Casa Tina is one of the many perks emerging from the quiet, unassuming renaissance of downtown Dunedin. Adored by locals who have happened upon its charming streets during a stroll on the Pinellas Trail (which cuts right through town), the area boasts eateries ranging from exotic to easygoing. Casa Tina fills a fortunate niche — appropriate for outdoor enthusiasts who need a pick-me-up halfway down the Trail as well as folks looking for a rockin' night out. Its fresh Mexican fare emphasizes green goodness with a minimum of oil and salt.
Mixing Mexicali kitsch with old-school authenticity, the décor of Casa Tina seems appropriate for a restaurant run by refugees of the chain Señor Frogs. Brightly painted corrugated-steel awnings and cactus-stemmed margarita glasses blend in surprisingly well with carved wooden chairs and sienna-tinged photographs of folks in traditional Mexican garb. Snapshots of historic Dunedin and a giant cabinet filled with the Chef Javier's favorite hot sauces (bring a new one, earn a free drink!) add local flavor, while Madonna-of-Guadalupe votive candles on the tabletops provide both light and a sort of cheeky irreverence. Though the maximum occupancy at Casa Tina is a scant 49, the tables and bar have been arranged to create an atmosphere that feels cozy instead of crowded and boisterous rather than blaring.
The restaurant's bar serves beverages designed to please both teetotalers and party people. For the designated drivers amongst us, I recommend horchata ($1.95/glass, $5.95/enormous pitcher), a creamy, cinnamon-flavored rice water that holds its own against any overpriced macchiato or chai on offer from Starbucks. For diners in search of an alcoholic kick, Casa Tina stocks at least five Mexican beers (a bottle of Dos Equis will set you back $3.25) along with the standard variety of domestics. But the real stars of the bar are the fruit-and-cinnamon-tinged red sangria and the excellent, not-too-sweet house margaritas ($3.50/glass, $9.95/half-pitcher, $15.95/pitcher). During my visit I sampled both, and though the sangria edged out as my favorite, Casa Tina's margaritas slipped down with no difficulty.
Whistle whetted, I turned my attention to the appetizers (antojitos). I was a bit disappointed by the queso fundido ($4.95), since Casa Tina is one of the few places in the area that offers this baked cheese and chorizo sausage dish. The pot of melted cheese (in this case, a mixture of rather boring cheddar and Monterey jack) is served with delicious warmed tortillas for dipping and spreading as the diner sees fit. However, I think the dish would have benefited from the inclusion of a more traditional Mexican cheese like the creamy white Oaxaca. Cheddar also dominated the otherwise delicious crabmeat quesadillas ($7.95), which were accompanied by an excellent spicy cream-chipotle sauce. My dining companion lapped these up, relishing the delicate crabmeat and tasty tortillas.
Another appetizer, the lime-flavored ceviche ($7.50), featured a large bowl of slightly chewy citrus-cured whitefish tempered by the sweeter flavors of a fresh tomato-and-cilantro salsa. The cactus salad ($3.95) shares a similar tart flavor and reliance on lime. Like the ceviche, it's served in a giant bowl and consists of strips of cactus (resembling slightly limp, pale green bell peppers in appearance, taste and texture) mixed with tomatoes, cilantro, onion and queso fresco. Each of these appetizers seemed custom-built for lovers of sour candies and went extremely well with the fresh lime flavors of the house margarita.
Though soup is an important component of traditional Mexican cuisine, it tends to be de-emphasized at most American restaurants in the genre. I'm happy to say that Casa Tina thumbs its nose at this practice, proudly offering four different kinds of soup on its menu. I sampled the rich, smoky posole soup ($3.75), which contained shreds of chicken in a tomato broth with a flavor dominated by the chunks of garlic I later discovered hanging out near the bottom of my bowl.
Entrées at any Mexican restaurant rely on the strength of the sauces and condiments that accompany the dish. Fortunately, sauces are the especialidades de la Casa Tina. Though none of the entrées was particularly spicy, I assume that diners are meant to add fire as they see fit from Javier's ample selection of bottled hot sauces.
I was especially enamored of the mole poblano, a pungent concoction of chocolate, chilies and spices I could smell long before it arrived at my table. It takes hours to make a proper mole sauce, and I was very pleased with the rich, dark result. The sauce is served on top of corn tortillas rolled around the filling of your choice — chicken, beef or veggies ($7.95). Unable to choose among the other entrees, I compromised with a dish the whimsical menu lists as Un Poco de Todo — "a little of everything" ($12.95 for one, $19.95 for two). A variety of sauces are mixed with your choice of meat or veggie filling and served in little dishes for you to spoon over warm corn or flour tortillas. The vibrant salsa roja, made with New Mexico chilies, provided the most fire in the surprisingly bland trio of sauces, while the tomatillo-based salsa verde paled in comparison to the similar but far superior mole verde. Mole verde, unlike its chocolate cousin, is made with tomatillos, ground pumpkin and sesame seeds, cilantro and jalapeño. The version at Casa Tina was awash in the subtle flavors of seeds, fruit and spices, and so delicious that you can almost ignore its strange pea-soup color. Each small serving in the sauce sampler contained enough for an enchilada or two, and made me wonder about the full-size individual versions (available for $11.95 apiece).
Another entrée, the "intensely" fried carnitas ($12.95) supplied amazingly tender and flavorful pork cubes in a light dough with a side of fabulous roasted jalapeño sauce.
For dessert, I had a tough time deciding between the monstrous volcano of cinnamon and cornflake-dipped, chocolate-coated, tortilla-wrapped fried vanilla ice cream ($4.95) and Javier's homemade flan ($3.95). I gave thanks to my votive candle that my dining companion could pick up the slack. The flan was clearly a slice from a pan rather than the traditional saucer-shape, but had a lovely, spongy texture with a yummy crusted top and, of course, a fabulous burnt caramel sauce. But the volcano of fried ice cream, overflowing with layers of fudge and cinnamon on a scalloped tortilla, earned the awe of the table.
Brimming with customers on a recent weeknight, it's clear that Casa Tina is an entrenched favorite. Each customer that enters is greeted with a friendly, personal touch, and upon leaving, eagerly thanked for their patronage. As a downtown Dunedin institution, Casa Tina delivers with mouthwatering substance and neighborhood style.
Diana Peterfreund can be reached at diana.peterfreund@weeklyplanet.com. Planet food critics dine anonymously and the Planet pays for their meals. Restaurants chosen for review are not related to advertising.
This article appears in Apr 7-13, 2004.