Just one problem: It took an hour for the bowl to travel from the kitchen to our table -- the only occupied table in the dining room -- and by then, I'd already plowed through two baskets of housemade salted chips, six salsa refills and a pitcher of lime water. My mood had gone from good to grumpy.
Still, I'd come here again, both for the ceviche and the chilaquiles (excellent). And if you can guess where I'm eating, you can get there first, order, wait it out, and call me when the food is on the table. I live close.