Robin Garr's LOUISVILLE Restaurant Reviews

CLOSED: After a brief closure following a breakup of the partnership between Chef Anthony Lamas and his partner, Jun Eugenio, Jicama reopened in June 2005 as Seviche, A Latin Grill.

92	Jicama Grill 1538 Bardstown Road (502) 454-4383

Anthony Lamas, the popular, youngish (just turned 30-something) chef who has shared the culinary fruits of his Puerto Rican and Mexican heritage with delighted diners at the late Picasso, followed by Timothy's and then Baxter Station, has achieved a long-held dream: With co-owner Henry C. Eugenio Jr., he has opened his own nuevo Latino restaurant, and Louisville food lovers are the beneficiaries.

Specializing in South American goodies but ranging northward to a taste of Cuba and a hint of Mexico, Lamas's new domain (pronounced "HEE-kah-mah" and named after a tasty Mexican root vegetable) brings new hope to the Bardstown Road spot that briefly housed the unsuccessful Ermin's Bistro and then saw the demise of Aladdin's Cafe.

It's apparently a labor of love for Lamas, and it shows: While he put in a solid three-star performance at his previous venues-for-hire, his work at Jicama, which opened in June, earns a solid four stars for food quality, service and atmosphere. Our group of four enjoyed a hearty meal without a misstep; every dish was fine, with service to match.

The facilities, a long, low, starkly modern mustard-colored stucco and glass building, haven't changed much from the previous tenants. Large modern art pieces (discreetly for sale) hang on dark peach-colored walls; bare wood tables are spaced without uncomfortable crowding through two long rooms, one dominated by a well-stocked bar.

The menu, as noted, ranges widely through the Spanish-speaking countries of the New World without ever straying so far from Louisville that it can't get back; ceviches, for example, aren't the traditional raw fish "cooked" by marinating in citrus juices but consist of fully cooked seafood.

Many of the dishes have Spanish names, but English translations are provided. Eight aperitivos, er, appetizers, are $3.95 (for blue corn tortilla soup) to $6.95 (for camarones con ajo, baked shrimp in lemon-garlic butter). A half-dozen ceviches are listed separately, but they are appetizer-size and appetizer-priced portions, $6.95 for oysters, crawfish, crab or shrimp, market-priced for lobster and the fish of the day.

Fourteen entrees offer a delicious culinary tour of Latino country (with a significant bow in the direction of Argentina's substantial Italian minority). Prices range from $7.95 for Hamburguesa de la Casa (yes, hamburger of the house) to $17.95 for two steak dishes. Salads are $4.95 to $5.95.

The wine list is short (about 30 choices) and serviceable without being particularly exciting; it appears to be priced at Louisville's usual twice-retail markup with choices from $16 to $45, and about a dozen available by the glass from $3.75 to $7.50. I found the beer list much more interesting, frankly, with its variety of South-of-the-border labels. We tried brews from Brazil, Honduras, Mexico and a couple of Hatueys, a longtime Cuban favorite now made in Florida. As is typical of tropical beers, they were generally in the light pilsener style and wouldn't seem exotic in comparison with a Heineken, say, or a Beck's.

Our group of four came hungry and left satisfied, after making substantial inroads into the bill of fare.

The lamb picadillo empanada appetizer ($5.95) comprised two small pastry turnovers stuffed with a spicy, not fiery, chopped-lamb mix with onions and capers, served on a plate decorated with a semicircular swatch of bright vermilion hot sauce and dabs of a pesto-like jalapeño-mint mojo.

Another appetizer, smoked cheddar-chipotle grit cakes ($3.95) made a savory first bite, grits and cheese formed into two small rounds, delicatedly flavored with smoky spice and served with a garlicky white salsa.

Yellowfin tuna ceviche ($9.95) came in a startling presentation, filling half of a small coconut decorated with a wafer-thin red-orange "corn crisp" that resembled an Indian pappadum. The ceviche, as noted, didn't appear to be raw-marinated in the South American fashion but was appetizing all the same; small cubes of fish came swimming with bits of red onion, scallions and cilantro and a discreet shake of chile-pepper flakes in a cool, tangy-sweet citric marinade.

Salads ("ensaladas") were also fine: The palmito ($5.95) featured baby spinach leaves and mixed lettuces, tomato wedges and a mound of the restaurant's namesake, jicama (which tastes a lot like crisp apples), in thin julienne slices. It was topped with a passionfruit vinaigrette, which contributed a sweet, fruity flavor that reminded me of grapefruit and peaches. Spinach and roasted-pear salad ($5.95) was a treat, topped with bits of feta cheese, chopped walnuts and a sweet balsamic-mustard dressing.

Entrees ("entradas") kept up the same high pace.

Churrascos a caballo ($16.95) featured a pair of thin, fork-tender beef filets atop a bed of coarsely mashed potatoes, topped with a pair of fried eggs and a dab of caramelized onions, surrounded with a generous portion of crisp-tender broccoli and more dabs of that intensely flavored green mojo. The steaks were rare as ordered and tender enough to eat with a spoon.

Pollo asado ($9.95) was half of a roasted chicken with a wonderful, char-grilled surface, moistly juicy and tender, perfectly prepared. The menu spoke of a marinade featuring such exotica as achiote (a Latino spice somewhat akin to turmeric), sour orange and fresh herbs; as a marinade should, it spoke quietly, adding grace notes but standing back and letting the chicken take stage center.

Filete al poblano ($17.95) featured a thick beef tenderloin, medium-rare as ordered and coated with a warmly spicy poblano pepper demiglace. It was hot-pink but not raw at the center, exactly as our friend had ordered it, with a meaty marinated portabello mushroom alongside. Both the preceding entrees were accompanied by the rich, coarsely mashed potatoes and simple but well-prepared broccoli that came with the churrascos.

Another of our friends was surprised to see such Italian-accented specialties as "Espagueti" (spaghetti) and "Pollo Milanesa" (an upscale take on chicken parmigiana) on a South American menu. In fact, Italian heritage is almost as significant an element in Argentina as Spanish, and Buenos Aires is known for its Italian fare. Entranced, she ordered the espagueti con salchicas ($10.95) and got a generous mound of perfectly prepared pasta coated but not drenched with a flavorful tomato sauce, warm but not fiery, topped with a ration of thin-sliced smoked sausage.

Too full to consider such delights, we passed on desserts, which aren't made on premises but are imported from the excellent Sweet Surrender on Frankfort.

A truly excellent dinner for four came to $117.18, plus a well-earned $24 tip. The share for two would have been about $60 plus tip. $$$