New Restaurant Alert: Chiles and Chocolate

Having eaten my share of flavorful moles and robust Mission burritos while growing up in the Bay Area, I’ve been known to trot out the old saw about there being very little good Mexican food in NYC. I’ll put aside any controversial rants about the flavorless rice and mushy beans in many of the city’s Pueblan joints, but it’s an objective fact that there are very few NYC restaurants specializing in the cuisine of Oaxaca (the home of dark, smoky moles and tangy Oaxacan cheese). So I was psyched a few weeks ago when Chowhounders and Gulleteers began buzzing about a new Oaxacan spot on Seventh Ave in Park Slope.

Despite posts on those boards suggesting that prospective diners give Chiles and Chocolate a little time to hit its stride, my tasting brigade and I popped over for brunch last weekend. We found a tiny, homey space manned by two sweet-but-frazzled servers (one of whom was inexplicably wearing dark-red aviator sunglasses indoors). Judging from the reports of dinnertime crowding, brunch was probably the best time to go; we were seated within five minutes. Which meant we had some much-needed time to browse the extensive, confusingly-designed menu…

First, several intriguing but similar beverages spoke to us, including the champurrado (a “corn-based hot drink with Oaxacan chocolate,” $3); Atole vanilla/alemendra/canela (a “corn-based hot drink—vanilla, almond, or cinnamon,” $3); and Chocolate Mayordormo (hot Mexican chocolate with ground cinnamon and almonds, $3).

They were out of many of those options anyway, so I ended up going with the Chiles y Chocolate ($4), the restaurant’s namesake drink, and that proved a good bet: It was delicious. Not in an elegant way, though—it actually had chunky chile paste floating in the chocolate and gummed up at the bottom of the mug, the look of which was a little off-putting to others at the table. But the chile flavor was smoky and subtle, imparting a peppery foil for the slightly sweet chocolate without the full-on heat of whole chile peppers. Made with lighter milk than many hot cocoas, it left me wanting more than the roughly six ounces I was served.

Special brunch offerings included Panini, an Oaxacan version of French toast, and a breakfast burrito. One of our party ordered the latter, which she pronounced just fine, if nothing special. I was keen to try the Guacamole Chapolín topped with fried grasshoppers ($7), but unfortunately the bugs weren’t available that day. Neither were the reportedly good Quesadillas Antiquas ($4) or the Sopa de Tortilla ($5), so I just had the plain guac ($6), and like the cocoa it was a hit: The avocado was wonderfully velvety, with just enough tomato and onion pieces to give it good chunky counterpoints without their flavors overpowering the avocado and the tiny flecks of cilantro. Served with fresh, crispy-thin tortilla chips, it could almost have made a meal in itself.

Our other starter, Elotes del Zócalo (four half-cobs of fire-roasted corn, $3), was less of a crowd-pleaser. Its flavor was nice and chile-y, but the texture was far too mushy—it seemed like they either pre-boiled it before roasting or just left it on the flame for too long.

Of the mains, only the Mole Negro ($15)—which I ordered with pork—was as yummy as we’d hoped. The sauce had a nicely smoky, complex bittersweetness, and the pork was tender and richly flavored all the way through. The dish was served with rice, a good-quality soft corn tortilla (steamed), and ho-hum refried beans; but the rice, seasoned with chile powder and tossed with fresh scallions, was good even on its own.

My companion’s Enchiladas XOXO ($9) were stuffed with tangy Oaxacan cheese, which imparted a bold flavor that held up well against the green Sandia chile sauce. A few bites of the dish—which is served with the same rice and beans as come with the mole, all topped with a “salad” of shredded iceberg lettuce—excited the palate. But about halfway through, said companion declared the dish bland, the sour quality of the cheese having been dulled by the soft corn tortillas and the watery roughage.

We were far too full for dessert, so we’ll have to save the supposedly excellent flan for another visit. I’m sure I will make one—though this time I’ll follow the lead of those message-board folks and give the staff a little time to get it together. In the meantime, I’ll stock up on their guac.

— Christy Harrison

Chiles and Chocolate is located at 54 Seventh Ave (between Lincoln and St. Johns); 718 230-7700. Has anybody tried the fried grasshoppers yet?