Carlos Poco Loco, Toledo, on Adams

Carlos Poco Loco is tucked away on a small stretch of Adams called “uptown”. I appreciate what’s going on here. Something feels hipster and trendy about the area with a coffee house, a Greek restaurant, and several bars dotting the strip. The night we visited, we took a spot at the parking lot west of the restaurant and walked back to head inside. We could hear a band tuning-up next door, at the Ottawa Tavern. 


One of those bicycle bars came rolling up along 18th Street and 15 people poured into Poco just before we got to the door. I started to worry that this would affect our wait time, but the bicycle party was swept away, by the staff, to some other area. My family and I were seated, immediately, in the larger dining room with a stage and an old piano. 


This building is old. There’s a lot of historic charm going on—creaky floors, high ceilings, tinwork. 


Poco specializes in not just Cuban cuisine, but a few Tex-Mex dishes that will be familiar to most—tacos, burritos, chimichangas, etc. 


My son ordered the Cuban sandwich. I tried to sneak a bite before he wolfed the whole thing down. He’s a growing boy, after all, and he chomped on the sandwich while he recapped his adventures of the previous day. He had gone to the Monroe county fair. It was hot. It was storming. A fight erupted. He was a witness. The police came. Then, tornado sirens went off. 


“Did you get to eat funnel cake,” I asked. 


He just looked at me. 


The sandwich got a passing grade with toasted Cuban bread, tender pork, glazed ham, tart pickles, and mustard. This isn’t a  typical sammy. It’s toasted and pressed, kind of like an old world panini before panini-makers were all the rage. Paired with fries, the Cuban sandwich is a lunch option that eats like a main course. 


The Ropa vieja—a traditional Cuban beef stew—isn’t wine-forward as it is at other restaurants. This stew relies more on olives and tomatoes for its flavor. But having said that, I liked it none the less. The shredded beef really imparts texture and the vegetables are savory, making it a rich, complex dish with a few mild, spicy notes. Like the other Cuban plates, the ropa vieja is served with black beans, yucca, white rice, and plantains. The beans contained mostly broth.  I would have liked a larger portion. The broth wasn’t as heavy as I prefer, but mirepoix, garlic, and olives made the beans more flavorful than, say, beans without any veggies in them. 



The Ropa Vieja at Carlos Poco Loco


The “cactus picante” was so spicy my wife couldn’t eat it. That didn’t stop me from taking a crack at it, however. I tell you what: it’s hot. The dish is cactus, beans, and steak simmered in roasted tomatillo salsa.  If it sounds rich and savory, that’s because it is. I’ve always found cactus too bitter, however, regardless of what it’s paired with. That was almost the case here, but the steak imparts enough beefiness to balance the whole thing-out. Overall, the cactus picante was pretty dang tasty—if you can stand the heat. 


Someone ordered the “vaca frita” beef—fried steak and onions. It was good too, but not as bold as the ropa vieja or cactus dishes we tried. It was also too salty, so it went well with the rice. That was a good thing because my mouth was usually stuffed with rice anyway. 


One thing I liked at Poco was that tortillas weren’t served with the meal (If they were there, I would have eaten them). Rice was the carb. At many Latin joints, you get rice and tortillas, eat both, then leave the restaurant feeling like you swallowed a house. Poco’s menu is loaded with vegan and gluten free options, if you’re into that. 


Poco has the usual suspects on tap: Modelo, Dos Equis, Corona, domestics, plus a long list of tequilas for the connoisseurs. Behind the bar in the piano room is a bottle of Tommy gun vodka. So, that adds some ambiance. 


Cuban food is not done simply. It is built—layer upon layer, simmered, and stewed. The complexity created is part of a cooking tradition that has been passed-down for, literally, generations. 


When I was still in high school, living in central Florida, a friend of the family stayed with us for a year. He was a Cuban immigrant with a jovial personality, and he was a great cook. We would take him into Little Havana to get groceries—adobo, dry beans, tomatillos, Spanish olives, rice. He created some extraordinary dishes that all seemed to incorporate various cooking wines. That was the first time I had ropa vieja, Cuban picadillo, and...purple rice. 


So I have a healthy respect for Cuban cuisine and all the work that is put into each dish. At Carlos Poco Loco, there are multiple flavors that balance one another: the subtle nuttiness of the rice, the robust beef, earthy beans. A “maduro”—that sweet plantain—is always a tasty little morsel.  The blends of spices, herbs, and flavors at Poco Loco create an extraordinary dinning experience in the truest sense of the word—it’s uncommon. It’s a nice break from the typical bar food that seems to be the mainstay of the region.

Comments

Popular Posts