Philadelphia Weekly

Share this Story:

Acapulco, jewel of Mexico’s Pacific coast, exudes drama and beauty of the faded but gracefully aging sort. It seeps from the cracks in the cliff-skimming roads ruled by Speedy Gonzales cabbies in blue-and-white VW bugs; from the soaring green mountains that cradle the town’s dazzling horseshoe-shaped bay. It’s as if, when 1950s Hollywood christened Acapulco its de facto clubhouse, the sleepy village eagerly quaffed the Kool-Aid and never looked back—not even when the jet set moved onto newer paradises.

Today, though, Acapulco is in the throes of a renaissance, not unlike South Philly’s lower Italian Market, north of Federal and south of Washington, where not one, but two Mexican restaurants are named after the destination. The spots straddle Ellsworth Street. They share menu items, a mostly Mexican clientele and the same blind interior decorator, so that even a streetwise individual with address and Internet-equipped cell phone in hand has probably stumbled into one, looking for the other.

Distracted by a Telemundo game show on the overhead TV, you might be halfway through Restaurant Acapulco’s complimentary tortilla chips and salsa rojo when you realize you’re in the wrong place. You might drop a few dollars on the table and dart out. You might feel like a dummy gringo.

Down the street, at Fiesta Acapulco, the scene was similar: full glass front, laminated wood tables, fridge cases stocked with pink and green rainbows of Jarritos. Television and music were conspicuously absent, though, stifling the restaurant in silence amplified by its scrubbed tiled walls, eerie as a morgue.

But once owner Gabriel Bravo got things going, Fiesta Acapulco warmed up. A clattering of pots and pans. The hiss and sizzle as a red-orange flame leapt up from a saucier. Unlike Bravo’s other spot, nearby taquería La Lupe, the focus at Fiesta is seafood, evident from the whole snappers and oysters resting on beds of ice in the open kitchen’s glass display case.

Don’t worry; you can still get typical taquería fare like the flaky, golden-edged empanadas oozing queso de Chihuahua (like Mexico’s version of a grilled cheese sandwich—salty, gooey and satisfying) and tacos filled with shrimp, chicken, beef or fish. I had the latter, the soft, silver dollar-sized tortillas cradling nuggets of seared tilapia dressed with lime and lots of cilantro. Tomato and avocado came on the side, though all I really needed to reach for was the bottle of El Yucateco’s green habanero hot sauce—thick, fiery and green as pureed Irish shamrocks.

The Acapulco connection emerges in the list of entrees, loaded with fried, broiled and grilled seafood. In the camarones Veracruzana, red and green bell peppers and a dozen sauteed shrimp swam in a red tide of chipotle sauce, framed by a mountain of rice that resembled an aerial shot of Acapulco itself. Hardly life-changing, but flavorful, enormous and cheap at $13.

The Fiesta Acapulco Combo is an even better deal. At $21.50, this mixed grill brings it with smoky, buttery Alaskan king crabs and baby lobster tail, perfectly cooked scallops and shrimp and stuffed clams. The four fat cherrystones were the only disappointment, so overloaded with zingy breadcrumb stuffing the meat got totally lost in the fray. The combo easily feeds two and comes with a little greens salad topped with cucumber, avocado and tomato; the sweet waitress brought out a bottle of what looked and tasted suspiciously like Wish-Bone Italian to join the table’s apothecary of hot sauces.

Jell-O cups jiggled alongside flans and cheesecakes in the dessert case in the front of the restaurant, though when I asked about dessert, the waitress brought the check. Maybe she was trying to tell me something. I certainly could’ve done without the tres leches, which would’ve been perfect without the thick layer of vanilla icing sugary enough to induce a diabetic coma. Still, it was way better than the watery Mexican hot chocolate that tasted like a semi-homemade recipe: open Swiss Miss packet, add water, sprinkle cinnamon. It goes so well with a fun, fab, fantastic fiesta tablescape.

Still, Fiesta Acapulco is worth checking out, another feather in the cap of Philly’s Mexican scene. It might not look like Acapulco, but it’s definitely got the same soul.