Steadily, the number of compelling off-Strip restaurants has been growing, so we are now competitive with much larger cities in terms of locals' dining. The latest to jump on the bandwagon is the spectacular Agave, a new effort from Adam, Sean and Michael Corrigan, three brothers who already own Roadrunner Bistros, Sedona and Kennedy in the District.
By any measure, though, this has to be considered their most impressive effort so far. The Corrigans have commissioned a design that looks like a giant, psychedelic hacienda, importing tile and wood piecemeal from Guadalajara for its construction, and even bringing in a tequila expert, Eduardo Gonzales, from Las Ventanas, a five-star resort hotel in Cabo San Lucas.
Opening the enormous wood and wrought-iron doors, you step through the looking glass into a world you've never seen before. Agave is a pink and red stucco palace that is part Antonio Gaudi and part Diego Rivera, with touches of Mexican architect Luis Barragan. A circular bar sits smack in the middle of the cavernous space, and there are undulating room dividers throughout, recalling Gaudi's Parc Guell in Barcelona.
Overhead, there is a palapa-style, wooden beamed ceiling with starfish-shaped lanterns suspended from it. Other light fixtures are equally stunning. Metal lanterns stenciled with kachinas and Aztec-inspired designs hang over semi-circular shaped booths, while other design elements like candelabras, ceramics, colored glass and various straw baskets pay homage to Mexico's considerably evolved arts and crafts industries.
In spite of all the Mexican handiwork, this doesn't look like anyplace in Mexico. When I asked one of the busboys if he had ever seen a restaurant like this in his homeland, he just rolled his eyes and looked toward the starfish.
The Corrigans have gone the extra mile with regard to the kitchen, as well. Corporate Executive Chef Matthew Silverman worked for nine years with Wolfgang Puck, and his chef de cuisine, Mexican-born Juan Saldana, worked with Mark Miller at Coyote Café and is familiar with both Mexican and Southwestern cooking styles.
To call their menu strictly Mexican, then, would be misleading, though it is laden with Mexican specialties. Soups serve as a nice metaphor for what the chefs are trying to achieve. Chicken and green chile soup is a relative of tortilla soup: clear broth laced with shredded, white-meat chicken and tortilla strips; but cleaner, since the broth has been lightened. Black bean and smoked cheddar soup, also appealing, is a combination of two soups served in a yin-yang pattern, with too much cheddar and too little bean the night I had it.
Then there are tacos, all imaginative and most terrific. The fresh fish taco, using a white fish that I couldn't identify and cooked without batter, would have been even better without the mountain of creamy Mexican slaw. Birria de chivo, marinated goat in a rich red sauce flecked with cilantro and onion, was amazing, and so was al pastor, crisp bits of pork barbecued with lots of achiote, a.k.a., annatto seed, a spice and coloring agent much preferred in Southern Mexico, particularly in the Yucatan.
Appetizers score highly, too. Barbecued duck quesadilla is mostly minced, spiced duck with just enough melted cheese to add richness, drizzled with an impossibly richer chipotle pepper cream. Rock-shrimp chile relleno also dispenses with the cheese: a crust of crisp cornmeal hiding tiny cooked shrimp inside a whole green chile, a great concept.
Bistec y pescado, literally "steak and fish," are main dishes, and are winners, also. Shrimp and crab enchiladas come with a sweet corn enchilada sauce and micro greens; a chile-seared tuna, cut into bite-sized chunks, is paired with a pastel de vegetales, really a vegetarian lasagna.
There are also dishes to try in the platos fuertes section of the menu. Barbacoa lamb sopes is one: fat, griddled corn cakes topped with a richly stewed lamb. Pan-seared chicken mole is another: traditional mole Poblano, a dark, ultra-complex sauce that gets its richness from chocolate. The only glitches I encountered were under-cooked rice (that happened twice) and overcooked grilled filet mignon fajitas—a mistake easier to remedy.
For dessert, don't miss traditional Mexican sopaipillas: pastry fingers dusted with sugar and cinnamon, then served hot with vanilla ice cream and caramel rum sauce; or avocado ice cream, which you won't see any time soon at your local Baskin-Robbins, but which is as rich an ice cream as you are ever likely to taste.
Then there are the margaritas, made with Herradura Silver, a superb tequila, and Cointreau, or any of the single-village, 100-percent agave tequilas, which are to tequilas what fine cognacs are to cheap brandies. The extravagantly slushy Los Altos margarita, made with fresh lime and grapefruit juice, plus a splash of pineapple, is a real big-city drink, if you get my drift.