Just the way we like it, really, a restaurant that doesn't really exist stuffed like pureed huitlacoche into a favorite restaurant that does, complete with a mystic mezcalero pushing liquor, Piedra Almas Mezcal, that you couldn't buy even if you wanted to (which I did), and Pablo Moix, a bartender on loan from La Descarga, who prepared an entire menu of what have become known as "Bricias'' — except that the Bricia in question, Bricia Lopez, whose family owns the physical restaurant in question, was adamant that they be called something else.
Rumor has it that Ms. Lopez is contemplating reopening the Westside Guelaguetza as something like a Oaxacan-influenced supper club, and that Josh Gil and Daniel Snukal, who may or may not constitute the Supper Liberation Front, may or may not be the chefs when it does. At a dinner that may or may not have been indicative of the food to be served at the hypothetical restaurant, there was a very nice terrine of beef tongue with a pleasantly slimy pig's-trotter sauce; braised pork cheeks with prickly pear; and chile-rubbed monkfish tails that had been sprinkled with toasted grasshoppers as if they were so many jimmies. Jonathan Barberi, the mezcal guy, poured a few grams of his precious fluids with each course — including a mezcal that had been made the traditional way, with a raw wild-turkey breast suspended in the distilling chamber. Are you confused? I had been. But good mezcal has a way of providing clarity of its own. Supperliberationfront.com.
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