There are a lot of things in Philadelphia that can perk a person right up: stumbling upon a Rita’s Water Ice when it’s super super hot outside; catching a waft of cheese steaks cooking as you walk around South Philly; getting on a Septa bus and having it not exert any kind of smell. These are rare treats to a Philadelphian, and not to taken for granted.
And I must admit that since I moved here more than a year ago, I have been privy to all of the above. But—I must also add—I have found the golden nugget. The diamond in the rough. I have found a spot in Philly that no matter how sour you are when you walk in, you will leave feeling oh so sweet (bad word play, I know).
It is not a chocolate factory (although that would be cool because chocolate makes everything better) or a candy store, a clothing shop that sells designer goods at 75% off or a sports bar with polite Philly fans—it’s a Mexican restaurant, and it is marvelous. It’s called Distrito.
Distrito is marvelous for several reasons. You walk in and are confronted with bright colors, décor in blue and pink and yellow and orange. You then are escorted up a flight of stairs to the dining room that is lined with masks. Su would want me to note, because I feel that she would believe this to be its most important attribute, that they have swings for chairs. Yes. Wrap your mind around ‘dem apples. Yet this only enhances the experience, because swinging while eating would only be just okay if the food you were eating was pure crap.
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| Su swingin' and sippin'. |
We ordered a variety of dishes, all of which were delicious. We began our journey with a XX Mexican Lager for me, and a frozen marg topped with fresh watermelon puree for Su. Next we were graced with our appetizer, black bean nachos, or “Ignacio” to the lovely waiters and waitresses at Distrito (we just pointed and nodded to indicate that we wanted some…maaayybbee borderline offensive, but way better than butchering the pronunciation).
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| Our delicious nachos. You can't see it, but the black beans are underneath. Very good. The whole time we were chowing down, we kept saying "this tastes so fresh." I don't know what Distrio's doing but they're doing it right. |
For the main event, I was dead set on the fish tacos. I must admit that I’ve had them before. I must also admit that I will probably get them every time I go there because they are so good. And (see photo below)—they are absolutely the most adorable food I have ever seen. Pink pickled cabbage sits atop a crispy fried piece of Mahi-Mahi; the fish lays it’s little self on a heap of remoulade sauce; a fresh slice of avocado snuggles up along side, just trying to get in on the action; a hand made baby tortilla acts a vehicle for this masterpiece, allowing me to bundle everything up and bring joy and happiness to my taste buds. I’m tearing up just writing about how moving this experience was. If you go there and do not try these, please don’t tell me because I most certainly will not associate with you anymore. (Fool.)
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| I am one happy camper! |
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| Try and tell me these fish tacos aren't the cutest thing you've ever seen... |
Before I discuss Su’s entrée, I must explain one thing to you about my dear friend. She has a fear of mayonnaise. This fear is most certainly incapacitating, and potentially life threatening. I will elaborate briefly, but you should be warned that this is just the tip of the iceberg. You really should see her confronted with this condiment. It’s alarming in too many ways.
I usually use two key examples that illustrate Su’s fear to common folk:
1. She cannot go in a Jimmy John’s (sandwich restaurant chain) because they insist on keeping their stock behind the counter. This stock includes jarred peppers, bottles of oregano, salt, pepper, and—wait for it—dozens and dozens of the largest tubs of mayonnaise you can imagine. When she told me that she could not accompany me inside a Jimmy John’s, I thought she was joking. When I told her to buck up, she became physically ill. Mayonnaise: 1 Su: 0
2. This tale demonstrates Su’s ability to triumph when faced with adversity. While traveling in Europe, Su, Becca and I took a day trip to a small city outside of Berlin to tour a Concentration Camp. The whole day was an emotional roller coaster for us all, but perhaps most of all for Su, who was also confronted with mayo in the most aggressive way possible. We bought sandwiches from a shop right outside the train station when we arrived. We couldn’t really tell what was on them except for ham. Fine—ham sounds good; we’ll take ‘em. Our guide let us stop for lunch right after we see where the prisoners were housed. We pull out our sandwiches, take a bite, and mayo oozes out from all angels. Su is freaked. I am freaked thinking about how Su is going to be freaked. I hand her all the napkins I have, and help her wipe down the sandwich. This seems to divert the crisis, until our guide comes over and begins ranting (actually) for several minutes about how much he loves mayonnaise. On and on and on. “I love when mayonnaise squeezes out from the sides of bread when you’re eating a sandwich” and “sometimes I just eat it with a spoon.” I cannot believe she survived. But she did. I don’t think she finished her lunch, but I mean if you were her, would you?
Why is any of this relevant, you ask? Because Su was once again confronted with that nasty “M” word at Distrito and despite of it all, loved her meal. Because perhaps as much as she hates mayonnaise, she loves corn. I jokingly told her she should be an ear of corn for Halloween and she was not nearly as quick to reject the idea as she should have been. That is how much Su loves corn. So it was no surprise when one of the two items she chose for her dinner was something called “Esquites,” or sweet corn, queso fresco, chipotle and lime.
She was so excited in anticipation she was swinging with glee (actually). So when the waitress brought her dish and said “Esquites, or sweet corn with our chipolte mayo,” I thought fists were about to fly. I reassured her, telling her that the waitress must have misspoken (an impossibility) because the description said nothing about mayonnaise. It’s clearly just a sauce; I see nothing that even resembles anything from Hellmann’s. She tried it, and loved it. Went nuts for it. Thought it was Jesus’ gift to us all. Whew—that was a close one.
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| Su's two dishes sitting on our very colorful table! |
Her other dish was much less controversial—an “Enchilada de Pollo,” or chicken enchilada for those of you who took French. This too, was a winner. Its flavors were simple but done perfectly, capturing this traditional dish in a mayonnaise free environment and rounding out Su’s meal.
We had a lovely evening filled with good food and good company. Distrito is one of those restaurants where you can sit for hours, gabbing and gabbing without realizing it. The decor is vibrant and unique, a perfect distraction if your company is bland. The food, however, is far from bland—and that is why I will keep on comin’ back.
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| A shot into the restaurant. Photo credits here go to Su for sacrificing her dignity for this image. You can kind of get a feel for the ambiance; this photo does not do it justice--you really should just go and check it out for yourself. |
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| The masks lining the stairs. COOOOOOOL! |
