Indio

Address
1221 W. Lake St., Mpls., 612-821-9451

The Scene
With Indio, chef Hector Ruiz and his wife and partner, Erin Ungerman, complete the trifecta of south Minneapolis Latin ventures that includes El Mason and Café Ena. Indio is a tony taqueria focusing on the flavors of Ruiz’s native Mexico. On this aspiring strip of Lake Street, Indio’s bold colors glow through its front windows. Flame red and turquoise tiles, bright primitive paintings, and a sheer curtain imprinted with Frida Kahlo’s image signal Indio’s Mexican bent. Come on a Friday night, and you’ll wait awhile for a table amid the young, black-clad, and hip. Just out back, Indio’s patio with a gurgling fountain is a great place to hang in fine weather. Indio suits this family affair. It’s relaxed and hip, homey and gracious, offering real hospitality Latin–style.

Our Take
Taking Mexican street food uptown can be tricky. Indio’s Oaxacan dishes are more humble than haute at a price far higher than any taqueria down Lake Street. Yet the swift, knowledgeable wait staff, the cheerful space, and the attention to authentic flavors make the experience here worth the price. Indio’s happy hour is a hit parade of tasty plates. Try flautas stuffed with creamy potatoes in a vibrant tomatillo sauce and traditional tamales, steamed in a banana leaf and laced with a cinnamon and chocolate mole. I found the ceviche less remarkable. Go with a salad of adobo chicken (marinated in chili and vinegar) or the seared tuna with pineapple, jicama, and grapefruit. For an entrée, the lime and Serrano pepper-marinated lechon (pork tenderloin) with tomatillos over tamales was tender, tangy, and spicy. Mild white corvina was firm and moist in a musky achiote sauce and served with a perky pineapple salsa. Chili relleno balanced earthy spices with a lively prickly pear salad. On several nights, however, more ambitious efforts missed the mark and suffered from overseasoning and heavy sauces. Oven-roasted whole snapper was far too salty; duck-filled flautas were too fiery. Scallops, overwhelmed by an ancho sauce, seemed ill matched to mashed potatoes with huitlacoche (corn smut prized for its wild mushroom flavor). Though noted in many of the dishes, the huitlacoche was undetectable. I’d go back for grilled salmon with a crisp red pepper flauta and a straightforward grilled steak tortilla with charred onions and Anaheim chilies.

Capricious Cocktails
Special “tasting” glasses and a long litany of drinks with freshly muddled herbs and fruit that take the edge off the heat are offered at the bar lined with bottles of aged amber tequila. The Veracruz margarita—Cointreau, mango, and passion fruit—sports a kicky chili-sugar rim. OVNI (the Spanish acronym for UFO) mixes Midori, pear, pineapple, and agave in an eerie shade of green. For all its urbane savvy, Indio is a friendly place where the chatty bartender treats a gray-haired lady requesting a virgin mojito with the same gracious attention he shows a tequila connoisseur.