Perhaps you're not ready to dive off La Quebrada, a cliff where divers take death-defying leaps into the water below (it's one of Acapulco's main tourist attractions). Instead dive into La Flor De Acapulco, a Belmont-Cragin restaurant known for authentic Mexican cuisine.
Seat yourself; a preoccupied server chats with regulars praising their meals. In the main dining area, guests eat in elevated booths beside unevenly hung copies of Diego Rivera portraits imported from Jalisco. The walls hold imitation swordfish and an Aztec calendar. Live vines snake the room and a crew of pinatas dangle from the ceiling. Guests clearly forget about the smoking ban from time to time; NO SMOKING signs photocopied onto fluorescent-colored paper glitter the room.
An alternative to Belvedere's Grand Terrace (a banquet hall across the street) and other area restaurants, La Flor De Acapulco offers its party room for a maximum group of 40. A Pacific paradise mists onto you when entering this space. A painting of playful porpoises and a giant-metal sun merge with aqua walls.
While not too much occurs on this sometimes sketchy strip of Grand Avenue, it'd be nice if a plaster of ads didn't closet the view. Another disappointment comes about when visiting its saloon-style bar, where only the purchase of a meal allows you to buy a drink. This annoys some guests with a craving for one of the bar's signature cocktails, which bear a strong resemblance to Mr. Potato Head. Each tropical drink is poured into a gutted coconut or pineapple, then decorated with cherries for eyes and a half-pineapple ring for a smile ($8).
Typical Mexican feasts abound with tacos, burritos and tortas, but soups and seafood items are the things that inspire repeat guests. Other entrees share names with famous Mexican cities like the Durango (a beef tostada suiza, chicken enchilada pablana and pork taco) and the Puerto Vallarta (a seafood tostada and flank steak flauta), both $6.50.
Centerstage Reviewer: David-Anthony Gonzalez
