18 Sept 5th-Sept 11th, 2024 phoenixnewtimes.com PHOENIX NEW TIMES | NEWS | FEATURE | FOOD & DRINK | ARTS & CULTURE | MUSIC | CONCERTS | CANNABIS | Brunch with Punch Requinto serves some of Phoenix’s best Mexican food from a bar kitchen. BY DOMINIC ARMATO P op-ups are an invaluable tool for building a healthy restau- rant scene. But what happens when they start to become the restaurant scene? It’s a late Sunday morning, and I’m tucked into the corner of a dim, stylized dive bar, the ear-splitting brass of amplified cumbia rattling my brain as I awkwardly divvy up a cochinita pibil breakfast torta with a cheap plastic knife. When I finally hack off a chunk and take a bite, it’s fantastic — crafted with more care and finesse than any other I’ve tasted this year. What surprises me isn’t the torta. What surprises me is that finding excellent food in an environment like this has become entirely routine. It wasn’t always this way. Pop-ups first pierced the public consciousness as low-stakes laboratories where devel- oping talents could experiment before putting down roots. Overlooking the rough edges was part of building the community. But somewhere along the line, something changed. Pop-ups became not just functional but desirable. And the floodgates opened. Today’s era of pop-ups, takeovers and ghost kitchens cultivates a kind of subver- sive guerrilla charm. “Stodgy culinary craftsmen of yore upstaged by rebellious, nomadic young gunslingers” is a potent narrative, and the bleeding edge cogno- scenti delve deeper and deeper in search of virgin territory to plant their flags. What started as a noble mission to destigmatize alternative restaurant formats became a social media-driven movement to restyle their rougher elements as virtues. Accepting paper plates and an overturned milk crate for a chair is one thing. Actively seeking them out is another entirely. In doing so, have we inad- vertently turned a stepping stone into a destination? Because Requinto is absolutely a destination. Guerrero-style or guerrilla-style? Erick Pineda took up residence in Linger Longer Lounge’s kitchen in November 2022 and has been slinging weekend brunch under the name Requinto there ever since. This wasn’t always the plan. A musician who kicked off his culinary career at Mr. Submarine and Domino’s Pizza, Pineda bounced between local clubs and kitchens from DeSoto Central Market to Centrico to Ollie Vaughn’s, eventually developing his own signature menu and style while gigging and recording on the side. Requinto is Pineda’s way of circling back to his roots. A born and raised local boy whose parents hail from Guerrero, Mexico, Pineda found himself compelled to represent the flavors he grew up with. The result? A modern riff on the cuisine of Mexico’s southern coastal state, skillfully executed and served with plastic utensils in a dark, gritty hipster bar. It’s tempting to argue that there could be no home more apropos for a chef who moonlights as a psychedelic rock guitarist. Linger Longer Lounge’s fuzzy ‘70s vinyl aesthetic is a little too cultivated to call the place a dive, but it’s a venue with genuine cred. And while it’s hardly a food-first establishment, it’s fitting that Pineda cooks in a place where he could seamlessly serve up some tacos and tortas in between sets. I don’t mean to tromp on the grungy underground vibe Requinto has going. Chilaquiles with a side of sticky floors and obscene graffiti don’t bother me one bit. What gives me pause, though, is the feeling that Pineda’s stuff deserves more attention than it’s likely to get from appearing six hours a week in a downscale hipster bar. Pay attention, you guys. The food at Requinto is really, really good. Punched up brunch The lounge is lively on the days without a DJ and a party on the days with, though one can always retreat across the courtyard to hang out with the pool table and pinball machines if the music gets a little too deafening. Either way, you could spend a weekend afternoon drinking beer and shooting pool and never even notice that the place is serving killer food. Ask at the bar, however, and they’ll hand you a tight menu of eight dishes that are every bit as flavorful and refined as some of the city’s most popular Mexican joints. Though Pineda’s offerings rotate every couple of months — keeping some dishes, dropping others, tweaking the rest — his Guerrero-style white pozole has headlined the menu since day one. I make a point of urging talented chefs to press ever forward, but I also wouldn’t mind if this particular dish never leaves. Place an order at the bar, get a picture of an ‘80s pro wrestling star in return (in lieu of a number), and within minutes, some- body will drop a bowl of piping hot soup and a plate of condiments in front of you. Pineda’s pozole is a thing of beauty. It’s a cloudy, almost milky broth heavy with dried herbs and loaded with tender stewed pork, hominy and chunks of fresh avocado. It’s salty — not just unabashedly but assert- ively so — and its mellow, meaty baseline lights up like lightning when you add a bit of fresh serrano, crush some toasted chile arbol over the top and add a healthy spritz of lime. Chilaquiles might hold more sway with the basic brunch crowd, but they’re no less excellent. This dish is always a balancing act — too wet and it comes out sloppy; too dry and it’s little more than overtopped chips and salsa. Pineda’s version deftly walks the line, nailing a chewy-crisp texture that leans slightly crisp, with some bonus toasted edges courtesy of a trip under the broiler. Whether red or green, the salsa sings and those beamy, sunny eggs on top are fringed by a whisper-thin halo of crispy edges. Of course, that isn’t the only way you can take your chilaquiles. The importance of texture Pineda recently has featured a torta de chilaquiles on Requinto’s menu, which is exactly as bonkers as it sounds. Also known as a tecolota, this is, quite literally, a bolillo torta stuffed with salsa- drenched chilaquiles. No matter how much the idea appeals to you, I’m betting it will exceed expectations. Pineda’s most recent riff on the form combines chilaquiles with a slab of crisp chicken milanesa, smeared with beans and crema and served with onions, herbs and a cup of stinging salsa arbol. Here’s a Frankenfood that works — an unholy union that looks like a gimmick but eats like a dream, with densely layered flavors packaged into a chaotic textural bundle. I appreciate the ways Pineda plays with texture. It’s a little thing, but I love that his crunchy pork flautas ahogadas arrive neither drowned nor dry but instead half- submerged in a bowl of chipotle broth. The lower half gets a little soft and pliable by the time you dig in, while the portion above the waterline retains its robust crunch. Pick up a flauta in one hand, then dunk and crunch while you spoon and slurp that smoky chipotle broth with the other. Repeat until you curse the fact that there are no more left. Speaking of which, you might as well preempt frustration by doubling up on the street corn empanadas from the get-go. A plate features three, and they won’t be enough. Stuffed with corn, potato and gooey, molten cheese, these plump Left: Requinto’s sweet corn empanadas are crisp, tender and devastatingly delicious. Right: The chilaquiles can be ordered red or green, and they hit a perfect balance of crisp and supple. (Photos by Dominic Armato) Served half-submerged in chipotle broth, Requinto’s flautas take on a delightful texture as they soak up the liquid. (Photo by Dominic Armato) >> p 20 ▼ Food & Drink
