Salsa in the NW suburbs

Mexican food has, in the last few years, worked its way to become one of my favorite ethnic foods. Perhaps that was because I was exposed to mostly hearty German food from my father growing up on a farm or the array of Italian dishes from my mother’s family that I can replicate in any kitchen from memory. I suppose I do have to be concise on what I mean by Mexican here with all the rich flavors, the off the wall traditional plates that Mexican’s and other Latin American countries will enjoy week in and out.  What I have learned to avoid is grubby, gelatinous Tex-Mex that although can have a dish to be satisfying with a cold beer, has mostly been bastardized by Taco Bell and other joints. Even Chipotle is more Tex-Mex than true Mexican – the mission style burrito was invented in San Francisco. 

This leads me to also argue the use of the word ‘authentic’ when slapped on a jar of salsa or a menu at an Italian restaurant. From what I have seen in a few foreign cultures and investigated further into culinary texts and restaurants is that some people who use that label ‘authentic’ wouldn’t likely eat the vast majority of what Italians and Mexicans sit down for. I’m talking like squid ink pasta, rich mole sauces with spicy chorizo, and haggis that is yes, made from sheep’s intestines. Even to my surprise the gruel of organ meat I had in Edinburgh, Scotland was a treat. 

Earlier this week I decided to take Ally to Salsa 17, a Mexican restaurant in downtown Arlington Heights that brushes ‘authentic’ off of the table for a bit of the familiar and some clever takes on traditional dishes. Designed to resemble an adobe style 19th century Hacienda, Salsa 17 is brimming with activity inside. The long bar has beautiful amber colors that truly show off their collection of over thirty different types of tequila amongst the gallery of other liquors. Lively salsa and the occasional Cuban rhythm find their way to your ears. Sure, they have a cliché over-sized sombrero on the wall with collections of pictures to create the full theme. If the food and array of clever cocktails weren’t so fulfilling, I might have been a haughty pain in the ass at the sight of this place, as I know a few people can be. The old adage ‘Don’t knock it until you try it’ works well with food – not sure if it applies well to perhaps the prohibited activities of life. 

We started with a fried soft taco shell that was rolled to resemble egg rolls. Inside they stuffed chicken, black beans, double-tomato salsa (which they pass along at the table with chips). Blow on the Rollitos de Pollo to get that hot oil from burning your tongue. A smooth avocado lemon cream dip on the side was there to tie the dish together.

Ally went for her standby of tamales. Here they had the usual rice and beans, except that the black beans were encased in an octagonal corn shell next to a dollop of crèma. Served on a bed of dried corn husks, the corn and butternut squash tamales had a rich red tomato and Serrano salsa placed on top with a few lines of melted goat cheese that resembled white frosting on a cinnamon bun. 

I went for the Chilies Rellenos con Birria de Borrego.  This Mexican version of an open faced sandwich was a hearty concoction of two fire roasted Anaheim peppers stuffed with birria (shredded leg of lamb) and a ladle full of the dark trifecta of ancho, guajillo, and mulato chilies. The melt in your mouth birria, strong flavors from the salsa were complemented all so well by a large bed of creamy chipotle mash potatoes. From my chair I looked up at two plaques on the entrance wall of ABC’s The Hungry Hound and one of Chicago’s Best, both cheering Salsa 17 with the words “Holy Mole!” Sure they never heard that one before. I powered my way to finish the grande sized plate, so much so that I took a decent walk after dinner to not feel so rotund in the belly. Ally bowed out early to take her leftovers to work the next day. Nothing better than take-out for lunch at the job the next day, right?

Since she had a bad day at work and I figured since I had the day off, our hands found the drink menu in record time. Ally had a smooth pineapple and tequila cocktail in a margarita glass. I shed my man card for one meal and chose a pink, big ole’ girlie drink filled with Chambord vodka, pink lemonade, and a splash of Cointreau. From the first sip I was so blown away that I almost decided to give up scotch – almost…I mean we all slip up in love now and then. 

Salsa 17 is one of my personal favorites in the Chicagoland area for Mexican food. Judging by the crowds that pack the place on the weekend, I’m not the only one.