Vicia spinoff Taqueria Morita gets the showcase it demands. Where did its charm go?

ST. LOUIS — The original Taqueria Morita needed to move somewhere else. Inside, obviously, when fall’s first chill arrived at its outdoor-only dining room. But even during its summer season, the restaurant dealt with drowsy heatwaves and sudden thunderstorms.

The menu from chef Aaron Martinez demanded a permanent home. The culinary director of Take Root Hospitality, the restaurant group behind Vicia, Winslow’s Table and Bistro La Floraison, Martinez crafted an eggplant “barbacoa” taco as smoky and deeply savory as beef or lamb barbacoa — and as mesmerizing as any of the dishes emerging from Vicia’s own kitchen.

His fish tacos needed no alchemy: light, crisp tempura-fried cod striped with a jalapeño salsa and a chipotle crema, with crunchy red cabbage as garnish. You would never confuse Taqueria Morita’s home on Vicia’s outdoor pavilion with your favorite beachfront bar in the Mayan Riviera. On a balmy summer evening, however, with a margarita sweating in your hand and the mezcal-flushed babble rising around you, the restaurant’s vibes were impeccable.

I knew it couldn’t last forever. I reminded myself of this as I sat inside the brick-and-mortar Taqueria Morita, which opened in April in the Cortex district of the Central West End. In fact, this new version of Taqueria Morita is located on the other side of a parking lot from Vicia and its outdoor pavilion.

The menu is familiar. The fish tacos, essentially identical to what I ate two years ago, remain the best in town. Right now, the barbacoa tacos feature mushroom instead of eggplant — a meatier variation that draws its complexity and a funky little strut from goat cheese, an epazote crema and the crunch and earthy heat of a peanut salsa macha.

The vibes haven’t translated to the new space as easily. Taqueria Morita occupies the former Wasabi Sushi Bar building outside the Aloft Hotel. Without any context, you might guess that Taqueria Morita has taken over a former sushi restaurant. The erstwhile sushi bar still stands to one side of the central bar and dining area, repurposed as a sort of prep station for orders of chips and salsa or guacamole.

You place those orders at your table through a QR-code menu. (If you sit at the bar, as I did on some visits, you can order directly from the bartender.) When the restaurant isn’t particularly busy, you can hear the computer at the former sushi bar as it receives each request for chips.

Ding! Your chips and two salsas — a tart, hot verde and a smoky, hotter roasted tomato — arrive at your table quickly thereafter. This basic order is $4. A scoop of bright, creamy guacamole is $6 more. (Ding!) For a group of two or more sharing chips, salsa and guacamole, you will likely need a refill of those chips for another $2. (Ding!)

The original Taqueria Morita employed a casual counter-service model but made it a part of the show. You waited in a line that stretched along the pavilion, your anticipation building as you saw the plates of tacos whisked from the open kitchen near Vicia’s hearth to the tables around you. If a table wasn’t yet ready after you placed your order, you could still enjoy the summer evening and your drink while you waited.

Taqueria Morita 2.0 is built for efficiency. Everything arrives rapidly. If you want to course your meal — say, chips with salsa and guacamole first; followed by tuna crudo sharp with soy sauce or, better, a tostada with remarkably tender grilled octopus, garlic aioli, habanero chile and the intensely charry Yucatecan spice paste recado negro; then, as the main course, a few different tacos, two per plate — you should stagger the order as you go.

I understand the appeal of the model. The post-pandemic era has scrambled diners’ behaviors and expectations, not to mention the industry’s labor pool. If I were a restaurateur now, I would also err on the side of convenience. But when your date-night dinner or family lunch can crest $100 with tax and tip, this model veers too easily from relatively fast-paced to disaffected.

More importantly, the food from Martinez and his team deserves better. As I wrote two years ago, the appeal of the original Taqueria Morita went beyond its al-fresco charms. It asked St. Louis to expand its idea of what a Mexican restaurant could be.

The menu still pushes against expectations, more than enough to recommend the food here, if not the entire experience. The touches can be subtle twists on a familiar taco, like the smoked pineapple that pops against luscious pork carnitas, holding its own against both pickled red onion and a habanero salsa. Or the kitchen might look back across that parking lot to Vicia for inspiration: a bundle of smoked carrots, their texture yielding but not collapsing, sluiced with a lush, summery salsa of charred tomatillo and dill.

Moving Taqueria Morita next-door to Vicia makes obvious sense logistically. But I wonder if Morita’s new vibes, somewhere between generic hotel restaurant and elevated Chipotle, would be so grating if Vicia and its outdoor pavilion weren’t still right there.

Take Root Hospitality — founded by Tara and Michael Gallina, with Martinez later joining the couple as a partner — certainly understands the value of Vicia’s pavilion. Just this past weekend, it opened for the season as Vicia Wine Garden, featuring drinks and casual snacks, your ex’s surprisingly flashy new date after the ostensibly amicable breakup.

At Taqueria Morita, at least, a consoling beverage and a basket of chips requires just a few taps on your phone.

(Ding.)