A Good Restaurant in Zacatecas
(When it comes to the meaning of that name, my Spanish fails me. The Golden Ones of the Town? Can someone help?)
When you're traveling with Clint, the way restaurants work is: If he has been there and liked it, it's going to be good. So don't bother asking any questions. Just go in and eat.
But things didn't look all that good when we arrived. A young woman was lying on the bench provided out front for restaurant patrons waiting for tables. Sleeping off a drunk?
I approached her and cleared my throat. She sat up and smiled. She smelled of soap, not booze. Her eyes weren't dilated. Why was she lying on the bench?
"I was sleepy. I needed a little siesta."
I said, "Of course. Well—er—we're just going into the restaurant."
"Go right ahead," she said. "You won't bother me."
Los Dorados de Villa is kind of like a speakeasy. We had to knock on the locked door (no bell). Someone opened it a crack and asked what we wanted. Suppressing an urge to ask for a bottle of gin, I said, "We're here for dinner."
Did we have a reservation? We did not. We were told to wait. The door shut.
I looked over at the convenient bench. The sleeping girl had vacated, so I was preparing to rest when the restaurant door suddenly reopened and we were motioned inside.
It's tiny. Probably seats 16. The table for six in the foreground was reserved. Ours was the small table to the left of the couple glaring at me as I took their photograph.
Clint said, "The food's really good here." Uh-huh.
Well, the place was colorful in a funky way. I figured the food would be interesting at least. I asked the waiter for a recommendation. Without hesitation he said, "You want to start with the pozole, followed by the enchiladas in tomato cream sauce." Well all right then. I surely wasn't going to argue with him.
The pozole was the best I'd ever had. This dish is often problematic: usually gristly bits of pork in broth with way too much oregano. Los Dorados' was intense chicken broth, shredded chicken breast and garbanzos, perfectly balanced and savory.
The pozole was a dinner all by itself, but although already stuffed, we soldiered on with the enchiladas. Three of them, cheese, chicken and beef were served in a deep bowl in the smoothest light tomato sauce ever. They were nuanced like French haute cuisine; nothing like the rustic fare that is typical Mexican cooking.
I see this post reads like a restaurant review. I guess that's because it is. I don't usually write them, but this place is so special, I can only say that if you're hungry in Zacatecas—you want to start with Los Dorados de Villa.