|
Volume CXXXII, Number 2 |
 |
Just a one branch Taco Bell
KERRY ELSON
STAFF WRITER
A robust woman ambles from one end of the counter to the other, looking over the innards of her pseudo-Mexican establishment, Main Street's Rosita's. Fiddling with the radio dial, she drawls to her co-chef, "I'm looking for something with a sort of, you know, Mexican, South-of-the-Border thing." She settles on the country twang after much searching.
 |
| Rosita's (Karsten Moran, Bowdoin Orient) |
Country music, this foodie regrets to inform, originates from regions above
the Border, thereby disqualifying it from the "Latin" classification. Like this fruitless search for authentic tunes, Rosita's fails to serve food that is either authentic of good-tasting. Its chefs have an idea of Mexican food in mind but are unable to bring those visions to the palate.
Rosita's is like a one-branch Taco Bell: cutesy jalapeño curtains dress the window, small plastic tables inch against one another and the food comes fast and cheap.
Sometimes Rosita's windows are fogged by an unknown source, hinting that it lacks sufficient ventilation. Perhaps one benefit of this moist condition, however, is its suitability for asthmatics, who breathe more easily in soggy environments.
Rosita's offers chicken, beef and vegetarian versions of quesadillas, enchiladas, and burritos. Entree-size taco salads and "Mexican Pizza" are also available. Patrons may order rice and refried beans, tamales or salads on the side.
After placing their orders, patrons sit at a table and wait for the food to be delivered by the same woman who takes their order. The confident manner of the woman behind the counter deceived me to believe that she was a competent burrito-maker.
This foodie hypothesizes that the "chef" spoons some mildly spicy chicken mix onto a tortilla and proceeds to roll it up with her eyes closed. The burrito was so huge and the wrapping so imprecise, that it had to be cut with a knife and fork. In addition, missing from the burrito interior were the expected lettuce, beans, rice, and cheese. This foodie would have preferred to have at least one of those four within her lunch to break up the monotony of orange, soupy chicken pieces.
The Foodie Friend had more success with her deluxe chicken quesadilla. Rather than suffocating in sauce, the chicken was allowed to breathe. Lettuce, cheese, and olives lay sandwiched between two crispy tortillas. This foodie only wished she had considered the dish for herself.
The side order of refried beans was as unsatisfying as the burrito. The mushy brown pile had the powdery aftertaste of excess spice; chili powder had probably been added with good intentions at one point, but perhaps the bean-maker should be supervised in the future.
This foodie, ordinarily a member of the Clean Plate Club, dared not even finish her burrito and beans because she felt she had tasted all there was to taste in the first few bites of each. Rosita's should concentrate on perfecting a few select dishes rather than offering the 100+ mediocre meals listed on its menu.