If restaurants could talk, MasaMoro would tell you it’s got the short end of the stick. Described on its own website as a “tiny taco spot next door” and “Guido’s little sister” (yes, that Guido, of the Goose fame), it doesn’t even have a dedicated venue of its own.
It might also complain that it’s only allowed to emerge after 7pm, when it takes over the kitchen of a sandwich shop that Nicosians often describe as an institution. And not just any institution, either. A storied establishment that has been around since 1955, the granddaddy of Cypriot sandwiches – Yiapana.
Of course, restaurants can’t talk, so they must rely on their food to do the talking for them. In that regard, MasaMoro is a restaurant of remarkably few words.
Its entire menu consists of eight items, dessert included, with the humble taco at the centre of it all. My faithful dining companion and I decide there is only one sensible course of action: we’ll have one of everything.
Stepping into MasaMoro feels slightly surreal. Yiapana’s identity is everywhere. The only indications that the premises have changed hands for the evening are a colourful, hand-drawn menu on an A4 sheet taped to the metal ordering counter and several bottles of Valentina hot sauce, a staple of Mexican street food.
With little in the way of music, lighting or customers, the place has the peculiar atmosphere of a kitchen that has come alive after everyone else has gone home. Something vaguely reminiscent of Ratatouille, minus the rats, one hopes.
For a fleeting moment, I even wondered whether Yiapana knew what was going on in its kitchen after closing time. (It does.)
After taking our order, the member of staff behind the counter helpfully, if somewhat bashfully, suggested that we might prefer to sit next door at Guido and the Goose.
And so we did. The contrast was striking. Where MasaMoro was quiet and dimly lit, the Goose was bright, lively and well populated despite the recent rain.
Since MasaMoro offered nothing in the way of drinks beyond bottled water, we ordered ours from Guido’s and settled in.
Soon enough, the tortilla chips found their way to our little table, freshly made and drizzled with a deep-green salsa verde and a generous helping of guacamole. The salsa brought a pleasant piquancy, the guacamole a rich creaminess, and together they made short work of the crisp, freshly fried chips.
The tuna tostada was an absolute crowd-pleaser. Rich yet refreshing, it transformed seemingly ordinary ingredients into something unexpectedly luxurious. MasaMoro’s own spicy mayo brought everything together, adding just enough heat and richness without overwhelming the other flavours.
As for the tacos, the consensus was that the Baja fish was the best of the bunch. The savoury battered cod, with its crisp coating and tender flesh, was beautifully offset by the sharpness of the pickled red cabbage. Each bite moved between richness and acidity, the two flavours contrasting without ever competing.
The pork al pastor, served with a small wedge of pineapple, was another success. The fruit’s bright acidity and sweetness cut through the richness of the pork, providing a refreshing counterpoint to its deeply savoury flavour.
The beef birria divided our little table. My faithful dining companion was decidedly unimpressed by the accompanying dipping consommé. The beef itself, however, was much harder to fault. Slow-cooked until wonderfully tender, it had a depth and complexity of flavour that spoke to the care taken in its preparation.
The only real letdown was the tinga chicken. Drowning in sauce and seemingly overcooked, it had lost much of its texture, becoming an almost indeterminate mush. Visually, it resembled one of those aggressively yellow, sepia-toned filters Hollywood insists on using whenever a film ventures south of the American border.
Dessert brought perhaps the evening’s greatest surprise: a fascinating combination of raspberry and roasted bell pepper mousse, chocolate and chilli crumble, and cajeta ice cream. Our waiter described it as a bestseller, and it was easy to understand why. What could easily have been a novelty dish turned out to be genuinely delicious, with that irresistible “just one more bite” quality.
Every spoonful revealed something slightly different, the sweetness, richness and gentle heat shifting with each mouthful. An ambitious combination, executed beautifully. A triumph to finish.
For all its modest presentation, MasaMoro takes its food seriously. The dishes are prepared fresh and in-house, while ingredients such as the flour are sourced from Mexico. There is an unmistakable commitment to doing things properly, even if the restaurant itself seems reluctant to make much of a fuss about it.
There are growing pains, certainly. The tinga chicken needs attention, and the whole operation occasionally feels like an afterthought beside its more established sibling.
But the tuna tostada, the Baja fish taco, the beautifully tender birria and that extraordinary dessert tell a different story.
Calling MasaMoro “Guido’s little sister” might be convenient, but after eating our way through practically everything it has to offer, it feels rather dismissive.
Little sister has plenty to say for herself.
VITAL STATISTICS
SPECIALTY Tacos
WHERE MasaMoro, Stasandrou 2, Nicosia
WHEN Tuesday to Sunday 7pm – 11pm. Monday closed
CONTACT 99 058176
HOW MUCH €6 – €13