I arrived at ‘Alma’ on a damp Thursday evening, the kind of night that makes you crave comfort but also a touch of adventure. The restaurant, perched on a once-industrial strip of Brooklyn, had been a magnet for early buzz since its April opening, promising a fresh lens on Mexican cuisine through the lens of chef Diego Rivera-no relation to the painter, but a promising pedigree from stints at Pujol and Cosme. The room, an airy loft with exposed brick and dim amber lighting, felt like it wanted to be cool without trying too hard; the chairs were uncomfortably stiff, and the music hovered at a volume that made intimate conversation a challenge.
The first course, the lamb tartare, arrived precisely as the restaurant was filling up. A dish that should shimmer with freshness and subtle spice, it fell flat. The meat was underseasoned, the texture uneven, and the promised chipotle aioli was barely detectable beneath a mound of diced avocado that overwhelmed the plate. It was neither lamb nor tartare but an awkward assembly that suggested the kitchen was still finding its footing. This initial failure set a tone that would echo throughout the evening.
Next came the esquites, presented in a small cast-iron skillet, a homage to the traditional street corn salad. Here, the kitchen showed a flicker of understanding. The corn was toasted just enough to lend a smoky counterpoint to the creamy cotija, and the lime added a necessary brightness. Yet, the balance was inconsistent; the chili powder was applied unevenly, leaving parts of the dish bland. It was clear that the execution lacked the precision one expects at the price point Alma demands.
The centerpiece, the chile en nogada, was meant to be the star. A complex dish, it requires delicate handling of sweet and savory elements, with a walnut sauce that should be rich but not cloying. Rivera’s rendition featured a filling of pork and dried fruit, but the sauce was tepid and grainy, served lukewarm, which dulled the nutty flavors and undermined the dish’s signature contrast. The accompanying pomegranate seeds were scarce, more a garnish than a flavor contributor. It was a classic dish that begged for respect but instead felt rushed, as if the kitchen was uncomfortable with its own ambitions.
A side of charred cactus salad offered a respite. The crispness of the nopales was intact, the acidity of the dressing balanced the slight bitterness of the plant, and the sprinkle of queso fresco added a creamy counterpoint. It was a dish that demonstrated the kitchen’s potential when they focused on simpler elements and respected ingredients.
Service was uneven. Our server delivered plates with a practiced neutrality but faltered when asked to describe the dishes in depth, often defaulting to vague terms like ‘traditional’ or ‘authentic’ without elaboration. The pacing was off; a noticeable pause between the main and dessert left the table dangling in awkward silence. When the check arrived, it felt inflated relative to the experience-a clear case of hype outpacing delivery.
Alma’s arrival in the Brooklyn dining scene is significant, attempting to stake a claim amid a flood of Mexican restaurants that range from the street food stalls of Sunset Park to the high-end spots in Williamsburg. Rivera’s pedigree sets expectations high, but the kitchen’s uneven execution suggests a place still in search of its voice. The space hints at something cool and modern, but the chair discomfort and acoustics pull the experience back down to earth.
I returned for a second meal hoping for improvement, a chance to witness growth. Unfortunately, the duck carnitas were overcooked and dry, and the accompanying mole lacked depth, tasting more like a dull chocolate sauce than a complex, layered mole. Even the mezcal cocktails were timid, missing the smoky punch that should have grounded the drink.
In a city where Mexican cuisine has been explored and refined by countless kitchens, Alma’s first weeks reveal a restaurant still calibrating its ambitions. In its current state, it neither justifies its steep prices nor its media attention. The occasional moments of clarity on the plate come across as glimpses of a better future rather than a realized present.
Alma is a work in progress. For diners seeking a reliable, well-executed Mexican dinner in Brooklyn, this is not the place yet. For those curious about Diego Rivera’s next steps, it may be worth watching from a distance, but reservations should come with tempered expectations. The restaurant’s promise is there, but the delivery requires patience and refinement before it can truly stake a claim in New York’s competitive landscape.
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