Entrée NWA: Gabriela’s Mexican Grill

I don’t know enough about Farmington to have anything against the place. But it seems to me like a community in a state of shock. It used to be a little farming town. I mean, it’s all right there in the name. Now it’s a suburb of Fayetteville, an idea that just 25 years ago would have had people in both places laughing like maniacs.
 
And now that Farmington is a suburb, a whole host of expectations have been born. Expectations for a low cost of living and subdivisions and big houses and new schools and better parking and a quality of life that is defined by convenience and amenities. Amenities like nice restaurants. That’s the promise of the suburbs, even when that suburb is a suburb to a town that is itself smaller (and more rural) than most suburbs.
 
So, how is Farmington doing? Let’s use Gabriela’s Mexican Grill to help tell the story.

I heard that Gabriela’s was a good place to go in Farmington. And for some reason, I I was looking for a good reason to go to Farmington. So I decided to treat a friend there for his birthday.
 
Gabriela’s is off the main strip, wisely dubbed Main Street, past the Tractor Supply Company and the pawn shop and the discount tobacco hut and just before the store called Chicken Holler, which sells wood stoves. Gabriela’s facade is brick, but the windows are bricked, too. Sort of. They’re covered in paint or vinyl that makes them look like brick, with decorative cacti. At the very least, it’s a striking effect. It certainly winds up your curiosity: What mysteries of ambiance and cuisine await? What is beyond the glass made opaque by painted brick?

The answer: solid food by nice folks served in generous portions. Pleasant enough, if not special. And some might say that’s how the suburbs are meant to be.
 
We were seated immediately. So were the chips and salsa at our table. The chips were hot out of the fryer. Some Mexican restaurants set out as many as three salsas; Gabriela’s sticks with one, it’s mild and essentially a picante sauce. It was only fine, but I gorged myself while I looked at the menu. Gabriela’s gets points for its depth of offerings – 37 entrees bear the distinction of being “House Specials.” Clearly, Gabriela’s subscribes to the philosophy of more is more. I’m OK with that. I believe in more is more, too. At least when it comes to food.
 
For an appetizer, I ordered the jalapeno poppers. My friend and I wondered aloud what a good jalapeno popper really tasted like. Our experience was limited largely to what came out of the freezer at Sam’s Club. Which isn’t bad, we agreed.
 
We mused for some time over the entrees. My friend declared that he has a litmus test for Mexican places: tacos al carbon, or steak tacos. For the sake of this review, he graciously ordered the litmus test tacos. We decided that would be the most scientific test of excellence we could muster.
 
Meanwhile, I was trying to get through all 37 specials, which spilled across three pages of the menu. I asked the waitress for help. She suggested the Chili Colorado or Chili Verde. I had seen the dishes on plenty of other menus but had never ordered them. She explained they were similar: one with red sauce and one with green. Both had big chunks of pork. I like big chunks of pork. So sure. And I liked the manliness of eating pork in something red and bloody-looking rather than green and socially conscientious. I opted for Colorado. (To hedge my bets, I included a chicken taco a la carte.) The chili came with tortillas, if so desired. (I desired them.) And beans and rice, which comes standard with all 37 specials. Thirty-seven!
 
The list of “house specials” includes such fare as Steak Ranchero, several breeds of fajitas, burritos and enchiladas, Camarones a la Diabla (shrimp in Diabla sauce), Chile Relleno, Huevas Rancheros, tamales, and the tempting Pollo Loco, guaranteed to drive you crazy with seasoned and marinated chicken lust. And there are combination platters, which take many of the items above and re-organize them into an array of combos. All are served with rice and beans. Prices are low; most dishes are less than $10. If the suburbs are about affordability, Gabriela’s has found its market. What a bargain.
 
Other options include a number of salads: taco, fajita, guacamole, shrimp and something called “dinner salad.” Despite its grand name, the last is only a side salad. And, worry not, this “dinner salad” can be ordered at lunch.
 
Gabriela’s also offers a kids’ menu of tacos, burritos, and the like. And there’s some American food (burgers and chicken fingers) for picky American kids (I’m father to one) who would rather starve than eat cuisine that hasn’t been vetted by a trusted authority like McDonald’s. Not an item on the kids’ menu is more than $3.50.
 
While our food was prepared, we checked out the place. Like the menu, the ambiance was sadly lacking surprises. Pueblo-colored walls and southwestern style interior that you could find in almost any restaurant of this ilk.
 
Jalapano poppers appeared! Hot from the fryer and served on a bed of lettuce with a big scoop of guacamole in the middle. We approached suspiciously, our Sam’s Club standards already well established. These were very good; in retrospect one of the best parts of the meal. The cream cheese filling was just right; not too rich. The breading was light and crispy. And the guacamole tasted fresh.
 
Our entrees arrived soon after. The servings were very generous, spread out in grand suburban style – like the acreage you always dreamed of until you had to mow it – on large plates. The Colorado indeed had great chunks of pork. It was tender but mild to the point of bland. The rice and beans were good, but aren’t they always?
 
I asked my friend about his tacos al carbon. He commended them as “strongly normal.” I nodded. Strongly normal pretty much summed up my meal, too. “This is Mexican food for Americans,” I said. He agreed. Fayetteville has several similar establishments, with La Huerta leading the pack. We both would have liked more kick with our meals, or something more interesting on the menu. I had to remind the waitress of my taco, which she quickly and apologetically delivered. It was also bland.
 
On a whim, I told her that it was my friend’s birthday. She generously offered a free dessert. We opted for the sopapilla with strawberries – a fried puffed pastry blanketed with powdered sugar and cinnamon and swimming in a bed of strawberry sauce. It arrived with the same swiftness as the rest of the meal, hot out of the fryer. The staff did not gather around the table to serenade us with a birthday song; he was not festooned with party favors. For that we were thankful. The flaky, sweet sopapilla was all we needed, and it was so large that the two of us together could not finish it.
 
The whole meal, for the two of us, cost less than $25, with a nice tip for the friendly service. What a life here in the suburbs. I asked my friend what he thought as we left the strip mall and the painted-brick windows.  “It was Farmington good,” he said. OK. That’s not half bad.