My girfriend and I had been looking forward to our visit to Topolobampo in Chicago for dinner this weekend but were surprised to be greeted at the door by armed guards insisting on inspecting the contents of our bags and scanning us for weapons. As we entered the dining room, there was another large man with a communications device in his ear, looking plenty serious. In the back corner was the President-elect, Barack Obama, together with his wife and some others dining on the finest Mexican food the U.S. has to offer.

Despite sharing the room with the imminent leader of the free world, our thoughts quickly turned to our own personal concerns. As we sat by the window fronting onto the street, we could not help but think that whatever danger he might be in, we were in much greater peril. After all, he was ensconced in a protected corner with people and firepower everywhere while we were unarmed and out front. We were cannon-fodder in the case of any potential trouble. But considering that any perceived danger was likely to be entirely a product of our (and the Secret Service’s) imagination (and of course – and thankfully – it turned out to be exactly that) the more serious problem was that the entire service staff was distracted by his presence, resulting in a poorer dining experience for us.

I’m sorry if that sounds selfish, and I don’t mean to belittle the very important concerns for the safety of such an important person. Also, I don’t begrudge the man his nights out, nor the waitstaff‘s giddiness at being able to spend some time with him and even to care more about him. But notwithstanding the privilege of being in his presence and the ability to crow about it here and elsewhere, I was there for the food and the service after all.

Our waitress was a friendly and professional server, but it was her assistants who brought us every course and were therefore charged with explaining the intricate mastery that went into each. This was a tall order for these shy quiet Mexicans whose heavily accented voices were soft and impossible to understand amid the cacophony of the room and whose vocabulary was not up to the task.

Additionally, though we were a table of only two, every course of the tasting menus were brought and served to the wrong person until the waitress showed up to put down cutlery for the last course and found out that she was giving the special fish knife to the wrong person. “Has it been like this from the start?” she asked and we nodded in response. “I’ll fix it. Sorry.” Great, thanks.

The main course was followed by a sweet Mexican coffee redolent with the aromas of cinnamon and cloves. Unfortunately, the assistant server who brought the coffee in the French press coffeemaker forgot to put a filter in the press, providing us with a very flavorful, if somewhat grainy, cup.

The food was expertly conceived, perfectly cooked and sauced, but frankly struck me as just so much self-congratulatory culinary showing off, in marked contrast to the orgasmic experience we had not too long ago when we ate at the more casual sister restaurant next door, Frontera Grill – the difference being that most of the pleasure rests with the diner instead of the chef. There we had an absolutely and overwhelmingly fantastic meal; great and friendly service, bright lights and uplifting decor, perfect drinks, and at half the price!

Topolobampo is not for me. It is a touch stuffy, the food may be more complex and adventurous but it isn’t as good. For those on the bleeding edge with more sophisticated tastes and more money to spend than I have, go for it; for those who want a great meal, Frontera’s your best bet!

Or, you could try Salpicón. My understanding is that this restaurant was founded by a former employee of Topolobampo more than a decade ago – and it was around that time that I first visited for brunch. Since then, I have always returned to order the very same meal which remains on the menu to this day (Huevos Motuleños-sunny-side eggs served on a tostada with black beans and surrounded by a spicy tomato-habanero sauce; garnished with peas, smoked ham and plantains). We went again this year – the morning after Topolobampo – and for the first time I tried something new, Arrachera con Huevos (charcoal-grilled, marinated skirt steak served with two eggs, any style, with a spicy salsa borracha and black beans). A delicious brunch to be sure, but now I have to wait another year for the Motuleños!

The happy room and the friendly, funny, accommodating service brightened up a very dreary cold, dark and rainy day. The fabulous margaritas didn’t hurt either. These were the ones way back that set the standard for us for margaritas – a standard that most every other place fails to meet. Olé!