Ron W.
Yelp
This is a charming wooden box. Think Oslo does Guadalajara. It is very romantic and suitable for a proposal of marriage or one that your spouse shouldn't know about. Colored globes hang down evoking Christmas at your beach house, and, of course, the best part of Christmas is ripping into the carefully wrapped packages and tearing them open with your teeth. You'll have the same intense joy once the food starts coming. If Guadalajara is the Paris of Mexico then Alcalde is the Taillevent of Guadalajara.
Prime real estate are the breeze kissed balcony tables overlooking a busy but beautiful tree lined boulevard. Watch the Federales go Code 3 while sipping a cool one.
The Vibe: Who goes there? Upscalers, Uber hailers, and timid tourists tired of eating at The Quinta Real Hotel where they're staying up the street every night.
The Staff: Attentive, pleasant, efficient, and genuinely interested in making sure your experience is memorable. It was. They are happy to please you in two languages which is more than I can say about mis tres Chihuahua's who enthusiastically ignore me in any language.
The Bar Program: Ask and ye shall receive. Hey, it's Mexico. Margaritas, please. I dove into a Tamarind version the color of a Chocolate Labrador. It was as sweet as my Grandma and as Sour as my Step-Father.
Tequilas, Mezcals, and a tour of Valle de Guadalupe fill out the spiral notebook booze and wine list, that is longer than a US Immigration Application.
The Food: I heard the food was good here. Now you're hearing it. Well, it isn't good actually. It's fabulous. If Alcalde was in LA or New York you'd be beggin' for a table 60 days out on Tock and happy to sit by or in the restroom.
Keep your paws off the double crisp Tortillas in the basket served with Crema (Mexi-sour cream, smooth as fresh sheets and peppery tangy.) Okay, go ahead. Have one, but just one.
The Special of the day was Scallop Ceviche with just a trace of Lime shining through. Diced Jicama, Radish and a brunoise of Celery were all along for the ride and all bathing luxuriously in a Vanilla emulsion. Now, you may grab several more crispy Tortillas to scoop a Scallop with.
A fresh Garden Salad rivaled anything The French Laundry grabs from their own nearby plot.
Listed as seasonable greens and vegetables, it was an Hieronymous Bosch hill of lovely leafy baby jewels punctuated with micro herbs and an angle's soft touch of vinaigrette. It was like eating the nursery's nursery.
Next there was a fresh Cheese of Chef's choice Tamale settled in a cuddle of creamy corn and Anaheim Chili Sauce served with sauteed Spinach, Almond bites and Macadamia Nuts. The dish read like instructions on how to use the toilet in a Japanese Hotel room but it tasted like the winning entry at the Bocuse d'Or. It was simply divine. Do not dally, have the tamale.
Finally, the piece de resistance took center stage. A baked Suckling Pig in a lake of Mole as black and dark as a Trump future. It was so good I asked for a straw to slurp it and then used my shirt tail to sop up anything I missed. I eventually got to the mound of Risotto next to the Celery Root puree inside a Grape Leaf. (Think Mexi-dolma). This was a explosion of taste and texture appropriate for a King, Drug Lord or the dining table on Olympus. The pig skin was cracklin' crunchy, the meat moist, this was porcine perfection.
This place should not be missed by rational adults.
The worst thing about bidding farewell to Guadalajara is waking up far from Alcalde.