Halibut ceviche is one of the menu items at Domingo. Credit: Ron Bechtol

The vaunted Michelin Restaurant Guide began life as a marketing ploy to sell tires through culinary tourism, but it’s since taken on a life of its own. So coveted are the tome’s star ratings that chefs have reportedly committed suicide at the mere suspicion of losing one.

After first appearing in New York in 2005, the French-originated guide is now coming to Texas — though not without cost to the five major cities to be investigated. As the Current reported in August, San Antonio’s tourism-promotion group ponied up $270,000.

Now, Texas Monthly has published a list of restaurants in each city they suspect may be targets for Michelin’s inspectors. For San Antonio, it’s something of a head scratcher.

Here’s the list: Blu Prime Steakhouse, Bohanan’s, Brasserie Mon Chou Chou, Clementine, Cured, Domingo, Ladino, Mixtli, Pharm Table, San Taco, Shiro, Silo 1604 and Silo Prime. Stalwarts such as Bohannan’s might seem right up Michelin’s alley, but, among others, I was surprised to see Domingo, located inside downtown’s Canopy Hotel.

I hadn’t been to Domingo. Now I have.

Though Michelin doesn’t mention ambience in its current criteria, it has implicitly figured into past ratings. On this front, Domingo scores big with its retained historic walls and cistern, its soaring exterior space, its views of the cypress-lined San Antonio River. There’s nothing else like it.

Service has also been important for the guide. I arrived for a 6:45 p.m. reservation, theoretically indoors since it was easily 95 degrees. However, I was led to a table in a crowded outdoors. I couldn’t help but ponder whether a star rating would matter to casually dressed tourists or families sporting strollers, or whether it might scare some away. Especially if they perceived a star to mean higher prices.

Menus arrived promptly, along with an immediate query about drinks. The compact wine list is adequate, but the bar’s cocktails appeared to have ambitions. Fortunately, the drinks also arrived quickly, helping to assuage the slight and the heat.

I don’t need to have either of the cocktails again, though the Chili + Cucumber delivered what was promised: spiced tequila, blood orange liqueur and chili-dipped cucumber. The Jalisco Standoff — a pairing of tequila, mezcal y mas — was oddly bland and murky. Michelin in mind, an expressed swath of ruby grapefruit peel might have helped both visually and livened up the taste.

Domingo’s appetizers offered our first plated look at the restaurant’s purported “modern tribute to South Texas cuisine.” The skillet cornbread’s flavors of zucchini, cheddar and green chile were good, if sweet — a sensation further enhanced by a scoop of honey butter. Apparently we South Texans have a sweet tooth.

The halibut ceviche had another kind of issue: the flavors again were good, but the normally sturdy halibut seemed soft and cottony, and the dish needed more citrus. It also begged for an accompaniment — maybe not the traditional saltines, but a Guide-worthy riff on something crackery.

The entrees were ordered separately, and that alone should have guaranteed their arrival at an appropriate time. But no. When they appeared, there was a mad rush to finish the ceviche, then to find space … all because the table was too small to accommodate it all.

Apparently, Domingo doesn’t believe in pacing or diminutive plates.

Nor does it believe in sides. There are none listed, and there are effectively none on the entrée plates. What you see on the menu is what you get. Mostly.

If you examine it closely, the menu description of slow-roasted pork shoulder might suggest cochinita pibil, but that Yucatec Mayan slow-roasted pork dish gets no mention. Do they think us not sophisticated enough?

Domingo’s is actually a pretty classic rendition. The mound of pulled pork is robustly flavored, the marinated onions tart and on-point and the paper-wrapped corn tortillas are both fragrant and pliant. Can we just call a cochina a cochina, though?

Other presumably modern entrees include green chile and chicken enchiladas and Baja fish tacos.

The Braised Short Rib came from the menu’s Signatures section, and the boneless beef itself was hard to fault. It was also huge and served atop a once-trendy bean puree loosely married to tomatillo and studded with lardons — a Michelin-y word for cubed bacon. Beauty was not this plate’s strong suit, and mas-modern habanero “ashes” got lost in the shuffle, but perhaps points can be given for stick-to-your-own-ribs qualities.

I’m amused by the thought of a proper Michelin inspector tucking into the restaurant’s toasted chile brownie with Mexican vanilla ice cream. It’s served in a small skillet, perhaps for South Texas creds, and the decorated ice cream topper, more cajeta than vanilla, is bowl-sized. An accompanying pepita brittle was sadly flaccid, and the chile heat was hard to detect.

But taste wasn’t the reason much went unconsumed. Perhaps size is another defining South Texas characteristic.

Michelin’s Texas awards are set to be announced on Nov. 11 in Houston. I may have to eat the above words. But I don’t have to change my mind.

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