I Ate This: Sonrisa Modern Mex
What: Pipian and Enchilada Alta, plus one margarita
Where: Sonrisa Modern Mex, University Village, 2614 NE 46th St., 524-2242
When: Thursday night
Cost: $42 (with tip)
Official Tasting Notes: First, let�s talk terminology.
According to our peppy waiter, H., modern Mex is Mexican food that�s been updated, using a combination of traditional Mexican cooking methods, healthier ingredients, and influences from other spots around the globe.
According to the menu, he�s right: At Sonrisa, you�ll find the usual smattering of tacos, enchiladas, and burritos, alongside a good salad list. But you�ll also find platos tradicionales spiked with creativity (a chile relleno grilled instead of fried, for example, with golden raisins and apricots in the filling) and Mexican-inspired takes on more typical American entrees, like a New York steak marinated in a mixture of tequila, mustard, and sesame oil, served with cotija mashed potatoes.
But according to me, modern Mex is just exactly what you�d expect to taste if, say, the RAM opened a Mexican joint. (Which is exactly what it did.) The room feels dominated by a corporate edict announcing their idea of Mexi-hip, with flames jumping up pillars, IKEAesque white metal chairs, giant Bordeaux glasses on every table, etc. Modern Mex also means verbal flare a la Office Space, minus the buttons and vests. (H. said �awesome� roughly 48 times during the 40 minutes we were there, with �great� and �EverythingallrighthereGOOOOD� ranking a close second and third.)
To me, modern Mex means modern dinnerware and a fancier presentation, but mall mex in the mouth. (Really. What did I expect?)
I wanted to try the combo plate with ancho-rubbed ribs and poblano-stuffed chicken ($22), but something inside me just didn�t feel right about it. (Or wait, maybe that was my wallet, gently reminding me how much I paid last time I ate at La Carta de Oaxaca.) H. sold me hard on the pipian, a chicken dish sauced with a mixture of green salsa, peanuts, honey, and pumpkin seeds.
He said the chef got this exact recipe from his grandmother, but it was actually �HUNDREDS of years old.� Wait, what were you saying about modern? I had to wonder whether his grandmother also overcooked the chicken, and if she splayed (actually, really delicious) grilled zucchini around a cylinder of rice so architecturally.
My husband ordered the enchilada alta. Modern, indeed �- it was more of a corn tortilla lasagna, with layers of carne asada, rice, and enchilada sauce piled up pancake-style. Only there wasn�t much cheese, which certainly made it healthier (but in my book, enchiladas without a fat layer of dairy? WTF? Why eat dinner?). And the two sauces that smothered it �- one red sauce, pleasantly spicy but heavy on the tomato paste, and one super-citric green one, which tasted honeyed �- didn�t cut it for me.
It wasn�t that everything was so bad, it was that nothing was really all that good. A few exceptions: My husband�s margarita was great (read: I drank half of it), and despite their tendency toward overzealousness, the service was perfectly friendly and speedy, and the waitstaff was quite educated about the menu.
Would I eat there again? Uh, no. I probably won�t go back. But I�ll certainly keep it in mind the next time someone asks for a Mexican version of The Macaroni Grill.
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