Ay Caramba! That
tired old Spanish expression was part of American pop culture long
before Bart Simpson popularized its usage on episodes of The Simpsons
animated television series. The expression translates to
"confound it!" or maybe "Holy Cow" and is generally
used to register surprise. You can almost imagine the Mexican
equivalent of Robin, the Boy Wonder of Batman fame exclaiming "Ay
Caramba" as he and his crime-fighting partner stumble onto yet
another perilous plight.
My hopes were that I'd
be exclaiming "Ay Caramba" at how great the food is at this
mom-and-pop restaurant which launched in 2005. After all, my
friend and colleague Steve Coleman has a relatively high
opinion of the restaurant's "sister" restaurant in
Canutillo, Texas, a restaurant owned by the brother of Albuquerque's Ay
Caramba. It appears good cooking runs in the family.
Ay Caramba's menu is
replete with many traditional favorites of northern Mexico as well as
the wonderful mariscos found along Mexico's coastal seaways...but Ay
Caramba!...the menu doesn't include Ceviche, one of the items that
defines Mexican seafood.
Complementary salsa
arrives at your table shortly after you do. The jalapeno and
roasted tomato salsa makes sparse use of cilantro and cumin, two
overused spices which sometimes detract from the salsa's inherent
flavor. The chips are thin but robust enough to scoop up the
salsa. Expect to consume two bowlfuls before your entrees arrive
(that's saying the salsa is excellent not that the service is slow).
The beverage bounty
includes traditional Mexican aguas frescas including horchata,
the beverage made from ground-up rice, sugar and cinnamon. Ay
Caramba's version isn't as cereal sweet as you might find at other
Mexican restaurants, but it's quite refreshing.
Hoping to duplicate the
incomparable flavor and magical properties of seafood marinated and
"cooked" in lime juices, I ordered Ay Caramba's plate of three
tostadas con camarones (shrimp tostadas) with three limes. The
magic just wasn't there. The shrimp is of perfect texture (not
rubbery or flaccid) and delicious in its own right, but when you've got
Ceviche on your mind, there just isn't a worthy substitute.
Carnivores will enjoy
the pork tamales bathed in red chile. The masa isn't so thick it
dominates the pork and the chile is an ameliorant, not an overly
prominent flavor.
Business is slow at
this southwest heights restaurant, hopefully a sign that Albuquerque
diners have yet to discover it and nothing else.
