Alamo Mexican Restaurant

The cultural crosscurrents are strong at the Alamo: The Riverdale Park institution, more than 50 years old and showing no signs of aging, is owned by a Chinese couple, Charles and Vivian Shih, who bought it in 1986 from a transplanted Texan named John Vandeputte. The Mexican outlet is now run mostly by the Shihs� daughter, Susan Crossley, and her husband, Derek Crossley, in a neighborhood that caters predominately to Latino immigrants. Despite all the competing influences, the Alamo doesn�t feel torn at the seams. On the contrary, the operation, in the corner of a white-washed strip center with stucco walls, exudes the part-cheesy, part-sincere atmosphere of a homey barrio taquer�a. The menu features the usual Mexican-American plates�chimichangas, burritos, crispy tacos, and enchiladas, some of which you can order �authentic style,� which essentially means that the kitchen substitutes fresh-masa tortillas for flour ones. But the kitchen also has ambitions, if not pretensions, as evidenced by its shrimp-and-scallop seviche, lobster tacos, and crab-stuffed shrimp. The last is an absolute disaster, a handful of rubbery, tightly curled crustaceans buried under (not stuffed with) shredded crab meat that�s struggling to express itself amid all the salt and butter. Far better are the Alamo�s more traditional dishes, notably its fragrant and satisfying bowl of posole, a pork-and-hominy stew thickened with a masa-infused stock and various garnishes. The grilled skirt-steak torta with bacon and guacamole is as thick and savory as you might imagine (though the bolillo bread can be stale). And the Alamo�s chalupalike variation on the quesadilla�an open-faced fried tortilla richly layered with cheese, grilled chicken, and crisped, crumbly pieces of chorizo�proves that some Tex-Mex staples can be successfully pushed in new directions. The prices are higher than you might expect ($12 for a basic combo plate, for example), and be forewarned that if you order an extra bowl of chips, it�ll cost you�two bucks, in fact.
—Tim Carman, December 9, 2003