Upselling Mexican food is harder than it used to be
Convincing people to part with their money can be an uphill task. Especially so if you’re a charity, but much less so if you’re a wellness influencer peddling fetid nonsense in one’s Stories.
Expensive restaurants have a few methods for doing so up their sleeves, many of which fall under either the category of cultivating an air of exclusivity or convincing you that they are inventively creative. It becomes trickier when said restaurant is punting its take on, for the lack of better terms, foreign cuisines and/or a cuisine from an ethnic minority.
For Fonda, their job is to convince me and you that it’s worth coughing up roughly a hundred quid a person for their take on Mexican food. That job would’ve been much easier a few years ago before the likes of Santo Remedio, La Chingada and Guacamoles dramatically upped the game with their superlative yet accessibly affordable Mexican dishes.
Fonda’s website tries to win you over by saying it focuses on ‘British ingredients, creative preparation and modern techniques’. If you step across their threshold, you’ll discover a warmly-lit and -decorated space, full of peachy, rosy and ochre tones. There’s a mild sprinkling of folk art that stays on the right side of kitsch, a tone that – somewhat surprisingly – isn’t hindered by the gregariously grotesque muppet hanging from its feet in the stairwell down to the toilets.
If only that sense of whimsy was more pervasive in the menu. A menu that feels a bit like the a la carte addendum to a fine dining tasting menu, which, as it turns out, it kinda is. Fonda is the lower-priced cousin to the tasting menu-only Kol, which I haven’t eaten at.
Based on my meals at Fonda, I’m not really convinced that I should.
Snacks and starters at Fonda
Moles, especially those from Oaxaca and Chiapas, can be gloriously complex, rich and nuanced. Fonda’s pumpkin mole, despite its ominously abstract presentation, tasted like a cheap supermarket hummus. At least the tostadas had a snappy crispness to them.
The centrepiece of the visually regimented baja taco was a piece of expertly-fried battered fish, free of excess oil. The puffy, crisp strands of batter would fit right in on a piece of wu gok at dim sum. It’s therefore a shame that the fish underneath had been reduced to bitty nothingness.
Layering rhubarb on top of ceviche is an appealing idea, but Fonda’s implementation never really amounted to much. The chilled and compressed rhubarb topping was crisp then yielding, even if it didn’t really taste of much. It was just about possible to appreciate the meatiness of the fish, even though it had been diced into small cubes. More prominent in terms of texture were the tender cubes of potato, while the dressing was nutty and sweet. There were some intriguing ideas and elements here, but none them really came together.
It may be a bit reductionist to describe tetelas as Oaxacan samosas, but the triangular shape of both pastries does invite the comparison. The feathery soft lightness of the tortilla wrapping here was very unlike a somosa though, as was the filling of fluffy, starchy potato and the occasional smoky meatiness of chorizo oil. Double carbing rarely gets better than this.
Fonda’s take on steak tartare was not only distinctive, but fulsomely characterful. The fleshy beef thrummed with both smoky woodiness and a cumulative spicy heat. The crunch of the nutty tostadas contrasted well with the quivering plumpness of the beef, while the tingle and velvety feel of the mysterious cream complimented the beef. If only other dishes on Fonda’s menu were as well-rounded and well-executed as this one.
If the steak tartare was a worthwhile use of beef, then the costrada was its debased, unworthy counterpart. Tender but characterless beef came on an unappealingly stiff wheat tortilla. The cheese did impart a beguiling smokiness and woody umami, but I had to stomach the oddly coagulated tack of its melted-then-congealed form to enjoy it.
It strikes me as odd to combine dairy and chilli in one dish as they tend to cancel each other and so it was here in this DIY taco dish. A cheese much like feta, but smoother, creamier and less crumbly, swiftly smothered the tingly, throbbing flames of the chunky salsa. At least nothing detracted from the bold nuttiness of the tortillas.
The promised seaweed oil and elderflower vinegar seemed to be missing in action from the baked beetroot tostada. The crimson discus, thick in both dimensions and charmlessness, dominated proceedings, almost but not quite to the detriment of the crunchy, nutty tostada itself.
Main courses at Fonda
Although not the best mole I’ve ever had, the mole gracing the beef short rib main was still far superior to the pumpkin mole lurking in the starters. Its deep umami and sweet warmth needed a better protein partner than the beef provided though. The decision to tenderise every last strand meant that the textural potential of short rib, such as from the connective tissue, went untapped. The pickled onions weren’t very strong, but their palate cleansing qualities weren’t really needed here anyway. The corn tortillas were suitably fluffy and nutty.
Combining octopus with bone marrow on a paratha-like tortilla should be the sort of louche, hedonistic indulgence that titillates and enthrals me. Instead, I found this dish to be both disjointed and over the top. The octopus could be firm, charred and briney. But those qualities often struggled to shine through, as the tentacles had been knifed into wee, bitty flecks. But then slathering them – and the tender potato cubes – with the richly unctuous and generously salted bone marrow should’ve righted some wrongs. But the swaggering richness of the bone marrow overwhelmed the last of the octopus’ taste and texture. Traversing the excitement of anticipation and the disappointment of actual consumption, all within the space of mere minutes, was probably not the adventure the kitchen was hoping for.
Much like an overly ambitious lover, the carnitas started out with vigour and exuberance, but flagged over the long run. The crackling was initially snappy and crunchy, the swineflesh louchely immoderate in its squidgy fattiness. Those qualities soon dissipated though, the crackling sheepish with flaccidity, the white meat panting with ever increasing leanness. At least the consistently soft, smooth and nutty tortillas were there to lean on for carby sympathy.
A melange of mushrooms had their woody, dense and fleshy natures minced, almost to oblivion, by the excessively bitty chopping. The smoky warmth of the pasilla salsa and the mild tartness of the pickled onions provided some consolation, but only some.
Specials at Fonda
The selection of specials at Fonda changes somewhat every now and again. With luck, the lobster ‘pastor’ won’t make a repeat appearance without some fundamental reconstructive surgery. Lobster had been stuffed into a folded tortilla, quesadilla style. Except the bitty knifework and small portion size made it hard to appreciate the lobster’s texture. This dish wasn’t completely charmless, from the paratha-like tortilla to the woodiness and occasional sweetness of the gooey cheese. But, depending on market prices, £28 will get you half a lobster (more or less) elsewhere. Paying £28 to get one-eighth of a lobster prepared to ill-effect doesn’t feel like a worthwhile dish, but more like the endgame of a Nigerian email scam.
The quesadilla special was shaped more like an empanada, plus it was folded, closed and crimped a lot like one too. Potentially questionable terminology aside, the filling of this special won me over. The gooeyness of the Oaxacan mozzarella-style cheese was enhanced by the creaminess and light tartness of the plump, lumpy curds. The wild garlic was surprisingly restrained, but was still noticeable enough to provide a savoury boost to the lactic duo.
In a beautiful moment of wonder and surprise, the cured bluefin tuna in the crudo hadn’t been cut into inexplicably small pieces. The flesh, meaty and slightly chewy fish was a fine conveyor for the fiery, tangy heat of the brine.
Side dishes at Fonda
Refried beans, smooth and lightly moreish, had been vajazzled with curds. These were no milk duds though, their charming milkiness complimented the frijoles surprisingly well.
Despite the promise of a jalapeno and honey dressing, the xnipec pickled vegetables was – in effect – a slightly tart and tangy coleslaw. Which might be broadly fine somewhere else, but felt oddly out of place here.
Desserts at Fonda
Serving chocolate sorbet with chilli oil will, depending on your outlook on life, sound either unbearable or intriguing. In reality, the mildly piquant chilli oil wasn’t really needed here. For once, an iced chocolate dessert actually tasted of chocolate, the profoundly rich and deep bittersweetness tinged with smokiness.
Reasonably crisp churros, free of excess oil, came filled with chocolate that murmured an occasional bittersweetness. Butterscotch, served on the side for dipping, provided a classily restrained sweetness, but that only left me panting for more texturally pleasing churros.
The filling of the set cheesecake was smooth and light, creamy yet refreshing. Some will be irked by the gentle chewiness of the blueberries, but I found this contrasted neatly with the soft filling. The one small, judiciously-sized gobbet of chilli meshed surprisingly well with both filling and fruit, its woody, smoky heat complimented by the sweetness of the blueberries and then offset by the dairy.
Rice pudding with a Mexican flourish could be a beautiful thing and I look forward to trying it one day. Fonda’s attempt felt half-hearted, with scanty flecks of rhubarb and occasional hints of cinnamon gracing rice pudding, served at room temperature or a touch colder. A waning, inconsequential sweetness may have been the only discernible sign of the promised mezcal custard.
Hot chocolate was smooth and lightly sweet, but lacked the bittersweet profundity of the sorbet.
The Verdict
It’s surprisingly difficult to come to a conclusion about Fonda. For every dish that’s a winner, there’s another that’s a sinner. The kitchen’s obsession with excessively fine, bitty knifework has managed to ruin so many of their dishes, that I’ve almost lost count. No, I haven’t, it’s six. Six. Perhaps Fonda’s creativity is restrained by the need not to overlap with Kol. Or a lack of access to the experienced labour and/or ingredients needed to rejig and rework elements of the Mexican culinary pantheon without disrespecting it.
Whatever the reason, Fonda struggles to be a consistently worthwhile Mexican restaurant to eat at, especially when compared to its more accessible competition. While there’s certainly joy to be had here, that almost feels more like luck rather than the result of a cohesively skilled kitchen. Distance makes the heart grow Fonda? Hm, not in this case it doesn’t.
Name: Fonda
Address: 12 Heddon Street, Mayfair, London W1B 4BZ
Phone: 0203 994 8888
Opening Hours: Monday 17.30-23.30; Tuesday-Saturday noon-14.30 and 17.30-23.30. Closed on Sundays.
Reservations? Essential.
Average cost for one person including soft drinks: £100 approx.
Rating: ★★★☆☆
The Picky Glutton 