La Sinaloense is a Spring Valley restaurant where you can taste the storied cuisine of the coastal Mexican state of Sinaloa without the risk of getting shot dead and hung from an overpass. That said, if the food in Sinaloa is as good as what...
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La Sinaloense is a Spring Valley restaurant where you can taste the storied cuisine of the coastal Mexican state of Sinaloa without the risk of getting shot dead and hung from an overpass. That said, if the food in Sinaloa is as good as what is served here, I am willing to accept that risk. Come at me, narcos! (Just let me finish my meal first, please.)
During my first time in, I had asked my waiter for the restaurant's signature dish, and he indicated it is the "Molcajete Sinaloense." I have had similar seafood molcajete dishes in the past, but nothing as special as what La Sinaloense served me. Here, you will receive the "Death Star" of molcajete de mariscos dishes, as it has destroyed me for all others. Also, even though I ordered the "small size," it was enormous, and could easily feed at least 3 normal people. The gigantic black stone mortar bowl is lined with foil containing a bubbling lava-like tomato and cheese sauce filled with octopus, shrimp, scallops, clams, mussels, and crab, draped with nopales asada and garnished with cilantro, sliced radish, and fresh avocados. The simmering hearty broth tastes as if the ocean has been set afire and reduced with tomato sauce. Before being added to the pot, the shrimp and octopus have been grilled on a plancha to pick up a thick brown crust on one of their sides. It is served with rice, guacamole, pico de gallo, refried beans, and corn tortillas. Let's put it this way: next time I am hungover, I'm coming here.
The "Tostada de Aguachile" is another classic dish of Sinaloa featuring raw shrimp, red onions, and cucumbers submerged in lime juice heavily spiked with cilantro and serrano chiles. The aguachile sauce here is relatively tame, though spicy enough to clear one's sinuses. I prefer my aguachiles to have a bit more piquancy, but I can't argue with the balanced sweet and sour flavor of La Sinaloense's version, and I enjoyed the clean taste of this dish's crisp, taut shrimp.
For tacos, I've tried both the "Garlic Shrimp Taco" and the "Shrimp Culichi Taco." The culichi sauce used on the latter taco is a buttery, creamy chile sauce, more savory than spicy or sweet. I liked that taco, but I preferred the more simplistic "Garlic Shrimp Taco" for its in-your-face garlic and butter combination. It is a delightfully rich "taste bomb" and one of those indulgences that I would gladly sacrifice long-term health for and eat 3-4 times per week if I lived in the neighborhood.
Complimentary "Chips and Salsa" and "Seafood and Vegetable Consommé" are brought out at the beginning of the meal, the latter of which is excellent, reminding me less of the styrofoam cups half-filled with salty consommé one grabs from the local mariscos trucks and bringing more of the taste and texture of a quality minestrone soup with its soft, leafy vegetables. The squeeze-bottle red salsa provided (not the comparatively sad and runny salsa they bring out with the chips) could melt iron, but it is more than just heat, tasting of freshly pulverized chilies with a slightly sweet finish.
If nothing else, La Sinaloense is an interesting-looking place to eat with full waiter service, a woody patio area to dine on, decorated with a myriad of green plants, and a large water fountain that competes for your attention with your food throughout your meal. My meal attracted a good amount of annoying flies. Not a deal-breaker obviously, but the restaurant should consider investments to keep the insects at bay. Service is casual but earnest and (mostly) bilingual.