The best part about group dinners is group orders. Usually, a party of 8 at a Tapas place would mean that one could sample 1/2 the menu. But today we sampled 1/2 a pig and were ripped off with no denominator.

As most gimmicks in the restaurant world, table-side swine is heavy on price, light on meat and lax on preparation. If one wants to nibble more than pork, it’s important to dine with a large, sample-friendly party and without the vegetarians, Jews or Muslims. One needs to plan ahead: our party reserved the piglet 3 days in advance. And one needs to pay down the plastic because staring at this snout is going to cost you a car payment.

The newborn table-pig is not a newborn concept. Greektown has been doing it for as long as Halsted crossed Van Buren. But unlike the flesh of nature’s oceans which allows for great variety in the sampling of Snapper, the only ready portion of a porker lies in the loin. And maybe belly. And maybe, if we were in China, the trotters and tail and every other damn thing. But, for the American table, little piggy means little else than 5 pounds of pulled pork. Not bad but how much sloppy pig can one eat? I did more than my fair share but not enough to make it worth $220. However, how cool would it be if the restaurant would send the porker back after its table-side theatrics and proceed to cure some ham, cut some shoulders, braise some ribs and bring back the dinner party a week later for pig-round-2? THAT would make it worth the price!

Sadly, with the way things stand, buying the pig defeats the entire purpose of Tapas dining. Your party would have to seat 15 to make the purchase viable and taste some other dishes. But at that size, you’d be fighting over the single piglet. And if you get two, well, from forth the fatal loins of those two porks, a pair of star-cross’d piglets gave their life; whose misadventured piteous oven-spits doth with their death bury their diner’s appetite.

Mercat is a good restaurant. Go there for tapas. Or suffer the 3-hours’ traffic of pig’s stage.

Well-priced, well-located and pretty, Eivissa could have been a contendah but then chemically castrated itself by serving up dish after dish of utter mediocrity. So with heavy hearts and in proper attire, we continue our search for a restaurant to plunge into the breach of upscale in Old Town’s rising sea of sports bars. Caring not how good the food, if we drive up and see a backward ball-cap we’re busting a U back downtown.

Per the usual discipline, we arrived at 8:15 for our 8:30 rezzie and were seated immediately. I know this was the luck of the entrance as the place was full but at Iberico, they would have made us wait 20 minutes even if a table were ready because they can.

Before the bad we must mention the good. Or the great. The Sangria Amnesia is perhaps the best Sangria ever to have passed the author’s unshaven lips and evaporated directly into his brainstem. When they say on the menu that it has a secret kick, they aren’t exaggerating. It’s pricier than the other pitchers but you aren’t going to be having more than one no matter how much you and your date drink or they’ll be putting up chairs around your drooling passed-out faces at closing time. The Amnesia may be fruity and murky and red but surely the “secret kick” is clear as day. Huh huh. Everclear.

Even though the Amnesia was the way to go, we started by ordering the Xampany with bubbliez. Except OOOps! It can’t be ordered in a pitcher. This makes logical sense as a pitcher of sparkle would quickly become dull but say so on the menu! We came here to use our digestive systems, not our cognitive centers and don’t appreciate being made to think logically about cocktail selection.

Had the food struck Tapa gold, (or even bronze) the author being the petty prickly piece of poopy that he is would have still complained about the pitcher but sadly, Eivissa set out to compete for a nugget of gold and came back with a beach full of quartz.  

The best tapa of the evening was Canelon Relleno, which, BTW, is misspelled on the menu! (There is no “ñ” in Relleno, just a regular-old “n” without the tilde.) And even this was just OK. It was strong, which we expect, but the salsa did not complement the seafood. Salsa rarely does. Indeed, it seemed to us that none of the sauces did much for their respective tapas. They even served some spicy mayonnaise with pork loin skewers (pincho moruno). This was such an odd combo that it almost took away from the flavor of the potatos which were the best part of the dish. Luckily you could just remove the mayo gob. The duck breast confit was actually a duck-leg confit despite the menu’s promise. This was supposed to be a substitute for the grilled pork loin (Secreto de Cerdo) which was apparently so secreto that it ran out and forgot to tell anyone to restock. Sorry wait staff, duck does not pig substitute make. The salmon wasn’t bad but overcooked and far too small even for a tapa. It’s meant to be shared so make it big enough to share without microscopic surgery. The asparagus was actually really good but given its salt content, it could have not been anything else. So salty, that I couldn’t even pee to see if it smelled. (Though, the Sangria may have played a dehydrating part.) We didn’t bother with desert but just kept drinking. We wanted out last memory of the place to be a good one.

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.