Zapata's took over the former home of Mattison's in that dreary pseudo-mall a block east of BayWalk. This retail development called Plaza Tower Courtyard somehow missed downtown St. Pete's rebound by entering the market just a little too soon. It shows: Besides Zapata's and an empty coffee shop, the spaces have been converted to offices, some empty, and the central courtyard is perpetually quiet.
Still, there was reportedly a bit of competition for the space, which may see a revitalizing zing when the condo development breaking ground across the street is finished and occupied next year. Right now, though, the whole scene has a tired aura matched by Zapata's tired and inconsistent food.
Mole — that dark and exotic sauce of chocolate and chile — can be exquisite and unique. It should be the heart and soul of any self-respecting Mexican restaurant. On my first trip to Zapata's, a month after it opened, the chicken mole ($9) is more burned black than brown, tainted by a close encounter with way too much heat for way too long. The sauce is so viscous that I find it difficult to see or taste the chicken it smothers. Eventually I clear a hunk of relatively clean meat, but after the first bite I decide to plunge it back into that pool of crude. Burned or no, at least the sauce can add some moisture to this desiccated flesh.
No such luck with Zapata's enchiladas ($8), which are a parched triple-threat. That dried-up chicken is tucked into thin, rubbery corn tortillas and topped with a featureless ranchero that has turned into gelatinous paste. Perhaps it was wet once, the moisture vampirically drained from the sauce the instant it touched the thirsty enchiladas.
Elsewhere, two fish filets ($14) are overcooked, but not absurdly so, and doused in a sauce that tastes solely of papery dried chile skin, with none of the "shrimp sauce" character that was promised on the menu.
Gorditas ($7) offer a welcome respite from the rough edges of the previous dishes. Thick and fluffy corn tortilla-cakes cradle fresh lettuce, a sprinkle of cilantro, crumbled queso and stewed beef that's only a slightly charred. Small pleasure, maybe, but our tastebuds are so blitzed from the mole, we barely notice the tough, overcooked meat.
On my second visit, I wisely head to the bar first, where I discover Zapata's real zeitgeist — Tequila and a whole lot of it. Ketel and Bombay have been muscled out of the back bar by more than a hundred elaborate bottles filled with clear, golden and amber variations on the fermented nectar of the blue agave. It's dazzling.
There are the usual low-end suspects — Sauza and Cuervo — along with high-end standards like Herradura and Patron, but that's just the beginning. Boutique brands, rare bottlings and the sheer volume of liquid refreshment are intoxicating before I even take a sip.
The price is right as well, with the vast majority of offerings at $6, $9 and $12, including Sauza Tres Generacions at a very reasonable $9.
The top shots go for as much as $50. Not tempted? Some are. Four weeks into the Zapata's Tequila frenzy and that bottle is already half-emptied. Half-full? Maybe I'll stick to pessimism.
On Thursday and Friday nights, Zapata's offers a "Tequila tasting" — five $9 shots for $15 or five $12 shots for $20. It's a bargain, but after a round or two you'll start to crave something other than Zapata's mediocre chips and watery salsa. Here's a quick guide to what's worth sopping up some of that exquisite Mexican hooch:
Avoid pretty much everything made with corn tortillas, unless the rubbery buggers are deep-fried. Flautas ($8) are a good choice, especially dipped into Zapata's rich and balanced guacamole, which is tasty enough to be served on every plate. Same goes with the fried tortillas layered in the chilaquiles ($8), although dry meat can sometimes betray the crispy corn.
Shrimp are uniformly plump and perfectly cooked, especially in quesadillas ($11.95) loaded with gooey jack cheese and a dash of scallion. Zapata's rice and refried beans are respectable — well seasoned and unfussy — but the corn soufflé dabbed onto a few entrée plates catches the same dehydrating treatment that so many other ingredients suffer.
Despite the name, there is nothing revolutionary about Zapata's derivative and poorly accomplished food. Inconsistent and rarely worth even the low prices, it'll take a lot more than a slew of exquisite Tequilas to get me coming back for more.
This article appears in Jul 25-31, 2007.
