Forget the ritz n' ditz of the Zona Hotelera, the best restaurant in Tulum lies on the road to Coba. Cetli's new location is spectacular, and they have the menu to match.
The restaurant is an airy, free-standing house in Yucatan yellow. The arches glow brightly against the twilight sky, and the walls teem with exquisite antique decor.
The chef is a one-woman show, a sweet lady who makes her grandmother's recipes, carrying on a legacy with her own two hands.
The appetizer is a small feast, an assorted tray of small delights, some well-known to us and some not so much. All are made with a unique and exquisite touch.
There are simple Corn Cakes with beans and cheese, a local staple. The cornmeal is delicate and airy, and the beans are a savory spread. An elastic cheese stains crimson against a sweet-beet backdrop, and a chewy seeded bread gets a helping hand from a mind-blowing garlic butter. Cheese empanadas come to life in habanero salsa, a creamy tomato and cheese sorta-spread is an experience, and a tart orange is topped with feisty fried grasshoppers that finish with a sharp tang that reminds me of Tajin.
Roasted Tomato Soup with tortilla is an official starter, and this thicker broth capture the very essence of tomato with an oomph. The flavors are pure and confident, the very definition of comfort food, clotted with queso fresco.
The Metztli, a meticulous roll of soft chicken breast is stuffed with a bland mashed plantain, the perfect platform for an exceptional black mole. Sesame enhances the dark, nutty sauce, and the chicken sits and soaks in this singular sauce.
The Potosi is another roll of pollo, this time filled with chaya, a cross of spinach and kale with a much better texture. The cactus fruit jam starts sweet and subtle and finishes bold with the tiniest bit bitter.
The chicken dishes are adored, and the sauces are something else. But this Chile en Nogada overshadows anything I've ever eaten, in Tulum, maybe in the world as a whole. An earthy oven-roasted poblano pepper is full of savory beef and pork, sweetened with nuts and raisins in a sherry sauce sprinkled with pomegrante that I swear is liquid crack. It's like nothing I've ever had, and it's something I'll ever forget.
The desserts are earthy and hearty like the meals, starting with the Nimbe, a dense marble cake full of frozen ice cream. The mezcal sauce is thick against a muddy dark chocolate river, making the summery strawberries pop.
The Tzopelic is raisin-bread as a pudding, moist and soaking in a cream sauce much like light white chocolate. The strawberry sorbet isn't just fruity and sweet; the almond liquor gives it some snap.
No comments:
Post a Comment