Unpretentious, long-running restaurant preparing an assortment of familiar Mexican & Tex-Mex dishes.
Address and Contact Information
Address: 871 N Main St, Logan, UT 84321
Phone: (435) 752-5743
Website: http://www.elsollogan.com/
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El Sol Mexican Restaurant – Logan
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Reviews
El Sol is a fascinating case study in late 20th century restaurant design. It echoes amusement, adorning a multitude of colors. However, it feels like a performance of heritage and an attempt at affluence. The carpet runs near black where a plethora of customers have reigned in, speaking to the glory days that once were. The seats have tears, the paintings and decorations remain dusty, and the tables wobble with antiquated grace. At its best it is a time capsule and at its worst it is avoidance.
Does the menu honor Mexican heritage or is it a symptom of creative bankruptcy? El Sol translates to “the Sun” in Spanish, however, this moniker lends itself neither to brightness nor clarity. On the eastside of the restaurant, mounted high above the eyeline, rests three windows. It is not the architecture itself that demands our attention but its lack of spatial awareness and subtle ignorance of the restaurant’s title. It speaks to the exhaustion of middle-class America and the polarization of the restaurant scene in Logan. Is this an ephemeral flop or does it reflect a lack of sustainability?
Disregarding the interior, the food itself is a co-opting of Mexican culture. What’s most striking though is the menu’s sense of neutrality, its absence of accountability, a failed pastiche—a travesty of the highest order. To call something “supreme” is to stake a claim. However, nothing reigns “supreme”—it is a false idol, a pitiful deity. This is important; it is assertive rather than aspirational, it suggests urgency not delicacy.
If freshness is God, then El Sol’s salsa is the antichrist and like the antichrist, people flock to it in droves; as said in Revelation, “all the world marveled and followed the beast.” The salsa’s paradoxical sensations are overshadowed by its jarring texture. It is completely smooth with the exception of the occasional white onion and green bell pepper—now nearly gray after being continuously submerged in acid. It is seasoned well, subtly spiced and splashed with what seems to be vinegar. Surprisingly, it is enjoyable, especially if you disregard its echo of ketchup.
The enchilada sauce lacks depth and integrity, yet fills plates unapologetically. The chile verde—while one of their more favorable protein options—is red. This flatulating disregard of the language this food seeks as its heritage is irresponsible at best. It is a straight arming of culture. The absence of “authentic” in the restaurant’s name reveals what words fail to express. In this way, the restaurant functions not only as an appropriation but as an index of narrative strain.
The transcendence of vulnerability and flagrant interior leaves much to be desired. This is not a subversion of a genre nor does it honor Mexican culture. There is no irony performed, only an unsettling sincerity. A veneer of hospitality is placed over a spatial confusion—indeed, the service is performed well. But what El Sol provides in comfort is performative in nature. There’s a tacit agreement that if you don’t mention it, then they won’t as well.
I ordered a chicken fajita and when our waitress brought it out, I couldn’t believe how little food there was! This meal cost me $20.00 and I got MAYBE half a skillet. It was the skimpiest portion I have ever seen! What few pieces of chicken I had were gristly and barely chewable. The side of black beans looked old and dried out to where I didn’t dare eat them.
I have loved eating at El Sol, but after this experience I doubt I will be back any time soon!