RESTAURANT REVIEW : Chuy’s Has a Flavor All Its Own

Chuy’s is what I’d call Mexican-psychedelic, a fantasy-driven restaurant and bar designed for surf bums, college kids and anyone else who has never seen the real Mexico. It’s exactly like a tourist trap you’d find in Vallarta or Cabo, perhaps even more outrageous. The big question is, what is it doing in the middle of downtown Glendale?

Maybe something in the water around here makes these places popular. Glendale has become a magnet for creative Mexican restaurants lately, what with the recent openings of Hondo’s and Crocodile Cantina. But nothing prepares you for the likes of Chuy’s.

Taking up a good portion of a new shopping center called the Exchange, it’s an enormous barn-like structure with a powder-blue deconstructionist ceiling well over 20 feet high. There are gigantic papier mache sharks hanging down everywhere and, sticking out of air ducts, mythical creatures that could be straight out of a Matt Groening comic strip. A veritable forest of fake palm trees rises up from the jungle floor--in this case, a floor of green and white checked linoleum.

We seat ourselves at one of the gaudy red and black vinyl booths directly under a life-sized dummy hanging from a silk parachute. One of my friends remarks that the fabric on the actual chute, an Op Art combination of black, yellow and crimson, reminds her of a Central American flag. I steady myself, sipping one of the most watery margaritas I’ve ever had, poised for the scene where Cheech Marin comes staggering in, looks around and suggests with that dazed grin, “Hey, man, let’s partyyy. “ He doesn’t show.

People at the bar, located smack in the middle of the room, have already started without him. They are a colorful group, glassy-eyed, beachy and tough-looking in tank tops and beards, like bikers in from the cold. They drink their Bohemias and nod their heads to the raucous heavy metal music playing on the high-powered sound system (actually, Jethro Tull and even Wings sneak in there from time to time). Hardly anyone is eating.

That, of course, is not the case in the restaurant section. I’d describe the food here as somewhat unfinished. If you grew up on Rosarito, Old El Paso or--dare I say it--Taco Bell, as generations of California kids have, I suppose it doesn’t taste so bad. It you had an abuelita (a Mexican grandmother) lovingly stirring a pot of carnitas throughout your entire childhood, you’d better stick to Bohemia yourself.

You get the message as soon as you dig in to the complimentary chips and salsa, waiting for you at a self-service area near the hostess stand. The chips are cold, hard and salty, and the salsas (one supposedly mild, the other supposedly hot) runny and bland.

In the starter section, you’ll notice Chuy’s pinto beans with red salsa. This isn’t a bean dip, but it’s not half bad, with a smoky, even spicy, flavor emanating from the burnished red sauce that the beans are stewing in. In the barrio, this would be known as frijoles a la olla , but there, people wouldn’t top these with globs of horrifyingly tasteless cheese, nor would they serve them in the sort of round paper cup usually reserved for ice cream sundaes. Incidentally, everything is served on paper here. The water shortage, the menu explains. (Right.)

Chuy’s Baja Wings are something else, a Tabasco freak’s dream dish that turns fingers a wacky Day-Glo orange. They’re deep-fried and crisp, served with celery sticks and a little tub of ranch dressing. The tortilla soup, on the other hand, is a nightmare. It tastes like a bowl of brine, with a jumble of dry, hard tortilla strips sticking straight out of the bowl like porcupine quills. Someone should tell the kitchen that the tortillas are supposed to be in the soup.

The main dishes, luckily, are quite a bit better. Chuy’s specializes in mesquite-broiled beef, chicken and angel shark, served by the quarter- or half-pound, with the usual accompaniments. The beef is sirloin, thinly sliced and really quite tasty, although just a shade tougher than I prefer. The chicken is OK too, a glorified version of El Pollo Loco. Tasteless rice and gluey tortillas detract, rather than add, to their appeal.

There’s more, of course. Chuy’s famous monster fajitas are fine, cooked with healthful canola oil, and you get a scoop of decent guacamole to eat them with. The shrimp fajitas are tender and surprisingly light on the salt, with good green pepper and grilled onion. Pass, however, on the “wet” burrito. When they say wet, they mean as in the Johnstown Flood.

There isn’t much in the way of dessert, besides an average cheesecake topped with Kahlua, or a lemon and lime version they call margarita cheesecake. I wouldn’t run back for either one, but if Cheech ever decides to show up--hey, dude, we’ll party.

Suggested dishes: Chuy’s bean dip, $1.75; Combo No. 1 (chicken and beef), $6.95; shrimp fajitas, $8.95.

Chuy’s, 145 N. Maryland Ave., Glendale, (818) 243-8812. Lunch and dinner 11 a.m. to midnight Sundays through Thursdays, 11 a.m. to 2 a.m. Fridays and Saturdays. Full bar. Parking in adjacent structure. Most major credit cards. Dinner for two, food only, $15 to $25.