Lisa’s is a curious combo of Modernized-Mex, both in décor (real paintings and fancy lighting) and some plates, with a family vibe and down-home dishes. Offerings such as uptown chicken breast with creamy poblano sauce cohabit with frankly non-fancy parrillada de tripas (small intestine) “grilled to perfection.” Pozole, essentially an import, sits on the fence.

Yet it delivers appealing spiciness tempered with abundant oregano. The usual sliced cabbage, onion, and radish are served alongside to be added in al gusto. More strips of poblano in the rajas con crema would improve that dish; the large serving is creamy not zingy—and served with only three tortillas (the corn models are a little chewy). A single shrimp atop each nacho on that option both looks lonely and retreats under an assault of refrieds, messily melted cheese, and add-ons of pickled jalapeño and sparse guacamole.

The unpretentious lengua guisada, however, almost works; the bites of tongue are ideally sized, and the unique texture is good, too. Only the less-than-tingling “light tomato gravy” fails to excite. Puffy tacos bombed altogether in the ground beef version—the beef tasted over-fried and under- seasoned; the shells were oddly leathery. Even more offensive was a parrillada of carnitas (pork chunks) with onions and peppers, all of which tasted reheated on the grill. A margarita La Dorada from the adjacent Bar Mosiaco (separated by a slinky chain curtain) could be salvaged by asking for extra lime. Too bad it doesn’t cure all.