Hartwood – Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico

“Reservation” is a relative term at Hartwood. They don't rush their diners, but unless you're in the first seating, the only thing you get when you show up on time is a guarantee that you will eventually get to sit down.

Order a drink while you wait. Tempers flare when you sit for an 8 PM reservation a little before 9, and you don't want to shop on a hangry stomach in the ritziest part of the Zona Hotelera.

Then again, the drinks are regrettable. We ordered a carafe of The Hartwood, which probably started out as only half a carafe. It tastes like a 50/50 of cocktail and melted ice, a watered-down pitcher of Jameson with a bare-there bit of ginger and the subtlest hint of lemon.

They don't use paper menus. Instead they just move one of several chalkboards and cross out the items that have sold out for the day. I don't usually photograph menus, but theirs is beautiful in the firelight.

One appetizer to share, an irresistable-sounding Ensalada de Langosto, and we just can't get enough. A tender lobster sweet-poached in a gentle white wine, under a thatched roof of green papaya. The tart orange and sweet watermelon add brighter notes, and the candied nuts dance with spicy Thai chilies.

Next course, Patilla de Pulpo. I’ve had plenty of meat melt in my mouth, but never octopus. The tentacles are flame-kissed yet impossibly tender, a smooth and substantial texture. The bed of potatoes is well-seasoned, and the pickled onions and mustard greens help to keep things light.

Starting light, and getting heavy. There is a simple side of roasted Platano, gooey banana in a coat of honey.

We escalate to the Costillas de Agave, pork ribs braised right off the bone. They cook the ribs for over 24 hours, brushing them with a thin, sweet mezzo-barbecue sauce. The agave finishes like a simple syrup, a coat of nectar that seals in all the moisture and fat. I love the sides of pickled peppers and cabbage slaw, but I would have given anything for a couple more golden rings of pineapple from the grill.

We are full, but salty/savory Ice Cream seems to be a rising trend, and moderation-be-damned, our curiosity can be sated by two simple scoops. The Cheese is salty and milky like cotillja, with crumbly grains that add a lot of texture. The Corn is like biting into a liquified ear of sun-ripened sweet white kernels, right off the cob.

I loved Hartwood before I ever set foot in it. It's hardly the only open-air restaurant in Tulum, but its emphasis on simple, minimalist cooking with few adornments and so little sauce is right up my alley. They make food in its purest form, and the flavors that shape the very soul of the meat don't get lost in all the spices or buried in all the sauce. I'm biased to the core, but there's no way I won't be back.