It’s alleged that more than 500 tons of debris, including oddities such as baby dolls and piggy banks, washes up on Texas beaches per year — more than any other coastal state.
San Antonio’s metaphorical shores have lately seen a wave of upscale Mexican seafood restaurants which bring up similar trash-or-treasure quandaries.
Among the newest is Báltico Seafood & Grill, out of Torreón, Mexico, which is said to be opening soon in Stone Oak. Aguazul recently put down anchor on Loop 410.
And (a)mar, a locally owned concept, has taken over the former Allora space adjacent to the high-profile Pearl.
Regulars of the old Allora — of which there apparently weren’t enough — will recognize the basic shape of things. The bar, for example, retains its distinctive arches.
But the finishes have been refreshed, decorative items such as a dead tree and faux cacti abound. Furnishings are new. And large basket-like light fixtures now dominate the space. The room isn’t necessarily better for all that, but owners Carlos and Clarece Clavijo have made it their own.
Though neither has a culinary background, the couple’s travels to places such as Oaxaca and Tulum have also apparently influenced the menu. Breaded tuna on grilled panela is the only appetizer item that suggests the coast, but when you arrive at the Ceviches de la Casa listings, the theme emerges with a bang.
The Ceviche Tradicional cried out for a sampling.
The centerpiece is lime-cured redfish — points immediately awarded for it not being tilapia. The menu does state that the diced fish is marinated for six hours, along with the usual chopped tomato, onion and cilantro. Surely not — especially given the small size of the chunks. A more traditional curing time might stop at an hour, after which the seafood tends to get mushy.
Despite the long soak, the mix tasted fresh, though more sharply tart than briny. And the accompanying tortilla chips were appealingly crunchy.
We next moved on to the Seafood Cocktails.
Here, the seafood is cooked, so resting time is not an issue. (a)mar’s version contains both shrimp and octopus. The classic recipe for the sauce might be as simple as tomato juice, ketchup and lime, or might get more complex with the addition of Clamato, Salsa Maggi and more.
Whatever their baroque-leaning recipe, the “tangy special sauce” served here is just special enough, and the seafood is both bountiful and beautifully prepared. Add fresh oysters to this, and it becomes a Vuelve a la Vida — familiar to denizens of San Antonio’s cohort of long-lived, and not obviously upscale, Mexican seafood joints.
The zarandeado grilling tradition highlighted on the menu comes from Mexico’s west coast. As tempting as it was, the Huachinango Zareandeado weighs in at $60, a dollar more than a 12oz. grilled ribeye provided for landlubbers. Pass.
The House Special Seafood Paella has little to do with Mexico, but it was a comparatively more modest $48. It also took 30-40 minutes, according to our accommodating waitress.
How to fill up the time?
Not with Chipotle Linguine with Shrimp and Scallops, I’d suggest. Oh, the pasta was passable — if a little chewy, and the sautéed shrimp and seared scallops were both on point. But the chipotle cream, which should have been a slam-dunk, managed to be both boring and weird.
Fortunately, the paella arrived pretty much when promised. There’s no use whining about how hard it is to find a really good version in San Antonio. (a)mar’s suffers the fate of many a restaurant rendition: at least in the for-two portion it appears to have been reheated, but not cooked, in its presentation pan and thus lacks socarrat, the prized bottom crust.
If you can get over this — or don’t care in the first place, the short-grain rice may be just a tad overcooked, but the saffron-led flavors struck just the right tone, and the seafood medley itself — there were clams and mussels in this mix — further reflected the kitchen’s comfort in simple mariscos.
The kitchen appears to be less confident so far when it comes to dessert. Sounding promising, the Corn Cheesecake with corn syrup and dulce de leche ice cream was, once more, simply strange.
Dense, not especially corny and not well-served by an indifferent crust, it was also a visual dud. If a corn dessert is wanted, maybe take a look at the famous pie served on the beaches of Yelapa in Jalisco. It’s more of a custard but might serve as inspiration.
Or, should the tucked-away mezcaleria be open, finish the night with a dependably authentic tipple.
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