We all need a boost. Sometimes, unemployed and with nothing productive to contribute to society, we route our shirtless jogs through Boystown in the hopes of scoring some catcalls (hey, a compliment of my bod is still a compliment...ask Sizzlenutz how a former collegiate basketball player's appreciation for my weight lifting made my month).
Other times you are trying to build the American dream by coming to the land of opportunity and starting a restaurant catering to the Mexican diaspora. Mariscos Fabulosos (4318 W Fullerton) is located balls-deep in Logan Square, like way past the gentrification frontier. Specializing in sea food cuisine from the coastal Mexican state of Nayarit, Mariscos Fab opened its door in January by a family of native Nayarinos (actually, I have no idea how to refer to the inhabitants of Nayarit). They are trying to build up the buzz of their new enterprise and I'm glad to use this forum to get the word out.
They start you off with a complimentary swordfish ceviche tostada appetizer. It was a competent ceviche (once you've tasted Mo-Chica, all other cevies are categorized as either competent or non-competent), however I failed to translate the proprietress's warning about the accompanying salsa such that poor Chlodnik was reduced to tears by the generous dollop she dropped on her tostada. Even the king-size horchata goblet couldn't put out that fire. I thought that my innate Mexicanhood would protect me from the scorch but my lips burned for the rest of the evening after I Polished off Chlodnik's tostada (that's a pun because Chlodnik is Polish).I ordered the langostinos (prawns) a la Nayarit while Chlodnik chose the halibut (I forget which style). They were both interesting gasto experiences, with Chlodnik's fillet the winner by far for its complex layering of pre-Colombian taste wisdom.
Of a definitely post-Mayan era was Chlodnik's custom unicorn and rainbow shirt. I suspect that despite her love for independent rock, art openings in transitional neighborhoods, and tortured pale males, Chlodnik's enjoyment of her shirt was non-ironical. At least my enjoyment of it wasn't.
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