Mayan, oh mayan, ix delixious!!
Down at the southern end of the Franklin Avenue Shuttle there is a portal to the Mayan realm. “Ix,” the Mayan word for jaguar, or at least, like an astrological symbol roughly equating to a jaguar. Ix (pron. “eesh” according to a neat-o article in the Grey Lady).
The inside of the place is like a Mayan rainforest (or at least a Mayan Rainforest Cafe™). We chose a cozy little two-seater in the corner. (It’s considered, in these parts, especial bad form for a party of two to take up a four-person table or, Ix forbid, a six-person table! If you’re a party of two, get a two-banger, please and thank you).
The menus are inside of old, broken, painted vinyl LPs.
There are tons of sections within the menu. One concerned omelettes, one concerned tortillas de huevo; one concerned desserts, one concerned unidentifiable botany of some sort and a creature that looked suspiciously like a dragon.
We each got omelettes. Dave got the blue cheese, pear + pecan crunch. Bo got the Honey goat cheese, fig, Modena balsamix reduction + macadamia crunch. And some lime alfajores for the table, please. Oh and an ix cacao w espresso shot for Bo, and some sort of fondue hot chocolate for Dave.
An alfajor, sing. of “alfajores,” is like honey and crunch and other sweet stuff. Its quondam abode is the Iberian peninsula, from whence it was imported to South Amerixa. However, before that, it was possiblye taken from the Arabian peninsula. Arabian. Iberian. Then to Mayan. The word alfajor possiblye comes from the Arabix al-fakher, meaning luxurious.
They surely were that. They were softish and lime-ish and delicious. A perfect sweet appetizer for our soon-to-come savory life-changers. (Results may vary).
Dave would like to highlight how thick the omelette was; it was like 7/16″ thick (whereas most omelettes are lucky to be 1/4″). They were also fluffy and perfectly round. The blue cheese was a game changer. A life changer. A world changer. A stranger danger.
The ingredients were perfectly proportioned and the eggs were perfectly cooked. We were given little soft tortilla shells, too, but tbh couldn’t figure out exactly what they were for, and were too embarrassed to ask. So Bo put some of his side salad in one, and Dave used another to clean up some of the omelette goop from his plate.
How were the cocoa drinks you ask?
You’ve got some nerve, buddy.
Bo’s ix with espresso shot (the regular drink is non-caffeinated) was one of the most sweet and delicious cocoa-flavored beverages he has ever, ever had ever ever. It’s just like what he always imagined the cocoa to have tasted like in that book the Polar Express. Remember that book? Remember where they got cocoa on the train and it was like magic or something? I guess what we’re trying to say is, that the ix with espresso cacao drink at Ix ix magixal. Literally. Bo has powers now.
Dave’s drink tasted fine. But it was sort of goopy and soupy and fondue-oopy. Barely a liquid. Almost a non-Newtonian fluid. It was an acceptable beverage stand-in for the meal, but would have made a better portable-breakfast-on-the-go option.
The overall check was something like $40. A small prixe to pay for the best things you’ll ever have.
Go to Ix. You won’t regret ix.
With 10 as a must-eat, this dining experience rates a 9.
Pro Tip: If any of y’all go here, please find out what we were supposed to have done with our soft tortilla shells. That’s the pro tip! And we, obvi, are not yet pros.
Pro Pro Tip: The water from the faucet in the bathroom is magma-level hot. You’ve been warned.
Don’t Miss: The cacao ix drink with espresso shot!
