A day trip to Kenosha took us to Sarape Restaurant for lunch. We weren’t expecting much. We ended up with more than we expected.

My wife, a restaurateur who’s as hard to please as Julia Child, had a tamal (not “tamale,” as Americans mispronounce the singular form of the word). She seemed to like it. As for the refried beans, she didn’t level her usual criticism at them.

I tried the tacos and chose a combo of three types: the marinated pork (“al pastor”), the Mexican sausage (“chorizo”) and the fried pork (“carnitas”), with soft corn tortillas Mexican-style. I was hoping to savor the spice of the marinated pork, as well as the depth of flavoring in the chorizo and the carnitas. Too bad there was little spice and less succulent flavor. The three tacos tasted uniformly bland, possibly because of the preference of patrons.

For that matter, the rice and refried beans were so-so.

The owner answered my question in Spanish and told me he’d originally come from Mexico City. He was a “chilango,” a big-city slicker, as sweet as a bell pepper. His waitress, also probably from Mexico City, was friendly and efficient. I liked them so well I couldn’t bear to mention that I thought the quality of my wife’s and my meal was fair to middling.

Buena suerte, amigos.