Like with nightclubs, amusement parks and Pink’s Hot Dogs, I’m just too old and cranky to stand in line with fellow hungry humans. But after eating at Xoco, I would wait patiently behind the herd.

So badly did I want to rip Xoco apart. Seeing those lines out the door all but wrote the intro for me. IN ALL CAPS. Such a line is a non-starter. So I woke up at an ungodly 10:45 AM and hit lunch by 11:00. I ordered a Cubana sandwich (which I was hoping was the more digestively-affectionate version of a Cubano if you catch my drift) and my partner-in-dine ordered the Jamon but without the Prosciutto. Used to such bizarre order contradictions I said nothing when suddenly the server offered to put the Prosciutto on the side. “Not many Prosciuttos are made in America” she helpfully explained and since I was clearly into eating pig she would be remiss to let me pay for a Jamon and not get the key ingredient. I didn’t want to get into specifics of what was meant by “Made in America” since American Prosciutto is akin to American Champagne so we patiently took our seats and waited for our meals.

And waited. And waited. Could it be that this was the reason behind the line? Most likely. My companion, who was, by this time, a Xoco veteran insisted we order chips and salsa which we completely devoured by the time the sandwiches arrived. But arrive they did and splendid was their sight. And smell. And taste. Both sandwiches had a delicious coating of black bean paste, avocados and cheese. The Cubana had pork loin and bacon while the Jamon was supposed to have the venerable Prosciutto which came instead on a plate. A big plate. With a lot of cuts which made me wonder if the Jamon was typically 5 inches thick. No matter. It was absolutely divine. The payoff was worth the wait. And the $30 tab.

So as much as I regret not being able to shove Xoco down Balyess’ apron like I did with Trotter in his high of price and devoid of taste To Go venture, I stand convinced once more that when Bayless puts his name on something, right down to the mass-produced salsa at the grocery store, we should expect nothing short of excellence. Sir, if I had your autograph, I’d eat that too.

Many things have delusions of grandeur. People may develop a fake accent like Madonna. Swim towels become Sham-wows, computers become Macs, backwards bathrobes become snuggies, and Mexican restaurants become Mercadito.

For who else but the delusionally-grand would charge 2.50 for a table spoon of salsa? $10.50 for a “tasting” of guacamole? Or $19.50 for a chile relleno? Not even Topolobampo. But before the ridicule, let us cover the compliments of which there are several.

The Chile Relleno was less chile and more tortilla attempting with all its might to hold back a torrent of shrimp, scallops, octopus and other swimming delicacies impatiently bursting from under a layer of melted cheese. I was amazed that $19.50 was all it cost. And the green rice casserole, (¡Dios Mio!) redefined comfort food. (Consider the value of such a statement when uttered by someone for whom all Mexican is comfortable.) But it seems that recently, all good meals have an ugly underbelly. And not necessarily the one that comes printed on the bill. We sneaked a peek at ours with drinks.

My Margarita Tradicional was excellent. Absolutely delicious. Why? Beacuse instead of using 2 parts tequila per 1 part Cointreau, they reversed the formula. Sweeeeeet. But not traditional. And not enough. If you’re going to make weak-tasting drinks, the least you can do is over-serve them. My margarita had enough for 3 sips. No joke. How they got non-crushed ice to look so filling I have no idea. Same problem with the wine. The glass could not have had more than 3  ounces worth. For $10 that’s abusive. The one thing I absolutely loved (enough to plagiarize the idea) is the manner of salting the glass. They dip one side of it low into the salt so that if you want some, you have plenty. If not, drink from the other side. I’m amazed I have not seen this done more often.

The guacamole “tasting” consisted of a traditional and a mole covered. For the latter, someone took a traditional and poured some very average sweet, brown liquid over it that had the remarkable consistency of canned black bean emulsion. However, the habenero salsa (which costs $2.50 per tablespoon) was the highlight of the appetizers. Beware. It’ll make even the grossest entrée swim eagerly down your gullet just to put the flames out.

Finally, even though the restaurant stresses that it is a tapas-style menu, they do indeed have entrées. Thus, when a member of a party orders one, bring it WITH the tapa that’s serving as the other entrée and not 10 minutes later. Overall, the meal was a disappointment not in taste but in value. With places like Province and Tocco recently opened, spending over $100 for some good but mostly overpriced Mexican food is not competitive. There was no part of the meal that should not have cost less.