MADRE KNOWS BEST

How exactly do you say “opa” in Spanish? I’m asking because there’s a bartender from Bar Poca Madre, a sleek new Mexican restaurant in Burr Ridge, standing next to our table, holding a shot of tequila, a lighter and one searingly hot platter of cheese.

Hmm, this looks familiar. A block of cheese. A flammable liquid. A fire source. We’ve all seen this particular tableside magic show before, haven’t we? Happens dozens of times a day down in Greektown in the city. Only the platter our incredibly affable server, Diego, is holding features panela, a mild yet firm cow’s milk cheese from Mexico, which is coated with a mild tomato-based salsa.

The melty panela, fresh out of the oven, is so hot its practically percolating. “The key,” Diego says, “is to let the cheese cool off— and to use only half a shot of tequila.” When the cheese comes to rest, Diego flicks his wrist, dousing the panela with a splash of tequila. Flames rise. A pyromaniac one table down coos in delight—almost too gleefully. The flames die out. (Our nearby friendly arsonist sighs, audibly.) But Diego is smiling. He tells us to dig in while it’s still burbling.

Our forks and knives have it. Wow. Who could have guessed? It works. It’s more nuanced than any saganaki you’ll get down in Greektown. It’s chewy, creamy, and redolent with Mexican oregano. The bottom layer is slightly charred, so that cheese keeps its shape and doesn’t run through the tines of your fork. Somewhere Wolfgang Puck, the master of multicultural pizzas, must be smiling because the dish, called queso poca madre, tastes like a Mexican-style pizza sans the crust.

We polish off the app in two minutes flat. I scan the table. Look what’s still there? The half shot of tequila. It’s practically begging to play the role of chaser. And there, in the distance, back at the bar, Diego is winking at us, as if to say you know what to do with that leftover tequila, don’t you?

This much I do know: John Mauro, the owner of Bar Poca Madre, knows how to run a restaurant. Back in 2006, he opened La Cantina Grill in the South Loop, a stone’s throw from McCormick Place. It’s still thriving almost two decades later. What does that tell you?

It tells me that he understands the importance of giving diners what they want. Big portions. Surprisingly affordable price points. And lots and lots of options. Bar Poca Madre’s offerings read, therefore, more like a catalogue more than a menu. It includes tacos and mini chimichangas and empanadas and burritos. Moles? Check. Quesabirrias? Check. Tex-Mex classics. Got ’em. Plus a dozen plus seafood dishes.

For an appetizer, we recommend the sweet-spicy whitefish ceviche chilango, a minced seafood tower studded with bits of sweet carrots and a touch of habanero. And you’ll be hard pressed to find a more tender and flavorful Mexican-style skirt steak this side of Pilsen. “I pay extra for that skirt steak,” says Mauro. “But you can’t run a good Mexican restaurant without a great skirt steak.”

It’s equally encouraging to see Bar Poca Madre’s sleek horseshoe shaped bar, fringed with TVs and beautiful ironwork, has already become a favorite meeting spot for a smattering of local restaurateurs and lots of regulars.

This had been the plan from the jump. When Mauro, who lives in Burr Ridge, noticed a dearth of authentic Mexican fare in the area, his longtime chef, Luciano Ocelotl, not only encouraged him to fill that need with a new restaurant, he asked if he could invest in the venture as well. “Luciano is like a brother to me,” says Mauro. But he also credits his wife, Lizzie, who is of Mexican descent, for helping shape the look and feel of the restaurant.

Mauro, who has experience in the building trade, wanted to avoid old-school taqueria cliches at all costs. A pink neon sign, which reads the “Tequila Made Me Do It” greets customers, but the space itself pays homage to the rugged earth tones and minimalistic design aesthetics you’d find in a high-end restaurant in San Diego. Backlit alcoves, displaying Mexican pottery, run up the length of the walls. Food is slid onto butcherblock tables and Mexican tilework add pops of color to whitewashed walls.

Not bad for an Italian guy from Oak Park, who was reared on Sicilian and Neapolitan food as a kid. It’s Ocelotl’s job to keep the menu as authentic as possible. His cochinita pibil, Yucatan-style barbecue pork, might not have been slowly roasted in underground fire pits the way the ancient Mayans did it, but Ocelotl’s pork is so tender you’d swear it was. The achiote-flavored jus drizzled over pork tastes like it was infused with blood oranges and spiked with a shot of Cointreau.

Mauro will be the first to admit that some of the more Americanized dishes on Bar Poca Madre’s menu, including the Mexican-style saganaki, were his ideas. But you have to give Mauro credit for working with Ocelotl to perfect the kitchen’s al pastor-spiced octopus. Growing up, Mauro picked up a little octopus hack from his grandfather: He adds celery to a pot of boiling water before the octopus goes in. after slowly simmering it for 90 minutes later, the octopus will emerge tender and less pungent had you boiled it in just water. From there Ocelotl rubs the octopus with his signature adobe spice rub. When orders come in, they’re sent to the grill to be fired, enshrouding the octopus in the pineapple-scented flavors that are the hallmarks of al pastor taco.

At the end of our meal, it wasn’t hard to find Mauro, who likes to walk the floor of his restaurants, catching up with regulars, asking questions about the quality of the food and getting to know new guests. “In this business,” says Mauro, “you have to have a passion for the food you serve—or you’ll never last.” To which one can only say, “Opa, John!” it looks the passion—and fire—are burning as bright as ever.

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Cocktails

The tequila list at Bar Poca Madre is impressive and well curated. The best way to sample the best of what owner John Mauro has it to order one of his tequila flights.

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Bar Poca Madre is located at 735 Village Center Drive in Burr Ridge, 630.828.0228, barpocamadre.com.