The Borimex website looks a lot like the restaurant: homey, hodgepodge and authentically Latin American.
“Borimex” is a fusion of Mexican and boricua, or Puerto Rican. You’re literally eating in a Latin grocery. Bottles of salsa, candy, party favors and bags of corn flour line the walls. Before you sit you can grab a Jarritos or other soda from the fridge in the corner. The service is prompt and polite. The food comes out hot and fast. The bistek is not the chewy kind passed off as authentic (the way Old El Paso passes for refried beans at so many “Mexican” restaurants). The beans are runny and black and served with crema. There is no food coloring in the “Spanish rice.” Even the meat-filled chilis rellenos are dripping with cheese and favor. Two house salsas—including a spicy, smoky red—are perfect for adjusting the thermostat.
But what makes La Borimex special is where it sits. Look out the front window, and you’ll see a Lancaster County farm. Sit on the back patio and you’ll see another farm. Like a Latino UFO, La Borimex has landed in Ephrata. But it’s no alien—this county has more Latinos than Amish. We just need more real Latino restaurants.
http://laborimex.com/
Lily's on Main has the most comfortable, classy dining space in Lancaster County, even with the oddly embossed moon-and-star ceiling panels and the cheaply framed art prints. When dusk falls, the glow of candles and immense faceted ceiling lamps make one forget that the Art Deco windows were installed in 1993 and afford only a wide view of Ephrata car traffic.
No, really, it's a beautiful space, and on some days atmosphere is almost as important as food and drink.
Which unfortunately weren't stellar. The sweetness of muddled cucumber, lime and mint all but obliterated Hendrick's Gin in the Spring Martini. The Man Up Manhattan embarrassed itself with cranberry juice and Drambuie.
In the Portuguese Mussels and Clams, the mussels and sausage were delicious. The sweetbread that came with the meal was not quite right for sopping up white wine and garlic butter.
Salads were green and fresh. My caesar shared its plate with roasted tomatoes and sausage on flatbread. Shepherd's pie was served in a very hot skillet. It was tasty, but to answer the rhetorical question on the menu: no, we needn't say anything.
My date's "New Orleans style" meatloaf had never been to the bayou.
The most striking thing about the evening was the pace of service. Although the room was half-full with no one else waiting, it took the hostess nearly 15 minutes to seat us.
While hanging out by the coat closet, we watched one woman leave swearing to never return, then overheard an argument between a server and our hostess over table assignments. We wondered if we were being punished for not making a reservation.
Speed picked up as the evening progressed. Dishes were cleared as we finished them; water and coffee got refilled unobtrusively. We felt taken care of and not rushed. "It's like service from a bygone era," we joked. "1993."
http://www.lilysonmain.com/
