VerMexican
I
n the dusty, litter-strewn streets of Tijuana, tacos typically come from a stall or stand. A sole tortilla cradles gristly, grilled mystery meat all asizzle, perhaps topped with a bit of cabbage or pico de gallo and a squirt of soured cream. The salsa is thin and mostly spice and vinegar. But somehow it all magically combines to form a mouthwatering, chewy divine comedy — for me, great Mexican ridiculously defaults to terrible — with a serious shake of sketchiness.
MATTHEW THORSEN
Taste Test: Mi Casa Kitchen & Bar, Stowe
BY H ANNAH PA L M ER EG A N
Cayan pepper margarita and chicken wings
MI CASA’S MENU MIXES AND MATCHES MEXICAN AND VERMONT FLAVORS, IDEAS AND INGREDIENTS.
44 FOOD
SEVEN DAYS
07.09.14-07.16.14
SEVENDAYSVT.COM
THE MASHUP BEGS A LITTLE GETTING USED TO.
Such food would be sorely out of place in Stowe, where owners Paul and Laura Biron replaced Frida’s Taqueria with Mi Casa Kitchen & Bar at Main Street’s Butler House in May, carrying the gringo-Mex torch forward for another iteration. In a recent conversation, chef Scott Hostetter, formerly of Pie in the Sky and Partridge Inn, said the team sought to bring “a traditional Mexican restaurant” to town. But a glance at the menu, created in consultation with Green Mountain Inn chef Steve Trusco, reveals a very Vermonty spin on things. Hostetter sources meats and produce fresh from local farmers, and the wandering menu swings from chiles relleno to iceberg wedge salad, mixing and matching Mexican and Vermont flavors, ideas and ingredients. The mashup begs a little getting used to. Maybe start with a margarita? Until very recently, house margs were $4.99 on weekday afternoons, but for the current price of $6.75, I’d rather splurge on a fancier tipple. Mi Casa’s pomegranate
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margarita is a refreshing tropical treat in a dusty pink hue, spiked with tipsy tequila bitterness. But for this drinker, sangria hit the spot. Cool and juicy and not too sweet, the calming cocktail diluted the sting of
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my withering hope that I would find legit Mexican in the Green Mountains. Guacamole, for instance, was offered topped with smoked trout or Vermont feta — something few Mexicans would dream
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up, as they tend to understand that good guac is a rare perfection and should be respected and left to shine without accoutrements. I balked at the oddball additions … then succumbed to curiosity and opted for the trout. When the fresh-smashed avocado bowl arrived, sprinkled with crisp shreds of bacon and fish, the trout’s smoky salt breathed much-needed life into the mash, which on its own was woefully undersalted. It wasn’t really Mexican, but it wasn’t half bad. For guac, it’s a splurge at $11.95, but the generous portion size lasted a table of three through dinner. The chips that came with it, flash-fried and dusted with ample salt and just a sprinkle of sugar, were also great with other dishes, such as a flame-broiled, bubbling bowl of queso fundido ($6.95). The creamy, gooey, molten bowl of Chihuahua cheese came studded with sweet poblano peppers and caramelized onions. It tasted of Philly cheesesteak sans steak or bread, but made for an over-the-top, heavy indulgence. Fish reappeared in a cool bowl of tender, springy whitefish ceviche ($8.95), diced to bite size and soaked in limey brine with crisp red onion, tomato, avocado and cilantro. Biron says the chef has since swapped the whitefish for tuna, but the complementing ingredients remain more or less the same. The dark red fish likely adds a layer of iron-rich depth to the dish. That ceviche spoke in a heavier Mexican accent than most items on the menu, and it wouldn’t be out of place on the tonier streets of Jalisco or Cancún. Nor would the side of twice-fried tostones made with sweet plantains ($2.50). These carried the musty sweetness I grew to expect when I lived in Nicaragua. Whatever their provenance, Mi Casa’s plaintains were seriously great — crisp and worthy of return visits. A plate of wings ($7.95) kept closer to home. They were lightly fried and then tossed in sweet, sticky, chile-flecked maple glaze. A hint of adobo-soaked chipotle pepper in the sauce was the only thing linking the dish to Latin America. If the tie was VERMEXICAN
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