Once upon a time this was our local Chinese restaurant. It was called Seasons, which is a name that doesn’t in any way evoke China to me. But Bitol doesn’t immediate scream Mexican food to me, either. In fact the word “Bitol” is nonsense. It’s not English and it’s certainly not Spanish. Maybe it’s an acronym? Bitch, IT‘s OnLine! Oh, wait, it is online. Google tells me Bitol is a Mayan sky god. Got it. Tacos. Sky god. Makes sense.
Well, the joint has come a long way since its super-generic Chinese restaurant roots. Sure, it’s still in an oddball mini-mall right off Route 3 across from a former Dress Barn, a few stores down from a Dollar Tree and close enough to a Lucille Roberts to feel the ground shake. In other words, it’s not necessarily the first place you’d look for a night out on the town. I was, in fact, hesitant because the whole scenario just seemed sad. Despite looking online at the spruced-up interior and the fact they have one of those bars that just loves to stick an upside down Coronita in your frozen margarita. But like the goth, industrial version. Party time!
But, yeah, I’m not certain where the whole Mayan thing comes from or how it affects the decor or food, but the whole vibe is kind of heavy metal Mexican. Lots of Day of the Dead skeleton, sugar skull action. All in a dim, but warmly lit relatively windowless small-ish space. It’s a tough vibe to explain other than it definitely feels more modern and vaguely clubbish than you’d expect of a former Chinese restaurant in a strip mall. The full bar in an area where BYOB is more the norm than the exception is always a treat. I do make a killer margarita, but it feels a bit braggy to bring a thermos of booze with a cooler of ice and a shaker to dinner. So having it made fresh is cool. I don’t generally order margaritas because of my aforementioned skillz and personal taste, but the idea of one sounded good after Ms. Hipster — who is a ‘rita regular — put in her ticket with the server. It was… pleasant. Not cloyingly sweet like they can be and not overly fancy and stupidly gimmicky like some joints do them. It was refreshing the way it should be, but didn’t standout in any particular fashion. Serviceable, but not as good as my super-simple, boozy version.
The menu is traditional, but also not. There’s guacamole. Because if there wasn’t, Ms. Hipster would have stood up and walked right out the door. They don’t do any of that table-side nonsense (they leave that for steaks — more about that later), but deliver the creamier version of the avocado mash wholly formed to your table. Again, it was non-offensive and with its silkier consistency reminded me more of the store-bought stuff you’d find at your local Whole Foods. It was fine. There are other apps, a few things del mar — including a grilled octopus, which is a thing I ordered in Playa Del Carmen once and almost ruined me on food forever — and seven entrees of varying Mexican influence and American dollar prices up to $44. Their speciality seems to be something called “steak on a stone,” which is exactly what it sounds like. They take a steak and cook it on a lava stone table-side. I’m not exactly sure how this works, but for between $48 and $60, this better be better than the much-maligned fajitas that used to fill the room with smoke at The Hat in NYC. This just doesn’t seem like the place you’d be ordering a $50 filet, but maybe it’s the best thing ever. I’m intrigued, but not that intrigued.
What I did get would have made any stoner go straight to heaven. Not being a stoner, I had to embody one momentarily as I honestly devoured the absolute calorie bomb that is a Birria de Jalisco taco. It might be my new favorite thing. And it might be yours if you’re a short rib fan. This is how it’s described: Mexican slow cooked beef stew, crispy tortilla, blended
mix cheese, red adobo broth dipping sauce, cilantro and onions. Hold the cilantro. Imagine a rich, beefy unctuous amalgam of crunch on the outside, a little bit chewy on the inside dipped in what I can only imagine is the drippings from the cooked beef with some smoky chili added to the broth… My arteries hurt thinking about it, but while it’s definitely not a traditional taco I think all Mexican joints should look into serving it. It avoids the dryness of your typical carne asada and the blandness of your typical pollo. It’s shreddy and rich and kind of what food is supposed to be. The stoner taco. Perfect.
So, yeah, it’s a Mexican joint in a strip mall next to a busy highway, but it’s also the rare example of where these factors don’t add up to insta-depression. It tries for a party-like atmosphere, gives the customers the booze and the grease they want (though I would have liked a chicken mole enchilada rather than the potato mole they had) and brings some sort of night life to a town whose biggest news in decades is that a Stew Leonard’s opened in that same mall a few months back with people dressed in cow and chicken costumes. Because people in urban-suburban NJ need to be reminded where our meat and eggs come from.
1061 Bloomfield Ave. – Clifton
973/246-3558
bitolnj.com
