It makes sense that a good experience at one chain might encourage a chef to go out and start his own. That's what happened to Rand Packer. After culinary school, Packer moved almost immediately to Roy's, the high-end chain of Hawaiian-inspired cuisine that may be the most respected member of Outback's empire. For 10 years he cooked for Roy's, most recently here in the Bay area, as a chef/partner.
After spending a decade slinging Pacific fish for a large corporation, Packer has completely changed his game. From upscale to downscale. From Hawaii to Mexico. From middle management to corporate ownership. From OSI's Roy's to Rand Packer's Mariposa Grille.
But unlike his former corporate overlords, Packer still has some work to do on food — which cycles between bland and interesting — and service before he nails the chain formula.
The first location opened in Lutz at the beginning of July and location No. 2 is already in the works for a new development in Pasco. "We don't like to think of it as a chain, though," says Rand's wife and partner Tiffani Packer. Maybe not, but that's some quick expansion for a concept that has yet to work out its kinks.
At least they've got the décor down. Enter Mariposa, and you'll be pleasantly surprised by the rich look, with earthy colors and textures that evoke a simple Mexican mood while staying within the modern American strip-mall vibe. The ambiance is much nicer than fast-food, but not nearly as elaborate as that of a standard sit-down restaurant.
Mariposa tries very hard to work that hazy middle ground, with mixed success. You order at a counter, self-serve your drinks and pick your own table, but the staff brings the food and refills to your table. Eventually. It can take a surprising amount of time for dishes to leave the kitchen, upwards of 20 minutes or more. That's a long time for counter service. For take-out, it's an eternity. Heck, it's almost too long even for casual table service, even with salty tortilla chips and an array of salsas to tide you over.
One excuse the Packers might give is Mariposa's reliance on fresh ingredients cooked to order, but that carries little weight when you look at the complexity of the food. Tacos. Burritos. Salads. Even with Chef Rand's slight fancy tweaks, these are simple dishes that should be simple, and quick, to expedite. Even Tiffani sees the problem. "We want the table service to be a little quicker as we get a little faster [in the kitchen]," she explains.
Sometimes Chef Rand's tweaks yield dishes worth seeking out — like nachos built on plantains instead of tortillas ($8). Crisp and chewy, those fried chips are starchy and subtly sweet, heightened by toppings like perfectly diced ripe mango and sour cream laced with passion fruit. All that sweet could be balanced with more savory, but the grilled chicken is chopped so small it's nigh unnoticeable.
Mariposa's ceviche ($7) — which should be fresh and bright, with lime and cilantro giving life to cubed wahoo and tender shrimp — instead is deadened by a surfeit of salt. Tamales ($6) are a little dense, but cut with a subdued dark mole that justifies the rich corn.
Packer tops thick and chewy sopes corn cakes ($8) with mild crumbled cheese, smoky barbecued pork and crisp cabbage. Although the pork is a little overpowering and I might want more crisp cabbage to provide textural contrast, I totally see where he's going with this and the other dishes. This first round of Mariposa's food is exciting, unusual and largely accomplished stuff that stretches the culinary boundaries of such a casual restaurant.
Sadly, the rest of the menu is much tamer. Each style of taco ($7-9) is decorated with a different salsa and garnish, but they all end up running together. Like the nachos, the meat of the matter is so scant and subtle that it gets lost in the confetti of veggies and drizzled sauce.
The same hidden-meat problems haunt burritos ($7-9) and salads ($7-8), although the crispy shrimp manage to hold their own simply because they don't get chopped into tiny pieces. I don't want to be a size queen, but when faced with these largely innocuous burritos, I immediately start making comparisons with wraps that have satisfied me in the past. I can get cheaper, bigger — although not quite as fancy — stuffed tortillas elsewhere that taste just as good.
But then the Packers seduce me with fresh juice blends like strawberry or papaya and ginger, along with the promise of the same juice available in popsicle form as soon as the tardy ice molds make the trek from Brazil.
That's almost enough for me to overlook the contrast between slow-fast-food counter-table service and exciting-bland cuisine. But not quite.
Even the Packers are still unsure how Mariposa will end up, second location or no. "We're definitely still playing around with it," explains Tiffani, "but we've been so busy."
I understand, but you might not want to wait until things slow down too much before working it out.
This article appears in Aug 22-28, 2007.
