Coyote Flaco Fine Mexican Restaurants

I have to admit that, on occasion, Michael will willingly accompany me when I hanker for Mexican food. Although his notion still lingers that all such foods are potential fire breathers, he has opined afterwards, much to his own surprise, "Mikey liked it."

Uncle Sam, ever on the lookout from his Mansfield home for new restaurants for me to try, had forwarded word on Coyote Flaco. At first, we thought we had made a wrong turn. Route 31 showed few signs of life, but a short way up, a low, terra cotta building appeared with bright green wooden shutters. Nailed to each shutter, in an even brighter shade of green, were cutouts of cacti. Must be the place!

The knotty pine waiting area was flooded with light from the setting sun. Several real cacti grew out of oversized tomato sauce cans.

After a few minutes we were ushered into a modest-sized room packed with Southwestern and south-of-the-border paraphernalia. Old license plates, framed sombreros and piñatas representing tequila bottles hung around the room. Cowboy boot lamps lit our table. The space was cheerful and welcoming. The room had a mix of tables and booths. A large bar was in the back.

Table tops were branded with western graphics around the border. The pine floor repeated the theme, only with random ranch brands. The hard, wooden benches can be uncomfortable for some. Bring a tush cush if you're sensitive.

The menu was more extensive than we had imagined (a simplified take-out version is available). We took some time to finalize our selections, in the meantime munching on crispy corn chips and dips. Virginia and I made sport with the spicy, light green tomatillo-based sauce, while Jerry and Michael enjoyed the milder tomato salsa.

An oversized quesadilla appetizer (an evening special) was an instant hit. Floured tortillas, top and bottom, were chock-full of spinach and glued together with melting Monterey Jack cheese. Garnishes were the traditional extra-thick sour cream, a few greens and a wonderful, freshly made, chunky guacamole.

A hot ramekin of large, moderately spicy shrimp, gambas al ajillo, was another hit. The pan seared shrimp were meaty, and the tomato broth thickened with chopped garlic was good enough to slurp all alone.

Two large, overstuffed veggie burritos graced one of our entrée plates. A light tomato sauce was ladled onto both, and a lacy scattering of shredded cheese melted over the top. A small salad straddled a timbale of rice, an arrangement repeated on several menu listings.

A tightly covered container holding pre-warmed, soft, flour tortillas was delivered with Michael's entrée. My husband, who of late has become quite fond of all sorts of wraps, artfully filled each one with pieces of his combo of chicken and steak fajita strips. His condiments consisted of mashed, refried beans (a tasty treat by themselves) paired with guacamole, pico de gallo (chopped tomatoes and onions) and sour cream. The blends of seasonings dusting the chicken and steak were quite yummy!

Jerry's enchiladas Cancun were marvelous. Two different enchilada casings made unique taste contributions to the same crab meat, onion-and-green-pepper-filled interiors. The dark brown tortilla, we were told, was made with mole, which contains Mexican chocolate with its slightly acrid, earthy overtones. It also tasted as if it contained some of the delicacy called huitlacoche (corn fungus). This has a distinct, slightly smoky flavor I thought I detected, and is often used in these type of crepes. The tortilla was made from corn.

The hot, bubbling platter of salmon ranchero placed before me tantalized. I availed myself of a warm tortilla and filled it with the pink, skinless salmon strips, sautéed red onion, green peppers, a little tomatillo sauce and a plunk of sour cream. The portions all around were quite large, and as a result several were bound for home.

Both the enchiladas and the rancheros had different side dishes. Bowls made from fried corn tortillas held a thick, well-seasoned black bean mixture. The intensity of the color was broken by a skimpy amount of Monterey Jack cheese. The kitchen uses cilantro sparingly. Depending upon the region highlighted, many Mexican restaurants overdo this herb.

Service lagged. We had to hail passing waitpersons for water refills, and even just to place our order.

The desserts were house-made, consistent with the rest of the dishes.

Originally published Thursday, July 14, 2005