Review: Mexique

Fusion (fyoo' zhen): n. Culinary technique melding two or more traditional cooking styles into a pretentious and incomprehensible whole.

The term fusion is out of favor these days—persona au gratin, as we say in the food biz—so I'm not going to use it to describe what first-time chef Carlos Gaytan is doing at Mexique, his charming, 6-month-old West Town storefront. Let's just say that Gaytan tweaks recipes he learned in his native Mexican state of Guerrero with techniques he picked up working under such accomplished French chefs as Dominique Tougne at Bistro 110 and Joe Doppes at Bistrot Margot.

"You need to remember that I come from Guerrero, Mexico's second-poorest state," says Gaytan, explaining his unorthodox style. "So we have to be very creative with food. Besides, if you go back to the 1860s, the French were here and brought their chefs, and that influenced our cuisine. So this isn't something new I just came up with."

What makes Gaytan's approach work—as it nearly always does—is that he will take a classic dish from one tradition and tweak it ever so gently with the other; he doesn't trample tradition so much as he reimagines it.

For instance, his steak tartare (tartara de carne on the menu) is classic in most respects, save for a hint of cilantro and a surprise jolt of pickled jalapeno. Cochinita rillettes, made with tequila-braised pork, are essentially cochinita pibil (a classic Yucatecan dish) under a dressed-up alias. An infusion of chorizo adds sharpness and brightness to Prince Edward Island mussels luxuriating in a bath of white wine and tomato-saffron beurre blanc. Ceviche, by contrast, carries no French influence at all, though there are hints of the Caribbean with the baby coconut and plantain-chip accompaniments (the fish component changes from week to week).

My favorite appetizer is the pescamal, in which Gaytan creates a French-style seafood mousse (accented by a barely detectable bit of chipotle) and steams it tamal-style, albeit in a banana leaf rather than a corn husk. The rich mousse, which tastes disarmingly light, is crowned with a fricassee of crab meat (with sauteed tomatoes and fresh thyme) and bits of preserved lemon. It's a gorgeous little dish.

I searched in vain for an entree I didn't love. Pan-seared rainbow trout, graced with sugar and spicy sweet-potato puree and caper-lime butter sauce? Gorgeous. Herb-crusted rack of lamb, alongside a sope filled with coffee-braised lamb shoulder? Killer.

Gaytan's take on duck breast and leg confit—the former dressed with a light tamarind-chipotle glaze, the latter slow-cooked in duck fat, orange and Negro Modelo beer—should be required eating for foodies.

Even the simple roasted chicken is memorable, thanks to a lively mole teloloapan, a dark-red mole with chocolate, cinnamon, peanuts and guajillo and ancho chilies (and I've left out a half-dozen ingredients). "I only do two moles," Gaytan says (a fruity mole xico is the other one). "That way, I know they'll be good."

Almost to prove that nobody gets everything right, Gaytan misses badly on a guacamole dessert—avocado pastry cream with crispy cinnamon bunuelos, which doesn't work at all—but he makes up for it with his chocolate enchiladas (essentially ganache-filled crepes with toasted walnuts, ancho-chile chocolate fondue and vanilla ice cream) and a perfect little apple tart with cajeta (goat-milk caramel).

All this experimentation takes place with minimal damage to your wallet. Appetizers are all less than $9, half of the entrees are less than $20, and nothing exceeds $25.

The warm and inviting dining room seats 74, and is a testament to how a designer with a good eye (in this case Ilimar Issac, Gaytan's wife) can create an appealing environment on a modest budget.

The service staff seems to consist entirely of happy, laid-back people who patiently and precisely guide you through the whimsical menu.

The wine list is small—about 20 bottles—but covers the bases you'd want covered with Mexique's menu. Prices are exceedingly kind, mostly in the mid to low $30s.

And on Tuesdays, every single bottle is offered at half price; I splurged on a delicious, $48 Argentinian malbec (the priciest bottle on the list), because, heck, how often can you raid the high end of somebody's cellar for $24?

pvettel@tribune.com

Mexique
1529 W. Chicago Ave.
312-850-0288

Open: Dinner Tue.-Sun., lunch Tue.-Fri., brunch Sat.-Sun.

Entree prices: $16.95-$24.95

Credit cards: A, DC, DS, M, V

Reservations: Strongly recommended weekends

Noise: Conversation-challenged

Other: Wheelchair accessible; valet parking