Tuna Aquachile at Cantina Calafia. Derek Davis/Staff photographer

A warning: This review violates the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle of restaurant criticism. While you’ll find neither differential equations nor photons here, you will find me talking up Cantina Calafia, a charming 46-seat restaurant in Portland’s West End.

Here’s where the paradox comes in. When I spoke with co-owner Dominique Gonzalez over the phone, she related her frustration around prospective dinner guests who promise to visit but, having seen Calafia’s recent national press coverage, demur instead. “We want to come, but we’re going to wait until the hype dies down,” they assure her. “It’s frustrating because that perception is totally false. We opened in March, but we could be way busier,” she said. “The hype has died down.”

And yet, I’m aware that the very act of recommending this seductive Baja/Veracruz-inspired restaurant delivers another (perhaps somewhat tempered) dose of hype. This time around, though, take note: There’s no need to delay a visit. Gonzalez, along with co-owner Justin Grey, and co-chefs Melody Medina and Quinn Williams (both from New York’s popular Frenchette) “all come from high-volume restaurant backgrounds, and we can’t wait until we get to that point. We’re ready for it,” she said.

On my first recent meal at Calafia, I could see exactly what Gonzalez meant. The smart, low-key space – the interior evokes the California and Baja California coastal desert by layering earthy neutrals, tile and reclaimed wood with pastels like sea-foam and coral, then topping it all off (literally) with a neon-pink, incandescent up-lighted tray ceiling – seemed undiscovered, almost dormant.

The T.W.S. at Cantina Calafia. Derek Davis/Staff photographer

Figuring we’d lucked out on a quiet night, my guest and I were offered our pick of bar-seating, nook-like booths or bar-height two-tops that run along a clever open hutch that more than doubles the table real estate. Both of us also admired the makeover of the fusty former Bonobos Pizza as we drank a tropical, alcohol-free T.W.S. (Tonic Water Surprise, $9) and a creamy, pucker-inducing Todo Limon ($14) made with tequila, sweetened condensed milk and whole lemons and limes. We sipped…and we waited.

As if on cue, another paradox. Despite the relative sparseness of the dining room, our server seemed to forget we were there. It happened twice: Once just after we arrived, and then again after we received our order of Salsas y Tostadas – a chips-and-salsa riff that replaces tortilla triangles with Baja-style, deep-fried whole house-made corn tortillas ($13). We waited so long for someone to return (as promised) to tell us about the roja, verde and macha salsas, that we broke down and polished off all the tostadas before we heard what was in each condiment.

Yet on a much-busier night about a week later, when I returned for a glass of bracing, ice-cold No Es Pituko ($11), a Chilean orange wine that matches up brilliantly with spicy foods, service was quick, efficient and somehow more personable than when the dining room was almost empty. Go figure.

If it’s crowds that prompt Cantina Calafia to offer optimal service, then perhaps we should send some to the corner of Pine and Brackett. Maybe with the promise of a dinner menu that is overall, pretty terrific.

Strawberry-hibiscus Tres Leches cake at Cantina Calafia. Derek Davis/Staff photographer

Right from the start, I’d encourage anyone visiting Calafia to save a little room for dessert. If Medina’s tres leches cake ($12) is on the menu, all the better. The stately (and gluten free) version I tried featured curlicues of fleecy strawberry pastry cream, tart hibiscus dust and layers of tender, milk-soaked sponge made from heirloom Masienda blue corn flour. As I ate, I couldn’t stop flashing back to childhood summers when friends and I would pool our change for strawberry Good Humor bars to be devoured on the searing blacktop.

That nostalgia probably also owes a debt to what I was drinking with dessert. The Orange Gato Energy ($9) is another of Calafia’s whimsical and compellingly composed nonalcoholic drinks. It also turns out, this one is explicitly designed with childhood memories in mind. “I think of it like a decadent orange soda,” Gonzalez said. “It’s got some fruit (mango, in this case), piloncillo (unrefined Mexican brown sugar), and Mexican candy flavors from chamoy with stone fruit, hibiscus, some chile. It’s what kids in Southern California and Mexico all grow up eating.”

Another regional classic is tacos de lengua (beef tongue tacos, $16). At Calafia, Williams cures the beef in pickling spices, curing salt and a little cinnamon before cubing and crisping the meat and bundling it into two homemade corn tortillas along with a hefty dollop of oniony guacamole. “Just don’t lick your plate: It’s a little too meta,” I joked to my dinner guest, who was busy stabbing runaway cubes of crispy tongue with his fork, careful not to miss a bite.

The Salsas y Tostadas at Cantina Calafia. Derek Davis/Staff photographer

As much as I love the work this kitchen is doing, I did encounter a few small bobbles. Two salsas were too oily – the roja and the chili-crisp-like macha, a Veracruz condiment usually made with crushed nuts, but here prepared with sesame seeds (a perfectly acceptable swap) – at least oily enough to dull the sheen of flavorful ingredients. In both cases, oil made the salsas blander than they ought to be.

When that macha salsa is deployed in the cucumber salad ($10), a clever, cross-cultural twist on chile-garlic-sauce-drizzled Chinese smashed-cucumbers, it winds up contributing plenty of crunch, heat and lubrication, but less flavor than cukes demand from a culinary partnership.

Flavors were also a bit out-of-balance in the tuna aguachile ($20), a chile-spiced, citrus-cured raw fish dish similar to ceviche. Here, I think the Peruvian yellow Aji Amarillo chile broth might be the culprit. The fiery, raisin-like chile pairs well with chunks of avocado, supremed orange and translucent discs of watermelon radish. But add cubes of funky, raw Maine bluefin to the equation, and that peculiar fruitiness turns into a distraction.

Fortunately, misses are rare. Medina and Williams succeed far more than they don’t. The duo are also responsible for my favorite dish of the summer so far: Pescado a la Veracruzana ($39), prepared with Maine halibut bathing in a ratatouille-adjacent stew of tomatoes, onions, olives and roasted local summer squash. Stop there, and you’ve got a winning dish.

But it’s the abundance of fresh herbs that make this such a phenomenal plate of food. Cilantro, basil, shiso and punchy epazote twine aromatic tendrils around every bite to slow you down. “What flavor is that?” you’ll wonder. “What am I tasting?” you’ll ask. And while you might never know precisely, you’ll keep going back for yet another taste of bewitching uncertainty.

From left to right, Meredith Finn of Portland, Kasey Harris of Scarborough and Cathleen O’Donell of Portland dine at Cantina Calafia in late July. Derek Davis/Staff photographer

RATING: ***1/2

WHERE: 46 Pine St., Portland, 207-536-4019, cantinacalafia.com

SERVING: 4:30-9 p.m Tuesday to Thursday; 4:30-9:30 p.m. Friday & Saturday

PRICE RANGE: Appetizers & snacks: $5-$21, Tacos/tostadas & entrees: $13-$42

NOISE LEVEL: Distant summer thunderstorm

VEGETARIAN: Many dishes

RESERVATIONS: Yes

BAR: Beer, wine and cocktails

WHEELCHAIR ACCESS: Yes

BOTTOM LINE: After purchasing West End fixture Bonobo Pizza in 2018, co-owners Justin Grey and Dominique Gonzalez kept the business running, mostly unchanged, for the next five years. But the duo were actually gearing up for the debut of the Baja/Veracruz-inspired restaurant they’d always wanted to open, Cantina Calafia. The restaurant opened this March with two Frenchette alums, Melody Medina and Quinn Williams, as co-chefs. And despite an early-stage spate of press, Calafia seems to have gone unnoticed by many, certainly by tourists. Reader, now’s your chance. If you visit, ask for a creamy, tequila-based Limonada or a nonalcoholic option like the spicy-sweet Orange Gato Energy, then an order of crispy beef-tongue tacos served on Calafia’s homemade tortillas. Shift gears to the halibut in an outrageously herby Veracruz-style stew of summer squash, tomatoes, olives and capers. And don’t skip dessert; the hibiscus-dusted, strawberry tres leches cake is one of the best gluten-free treats in town.

Andrew Ross has written about food and dining in New York and the United Kingdom. He and his work have been featured on Martha Stewart Living Radio and in The New York Times. He is the recipient of seven recent Critic’s Awards from the Maine Press Association.

Contact him at: andrewross.maine@gmail.com
Twitter: @AndrewRossME