Pollos Bravo

227 E. 116th St. (betw. 2nd & 3rd Aves.)

212-828-8635

It may be one of the last Manhattan neighborhoods to resist gentrification: Spanish Harlem, also known as East Harlem, or simply, El Barrio. Unjustly overlooked by many New Yorkers, its streets offer a fascinating array of row houses and idiosyncratic businesses, including a dentist's office whose sign proclaims "Gas Administered" and a storefront advertising "Cuchifritos" in flashing colored lights. With a steady pulse of dance music permeating the night, El Barrio is raffish and alive in the way 42nd St. once was.

Over the past several years, a number of Mexican restaurants have opened on and around E. 116th St., a reflection of the area's changing demographics (many of its recent immigrants are from Mexico). These establishments offer diners an exciting alternative to the chips and refried beans dominating much of the Mexican food in other parts of the city, and help make East Harlem an up-and-coming culinary destination.

My exploration of El Barrio's offerings began in a restaurant designed like a Mexican hacienda, complete with goopy stucco and a mounted deer's head on the wall. The place looked promising in a kitschy way, but the vinyl tablecloths were filthy, and after the host left me unattended for 10 minutes, I seized the chance to exit. My next stopping point was just a few doors down on 116th, and this time I stumbled upon a gem.

The experience at Pollos Bravo begins the moment you enter the comfortable space, filled with wooden tables and dim lighting that sets off subdued orange walls. A small shrine to the Virgen de Guadalupe resides in one corner, while homey touches such as poinsettias and candles abound. There's often some kind of activity-loud discussions at the bar, children running and playing-and the jukebox rarely lets up its medley of Latin pop hits, but these elements only add to the relaxed atmosphere. Here, even the crustiest types are guaranteed to lighten up.

The restaurant's menu is billed as Mexican and Peruvian, although it's the former cuisine that dominates. Portions are large, and first-timers should be aware that the staff sometimes tries to ply more food than necessary: Two people can easily share appetizers such as chicharrones de pollo bravo ($7) and have enough left over to take home. For the uninitiated, chicharrones (a staple of neighborhood Latin restaurants) are pieces of fried chicken cut into bite-sized portions. Too often they're weighed down by excessive grease, but at Pollos Bravo, their rich flavor is packed into the juices of the chicken itself, with results that are supremely tasty.

But it's the entrees that really set the restaurant apart. If one of the characteristics of great food is that it appeals to many senses, then the lomo salteado (an incredible value at $8) scores on three counts. With its lean chunks of sauteed beef offset by a blend of onions, tomatoes and cilantro, the dish is intoxicatingly fragrant. Presentation is thoughtful without being fussy, with each item carefully arranged on the plate (down to the tidy cone-shaped heap of rice). Best of all, the sweet and tart flavors are crafted to deepen with time, so that each distinct taste grows riper the longer the dish sits.

It would be hard to imagine a more dramatic presentation than what accompanies the bistec arrachera ($12), slices of beef that are doused with tequila then set on fire. This is a huge production: With my order, the first dousing didn't take, so the meat had to be covered in tequila a second time ("this way, you'll get drunker," the restaurant's owner joked). Once ignited, the flames shot two or three feet in the air, causing a small group to gather and look.

Such flamboyancies would be useless without depth, of course, and the dish itself hits you with the force of a one-two punch. First the meat surges with a spicy, almost salty burst of flavor; then it broadens into a peppery wave that fills the entire mouth. The soft, slippery texture of the nopal (cactus) served on the side only enhances the experience, acting as a palate neutralizer and allowing the meat to be approached each time with a clean perspective. This is the kind of food that brings people together, something to be savored and enjoyed over a long evening.

With such plenitude, I've never had room for dessert, although I'm determined to try the xango: cheesecake stuffed into a tortilla then deep-fried. Fortunately, Pollos Bravo is a restaurant that reveals more with each visit, and once hooked you're likely to return again. Like El Barrio as a whole, it tempers its allure with a dash of mystery, holding out a promise of revelation for the next time.