Quixote Fine Cuisine: Everything but Flavor
First Impressions
Situated right off the main drag in downtown Brevard, Quixote Fine Cuisine presents itself as another member of the WNC fine dining scene, with its prime location, outdoor seating, large beer selection, quirky decor, and random dying plants in the large windows that overlook the streets. The bar area doubles as reception, and the place is always busy. Still, I can't help but reflect on the fact that Don Quixote was Spanish, while the restaurant is, at least ostensibly, Mexican—a muddled cultural reference that suggests more attention was paid to branding than authenticity.
Atmosphere and Service
Quixote’s shines on decor; the exterior - modern, glass, minimalist - is remarkably fresh for Brevard, which can be a bit architecturally stuffy in the downtown. The interior is beautiful, except for the plants. Moravian star tin enclosures serve as light fixtures, the walls have art based on the theme: from generic spanish knights to Picasso’s famous Don Quixote doodle. The available flat spaces are crowded with brick-a-brac, probably to excess, but in this instance it seems to add to the charm. The wait staff I encountered were affable, and took their orders well, though they were probably a bot overstretched for optimal responsiveness.
Drink: Mojito
Excellent presentation, good use of mint and glass. Otherwise an utterly ordinary drink, perhaps even from a mix, overly sweet and fairly weak
Appetizer: Broccoli Cheese Soup
This dish arrived at our table unasked for and gratis, and it set expectations for the fare overall. Notwithstanding the mismatch of a classic American dish based on European cheese soups at a Mexican restaurant, it had some definite positive notes. While it was a bit oversalted, the cheese was delicate and did not overpower the taste of the broccoli, though the bits of floret were a bit overcooked, and the dish could have been strained and have maintained the same basic profile. Small critiques notwithstanding, it was a very pleasant dish. Unfortunately the appetizer was the high point for Quixote Fine Cuisine
Dish One: Tacos de Pescado
The presentation of this dish was minimalist in the extreme. 2-3 small sticks of fish crowned with some pickled red onions. Restraint with ingredients isn’t inherently a bad thing, but when you go minimal, the flavors that remain need to absolutely shine. If that was the goal here, the chef missed the mark entirely.
The fish used in tacos is naturally very mild, but it was largely unseasoned, both in the fish and the breading. Inexplicably, the onions added nothing, which I wouldn’t have thought was possible. The provided salsa and mayonnaise were equally mild and unremarkable, and the rice was a frozen mix, adding nothing. The most flavorful component of the dish was the tortilla, which was nearly overpowering in the context. All told, this was the worst taco I have ever had, even those made at home with bagged spice mix has more flavor.
Dish Two: Pork Molcajete
Molcajete refers not to the contents of the dish but rather its vessel. A volcanic bowl used for grinding seasonings is heated over an open flame and the ingredients are added, making for a dramatic table side presentation similar to the Korean dolsot or ubiquitous sizzling fajita skillet seen in Mexican restaurants throughout the United States. As a menu item, it can refer to almost anything served in a stone bowl or not. In all cases, it is a mix of different things: generally nopales, beans, meats, onions, peppers, and cheese, and I love it and order it almost anywhere I can. I just love the unpredictability and the variety of flavors that accompany this dish. While waiting for my order, I saw about five go out, and I was eager to try their take.
When it appeared, I was amazed. It was, without a doubt, one of the looking dishes I have ever seen. The colors of the vegetables - broccoli, peppers, red onions - with the black of the bowl and the white cheese made for an amazing picture, and it should have been a delightful dish. It had all the pieces, except for flavor. If I had to guess, it was not cooked correctly for the dish. The broccoli in particular had the oily taste of having been stir fried at too low a temperature, and it bore no traces of the other ingredients, which would have been present had they been cooked together. The meat was unremarkable, and the sauce tasted like nothing, literally oily nothing. Had I not tasted other things before and since, I would be worried that I had lost my senses. Never have I experienced a dish with so much potential miss the mark so utterly.
Value
Quixote’s prices reflect what it claims to be, a fine dining restaurant. As such, it is pretty expensive for what it is. Unlike many other establishments of its type, the portions were not diminutive. They were, in fact, quite generous. Entrees were in the mid-$20 range overall, and the Mojito was $15. That being said it is very hard for me to claim this it is a very good value because the food was, in fact fairly bad.
Final Verdict
Quixote Fine Cuisine strikes me as a restaurant that was once good. It must have been. After all, it’s managed to survive the unforgiving restaurant landscape of Western North Carolina for over thirteen years, no small feat in an industry where even solid spots often vanish within a year or two. Its lineage of glowing reviews and loyal patrons suggests a past marked by consistency, quality, and charm. I went in wanting to like it. The funky decor, the playful menu, the central downtown location—it all hints at a place with character and promise.
And yet, the experience I had was nothing short of disappointing. The food, on the day I visited, was awful. Overcooked, under-seasoned, and carelessly plated, it lacked the vibrancy and precision you'd expect from any place labeling itself as “fine dining.” I found myself wondering if I’d simply ordered the wrong thing—perhaps the osso buco or one of the other globally scattered dishes on the otherwise Mexican menu would have delivered more. But in a well-run kitchen, quality shouldn’t hinge entirely on ordering luck.
The restaurant feels like a place in transition. It still carries the bones of something special, but the spark—the attention to detail, the coherence in vision—has dimmed. Based on what I observed, it's possible there's a new chef in the kitchen who hasn’t yet been given the creative control to reshape the menu into something they truly own. Or maybe the restaurant is coasting on a reputation it hasn't lived up to in years. Either way, despite its potential and history, I simply can't recommend Quixote as it currently stands.
