Mexican food in the non-fast-food division has returned to central St. Louis County with a flourish we haven't seen since the Gallardo Grill opened at the St. Louis Galleria. Mike Randolph, who gave us Half & Half for breakfast and lunch in this spot, changes gears after he closes in the afternoon, waves a wand and some pottery, and there's Medianoche. Alas, despite early hopes of some of us, it's not actually open until the witching hour for which it's named, but nevertheless, there's much to smile about.
First of all, service, which has struggled in the daylight hours, seems to be in much better shape as the sun begins to set. And the menu, which offers both the expected and the unexpected, charms. The combination is probably going to be enough to overcome a faint feeling of my-way-or-the-highway that creeps in at times.
The only excuse for missing the guacamole is an allergy. Made tableside on a simple, un-gimmicked-up cart, it's avocado, red onion, cilantro, minced pepper, salt and lime juice. A good example of letting the ingredients simply do their work, it's still a little lumpy and really doesn't need the house salsa, which arrived earlier. That salsa, by the way, is faintly sweet, perhaps from roasting the tomatoes, and not, as such things go, very hot at all. In the guacamole, the pepper is quite mild, perhaps Anaheims, giving flavor but little heat. And heat isn't necessary, this is such a vivid rendition of the beauty of simplicity. Chips are fresh, even warm.
Available as a first course or a main, the posole does have some heat to it, and a rich, ruddy color that warns the diner of such. The pork is lean but very tender, the cumin and Mexican oregano notes forward. It's no big deal that they're using shredded lettuce rather than the usual cabbage to garnish, but a small serving of soup in a large cold bowl does tend to lose heat quickly. We admit, though, that chatting with the bartender did delay our attack on the otherwise first-rate dish.
Tacos don't fall prey to designer garnishes. Looking as though they could have been found on Cherokee Street (a compliment), two small tortillas cradle the chosen filling topped with chopped onion and cilantro, a lime wedge alongside. An order is three tacos; we're sad to announce that the policy is only one kind of taco per order, rather than mixing up, say a carne asada, an avocado and a pork belly. "We politely decline requests for additions or substitutions" says the menu, and that's that. Those pork bellies are diced, the filling very porky, a little seasoning added, but nice and juicy and, yes, greasy. Hey it's pork belly; lean doesn't happen. Beef cheeks the fourth option are even beefier than the pork belly is porky, meltingly tender, a little swoosh of a tan chili-ish sauce at one end of the tacos. Both just as messy to eat as their kinfolk served elsewhere, but you expected that, right?
It's often difficult to resist duck, and at Medianoche, there's no sense in doing so. Sliced grilled duck breast, medium-rare, and what the menu calls duck carnitas, but is almost like confit, appear with diced fresh pineapple, onion rings and slices of guajillo pepper, all grilled and resting on a mole sauce that finishes the dish off to near-perfection. This may be the best duck dish in town right now, and the bulk of the credit goes to that sauce.
Fish appears in the form of thin slices of snapper flash-fried, and again the sauce magic is at work. While the fish is hot, this is clearly influenced by escabeche, which involves cooked fish with a cool lime-juice-based sauce. The menu calls it a mole verde, its ingredients beyond its mildly hot pepper a green mystery, but it works well with the avocado, radish and cucumber that accompany the fish.
Dessert offerings vary from day to day, but the bartender urged the churros. Ridged strips of deep-fried dough that have been tossed in sugar cinnamon and some grated orange peel, they arrive hot and fragrant. Chocolate is the traditional accompaniment, but it's not drinking chocolate, it's dunking chocolate, thick and creamy. Medeianoche offers it in Oaxacan style, which cranks things up by including a little spicy heat. The serving is generous, more than enough to share unless dinner was very light indeed.
Serious attention is paid to the beverages at Medianoche. The attention to coffee that marks the morning hours persists, of course. In addition there's a small but interesting list of wines (cava with Mexican, anyone?), un-cliched beer and a serious cocktail list that bears studying.
Do not expect margaritas that resemble those at most restaurants. Served up, which is to say not on the rocks, they're strong, less sweet than most folks are accustomed to, and deserving of respect. The bartender was seemingly taken aback when I asked if his pisco sour was the classic version, which resulted in a little vigorous conversation. Instead of a capirinha, the house offers a capiriuva, which muddles grapes with the lime juice, a variation the bartender assured me was also a classic. It turned out to be a first-rate drink, and a fine pairing with the snapper.
The menu offers a prix fixe option called a probando. The whole table has to choose it, and they must agree on their choices of one appetizer, one kind of taco and one entree. (Please note that this is also available to tables of one.) Those servings are mostly not as large as they would be a la carte, but for $26, it's a substantial saving. And it does leave room for the churros.
Medianoche
8135 Maryland Ave., Clayton
314-725-0719
Dinner Tues.-Sat.
Credit cards: Yes
Wheelchair access: Fair
Smoking: No
Entrees: $14 – $21