It was Friday around eight o’clock. The usual crowds huddled in whispered conversation, oil lamps flickering above their heads. In the far corner, I could make out shadows of bookshelves dimly lit, odd tomes docked at random intervals. As I leaned in to study, I caught the flare of lamp light in the brisk outside; beneath it, passersby wearily wandered, weighed down by a long and onerous week.
This is the aptly named Biblioteca — de Tequila. Its studious, unassuming façade is a welcome addition to the restaurant-bar-shopping plaza at the foot of the Millenium Bridge. And yes, while “biblioteca” is used partially in jest, it is also a functional part of the theme here; carefully-crafted library cards are scrawled with each guest’s favorite tequilas, kept safely in a card box where the tequila librarian sits at the front of the restaurant, ushering in tequila and tapas devotees with a near-scholarly appetite for Mexican spirit and cuisine.
But first, the ambience. An evening at La Biblioteca embraces the perfect blend of relaxation and energy — a space that is quasi-bar,
quasi-dining room, quasi-study hall. On the menu, a fusion of Asian and Latin-themed tapas call up memories of La Biblioteca’s former incarnation, al Lado. But here, there is a different intention and unique creativity at play — ceviches tossed in ponzu; rice noodles bedding carnitas; guacamole cozied up to sweet and smoky trout. The list goes on, of course — to sliders and tacos, salads and skewers. But ever in your hand — and mine — will be a tequila, a cocktail, or a house wine.
As my palate meandered through Biblioteca’s to-the-point menu, I labored over the hundreds of tequilas on the libation list — an army of
spirits, most of which were foreign to me. Fortunately, the ever-present hospitality team here knows their agave, and is more than happy to guide you to a single sipper or a flight of previously undiscovered blancos, reposados and añejos. A keen starter for newbies: Distillery 123.
One of the library’s greatest works, however, is its mixed drink program. Now you may recall evenings of poorly-crafted, cheaper-than-
Franzia swill from college days that leaned heavily on rot-gut tequila. And for that reason, you may be reticent to give the colorful spirit another go. But let me give you cause to dive back in: sipping the Cucumber Pepino cocktail is a life-changing, almost sexual experience. I, for one, am sick to death of saccharine-sweet bar creations that hide crappy alcohol and leave me doubled-over the next day. Whoever helms the bar at this tequila stop knows how the nuances of the agave spirit work: flavor-laden spice from serranos toy with mellow cucumber in a glass teased with citrus. Now that all might sound a little too adventurous for a first go, but trust me — it’s a temptress that will reel you in for more.
Oh — and lest I forget the final course, you should invest ample study in dessert. It’s a plain-as-pie truth that I devour churros whenever I see them — even when they’re on somebody else’s plate. Here, they are paragons of lacey sweetness, capped with crunch, nestled, of course, in three sumptuous dipping sauces: chocolate ganache, anglaise and berry coulis. For those with more robust appetites at the end of study hour, sink your sweet tooth into the Modern Mexican Bar. What constitutes a Mexican bar, you ask? Suffice it to say it courts chocolate, salt, caramel and peanuts; creaminess, crunch and fluff—all at the same time.
When it finally comes time to close the books and drink menus, consider taking up another library hour for another day — perhaps a study of the various regions of Mexico? Represented, of course, by their best and brightest tequilas, twinkling under brushed bronze library lamps.
