Toloache.(Restaurant review)

The first thing to know about this ambitious theatre-district Mexican bistro is that its name signifies, as a waiter will eagerly explain, "a flowering plant famed in Mexico for its use in love potions."("Loco weed" to American cowboys, it is a peyote-like hallucinogenic.) The second thing is that nowhere on Toloache's menu is the potent blossom employed. That's the sensible (and probably the only legal) option. But the subtle tease points to a larger question: for whom, precisely, does Toloache aim? A green-and-purple neon sign, a neon-caked bar offering a bajillion tequilas, and a gaudy triptych of, one supposes, the goddess of toloache, beckons spendthrift tourists, but the leather banquettes, white tablecloths, and an impressive, inventive menu seem to speak to well-heeled Upper East Siders.

One can hardly blame the chef, Julian Medina, for his restaurant's identity crisis. A native of Mexico City, Medina aspires to take Mexican cuisine, once and for all, out of the dank beans-cheese-and-sour-cream cellar. (No free chips and salsa here.) The menu, then, is a kickshaw-crammed ...