RIP: La Katrina Tacos

When La Katrina Tacos first opened on Freya a few blocks south of I90, I was a frequent guest.  Katrina herself was heart of the kitchen staff, and the food was both generous and authentic.  Unfortunately the quality dipped after she sold out... leaving her name on the sign, but little of her touch in the food.

Driving by the restaurant several days ago I noticed an additional sign in the window.  In place of the former OPEN sign was the lease notice below.  While this isn't a shock given the decreasing number of cars in the parking lot over the last year or so, I suspect the extended economic slump didn't help either.  My wish is that we won't see a string of similar signs in other windows, but my sources around town suggest than even well-loved restaurants are struggling right now and some great ones might well fail too.

Are you aware of any of your favorite spots on the ropes?

Tamales With A Twist

By now Dan and Melina Durham are back across the border in Mexico, returning to the country where Melina was born.  Thankfully, a day before they departed Melina passed along her grandmother's recipe for tamales with twist... molé.



I wanted to say goodbye to the two of them before they left the Northwest and probably would have showed up at their farewell fiesta in any event, but the promise of authentic tamales, carnitas, and tortilla soup sealed the deal.

The word 'authentic' linked to ethnic food typically serves as a nearly irresistible magnet for me, and Saturday night was not an exception.  The soup?  Great.  The carnitas? Quite decent and definitely authentic... boiled slowly in nothing but lard for hours.  The tamales?  Addictive.

I confess that most tamales I've tried have been disappointing.  They are dry.  Or they are bland.  Or they are both.

Not this time.  Melina's grandmother solved both problems with a vein of smokey and spicy molé running through the center of each tamale along the the shredded pork.  If you are not a molé fan, keep looking for your Mexican nirvana; but a great molé makes you weak in the knees, you might want to join me in a petition to the Vatican to evevate Melina's grandmother to the category of kitchen saint.

My people are in negotiations with their people for the recipe.  I'm told that ultimate authenticity requrires the tamales be boiled in banana leaves rather than corn husks, but my inability to stop eating the Northwest corn-husk version suggests that this is one recipe you want in your family too... even if banana leaves are hard to come by in our neck of the woods.

Cafe Chulo

Fresh Mexican

A Critic Learns a Lesson in Humility

I arrived at Café Chulo thanks to a tip whispered with unexpected intensity. “The sweet pork,” my informant hissed with a strange gleam in his eyes. “You have to try the sweet pork.”

Over the years I have taken considerable pride in the fact that I can, with reasonable accuracy, identify most spots worth eating before opening the door or glancing at a menu. And using my very subjective criteria I would have not given Café Chulo a passing glance. If I had, it would only have been to announce with bravado to anyone listening: “They’ll be gone in six months.”

Wrong. Before Café Chulo moved into its north Coeur d’Alene generic fast food building in a sea of black asphalt, my prediction would have been dead accurate. Before Chulo everything that opened in the spot closed a few months later.

But in 2005 that curse was broken… by sweet pork.

Yet I’m getting ahead of myself. I was still extremely skeptical when I pushed open the door and scanned the layout inside. You will find acceptable Mexican touches throughout, and brightly-colored, wooden chairs rather than the typical plastic Jetson stools. But it takes no imagination to picture the space as a chain pizza or burger joint complete with the stainless steel counter and serve-yourself pop dispenser.

The menu posted on a black chalkboard rather than a backlit plastic display was the first real sign of hope. The fact that everything seemed to be served in round aluminum tins that reminded me of pre-microwave Jiffy Popcorn discs was the second. In our increasingly generic ‘fast food nation’, any deviation from the mean is good.

Then I saw that both the corn and flour tortillas were made fresh and in-house every day. This wasn’t just good; this was very good.

Burritos ($6.95) were an option; choose grilled chicken breast, tender roast, grilled steak, veggie, or… there it was… sweet pork. Tacos too offered the same possibilities plus one additional: fish. The tacos came two for $6.45 with rice and beans or chips (also made in house). You can also order quesadillas, enchiladas, fiesta taco salads; and a quick scan of the blackboard confirmed it: virtually everything could be ordered with any of the meats.

Then my doubts returned. All three of the people behind the counter looked like my cousins—just off the boat from Sweden. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Sweden is not typically celebrated for its salsa; and long experience has taught me to run from ethic food served by people from the wrong part of the globe.

Only it was too late to retreat. One of my cousins behind the counter asked what I wanted. “Nachos” I mumbled. “Sweet pork nachos.” My source had said something about the nachos too.

Five minutes later I took the first bite of what will probably be the best tin of nachos I’ll ever eat: house-made chips, black beans, onions, chopped cilantro, melted cheese, pico de gallo, sour cream, guacamole, and laced throughout was the sweet pork.

In talking later to Juli Pearson, who managed Café Chulo over the summer, I saw the same gleam in her eye I first saw in the eyes of my friend. “It’s addictive,” she said. “I don’t know why. I’ve seen Pancho make it, but somehow, it’s addictive.”

Pancho.

‘That doesn’t sound Scandinavian,” I thought and asked for explanation. Juli’s answer helped right my sense of the world.

The heart and soul of Café Chulo turned out not to be a distant cousin at all, but rather Francisco Padilla Ramirez a.k.a. Pancho. He is the one who arrives at 4:30 or 5 every morning to make the salsa, the grilled steak, the tender roast, and the sweet pork. Pancho has lived here longer than I have (14 years), but he wasn’t born here and didn’t learn to cook here either. He was born and learned to cook in Mexico City, and for this I will be forever grateful. I’m also grateful to Lupita who shows up each morning, not long after Pancho, to make hundreds of tender corn and flour tortillas—surprisingly without the standard ‘south of the border’ secret ingredient of lard.

I suspect I’ll tell myself in the future that a drive to Coeur d’Alene for sweet pork is justified because the folks at Café Chulo have worked to make the food healthy too. “Think Subway gone Mexican,” Juli says with a grin.

I would if I could, but truthfully Jared and company will never serve up anything remotely like Pancho’s sweet, sweet pork.

Café Chulo Fresh Mexican Grill
155 West Neider Avenue
Coeur d’Alene, ID 83815
(208) 667-2700
www.cafechulo.com
Sunday–Thursday: 10 am–8 pm, Friday–Saturday: 10 am–9 pm