| rev:text
| - With so many restaurants opening and closing, I'm often saddened when one expires before i get the chance to write it up.
Not so with Chimichanga, a two-location chain outfit that recently went bloated-belly-up.
I looked forward to it's arrival. Toronto offers world-class Italian and Chinese cuisine, in all price ranges and in most parts of the city. Mexican restos are tougher to come by. For the most part, they're still neighbourhood fixtures; none has yet broken out of the pack to become a real destination. I love El Trompo, but it's too far a trek to Kensington Market, especially when it's cold and dark outside. Sure there's plenty of burrito joints, but what I really want is something accessible in terms of location and cuisine. If Chi-Chis was the Olive Garden of Mexican food, I'd just ask for something a few steps up. And no deadly food poisoning.
These were my hopes when Chimichanga arrived on the scene. Hopes that like my dreams of main-eventing Wrestlemania, were cruelly dashed at birth.
Chimichanga was a long, black room accented with garish liquor ads and a fully stocked bar. Seating options included small, uncomfortable chairs or a small uncomfortable bench. You would lean forward, elbows on table to better hear your date, and to redistribute your weight so your buttocks didn't fall asleep.
Servers pressed extensive cocktail menus in your hands on arrival, and decided whether they wanted to keep paying attention based on whether and how much you drink. Ask for a diet coke, and you could still be there now.
Food seemed like an afterthought. Competing mini-chain Milagro offers authentic mid-grade mexcian, executed to varying degrees of success. Chimichange never made a pretense of authenticity, or food quality, but charged exorbitantly. Dishes seemed vaguely pan-latino, in the manner of the Pickle Barrel. Throwing a handful of wilted cilantro and a couple of peppers into the mix does not make a dish Mexican.
An order of 'fresh' guacamole allegedly prepared tableside (it was once, but never again) cost over $8 for mealy under-ripe avocadoes pounded into sludge. Burritos clocked in over $15, the cheapest mains on the menu. Chimichangification (ie deep frying) cost an extra $3. Better carnitas could be had across the street at Chiptole for less than half the price. Better margaritas, too. Chile Rellenos lacked pop; stuffed with plastic cheese on top of greasy sauce; the dominant flavour in all cooking was salt.
Coffee was bleh; desserts uninspired. There may have been mexican fried ice cream. If there was, it was unmemorable.
Chimichanga was a first-date spot. Central location, plenty of drink options, easy getaway if necessary. I don't know of any couples who made it to a second date.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)
![[cxml]](/fct/images/cxml_doc.png)
![[csv]](/fct/images/csv_doc.png)
![[text]](/fct/images/ntriples_doc.png)
![[turtle]](/fct/images/n3turtle_doc.png)
![[ld+json]](/fct/images/jsonld_doc.png)
![[rdf+json]](/fct/images/json_doc.png)
![[rdf+xml]](/fct/images/xml_doc.png)
![[atom+xml]](/fct/images/atom_doc.png)
![[html]](/fct/images/html_doc.png)