) and a carnitas soft taco (the meat was dry and stringy. Was that really pork shoulder?). This "platter" was accompanied by a tablespoon of listless cabbage slaw (obviously made the day before and without any discernible flavor) a dab of refried beans straight out of the can (you could stand a spoon straight up in that stuff) and some mushy Spanish Rice like we used to be served in the school cafeteria, except that the school version was delicious. We had a nostalgic moment of talking about how much we all loved that day in school. And the pizza bagels, of course. There was also a three-compartment side dish of sour cream, pre-made guacamole and very bland salsa. If we had enjoyed any of the above items, we would have been sorely disappointed by the portion sizes, which were almost laughable skimpy. If you've read any of my other reviews, you'll know I don't like big portions. Zocalo erred on the side of skimp; I don't know why. It didn't matter to us, though, since we disliked our meal so much that the two of us didn't even finish the shared platter, even after the act of desperation of ordering another pitcher of Cosmoritas. Still no tequila taste and no "desired effect"....We also tried the pumpkin flan and got through two bites of the heavy, numbingly sweet confection. On our way out, our wonderful server thanked us for being the nicest customers of the night "with such a great attitude". For a burst of zany fun, we took the elevator on the way upstairs and shared the ride with a reeking bus cart loaded with crusted old plates that someone had forgotten long ago to take to the dish room. Stick with the table side guacamole and chips, get some beer and then leave. Mamacita says.
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