If you live in a city long enough, you just might see it change into something completely different at the same time it reverts to exactly what you remember. That was the case on a recent Saturday evening when I found myself seated in a back dining room of Boca Loca, the cheerful Mexico-inspired eatery that occupies the former address of The Trace.
But as my group pulled up chairs to a table of freshly made chips and salsa — and a round of pineapple-garnished mojitos and margaritas swirling with fresh citrus, mint, peppers and cucumbers — it wasn't The Trace I was remembering. Nor was it Bombasha, the churrascaria tenant that vacated before Boca Loca arrived. What came to mind was Faison's, the pioneering restaurant that was nearly synonymous with independent dining when I was growing up in Nashville.
I didn't dine frequently at Jody Faison's popular nightspot, but on the rare occasion that my parents took me along — and we sat in the same back dining room — I always learned something new about gastronomy. Come to think of it, Faison's was the first place that showed me the restaurant experience could mean more than just fried food, spaghetti, burgers and iceberg lettuce.
Three decades after Faison's, Boca Loca owners Tim Heavey and David Reyes resume the tradition of expanding Nashvillians' palates. Sure, Boca Loca offers ubiquitous south-of-the-border tropes such as guacamole, chips and salsa and the obligatory kids' quesadilla, but chef Reyes's offerings of albondigas, Oaxaca tamales, ceviche, escabeche and cebollitas remind us that there is more to the Mexican culinary tradition than a steady ooze of refried beans.
With some of these dishes, our party was more grateful for the attempt and ambition than for the never-less-than-adequate result. Ironically — just as Faison's regulars settled into their own comfort zones of Broken-Hearted Fettucine and Chicken Ginger and Mary Ann — it's the humblest, most familiar items on the menu that deserve to keep a loyal clientele returning to Hillsboro Village.
Let's start with the beans, or, as the menu says, "pinche frijoles charros and rice: amazing beans with bacon." I'm not sure what constitutes "amazing" when it comes to legumes, but the al dente black beans with bacon and housemade chorizo were indeed remarkable. Smoky and comforting, with hints of brown sugar and jalapeno and a brothy consistency more like soup than like chili, the beans offer a hint that Reyes and Heavey, alumni of Chicago's National Restaurant Group, are bringing something new to the local mix of Mexican cuisine.
Guacamole, too, was a cut above the crowd, laced with lime juice and garnished with orange pulp. Ceviche abounded with plump shrimp and scallops "cooked" in citrus and tossed with mango and red onion. (That said, $10 for a small bowl of ceviche and $7 for guacamole held us back from ordering seconds.)
At first blush, the menu is fairly long. My inner editor initially wanted to simplify matters by deleting various combos of tacos, to make it easier to focus on entrees such as lamb shank with lentils and vegetables or seared mahi with orange, pineapple and pomegranate-red wine gastrique over hominy and potato puree.
Indeed, as you scan the entrees, it's the less familiar items that immediately catch your eye. If you pronounce it right, you might recognize xilpachole as a cognate of "cioppino," and the tangle of angel hair with shrimp, lobster and mahi in saffron broth recalls the iconic Italian-influenced delicacy of San Francisco. Vera Cruz Snapper, with tomatoes, red onions, capers, plantains and lime juice, called to mind Italian puttanesca sauce atop perfectly pan-seared buttery fish.
We couldn't resist trying them all, and more. Maybe the most memorable item on the table was the so-called Street Vendor Chicken, whose dark-bronze skin crunched like a salty, smoky jacket of bacon. In fact, my mind reeled with the possibilities of wrapping fried chicken in actual bacon.
But a couple of bites later, I realized that would be prohibitively salty. Even without an actual bacon jacket, the half-bird was too saline to finish — certainly not something to order with any frequency. And a similar fatigue began to set in with some of the other specialty dishes.
By the standards of Nashville's many cheap, unfussy Mexican restaurants, these dishes are undeniably a cut above in execution. At Boca Loca's much higher price point, however, they should be even better. Those who can regularly shell out $23 for seafood pasta will go elsewhere in town where the pasta is made in house, for example, or where the chicken isn't a sodium-loaded shock to the system.
On the other hand, tamales with mole delivered all of the complex layering of cocoa, cinnamon, peppers, fruit and nuts that we could hope for in the traditional Oaxacan sauce, while salad with shaved ribbons of zucchini and pickled florets of cauliflower was an excellent communal addition to the meal.
That led us to the inevitable question: Will we return to Boca Loca? Yes, unequivocally. What you really need to know is that $12 buys you four gorgeous tacos (plus a side of beans, grilled onions, corn on the cob or pickled vegetables) with choice of scratch-made chorizo, fried fish, hormone-and-antibiotic-free chicken, grilled vegetables or skirt steak. From the delicate housemade corn tortillas to fresh, colorful toppings of pineapple, avocado salsa, cilantro, aioli, pickled vegetables, pecorino, potatoes, radish and grilled slaw, Boca Loca's taco roster delivers uncommon flavor and value.
Show up at happy hour, when margaritas are $3, and you've got Mexican cheap eats of a much higher order than what we're used to in Nashville. And that's where Boca Loca truly raises the bar for Mexican cuisine in Middle Tennessee — not in its commendably unusual but serviceable specialty items, but in the care it uses to execute and elevate the tried-and-true.
On return trips we will continue to monitor the specialty items, which we'd love to see reach the same level. In the meantime, there's something to be said for familiar comforts delivered with panache, which Boca Loca handily provides. Open the garage doors on the patio when the weather improves, and you've got a festive Hillsboro Village landmark — just like you remember it.
Boca Loca serves lunch and dinner daily and brunch on Sunday.
Email arts@nashvillescene.com.
