You thought irrational exuberance was laid to rest along with the dot coms and B’s portfolio, but that’s the phrase that comes to mind as another building goes up with granite countertops by the mile, Subzero wine cellars by the dozens, and those "unparalleled views of the downtown skyline." I could be referring to any of a few places around town, but the particular development that occasions these thoughts is the new complex on Excelsior Avenue in St. Louis Park. The wonder is how fast these things go up. One day it’s business as usual in a series of one and two story retail and professional establishments. On day two the buildings are gone. Next day the structures are going up, that sun yellow wallboard or insulation material (whatever it is) announcing the dawn of a new, upscale era, … . On the seventh day, the gods of Commerce rest—or partake of a feast.

For where there are condos for the upwardly mobile, restaurants for them have to be nearby. And, of course, any such restaurant must have some mark of distinction, some theme or marketing hook to bring the well-to-do in a neighborhood that might, not so long ago, have been more of a home for the ne’er-do-wells. It’s generally all about superficiality, and some features are de rigeur: a brick and/or wood-fired pizza oven, an attractive bar, art glass lighting, unique colors.

The latest incarnation of this business model is Mojito (on the ground floor of the aforementioned condo park in SLP). The theme here, emblazoned on the windows of the restaurant as you walk or drive by on Excelsior, is "South American steakhouse and bar." Cool, you think, we might have some Brazilian churrasco or Argentine beef from the pampas, the sort of fare you can’t get in the Twin Cities, even as "Latin" eateries are sprouting like weeds in an untended garden.

You would, unfortunately, be wrong. There’s exactly one steak on the menu, a "fire-grilled top sirloin" with French fries, fire-roasted peppers, and chimichurri (Argentine herb sauce), plus an Argentine steak salad (not likely pampas-fed). The rest of the offerings are more Central than South American, with Cuban, Puerto Rican, and Mexican roast pork features, or from even further afield—there are more pizzas than steaks, plus a pasta dish. More vegetarian options are listed than any self-respecting steakhouse would offer, and include the pasta (angel hair, with asparagus, sun-dried tomatoes, goat cheese, and thyme), some of the pizzas (there’s an intriguing one with garlic cream, almonds, porcini oil, parmesan, and a sunny side egg), and a black bean stew.

Of course, Mojito has a full bar and some signature drinks, including sangria and mojito varieties. B went with one of the latter; I ordered a pisco sour, made with pisco (a Chilean brandy), egg whites, and lime according to the menu but served with lemon rather than lime quarters stuffed into the small highball glass. It tasted like good hangover remedy. About two dozen wines by the glass are also available.

As a starter we split the empanadas. These come four to an order, two each with cheese (Argentine mozzarella) and ground beef. The test of a good empanada, as of other turnover like snacks, is the crust more than the filling, and Mojito gets a B-. The crust was nice and flaky on the outside, but once you got through the first few layers you encountered a doughy, underdone substrate. The beef version was better, both more done and with a savory, spicy filling which included diced red peppers and boiled-egg whites. The Argentine mozzarella was unlike any mozzarella I’ve had before, more reminiscent of a ricotta or farmer’s cheese.

For my main dish I had the mofango, Puerto Rican roast pork with onions and green chillies and a mound of mashed plantains. The whole dish was topped with cole slaw, which was crisp and fresh but more sweet than sharp. The pork was tender and succulent but the bland plantains failed the dish.

For dessert we split a Brazilian coconut custard. This came topped with a scoop of an insipid coconut sorbet. The custard was better but too eggy—apparently the leftover yolks from the pisco sours and empanadas get used up here. I did like the chewy, cookielike crust. I eschewed my usual espresso for a regular coffee and regretted the choice; it was Minnesota-weak.

I think there was a Perkin’s where Mojito now stands. I’ll take the former.

Have you recently been to St. Louis Park, more specifically on the stretch of Excelsior Blvd. between France Avenue and Highway 100? I daren’t claim this as my neighborhood (A would be down on me like a ton of bricks) but I shop at the Byerly’s there and play tennis at the Beltline public courts. This past year there has been a spate of new construction consisting of high-end condominiums and apartments. Gone are the grease-spattered Gippers (more drunks per square yard than most bars), the dark and smoke filled Classic Café and the equally low-rent Bunnies. In their place—if not physically at least functionally—in the ground floor of a newly constructed building is the new Latin-Caribbean inspired restaurant, Mojito, started, no doubt, by an hopeful entrepreneur aiming to attract some of the well-heeled residents of the new condominium block.

Is it just me or has there been a profusion of restaurants with a Latin theme? Babalu, Conga Latin Bistro, El Meson, Victor’s 1959 Café and then the bars/restaurants that aren’t overtly Latin but try and cash in on the Salsa dance craze: Fhima’s and Minneapolis Café.

You can’t go to a place named Mojito and order wine; I mean even though it was before noon my responsibility to you, dear readers, was obvious: I ordered the signature drink, a Mojito. The Mojito is the sort of drink that Cuban holidays are made of (if only Uncle Sam would relent); it, on the other hand, is made of rum, sugar, mint leaves, soda and ice. The important part is to crush the mint leaves and liquid sugar together. The menu suggests that this libation maybe ordered by the pitcher, I settled for the single drink. Alas the Mojito served to me was a pale imitation of the real thing. I suspect the problem was that instead of using fresh mint crushed with sugar to create the drink a liquid form of mint was used. I was reminded of what a former colleague of mine had said upon first being introduced to a Mojito: "tastes like my toothpaste!" If Mojito is not your thing there are over a dozen wines by the glass. A chose another South American concoction that I tasted but didn’t find appealing either.

We shared an order of empinadas to start with, two each of a cheese and beef. The cheese empinadas were substandard with air bubbles trapped in the pastry crust, as if they’d been quickly and violently cooked. The beef ones were much better with the beef being the right savory flavor but even here there was too much grease, indeed you could feel the grease ooze out in your mouth as you bit into them. For my money the best empinadas (and the best Mojito for that matter) are served by Conga Latin Bistro.

For our entrées, considering that this place bills itself as a Latin American steakhouse—conjuring pictures of Argentinean and Brazilian beef—, we were not spoiled for choice when it came to meat. I ordered the Chile beefsteak sandwich. As I tried to eat this sandwich that was rapidly crumbling, with the soggy bread coming undone, I cast my mind back to a "real" Latin American steakhouse that I had eaten at in Rio De Janeiro over a year or so ago. Meat was obtained by ordering from a skewer carrying waiter, who had everything from chicken hearts (definitely A’s country) to beef ribs that would be served directly from skewers to your plate. The sandwich was tolerable but I had great difficulty in finishing it. Some of the other standout menu items that we could have chosen from include Mexican roast pork & hominy soup, Argentine steak salad, Cuban roast pork sandwich and the vegetarian black bean stew. Surprisingly there are four pizzas on the menu (a salute to gringo appetites?).

We finished our meal with a coconut custard, the crust of which I found too hard to cut and gave up after a solitary bite. The bill, with A’s coffee, came to $54.00.

The service was extremely poor and our waitress must have been very new. Initially I was mistakenly offered the Argentinean salad instead of the beefsteak sandwich I had ordered. In hindsight I may have done better with the salad but how is one supposed to know?

B