Tito's Cantina

Stop and smell and the salsa

by Bill Rodriguez

651 West Main Rd. (Route 114), Middletown, 401-849-4222
Open Mon-Thurs, 10:30 a.m.-9:30 p.m.
Lunch: Mon-Fri, 11 a.m.-3 p.m. Sat, 12-3 p.m.
Fri-Sat, 10:30 a.m.-10 p.m. Sun, 10:30 a.m.-9 p.m.
Major credit cards
No handicap access

I don't know why I've never reviewed Tito's Cantina, a place that's always made me look forward to driving through Middletown hungry. It's kind of like neglecting a reliable old pal in favor of fancy new acquaintances, so shame on me. If you haven't stopped in because it looked like a fast-food pit stop, forgive me for not setting you straight.

Walk in, look around, and you'd be forgiven for thinking that the place was part of some colorful margarita-pushing restaurant chain. Although Tito's bills itself as serving "authentic Mexican food," the decor tries to entertain, rather than convey seriousness of gustatory purpose. Here and there's an oversized sombrero, Toltec clay masks, and, painted on one wall near where we sat, is a gaggle of cartoonish Frito-banditos. Background music wanders from Tex-Mex and Lyle Lovett to Hispanic pop. Philodendrons spill over a central partition, as though flourishing since the place went non-smoking.

Sample the menu and you'll know you didn't step into the neighboring Taco Bell that popped up next door five years ago, like a can of Cheez Whiz next to the brie. I wasn't up for an appetizer, since starchy Mexican food is so reliably filling, but Johnnie wanted some black bean soup ($3.25). Thank goodness. Until coming across a version like this -- aromatic with chipotle, garnished with scallions and a dollop of sour cream, and served with chips and a warm flour tortilla - I'd forgotten the concoction can be more than just throwing a handful of beans into the blender.

There are more than a dozen other appetizers, from jalapeño poppers ($5.75) to our ubiquitous state appetizer, fried calamari ($5.95), plus nachos variations and salads. You can wash them down with any of a half-dozen Mexican beers, sangria or, yes, a margarita. While perusing the menu, you get to sample a complimentary portion of black bean chips and a chunky house-made salsa with plenty of cilantro. (The temperamental herb comes across less strongly in looser salsa that's available to go, in sizes up to gallon jars, along with Tito's house-brand organic corn chips.)

We sampled further from the menu, visiting old friends as well as strangers. New to me was the mesa rojo "lasagna" ($7.95), consisting of both blue and yellow corn tortillas layered with your choice of chicken, veggies, or ground beef, along with ricotta and other cheeses. The chicken in mine was plentiful, and the roasted garlic in the red sauce came across nicely. It's served with a sizeable salad and fresh corn bread with just enough jalapeño for oomph.

Another favorite of mine was the California chimichanga ($7.95), a fried flour burrito filled with, my choice, a wonderfully smoky barbecued pork. There were refried pintos, as well as black beans over a tomatoey Mexi-rice, and the accompanying lettuce contained mesclun as well as green leaf. The same sides came with my counterpart's vegetarian burrito ($4.95), which held a steamed garden -- from yellow squash to broccoli -- as well as rice, beans and both Monterey jack and cheddar. A featured item is the blue corn enchilada supreme ($8.95), the two fat components of which contain spinach, as well as chicken and beans, under the light salsa and shredded cheese. A tasty and unusual combination.

We've found the service here is always friendly and usually attentive. Bustling about and waiting on tables on the night we visited was one of the owners, Rich Reavis, who filled us in on Tito's origins. Making up in appreciation what they lacked in ethnicity, he and a friend, Vince Arcello, ate their way through southern California, sampling recipes and taking notes before opening the place in 1989. Reavis had previously run the Peaberry's in Bristol. The proprietors still take trips to find new dishes, and they apparently get a kick out of finding a taste they can pass on -- the sodas they sell under the restaurant's label are made from recipes by another friend's grandfather.

As though diners here could have any room left, the last-course offerings includes something billed as Tito's Ultimate Dessert ($3.95), consisting of vanilla ice cream and fudge sauce in a fried flour tortilla shell. But that might be on the menu just to give you permission to enjoy their simple, creamy flan ($1.95). It won't be made by someone who learned the recipe at his mother's knee -- just someone who wouldn't step next door for a fast-food lunch break at gunpoint.