Mañanitas translates in English to “early mornings.” It”™s also the name of a traditional Mexican birthday song, but it isn”™t morning and neither are we celebrating birthdays as we head out for dinner at Las Mañanitas, the prized Brewster restaurant tucked into Putnam County, a couple of miles from the Westchester border.
I had been here before, 12 years ago, soon after Las Mañanitas opened, but somehow the place had slipped off my radar. When a colleague recently recommended it, mentioning the restaurant”™s “abundant” food and saying it was “always jam-packed,” I needed no further persuasion, rounding up three friends to join me for an evening of Mexican revelry. (“Sure,” said the wise one, correctly anticipating strong drink, “just so long as you drive.”)
The restaurant itself, which occupies a kind of rambling, custard-yellow cortijo, stands in a park, approached via a long driveway. The parking lot seems to have doubled in size since I was last here and I don”™t recall the pretty illuminations around the ancient trees, turning the park into an enchanted forest at night, with a twinkling gazebo. But the kitsch, not-so-little piggy standing on its hind legs, its front trotters in the trough, and the caricature model of the mustachioed Mexican farmer behind it, cleaver in hand, are just as I remember.
Inside the rustic house, a plaster gray Azteca horse greets you proudly. It”™s the kind of near life-size horse a rich ”” and dare-one-say ”” spoiled child might have in the nursery. As we wait for our table, all the kids coming into the restaurant with their moms and dads, grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins stop to admire it. And yes, there are kids galore, because Las Mañanitas, despite all that booze at the bar and those smokers on the side terrace is very much a kid-friendly, family affair.
Seated at last, with a view of said bar, we take in the room. Make that rooms, because there are several of them, all leading off the restaurant”™s central section. (The restaurant has myriad terraces, too, for outdoor summer dining.) The lighting is phenomenal and, along with the brick walls and oak beams, creates a wonderful atmosphere. I”™m not talking about the sort of design-led mood lighting installed by some trendy New York consultant at exceptional cost to the owners, but more of a homemade look ”” great swaths of fairy lights strung across ceilings and sparkly, illuminated stars that drop from other ceilings on threads, giving the space a light-hearted, festive air. Food seems almost irrelevant at this point, we are so absorbed in the energy of the place, with sounds of singer Chelo warbling “La Lámpara” or the Spanish band Fondo Flamenco band enunciating its rhythmic Latin rap.
But food is what we”™re here for so order we must. To start, guacamole, naturally. A whole avocado farm must be going into this guac, which our server is preparing table-side. “Spicy, medium-spicy, what”™s your preference?” he asks us, before peeling and smashing the avocados, adding the other components and mixing everything together in a hollowed-out, heavy stone bowl, which he places on the table for us all to dig in.
A hearty black bean soup has deep, satisfying flavors, while a magnificent lentil soup is not the usual brown sludge I associate with this broth, but a beautiful pale green soup served piping hot, fragrant with cilantro. Salads are fresh and vast. An excellent shellfish ceviche is so substantial, my pal who”™s ordered it ”” usually quite the trencherman ”” has to box up leftovers to take home.
No skimping in the rice dishes either. A paella Valenciana, saffron rice with beans, chicken and pork, comes in a huge paellera, or paella dish, a portion for three or four enough to serve five or six. If you”™re feeling more mar than terra, the restaurant does a seafood paella, too.
Moles find favor with all of us, tender chicken under a well-balanced, jauntily-spiced, creamy sauce. And steaks, both a rib eye and filet minion, are excellent, satisfyingly charred and butter-soft. As for the mash, not to name-drop, as if, but it reminds me of the sublime mashed potato I ate at Joël Robuchon”™s Atélier restaurant in Paris a dozen or so years ago and have never forgotten. This is its equal.
Mojitos flow as does most everything else in the drinks department. Three bartenders work nonstop but still find time to banter as they shake, stir, muddle, slice, sieve and pour, always smiling as they beaver away. The back bar, a dazzling display of tequilas, mezcals and agave syrups, underlit with blue, green, red and yellow flashing lights, is a riot of color and promise.
Thirteen years ago, UNESCO recognized Mexican cuisine for its importance in the “Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.” Since then, many serious, high-end Mexican restaurants have sprung up around the globe, offering all manner of regional Mexican delicacies and “forgotten” foods.
ThatӪs all well and good and IӪm all for authenticity, but Las Ma̱anitas is not one of those restaurants. YouӪre not going to find ant-egg sacs or fried locust on the menu here. What you get instead is highly approachable, delicious Mexican food that you generally know and love, with a few legitimate additions from Spain, all faithfully rendered. The cooking is essentially joyful and generous and the atmosphere is so cheery, that while it may not be your birthday, it will always feel as if it is.
For reservations and more, visit lasmananitasrestaurant.com.
