Cheap Eats - Not Too Caliente
Salsa Havana’s food and service miss the beat
With the exception of lovely Iris, the restaurant scene in East Atlanta is something of a no man’s land for dates. You can shout over great burgers and the Clash at the Earl or get depressed together with chicken fingers and the Pogues at Gravity Pub. But if you desire an affordable meal and a bit of atmosphere where you can dress up, you’re mostly out of luck in this ‘hood. Enter Salsa Havana, newly opened in East Atlanta’s just-developed Ormewood Square shopping center.
On the town: On a weekday night, the open, industrial-chic dining room is packed with EAV residents discussing their bungalow’s rehabilitation over salsa and chips. A large wall of colored glass panes filters light from the kitchen, scattering a rainbow into the split-level seating area. Sitting at the long banquette running the length of the seating area, we feel like we’re having a night out. The lighting’s just right for shameless flirting.
Musical tables: We’re disappointed, though, to find service on both visits is scatterbrained and slow: All three of the restaurant’s servers tend to our table, leading to confusion on everyone’s part. We’re asked for our order twice, and an adjacent table’s entrees are plunked down before us — while we’re still perusing the menu.
Taco, schmaco: A short paragraph on the front of the menu proudly announces that all Cuban specialties are authentic and made fresh daily. It’s a tantalizing lure, but the kitchen falls short. A trio of tacos ($10.75) is disappointing. The fish taco is passable, but a barbecue taco is too sweet and drippy from a sloppy slaw. Bits of pork in another taco are rubbery and flavorless. Tortilla soup ($3.95) is little more than a sad cup of thin broth with a pinch of fried tortilla strips.
Dirty laundry: One of my favorite dishes, ropa vieja (literally translated as “old clothes), is a hearty stew of shredded beef, tomatoes, peppers and onions. The threads of meat in Salsa’s disastrous ropa vieja ($10.95) are utterly devoid of flavor and so chewy my jaws are sore after a few forkfuls. The accompanying fried plantains, however, are glorious. Lightly charred, poking a fork into the plantain slices is like breaking the thinnest caramel on a perfect crème brulée. Mojo grilled chicken ($10.95) is a better bet, with its tangy, herb-kissed skin and moist flesh. Salsa certainly fills a void in the East Atlanta dining scene. The restaurant, though, will have to step up the service and food quality should it aim to develop its relationship with neighbors from a one-time-only fling to a lasting connection. Looks aren’t everything, after all.