'Fear Factor' in Hell's Kitchen

Toloache likely isn't the first New York restaurant where I've eaten bugs, but it's the first where I've ordered them A house specialty at the new modern-Mexican bistro is the chapulin taco ($9 for a pair), filled with whole dried grasshoppers. And yes, I ate them.

Chef Julian Medina has overseen upscale Latin kitchens at Maya Zocalo, and Sushi Samba; here, he has devised a Mexican menu that touches classic bases such as mole poblano and chiles rellenos while infusing every dish with fresh flavors and ideas. He has a graceful touch The insects on the menu are sure to grab attention, but they oughtn't overshadow everything else.

The city's chefs have an amusing habit of using foie gras to give credibility to their signature dishes or preparations The ill-fated Lonesome Dove grilled foie gras with a Texan spice rub; Crave Ceviche Bar does a foie ceviche, and Toloache weighs in with a taco full of the fatty liver. At $14 a pair, it's the priciest taco on the menu but not by much, and is a surprisingly successful invention. The meat is seared; each taco I tried had two pieces of meat, one rich and full, the other nearly charred and deflated, providing crunch and contrast, and heightening the background flavor of the taco's other contents, a scoop of refried beans and a smoky chipotle salsa.

Contemporary Mexican cooking is nothing without a dollop of huitlacoche the woody, delicately flavored black corn fungus. At Toloache it's a core component of the mushroom tacos ($7), which are darkly savory and doused in sour cream. The best of the tacos, though might be the one stuffed with beef brisket that's braised in Negra Modelo beer and topped with both tomatillo salsa and a traditional brisket foil, horseradish.

Then come the grasshoppers. There's no pretending they're not there: The tacos arrive flopped open, showing their succulently verminous contents to the world. They don't look like little shrimps or nuts or anything but what they are: insects in your food. In each taco, a tart green salsa enfolds a couple of dozen little deep-brown specimens; there's lime on the side to squeeze on top. The dried chapulines remind me most of crisp-surfaced raisins, with a distinct lemony-fruity flavor that's backed with a toasty, almost singed taste.

After that hurdle, the rest of the menu is easy. Main courses include a pair of fine, fat enchiladas ($20), corn tortillas wrapped around lots of meaty chicken and slathered with a thin, fruity chili sauce and crumbly aged cheese. The house version of mole poblano ($22) is sweetish and complex, saucing a chicken breast and its earthy bed of sunchokes and plantains. Carnitas of shredded suckling pig ($25), heaped on a tortilla with bits of juicy cactus stem and sour-orange salsa, has vigorous flavor too, although the tender pieces of pork lack the complementary crispness that characterizes my favorite carnitas preparations. A braised beef short rib ($26) is among the best renditions in town of this popular dish; there's tequila in the sauce, and pomegranate seeds on top of the hugely flavorful meat. A celeriac purée alongside has the delicate heat of dried chile.

Side dishes are worth a mention: There's a guacamole filled with pomegranate, mango, and quince ($11), mayonnaise-slathered corn on the cob ($5), and creamy rajas chile gratin. Toloache isn't the only restaurant to mistakenly believe that frying breaded avocado ($7) is a good idea; really the ingredient doesn't complement the method, and vice versa.

The two-story room gets crowded and loud, especially as the margaritas flow, at the bar and at the tables. Toloache pours close to 100 different tequilas, from familiar Jimadors and Don Julios to rare aged specimens, as well as a dozen varieties of mezcal, which for my money is a more interesting drink.

A top-notch, classical flan headlines the desserts ($8), its rich caramel only slightly marred by an unneeded fruit topping. A Meyer lemon tres leches cake competes admirably.

A majority of the world's population includes insects in its diet, and now New Yorkers can see what they've been missing. That may be Toloache's most memorable contribution, but the restaurant's worth a visit even for those who play it safe and order only the more familiar phyla.

Toloache (251 W. 50th St., between Eighth Avenue and Broadway, 212-581-1818).