Who's Thankful for Clubstaurant Nachos???
Here's a review of Limusina by the crew behind Bad Roman. Plus: NYC's newest Michelin stars!
Hey Friends!
I’m working on a bunch of year-end stuff. That means I’m doing quite a bit of eating!
A quick taste: I enjoyed the zucchini tacos at Santo’s new University Place location. And some friends and I returned to Eel Bar for a full-fledged dinner. It was really good! Get the mushroom bomba rice.
Today, we have a review of Limusina, the Mexican party spot that’s been absolutely packed on each of my visits. Thanksgiving turkey hounds will be especially curious about a rich mole there, and I think you’ll dig my short essay about…fancy nachos!!!!
But first…
The New York Michelin Guide’s new stars….
Michelin’s anonymous inspectors unveiled their starred selections for Chicago and the Northeast last week. For the full writeup, check out Meghan McCarron’s report over at The New York Times, but here’s my quick recap:
Masa and Alinea dropped to two stars each. The Masa news shouldn’t surprise anyone, now that we have a plethora of amazing sushi spots that don’t cost $1,000 for dinner (they do, however, cost $500 per person, lol).
Sushi Sho was elevated to three stars. It’s the only sushi spot to hold that honor in the states. Dinner is “only” $450 service-included, but supplemental nigiri at the end of the meal can literally double the price of your omakase. Read my full review here. It’s an extraordinary restaurant.
There were just four new entrants to the one-starred ranks. One of them was the (excellent) Bridges by Estela-alum Sam Lawrence, one of my best new restaurants of 2024. Get the oozy comté tart, though it’s now a steep $38. The other three newcomers were Muku, a kaiseki counter in Tribeca; Huso, a fine dining restaurant inside Marky’s Caviar; and Yamada, another kaiseki spot.
Michelin doesn’t seem as excited about Modern Mexican fare as local food journalists. Corima (it’s amazing) retained its star from last year, but acclaimed spots like Taqueria Ramirez, Carnitas Ramirez, El Rey, Cariñito, and the stupendously popular Santo Taco were all left off the Bib Gourmands — Michelin’s “affordable eats” category. By contrast, Yellow Rose, Olmo (haven’t been), and El Chato (which is great) received Bibs.
Speaking of Mexican fare…
Mahira Rivers, my fellow contributing critic at The New York Times, published a one-star review of Los Burritos Juárez by Alan Delgado!
My favorite line is about the lard-enriched flour tortillas: “Their charred aroma falls somewhere between freshly griddled roti and a sizzling Neapolitan pizza crust. The texture is nothing less than Squishmallow-level softness,” Rivers wrote.
Please give a warm welcome to…Critical Sandwich!
My former colleague Greg Morabito — who played a key role in shaping and defining the voice of Eater — has launched Critical Sandwich, a food media Substack. Head over to his newsletter for thoughts on Bourdain, Eddie Huang, and “The Fantastic Mr. Fox,” a movie that doesn’t get as much credit as it should for its food scenes.
Seriously: I often find myself quoting George Clooney’s bit about hard apple cider for no reason in particular: “It burns in your throat. It boils in your stomach. It tastes almost exactly like pure, melted gold.”
Anyway, you should all follow Critical Sandwich!
More year-end lists, if you please!
Here’s Eater with their annual list of the country’s best restaurants! Among the inclusions: Kafi BBQ in Irving Texas, Kabawa in New York, and Komal in Los Angeles. Shout out to senior editor Kayla Stewart for leading up the effort!
Review: What to order at the maximalist Limusina…
Scroll past the paywall for thoughts on fancy nachos, cheesy machetes, lobster al pastor, and fried turkey mole
One of the defining trends of contemporary New York dining is the city’s Modern Mexican scene.
We’re seeing more great taquerias and cantinas. We’re experiencing a rise in panaderías and tortillerias.
But perhaps you’re wondering what the most crowded member of the bunch is.
Sigh.
The most popular Mexican restaurant at the moment, by my estimation, is Limusina, a tri-level behemoth near Penn Station. It seats 215 people over 5,000 square feet of space. And most of the seats were filled during my two recent visits.
The walls glow in a shade of red. Orb-like light fixtures look like knockoff Ruth Asawa mobiles — I’d totally buy them. And just about everyone’s here for a good time.
You know what I mean. You come here because the waiter sets your queso fundido on fire (why not). You come here, bro, because the filet au poivre is “añejo” au poivre.
You Uber to Limusina with your besties because the first seven pages of the beverage list are dedicated solely to tequilas and mezcales, available by the jicara or bottle. It’s cute, until you realize you have to keep flipping through a little book each time you want to check out the cocktail list!
Here’s a little vibe check: On one visit, Goldfrapp’s “Ooh La La” pumped through the speakers while my neighbor at the bar ate lobster nachos. On another night, a stranger started telling me about how she fled New York for Florida during the pandemic (she asked if I was in sales), while a bro wearing a baseball cap ordered a very particular quesabirria.
Let me explain.
With good quesabirria, cooks griddle tortillas stuffed with chile-braised meat and stretchy cheese. But here at Limusina, quesabirria means something quite different.
A waiter ferries over a log of tender short rib for $75. It comes with a big pot of cheese. Click through for a video of what happens next:
A river of queso enrobes the meat.
Then, if you like, you can smoosh everything into blue corn tortillas.
I didn’t try the birria, but the tortillas were terrible on both of my visits.
Yeah.
As so many operators seek to broaden our understanding of Mexico’s diverse foodways, the Quality Branded group has given us a Latin American Tao, a big-box clubstaurant that feels plucked right out of the 2007 hot tub time machine.
I generally don’t mind these culinary “popcorn flicks,” blockbuster restaurants engineered for breezy group outings.
Michael Stillman is skilled at this sort of thing; he’s the driving force behind a small empire of maximalist party spots. The group’s quirky mashup dishes (creamed corn brulée) and extravagantly designed spaces (recalling the excesses of the late, great Warner LeRoy) feel truly creative at times. Bad Roman, for example, is a genuine blast; it’s a sprawling spot where you can order a few shots alongside a wedge salad topped with an antipasta platter’s worth of salumi.
In other cases, Quality Branded spots seem to pay more attention to social media sensibilities than the principles of good cooking. That’s how Limusina can feel.
This place is a skip for me. But since you’ll probably end up here anyway some point, here’s a little guidance on what to get and what to avoid.
Let’s start off with a little nacho essay. I think you’ll like it.
The ontology of nachos
Just a normal phrase that everyday folks use to describe the act of eating nachos, lol
What I love about nachos is that restaurants don’t tinker with them too much. They don’t upscale-ify them. They let the chaos of queso and refried beans reign supreme.
No one nacho is like another.
Some chips get soggy under the sour cream. Others stay crisp because they contain no toppings.
Sometimes, you’ll approach this Tex Mex treasure like the Army Corps of Engineers, testing the structural integrity of tortilla chips with heaps of chorizo, jalapeños, and canned black olives. You’ll drag, dredge, and dip.
But sometimes, you’ll get two chips stuck together with cold cheddar. And that’s okay. Nachos are a perfect food because they’re an imperfect food.
Limusina, alas, tries to correct for these perceived flaws.
Each order of the so-called “Nacho Singles” contains roughly six chips with six lime wedges. And every nacho has the same amount of everything.
Each chip contains a layer of creamy cheese that doesn’t get too mealy as it cools.
Each chip, in the center, has a little strip of super tender and ultra-beefy barbacoa.
Each chip gets a powerful sprig of grassy cilantro and a slice or two of radish.
Each chip stays crisp.
Translation: These aren’t nachos; they’re the type of snack you’d pick up off passed platters during a (good) corporate cocktail hour.
More generously: If you’re here, you should probably order these. They taste good. They feel a little bit like halved vampiros, albeit without the same sturdy crunch you expect from that staple street food.
Still, I don’t like the idea of these. Half the fun of nachos is having absolutely no idea what the next bite will taste like. Here, every single bite tastes the same.
I used just one of the six limes.
The machetes
Limusina serves machetes!