| rev:text
| - My husband and I agree that this is a 3.5 star restaurant, and we both planned to reluctantly round up to a 4 in our reviews, but after sleeping on it, I'm going to round down instead.
Why? It really wasn't a 4-star experience, and our combined rating is more accurate.
I may have relented if not for something else. Look, if you're going to obvious pains to market yourself as trendy, then for Blind Io's sake get a copy editor. As kindred spirits before me have said, "An apostrophe does not mean, 'Watch out! An S is coming!'"
I can't take a hipster cantina as seriously as they would like if their table menus, display menu, *and* website offer "margarita's," "burrito's," and so forth. I'm all for breaking the rules in the name of fun, but this kind of sloppiness is at odds with the image that Lolita's is clearly attempting to cultivate.
Ah, but I'll give it a rest for now and move on to what's important: the food, the service, and the atmosphere.
Initially, Lolita's seemed to be a bar with some "sit with strangers"-style table arrangements. We almost walked away, but then we spotted the booths toward the back. In we went, past the boozier patrons either sitting low in the cushioned lounge seats or up high on four-to-a-table barstools, and into a regular restaurant area that isn't really visible from outside. So, despite appearances, this is not just for people who want to nosh between tequila shots.
The music was loud but not obnoxiously so, something I wish Serendipity 3 and BLT Burger could learn. The lighting was slightly clubby, as seen when it turned my enchiladas a lurid orange, but the effect was not so much edgy as sitting inside a photo being edited by someone who has just discovered Photoshop. Fun, but not stylish. The wooden seats were extremely comfortable, the kind that don't require good posture or encourage slumping, either. A+ for seats.
Service was... mixed. The two hostesses came across as deliberately artificial, and they were clearly a little bummed when they had to drop their conversation with one of the male staff to seat us, but otherwise they were harmless. The water server was very keen to do his job, often lingering at the table a few seconds when passing to visually check and re-check our status. I'm not a fan of hovering, but his dogged intentions were in the right spot.
Our server was pleasant enough. There was one weird moment, though. After he took our order and gathered the menus, he paused, put one menu back on the table, and said, "I'll, uh, just leave this one here so you can read it."
So, we picked it up after he left and read it again. Had we missed something interesting? (No.) Was there a dessert menu to keep in mind for later? (No.) Strange. So why did he hesitate then leave it?
I could be paranoid and venture that the waiter assumed two fatties like us would surely end up getting second entrees, but if we're going to be fanciful (I hope), then let's say this was his way of silently begging us to proofread the menu. Maybe he's embarrassed to work somewhere that doesn't know how to pluralize nouns. Fear not, the injustice has now been Yelped!
Before this, I never knew it was possible to have service that was too fast. For refills, great, but instead of leisurely enjoying a few chips, an appetizer, then the main dish, we had all three going at once.
This somewhat marred our dining experience. The restaurant wasn't really busy, so again, it came across as a lack of professionalism. It's disappointing to have to decide which plate to let get cold, and being rushed along is never appetizing. I felt like I had to keep my fork in my hand at all times or they would take my plate away. (My husband's was whisked off as he chewed his last bite.)
In my husband's review, he commented that perhaps we were just a tad underdressed. Nah. We were just a bit pedestrian - polo shirt and shorts for him, cotton summer top and black capris for me - compared to the guys in their artfully distressed plaids and denim or the women in bra-exposing minidresses. Regardless, the rushing was inappropriate.
The empanadas we shared were delicious: lightly fried and filled with poblanos and Mexican-style cheese, served with a crisp pico de gallo and a black cream sauce. (Which reminded me of the yummy black bean dip served with the chips, and the two bites I had of it before the appetizer was served.)
The empanadas are the reason we will, despite all other issues, probably return. My roasted vegetable enchiladas were as beautifully presented as my husband's three open-face soft corn tacos, and I appreciated that Lolita's uses savoury vegetables like onion and mushrooms. (Broccoli slathered in enchilada sauce and drizzled with cheese and sour cream always feels oxymoronic.) But those empandas - mm mm mm.
With culinary finesse like that, I can forgive the "trying too hard" vibe and hope the service (and spelling) soon matches the chef's skills.
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