Dining Review: Cielito in Providence

Corundas served with a Mariposa margarita. Photography by Angel Tucker

People often say the hardest work is your sophomore effort. After all, first projects are the manifestation of young dreams. Second acts, ironically, require more forethought and planning in order to capture that same originality and energy. But that doesn’t make it impossible. 

It’s been two years since Diego Alcantar opened Tuxpan Taqueria in Central Falls, and a year since the restaurant was nominated for a James Beard semifinalist award for Best New Restaurant. It’s been a family affair since its inception, but the family extends far beyond who’s in the kitchen. Tuxpan is a cultural representation of Michoacán, Mexico — the home state that Alcantar left when he was young and which he continues to articulate one dish at a time. 

The vibrant floral mural above the bar. Photography by Angel Tucker

Much of Tuxpan’s menu centers on street food — portable bites that are long to braise and quick to serve. It’s in the panoply of textures and the intensity of flavor that Tuxpan is revealed and, because tacos and sandwiches are so accessible — even in New England — the enthusiasm has been widespread. But here’s the thing about food that’s fast: It disappears so quickly that diners spend more time in the memory of it than the experience. 

Enter Cielito, Alcantar’s latest iteration of Michoacán food. It’s housed in Oberlin’s original locale on Union Street, a space that Libby Slader has transformed from idiosyncratic to earnest. The walls are a rich teal blue with an explosion of blooming flowers over the bar in a mural by Greg Pennisten. Tilework and terra cotta dinnerware dominate the aesthetic, along with a series of framed lottery cards on the walls. It’s not overly designed, but it’s celebratory, and that’s a pretty good reflection of Alcantar’s culinary vision. 

Cielito doesn’t take reservations, but the vibe is laid-back, even when it’s busy. The crowd is about as diverse as it gets in Providence — age, ethnicity, orientation and identity are represented across the spectrum and that, too, reflects an intentionally welcoming threshold. Alcantar’s business model is entirely rooted in family: behind the stove, at the front of the house and walking in the door. 

Empanadas de camaron. Photography by Angel Tucker

Ask anyone working for a recommendation and you’re in stellar hands. The bartender has a story for every cocktail, the pastry chef is occasionally moonlighting as a server, and the servers will tell you that they grew up on this food. If people joke that Rhode Islanders are all six degrees of separation from each other, then Cielito just added the sister city of Tuxpan into the mix of extended neighbors. 

Though the taqueria menu makes an appearance during lunch hours, dinner is dominated by drinks and dishes that require both cutlery and your attention. Agua fresca rules at Cielito, but even the cocktails use flowers and juicy sodas — hibiscus, butterfly pea powder, fluffy o.j., Three Cents grapefruit — to make technicolor tequila. It’s part of the reason that diners are so varied: Partaking or sober, of age or under, Cielito wants the whole family at the table and offers everyone the same pathway to a nightly celebration. 

Framed lottery cards and guitars line a teal-colored wall. Photography by Angel Tucker

Like Tuxpan, much of the menu appears misleadingly humble. Empanadas, quesadillas and guacamole have become so familiar to American diners that they expect to know the dish before it even arrives. But Maria Alcantar, Diego’s mother and the de facto bigwig in the kitchen, is an ambassador for simplicity. Her approach, particularly in smaller plates, is to find the sublime balance between acidity, sweetness and salt inherent in her ingredients. 

Guacamole is impossibly bright ($14), corn tamales hold their sweetness against tomato salsa ($13) and ensalada de nopal ($13) is a melange of opposing texture. Where she does upend the system entirely is in her dough. Thought you knew tortillas and empanadas? Not until now. There’s a delicacy to each that shifts a diner’s attention away from the obvious stars — cheese and meat — and toward the base that’s holding it all together. In Italian terms, it’s the absolute necessity of making pasta by hand, enabling the simplest ingredients to sing instead of speak. 

Mole de olla served with guacamole and tostadas. Photography by Angel Tucker

As the menu heads into larger plates, however, Alcantar eschews both modesty and American expectations. Hallelujah. While there’s drama in the presentation — whole fish is wrapped in corn husks and disrobed at the table — it’s the sauces that dominate the dining room. Enchiladas, filled with carrot and potato, are served in mole verde ($24), a mixture of tomatillos, chili peppers and pumpkin seeds — an interpretation that makes a rich dish entirely vegetal and bright. Can enchiladas, filled with queso chihuahua, be considered “light”? Apparently. If this is your flavor profile, lean hard into the chuleta de puerco
($35). It’s a formidable pork chop that undergoes the same transformation: sitting in a green salsa and surrounded by seasonal vegetables, it tastes like a pig that grew out of a garden. 

But the undisputed queen of any evening is mole de olla ($35), a stew-like dish that oozes romanticism in the same way an Esquivel novel does. An unctuous short rib keeps company with soft potatoes and green beans — a trio that tastes like comfort to so many cultures. But it’s the guajillo pepper broth that charms and beguiles. The name deceives in that it’s a soup rather than a sauce, sitting in the crossroads of savory and tangy and worth picking up the bowl to drink it down. 

If main courses are Cielito’s sincerest expression of identity, it’s still worth exploring the desserts, which are decidedly more playful. Most dishes are hot (Mexican hot chocolate and tamalitos or Mexican coffee with conchitas) or cold — in the form of ice cream and popsicles. The most surprising option is a bowl of finely chopped fruit and onions with orange juice and chili powder ($12) — which eats less like a dessert and more like the snack you’d grab walking down a city street in summer. 

But everyone gravitates toward the tres leches cake ($12) which comes piped with cream, and a minute pitcher of corn or chocolate milk alongside to pour over the top. It’s a departure from tradition but it places Diego Alcantar, his family, and his burgeoning sphere of influence exactly where he thrives — between history and tomorrow’s food.

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CIELITO

186 Union St., Providence, instagram.com/cielitomexicankitchen

Enchiladas verdes served with agua de Jamaica. Photography by Angel Tucker

Open for lunch and dinner Mon.–Sat.
No reservations. Wheelchair accessible.
Street parking. 

CUISINE: Regional and modern Mexican. 

CAPACITY: Forty in the dining room and bar. 

VIBE: Sunday dinner in Michoacán.

PRICES: Small plates: $9-$14; larger plates: $24-$35; dessert: $9-$12. 

KAREN’S PICKS: Empanadas, enchiladas, mole de olla, tres leches cake.