Drunken Restaurant Reviews #1 - Izote Mexican, and an introduction

So a while back, I had the "genius" idea that I would attempt the monumental and hugely misguided task of eating at every single establishment on King Street in Newtown. Why? Well, why not. I like food, Newtown has lots of cheap food, and trying to eat at every single place is like attempting a collection. Jeremy suggested that I blog about it, which was a fantastic idea in theory, until we remembered three important facts: 

1. The majority of restaurants in Newtown have cheap or free BYO
2. We are boozehounds
3. I'm a lightweight, so half a bottle of wine moves me beyond the tipsy zone into the next-morning-regrets zone

As a result, these restaurant reviews will come in an extremely untimely fashion, as I tend to forget that I took pictures while I was drunk. Also, my drunken photography sucks even more than my normal photography (I can't aim straight and Jeremy's hairy arms keep sneaking into frame), and my memories of what things taste like are somewhat vague. HOWEVER I contend that these reviews are still valid, because despite lack of flavour memory, my drunken memory of emotions is pretty spot on, so if I remember being ecstatic about my food, chances are it was pretty damn good. Drunken reactions to food don't lie. Nevertheless, perhaps these so-called "reviews" should be read a more of a chronicle of my adventures in inebriated eating, rather than detailed analyses of cuisine. But hey, if you are ever in need of a drunken munch, this may serve as a decent guide.

So one Friday night a couple of months back, we grabbed a bottle and headed down to Izote Mexican, at number 6 on King Street, chosen partly because we'd  eyed it up previously while walking past on our way to other places, and partly because it was the first open restaurant we saw after walking from our place and we're very lazy. This is a cozy little restaurant which always seems pretty busy. As we cracked open our wine, a person at the table next to ours got super excited because she hadn't previous realised the place was BYO, and promptly took off to the bottle shop down the road, returning with more bottles than there were people at her table. We were impressed.

We crack open the wine and have our first glass while we peruse the menu. The interwebs suggests that this restaurant may be pretty authentic Mexican, but we're plebs who have never been to Mexico so you could probably serve me a cookie wrapped in a tortilla and I'd still 80% believe you if you said it was authentic (hence my ongoing life plan of eating in every country in the world so I know what everything is "supposed" to taste like). We're 2 glasses in and I'm tipsy by the time our entrée arrives. 

Queso Fundido al Chorizo - $13.90

"Holy shit this is huge and incredible", drunk KZ thinks to herself. This dish consisted of corn chips served with some kind of intensely cheesy mashed bean dip, with chunks of delicious chorizo and jalapeño. The dip is rich but not overwhelming and the soft beans contrast and compliment the super crispy chips. By the time we're down to the last few chips, I'm hissing at Jeremy like a bobcat over the last slice of chorizo. Always the gentleman, he lets me have it while I cackle gleefully.

The mains roll out fairly quickly, and even in our lightly-pickled state, we're aware enough that we have made a huge mistake in not reining back our eyes which were far far bigger than our stomachs.

Beef Enchilada Verdes - $22.90

Mole Poblano - $25.90

My mole poblano consists of an entire chicken's worth of breast coated in a smooth sauce which supposedly has chocolate in it. The sauce is tasty and only has the slightest of kicks to it (to my heat-resistant tongue tempered in the fires of hell), as the chocolate mainly serves to counteract the spice rather than provide any strong flavours itself. A pretty solid dish - not incredible, but definitely enjoyable. I'm only about halfway through my chicken and pretty much finished the wine when my stomach's decided that I've shoved a sufficient volume of food into it, and I'm internally having a drunken cry because I know that I'll have to surrender this poor tasty dish to the cold, cruel world instead of enveloping it in the welcoming embrace of my digestive tract. Word to the wise - share this between two people. I managed to force myself to eat about 60% of this before I died.

What Jeremy remembers of his enchilada (quoth he, about 20 minutes ago): "It was pretty fucking good". He finished his entire dish, but was too full to have more than a bite of my mole poblano. This is a man who habitually eats enough food to feed a family in one sitting. I kid you not, the portion sizes at Izote are huge. Be warned.

I sighed at my mole in defeat and we asked for the bill. It was a little bit more than we usually spend on a casual cbf cooking type of night, but we probably had enough food to comfortably feed 3 people, so I guess it's fair enough. We rolled out of the restaurant drunk and well satisfied, somewhere between pleased and painfully bloated.

Izote Mexican
6 King Street, Newtown
(02) 8084 9651