Senor Fred

Parking: Valet
People Watching, Take Out Bar Scene, High Energy Bustling Outdoor Seating, Wheelchair Accessible

Cuisine: Mexican
Rating: Satisfactory

How many people in L.A. love Mexican food? How many of us, no matter what our background is, grew up on tamales and huevos rancheros and chiles rellenos? When I was small, our neighbor used to bring over fiery salsas she made in her stone molcajete. She patted out her own tortillas, and her tamales are something I still long for. But it's a sorry situation when it's easier to find a great taco truck than a serious Mexican restaurant. I'd much rather eat at a simple stand like Lotería Grill in the Farmers Market than be subjected to what passes for Mexican cuisine at most places.

A visit deep into Mexico or a look through any of Diana Kennedy or Rick Bayless' many cookbooks is enough to show there's an entire world of regional Mexican cuisine that rarely shows up on menus here. We've got a handful of great Oaxacan places, true. Border Grill, however, is the only higher-end restaurant that at least attempts to introduce truly regional dishes. Instead, Mexican restaurant chefs churn out the familiar Southern California Mexican restaurant dishes, all with rivers of low-grade cheese, molded rice and sludgy beans.

That's why so many people were thrilled to hear that Andre Guerrero was opening a Mexican restaurant called Señor Fred just a short drive up Ventura Boulevard from his Sherman Oaks restaurant, Max. Although he's best known for his Cal-Asian cooking at Max, Guerrero, who comes from a Filipino background, has a range well beyond that genre. And a Mexican restaurant from this talented chef was something to look forward to. And in the Valley, no less.

Señor Fred is a big place. Almost half of it is bar, 27 feet of it, where an enthusiastic crowd tosses down margaritas with abandon. If you don't like them blended, speak up quickly, because that's the default here. The classic Cadillac made with Patron Añejo, fresh lime, Cointreau and a splash of Grand Marnier is the most popular, but you can also get variations on the theme, including a "piña rita" and a surprisingly soothing margarita colored with bright blue Curaçao. Or you can take your tequila straight, any of 22 kinds, including a Corazon Añejo aged in French oak.

Zorro, your table is waiting

The sidewalk terrace out front, bracketed with deep red curtains, begins to fill up early for happy hour, but it may actually be quieter there than inside, where voices ricochet off the walls, despite the flocked, almost Victorian-looking, wallpaper. Booths that seat up to 10 are covered in brocade vinyl, but the lighting is so dim beyond the circle of light cast by drum-shaped lampshades covered in charcoal fabric that it's hard to tell. There's something vaguely Zorro-esque about the place. I wouldn't be surprised to see the familiar masked figure seated in the shadows. Couples are stuck at tiny tables in the center of the room.

OK, we've got our margaritas (or our bottle of Negra Modelo, as the case may be). The guacamole has arrived in a miniature molcajete, a rough stone mortar, and it's nice and chunky, freshly made, although the chips are kind of thin. Time to consider the menu. That's when the disappointment hits. It's mostly the same familiar dishes. A little huitlacoche, or corn fungus (although here it's called corn truffle), to goose up the quesadilla. Some mesquite-smoked baby back ribs. Black bean soup with a quesadilla crouton. Other than that, Mexican cuisine, L.A.-style, as usual.

If they were making terrific versions of same-old, same-old, that would be a different thing. But, for the most part, the cooking is lackluster. A few dishes stand out in the rest of the company, though. That quesadilla when it comes fresh off the griddle, browned and oozing asadero cheese, flavored with a little epazote, the distinctive Mexican herb, is delicious. Tortilla soup is not bad either. And the tamalitos, dainty chicken tamales napped in a mild pumpkin seed sauce, make a good appetizer.

Among the main courses, the vegetarian enchiladas de papas suizas, filled with potato and onions and a mix of cheeses, is rich and gooey, but somehow compelling. Carne asada isn't half bad either. The steak is nicely grilled and has some flavor. Steamed tacos come in a thick, lidded container to keep them warm. And chile verde, although a little tough, delivers on flavor.

But after that, it's hard to find a dish that truly satisfies a longing for real Mexican food. Although the chef, Rafael Solorzano was born in Guadalajara, I think the problem may be more in the production-line cooking. Everything tastes like cafeteria food. It's not a good sign when plates are too hot to touch or when someone has doodled stripes of sauce all over dishes that would look appealing perfectly plain. It demeans the cuisine. I could hardly make out what the taquitos tasted like underneath their unappetizing decoration.

Fried calamari is doughy and greasy. Nachos are a soggy mess, either because they've sat around too long before coming out to the table, or because the chips are so flimsy. Ensalada de pico de gallo has some nice contrasts in texture, but too many competing flavors with jicama, cucumber, orange, papaya and mango fighting for attention. Take away the jicama and orange, add some blackened salmon, greens, avocado and roasted red pepper and you've got another even less successful creation tilted toward California tastes.

An old formula

The smoked ribs would pass if they didn't have such a sticky, sweet chipotle-tamarind sauce. The mole falls flat too. I don't know why. I think what we're all looking for is the taste of home cooking, which is what regional cuisine is all about. But Señor Fred's cooking tastes like restaurant food with no particular soul. Somehow, I can't imagine that this is what the cooks are craving when they sit down to eat. Why can't anybody make something as fresh and spontaneous as the food you'd find in a great Mexican cook's home?

Margaritas are a good thing. A lively room too. Because both create a sense of festivity and distract people from actually tasting what's on the plate. El Coyote has been getting by that way for years.

But at Señor Fred, although the entrées are all less than $20, prices are serious for a Mexican restaurant. And if you're going to get people to pay more, the food has to deliver. Sorry to say, much of this menu doesn't.

Señor Fred
Ambience: A dark, ornate interior with a high-spirited crowd, a lively bar scene and big, brocade vinyl booths that can seat up to 10. The sidewalk terrace fills up at happy hour.
Service: Earnest and alert.
Prices: Appetizers, $4.50 to $12.95; main courses, $8.95 to $18.50.
Best dishes: Guacamole, tortilla soup, quesadilla with cheese, tamalitos, enchiladas de papas suizas, cochinita pibil, carne asada.
Wine list: Limited. Go with the Cadillac margarita or any of the other special margaritas. Corkage, $12.
Best table: The comfy booth at the back.
Details: Valet parking, $3.50.
Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality.
: Outstanding.
: Excellent.
: Very good.
: Good.
No star: Poor to satisfactory.

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