Chili Verde occupies a plain- Jane building on the corner of Tejon Street and West 37th Avenue — and a large place in the hearts of loyal patrons who enjoy a taste of Mexico that ventures beyond the combo plate.
The soul of the restaurant’s menu is inspired by the cuisine of Puebla, the city in south-central Mexico that is the gastronomic capital of the nation, with roots embracing Spanish and French colonial influences plus those of its indigenous peoples.
Puebla offers a bona-fide cuisine, one lighter than the dishes of northern states such as Sonora. Pueblan flavors typically offer complexity and depth, and it is in this aspect that Chili Verde can disappoint a diner drawn there by the buzz.
The restaurant’s layout is simple, with a four-seat bar at the entrance and a spacious dining room. Blond-wood furniture with white tablecloths is the look, set amid whitewashed walls.
Chili Verde draws a diverse crowd of young people, some with children in tow, and the vibe is casual, abetted by friendly, youthful staffers who are quick to explain what’s coming out of the kitchen. (One waiter perhaps overly so. He cautioned us to “not be afraid” of the menu, as if we were going to hand-pull our own alligator from a tank for tableside prep.)
The restaurant serves lunch and dinner. Worth knowing — and your servers dutifully tell you this — both menus are available in the evening.
A worthwhile starter is the guacamole. Unlike most Mexican restaurants in this city, the guacamole here, at $9, is prepared tableside.
The server brings out half an avocado per person, spoons the flesh from the shell, then asks what ingredients you want added: cilantro, minced onions, jalapenos and tomatoes are among the options. We asked for everything, and the small metal cups were dropped in, the avocado coarsely fork-mashed, and the dip piled into a dish and served with warm tortilla chips. It’s lovely.
Choriqueso proved a good choice for a chilly night: melted Mexican cheese mixed with bulk-style chorizo. The result resembled pulled pork, the long strands of cheese rendered orange by the pork sausage. Flavorful and filling, the dish’s sturdy texture made the accompanying corn tortillas a mandatory platform. Chips would have been routed like tulips in a hailstorm.
Calamari was lightly battered and crispy, accompanied by a smoky chipotle sauce that was a worthy variation on the usual salsa fresca.
A poblano cream soup was less successful. It was a bright lime green, the color of pureed broccoli. The color and the light flavor suggested the peppers were raw, or at least only minimally roasted. While the broth was light, the poblano flavors could have been much deeper, especially in a winter caldo.
Entrees were mixed.
A Puebla-style chili relleno ($11) arrived with a sophisticated mix of ground beef, almonds, raisins, peaches, plantains and apples. It was topped with nogada, a white sauce with ground walnuts, and pomegranate seeds.
Lots of ingredients, lots of color and surprisingly, not so much flavor.
A dining companion who was home on leave from his job in Oman had ordered the dish with the near-rapture of someone in dire need of a chile fix. Halfway through, I asked his verdict. He shook his head in disappointment. “You know, I’m not loving it.” I took a bite. It was underwhelming.
Ditto for the poblano crepes, stuffed with moist, shredded chicken and slathered in a creamy sauce of slivered, sauteed poblanos and onions. Tasty and filling, but lacking pop.
More successful was the night’s special, chicken mole wreathed in a take on the classic sauce that makes Puebla a food shrine: deep, dark and nutty, and driven by the notes of bittersweet chocolate.
All these entrees came with sides of rice studded with corn kernels. Also, a helping of shredded iceberg lettuce with diced winter tomatoes, the hard pink variety that add nothing to a dish, unlike their summer counterparts.
Desserts showed attention to detail, including a classic tres leches — sponge cake made with three milks — and obelix crepes, Mexican caramel crepes topped with ice cream, strawberries and walnuts.
Chili Verde is a worthwhile neighborhood venture. If only the flavors could be more dynamic. We’re not talking about the blast-furnace heat sought by habanero-heads, just the complexity that Pueblan cuisine can offer.
William Porter: 303-954-1877 or wporter@denverpost.com
Chili Verde
Puebla-style Mexican
3700 Tejon St. 303-477-1377
* (Good)
Atmosphere: Blond-wood furniture and white tablecloths, but an anyone-welcome, casual feel.
Service: Friendly, youthful.
Beverages: A range of Mexican beers, including the historically hard-to- find Victoria label, plus wine and cocktails.
Plates: The starring dishes are inspired by the cuisine of Puebla, the gastronomic capital of Mexico. But Americanized dishes such as fajitas are also available.
Hours: Weekdays 11 a.m.- 2 p.m. (lunch) and 5 p.m.- 10 p.m. (dinner). Saturday 11 a.m.-10 p.m.
Details: A parking lot is behind the building and there is usually ample space on the street. Reservations available.
Our star system: ****: Exceptional ***: Great **: Very Good *: Good
