Atla

Consistency in concept. As a few weeks pass since my lunchtime visit, that phrase best describes Atla. It feels like a casual offshoot of Cosmé. And I actively disliked it as much as I dislike Cosmé. Now, nothing is wrong with the food. I didn’t get sick. The service is fine. Nobody insulted me. The space is airy and clean. It all feels like a television set. Like at any moment a series of Haddad trucks could double-park on Lafayette and break down Atla in 2 hours. Future passerbys would ask did it really even happen? Did I even eat at Atla? And if you did, the food quality would not be the reason you’d remember it. On my visit I had the ranchero eggs with avocado. It was fine except not aligned with the service. I asked the waitress to help me select a dish (something spicy and not messy; note: I was in a suit). She struggled so mightily that I selected the ranchero to put her out of the misery I induced. What a messy dish. Large pieces of torn of tortilla covered in a nice sauce held two poached eggs. Stale tortillas don’t cut easily. The eggs will make the sauce messier. I asked myself how am I going to eat this mess? I tried and succeeded in staying clean though after 50% I stopped trying. It wasn’t worth the potential risk. I ordered an agua fresca to accompany my lunch. The drink is served in lovely glassware with a dozen small ice cubes (perfect cubes). Each time I lifted the drink to my mouth, the ice cubes came tumbling towards me. And this agua fresca was purple! What a potential mess. I asked for a straw and the check, finished my beverage, paid the bill and wondered: did that really happen?