Casa Loca

By EWAN McDONALD

What was that year when we all ate tortillas and burritos and quesadillos? Not to mention, because it was all unmentionable, drinking cheap red wine? Was it 1975? 1985? There was a wonderfully atmospheric place, shrines to the Virgin and dripping candles, called Guadalupe on K Rd, round about where Verona is.

Upstairs, if memory serves, and memories were pretty hazy after an evening there.

Synchronicity if it was 1989. For that was the year that Gill and Dickie Jones opened The Wharf cafe on Princes Wharf, which really was a wharf back then. Real ships berthed at the Overseas Passenger Terminal sometimes.

Their establishment was in the old Cargo Shed 19 which became, until recently, Leftfield, and is now being refitted as another eatery. When the wharf became a harbourside lifestyle development they moved The Wharf to Shed 22.
In this part of town, there's more turnover than a GST return. Mr and Mrs Jones, however, have stayed. Six weeks ago, with their business partner Veronica Garcia, they relaunched The Wharf as Casa Loca. Odd, possibly, to find Mexican cuisine - one of the first low-cost ethnic foods to reach these shores - just down the way from White, the Hilton and Larry Ellison's dinghy.

Mind you, Casa Loca doesn't call itself a Mexican restaurant. It calls itself ``a unique Latino experience'', which is (I think) what persuaded Simon to come along. He had in mind Salma Hayek or Jennifer Lopez. Whatever happened, it would be a vast improvement on the previous time that he and Frances had come to the harbour with us: at another restaurant we had a close encounter with a cucuracha which you do not want to read about.

We warmed up with a couple of Coronas before arriving, just to get into the spirit of the occasion. Followed, on arrival, with rather fine margaritas for three. Simon announced that he couldn't stand tequila, and that from his experience in Puerto Vallarta it was best applied to the innards of a tractor's starter-motor on a cold morning in Mexico, if they have cold mornings there.

Perhaps he said this loudly enough for Garcia to hear; I don't know. Soon this enthusiastic, engaging, energetic woman arrived to describe the food - two streams of Mexican cuisine, the seafood from her mother's Guadalajara heritage, the stews and roasts from her father's, further inland - and discuss the 23 varieties of tequila available.

From this point Simon entered the spirit of the occasion. A decent lash at most of the spirits, actually, including the milky, orange-flavoured one that might have been the chef's child's flavoured medicine, left in the fridge by mistake, though he did hold himself back from the cocktail of two different tequilas, mixed with honey, $37 a shot. Perhaps his opinion of the evening should be discounted. He might argue that it was more highly refined.

Casa Loca is Mexico city. It's been repainted like a cantina, the female staff dress in patriotic red, white and green skirts and off-the-shoulder blouses, Frida Kahlo is among the prints on the wall (that's as close as Simon got to Salma Hayek). While we're here, a few words about the staff: young, eager, a little haphazard - some of the orders were overlooked, one main arrived five minutes or more after the others, and meals went to the wrong placemat

We're talking tradition here so the menu - ``comida de la gente'', best translated as ``everyday food'' - has those old favourites: guacamole, ceviche, nachos as entrees; gazpacho and chicken broths; the sizzling platter of fajitas or stir fry, tortillas, tacos, burritos, with chicken, beef or pork; all with rice and refried beans. It's not hot or particularly spicy: as in Latin America, you regulate the warmth by judicious application of the red or green sauces on the table.

Nor is it designer and gourmet, and that's where Casa Loca may find a niche. While the prices are right up with the neighbours', especially when you remember where other Mexican restaurants pitch themselves, it feels laidback, young, fun for a larger group looking for a loud'n'happy time. Perhaps that's why a fair proportion of the crowd were Cup sailors or tourists, and why they chose a name that translates as ``crazy house''.

Not this time, though. Around 11 they turned the sound system up a notch and put on Ricky Martin's La Vida Loca. It was definitely time to go. We prised the last tequila from Simon and called a cab.

Open: Mon-Fri noon-late Sat-Sun 11am-late

Owners: Gill Jones, Dickie Jones, Peter Chamberlain

Manager: Veronica Garcia

Chef: Laurence Jones

Food: Mexican

Vegetarian: Options on menu

Smoking: Bar, specific dining areas terrace

Wine: Yes. Experts recommend NZ sauvignon blanc, but we say the food is best matched with Mexican beers or tequilas

On the menu: Tequila and lime-marinated chicken salad, mixed greens with marinated grilled chicken, mild green chillies, spring onions, black olives, tortilla strips, dressing $13.50/$22.50; Fajitas, beef or chicken sauteed with vegetables and served on a hot cast-iron griddle, with tortillas $25.50; Carnitas, tortillas with shredded pork, guacamole, cilantro, sweet onion and lime wedges, $28.50

Noise: Backround beats, brass

Cost (mains for two): $50-$55

Bottom line: Mexico City: the wharf café is repainted like a cantina, female staff dress in red, white and green skirts and off-the-shoulder blouses, Frida Kahlo is on the wall and the menu has those old favourites guacamole, nachos, fajitas, tortillas, tacos, burritos, all with rice and refried beans. It ain't cheap but it's fun for a larger group looking for a loud'n'happy time.