Loco for Orinoco - Boston

Orinoco and I were star-crossed lovers. But the good kind, not the Tristan and Isolde kind. No one died. That's all the explanation you're going to get. I walked by Orinoco so often, and I tried to go to Orinoco so often, but I always caught it on a night when it was too full of other dining suitors or closed after a heartbreak. I finally ventured over on a steamy summer night with the roomie, and thus began the love affair of legends.

Our affair started with the Tequenos, which, like most affairs, are such a bad idea they're good. Cheese egg rolls dipped in ketchup conjures the image of a smelly bachelor sporting a dingy beater living on canned beans, but a crispy crunchy fried-wonton-like wrapper with chewy cheese dunked in chipotle ketchup with a kick becomes a Latin luxury. My roomie describes them as Spanish mozzarella sticks, but that does them no justice - when has anyone chosen an Italian lover over a Latin one?

The Datiles are like any character from Real Housewives - so rich they're ordinary. Soft sweet dates and almonds wrapped in crispy bacon could do no wrong, but the bacon is coiled 3 times like a roll of love handles. You feel like you've been stood up because it tastes like bacon with no real date.

The Maruchuchitos are a long-term love - so familiar it’s foreign. Starchy, bread-y plantains stuffed with stringy cheese is basically grilled cheese on a toothpick to warm your winter nights, but the queso paisa has a fresher, more summery flavor of its own, and the plantains remind you that you're merging your grilled cheese with someone else’s.

The Mechada Empanadas are the best kind of dates - so cheap they’re luxurious. Inexpensive they may be, but the thick, grainy coarse-ground cornmeal adds even more layers of texture to the shredded beef, and the mixed-green salad is always crisp and fresh with a light touch of salt, pepper, and oil to bring out the bitterness of the arugula.

The dinner plates are like most men, so simple they become complex. The standard sections of rice and black beans sit alongside the sweet plantains, which hold hands with the neighboring blander starches. The shredded beef of the Pabellon Criollo is salty and savory to balance the bland and sweet. This plate has many complex parts, but together they make one authentic Latin meal, a no-frills serving with a perfect blend of spices.

The Asado Negro is another simple-yet-complex Latin meal in a dark, heavy sauce. The sides are the same, but this one is slices of beef in a sauce the color of A1. It's good but the shredded beef is better. Just get that or the empanada version. Sometimes you find a love that keeps you coming back, and the shredded beef is it.

With all its catchy contradictions, Orinoco is so wrong it's right. The dishes are so mismatched they form a set, the service is so casual it's high-end, and the menu is so disjointed it makes sense. The only thing that makes sense in this tumultuous love affair is that no matter how often I stray, Orinoco has me coming back. My affair with Orinoco is so crazy it makes sense, and though I don't pretend I possess any sanity, I can rationally say you'd be loco to refuse Orinoco.