After dropping off the Jeep for another round with Jose Ricardo we were hurrying out of town as usual and realized we had no reason to get back to the beach. Malcolm suggested we stop at the new “Asiatic” restarant in the Blockbuster/Makeup Store plaza that I’d noticed at least a month ago. It was only just 6 o’clock and we weren’t sure they were open but we swung that Tsuru around with not a little sass and…after filling the tank with 200 p (KABLAM, USA)…we zipped up to the door where all the waiters were congregating, wearing black. They do, in fact, open at 6.

We were of course the first and only patrons and had our choice of tables in the dining room or in the bar area. It was a little bright and early for a real dinner so we sat toward the back of the lounge on low leather couches under serpentine lighting. The decor is affecting kind of a minimalist Asian thing, which we all have known and loved and for here is pretty unique. The tables in the dining room were set with stemless and the stalks of bamboo kept the outside light (sunshine?) diffused. super cool, ca. There is an actual bar and behind it top shelf liquor. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have a martini. Gray Goose all icy, olives plentiful, it is so very civilizing.

Spring evenings are meant for early drinks with friends outside. I really miss that. Malcolm commented, and I agree, that places like this one, which shall remain nameless for now (in the spirit of tantalizing the reader and not at all because I can’t remember it) is that they’re so close to being spot on that (they) make you want the real thing more. We waxed nostalgic for Kudeta and other dilemmas and thought about the ghosts of dinners past. In truth, we were both delighted to be facing each other across a candelit table with the prospect of flavors of the East in our future. The dishes we tried were of such longed-for ingredients and so nuanced that we couldn’t help but wish that we could tweak them a bit to make the taste and presentation absolutely perfect.

From the starter menu we ordered Camarones Penko and Sushima Atun. The shrimps were impaled on delicate sticks and perfectly battered and fried. My one little quibble was with the dipping sauce which was possibly tamarind although it tasted like fruity marinara to me. Dipping sauce is sacred ground: Reco’nize. [Also, Possibly Tamarind is the name of my new Nickelodeon pilot that is certain to dethrone that Achy Breaky Skanklet.] The tuna was a little more troubling, but only just a little. It was perfectly pink and served with a soy side on a triangular white dish, admittedly good stuff. It was sliced a little thin and the lime garnish seemd garish; a dab of wasabi would have been so choice. My palate is a little Monsanto for this kind of finery, but I thought the fish was very fresh, mild and good. The sensation is so pleasing and also registers as a relief. The interplay of texture and dynamic flavors are sorely missed by us, as you undoubtledly know. (how many cliches can you spot in that sentence? I count at least 7). Malcolm noted that it was a little more like a carpaccio but again neither of us were really complaining.

The service was excellent and by the time we were leaving there was even another table sat - Merida cool kids are beautiful and a little intimidating. I mean, not if you’re a completely self-assured grown-up, which I of course am, but some less confident and more materialstic individuals might covet their shiny brown hair and expensive-looking watches. There were many many items that we are anxious to try, including curry chicken and duck rolls and plan to return this weekend for the full blow-out chic nocturnal experience. Expect an extended review with photographs soon. The bill was about 500 p, which seems about right to us, but did spark a conversation about the changing economic climate of Yucatan which I won’t bore you with now, electing instead to dazzle you with my preference in condiments and rental cars.

It’s 95 degrees in this concrete cave and the Plato is starting to melt so that’s All She Wrote.