Throw us a Bone, El Meson
April 11th, 2009
By Emily Schnobrich and Maggie Whelan
Our most recent food field trip was to El Meson, a tiny Spanish-Caribbean place at 35th and Lyndale. The restaurant has been around since the 1980s, but changed ownership in June of 2003. While we arrived hopeful, our nostrils filling with the perfume of well-seasoned grilled meats, our experience turned out to be a rapid descent into a whirlwind of disappointment.
Our server (we’ll call him Lurch) assured us he’d be back in a few minutes to take our drink order. However, a few minutes of admiring the crimson and avocado color palette in the cozy cave-like space turned into 20 parched minutes of waiting. And waiting.
For Lurch’s convenience, we placed our entire dinner order all at once. After we sat for over 30 minutes, our sangria and tamarind juice finally turned up. Soon after—miraculously—came the pastelillos (small, cheese-filled empanadas) to start. For entrees, we ordered Arroz con Gandules (rice with pigeon peas) for Maggie and the Asado (pork tenderloin with roasted sweet potatoes, in a fennel-asparagus cream sauce) for Emily.
The first bite of the Arroz was pretty damn salty. Like, a salt lick in the middle of the ocean, salty. It turns out that this was the only seasoning in the dish, despite a few specks of cilantro trying desperately (and failing) to add another layer of flavor. The Asado was prettily piled with soft, sweet fennel, but even the delicate, buttery sauce surrounding it couldn’t make up for the fact that the dish was on the chilly side.
After our meal at El Meson, we would be hard-pressed to see the charm in much beyond the candle in charge of lighting our table, no matter how many years of business the restaurant might boast.
Lighting Round: Quick, opinions! Lightning is dangerous!
Refreshing: the house-made sangria, floral and citrusy– perfect after an obscenely long wait at the table.
Thoughtful: our ice-less water. We’re happier without cold teeth and crowded cups.
Like Totino’s® Pizza Rolls: the pastelillos. Enough said.
Frustrating: the server that got away—the man attending a nearby table seemed much more attentive than Lurch.
