Most big cities have them. Some smaller towns, especially tourist towns, have them as well. When they work, they really work, making it almost impossible to get in the door unless you “know someone”.

They are restaurants, a very specific kind of restaurants. I’m not sure they’ve ever had a name but the people who flock to them have. Over the decades that I have frequented them I’ve been known as a gourmand, an epicure, a gastronome. I cherished all of those sophisticated handles. These days, we’re unfortunately known simply as foodies. Where we eat are simply and sometimes derisively called foodie spots.

I can only remember one other foodie spot in San Miguel de Allende, the sadly lost and lamented Nomada, manned by the brilliant chef Marco Cruz. Today, I went to what may become San Miguel’s second foodie spot.

I was having lunch with Marco Massarotti, the chef/owner of Casa Nostra, the place that Trip Advisor ranks as number 1 of the 522 restaurants in San Miguel and the guy I rank as the town’s most accomplished restauranteur. He’s an opinionated guy about food and about wine and the business of pleasing people. I so looked forward to sharing opinions with him.

I wandered down Insurgentes looking for the street number 60, looking for a place called Hacinnto. I couldn’t find the number or the name. I was hoping they weren’t doing the “we’re so damn important we don’t need a sign” thing. I went ‘round the corner on to Calle Relox and on the door was the word Xoler, the name of a wine bar from about a year ago. There was only one patron in the place, a guy in the corner with his glasses on his head. I only know one guy who almost constantly wears his glasses on his head. I joined Marco at the table.

We did the long time/no see handshake and hug, agreed the bottled water would be sparkling, not flat, and talked about what wine we might order. Alas, there was no wine list and the waiter was, understandingly, befuddled.

To the rescue came Marco and a woman called Susan York. Marco remembered Susan had written about Hacinnto and she’d included a photo of a list of wines. A few fast twirling thumbs later and Marco had the shot. No, Hacinnto didn’t have the wine on their list that we selected but they did have one of the others on the list. We chose it.

I’d been in a couple of San Miguel restaurants recently where the wine had been exclusively Mexican and, as much as I like to pay homage to my second home and the country that I adore, it’s bordering on the impossible to find great values in Mexican wine. This wine was Spanish, from Valencia, a blend of Garnacha, Syrah and Monastrell, and well-priced. Marco suggested I do the first taste-testing. Apart from the fact that, strangely, for a red, it was fresh out of a refrigerator, I liked it.

Marco tried it and nodded his head in approval.

In my first home, Canada, when you become ancient, the government is generous enough to make two of your body parts just like new. So, in my seventies, I had corrective surgery on my eyes and, today, my vision borders on perfect. But not good enough to read the type on Hacinnto’s menu.

Marco pulled down his glasses in front of his eyes but that didn’t work. We tried photographing and enlarging the type but that was a struggle. We finally asked the server to ask the kitchen to prepare the three or four dishes they were most proud of. It worked.

Our server brought two cloudlike pieces of bread that looked light enough to float off their plates.

A sophisticated-looking young woman followed, emerging from the kitchen carrying two plates. She was stylishly well-dressed, no chef’s jacket, no apron, no toque.

“I’m Regina”, said the woman. “I’m your chef” and proceeded to give a passionate and detailed description of what we were being served.

Marco said I was smiling “like a child on Christmas morning” when I took a bite of the crispy kale. I shared my passion with Chef Regina for deep-fried leaf vegetables and we talked about the possibilities of crispy Genovese basil making an appearance on Hacinnto’s menu in the future.

The oven-roasted root vegetables beneath the kale were rich in sweetness and flavor. We scooped up the purée of pistachios beneath them with the puffy focaccio. 

“One for one?”, I said to Marco.

“One for one”, Marco replied.

I liked the name of the next course. It was in English. “Not fish and chips”. Fun. Cute.

I didn’t like the look so much. And presentation is very important in foodie spots. The white doily was a nice touch but the four fingers of fish could have been stacked or spread a little more creatively. The “white space” might have been filled with a sprig of green.

The chef explained that it was her take on Louisiana-style cuisine, a technique that was more commonly used with chicken. The sumac powder spicing was nice. The sea bass, though, was too dry and had very little flakiness. Scooping the crispy fingers in the roasted jalapeño mayonnaise helped but not quite enough to make it a winner.

The crispy kale was repetitive but, otherwise, the third course had a much better look. It resembled a target and I wondered what the reward would be when we hit dead center. The dark bottom layer was a beef jus. The next layer was a ring of very, very creamy potatoes. In the middle was one of the two greatest things the cow has contributed to cuisine (the other is its cheeks). In the middle was oxtail.

I congratulated Regina Aguilar on the rich taste of her creation and on how the tortillas made perfect little shovels to scoop the three components to our mouths.

Hacinnto is relatively small in size and simple in decor. I can imagine some bruised elbows from maneuvering through the tight quarters of the kitchen. But I like the coziness of the bar and dining area.

The menu is small as well. And not only in its typesize. There are just seven dishes and one dessert. Marco described them well, calling them “deliciously elaborated tapas plates”.

“There will be more dishes and there will be a printed wine list”, said Regina. “In English, I think you call it a work in progress.”

I will be following that progress. I suspect often. Very often. I suspect Marco Massarotti may be doing the same.

Hacinnto is located at Insurgentes #60 in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. The restaurant is open Wednesday to Saturday, 2:00 to 10:30 pm; Sunday, 2:00 to 6:00 pm.