Why isn’t Spanish food—with its subtleties, variety, interesting ingredients and master chefs—much more popular than it is? Although that’s a difficult question to answer, I do know that if every Spanish restaurant were as good as El Charro Español, the specialties of the Iberian Peninsula would be better known and more respected.
In a city with probably the most volatile, competitive restaurant business in the world, El Charro has been on the scene for over 70 years. When an eatery has been around that long, or even half that long, there’s a reason. In the case of El Charro, there are a few reasons. First of all, the place is as Spanish as they come, it’s the quintessential Spanish restaurant, it looks the part. Patrons walk down into this warm, neat nook with its brick walls, wine bottles, candles, arch ways, Spanish tile bar, golden wall light globes, steel grating and classical Spanish art. (A movie maker looking for an authentic, atmospheric spot that virtually shouts “vintage village eatery” might well choose El Charro).
Its deferential, knowledgeable staff exudes a welcoming spirit. All of this would be worthless if the food wasn’t good. Fortunately, it is. Look around the dining room and you will see young couples and groups from the neighborhood that weren’t born when El Charro opened or for many years after that. It’s not a restaurant that became a habit, a haven for the gray haired crowd that remember it from the old days and just got used to eating there. Instead, this is a place that has continued to attract new generations of diners on the basis of its merit.
They order the tasty, black bean soup and load the bowl with the accompanying chopped raw onions; greaseless, spicy, intensely flavored broiled chorizos (Spanish sausage); and grilled jumbo shrimp nestled in their split shells with garlic butter, paprika, olive oil, white wine and Spanish spices. Some opt for the menu’s occasional Mexican add-ons. The chicken or beef quesadillas are noteworthy. So, too, is the signature dish of Oaxaca, a crock of pollo mole poblano or chicken in a dark, bittersweet chocolate, alive with spices.
Conventional Spanish entrées worth a nod are the tangy mustard sauce draped over a rare, flaky salmon filet; the pricey, but special, lobster tails with green sauce, six curls of out-of-the-shell meat on a hard-to-resist onion, parsley, garlic, white wine sauce; and the veal with lemon sauce. The last could have been more tender, but the little-encountered lemon sauce-veal counterpoint made it a success.
Although sweets are all made in house, dessert is not El Charro’s strong suit. Crema Catalana, sort of a Spanish crème brulee with a crisp, crackly, crystallized sugar crust, is the best bet.
4 Charles St. (btw. Greenwich Ave. & Seventh Ave. So.), 212-242-9547.
Richard J. Scholem is a former contributor of restaurant reviews for the Long Island Section of The New York Times.
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