May 2, 2024 | FEATURES | By Theo Tannahill, Mason Foard, and Finn Russell
Welcome back, wine enthusiasts, connoisseurs, intellectuals and, of course, Gus Boden ‘25.
This week, we may disappoint some readers. In a way, we will be departing from the formula that brought us to such incredible heights of fame and literary acclaim. This week’s wine review, in fact, will not actually be a wine review.
Due to our incredibly socially packed Block 8 schedules, we did not feel as if we needed to add an extra day of wine consumption to our roster…such difficult choices we must make! In the true spirit of eighth block, however, this review will shift to being an ‘experience review’ of sorts.
One could also call this a restaurant review, but the restaurant in question is more than just a place of eating – it is a transcendental experience that may define the rest of our lives. Today, we will be reviewing Casa Bonita.
Casa Bonita, a Mexican restaurant located in Lakewood, Colorado, is primarily known for its novel experiential value. It opened in 1974, but the restaurant was featured in a 2003 episode of “South Park,” which nationalized its popularity and notoriety. The episode involves a kidnapping in order to secure an invite to the restaurant – something our experience at the restaurant eventually brought us to understand.
In 2021, the creators of “South Park,” Trey Parker and Matt Stone, announced their intent to purchase and restore the aging Casa Bonita after it filed for bankruptcy. Parker and Stone coughed up 40 million dollars to repair the restaurant and finally reopened in 2023. When we were selected from the 60,000-person waiting list in early March, there was no hesitation.
Last Thursday, the day finally came. With Cartman’s glorious yet squealing rendition of ‘casa bonita, casa bonita, lalalalalalalalala’ ringing in our heads, we began the drive to Denver.
Within three miles of our destination, we could see the shining pink towers marking the restaurant’s gates. As we drew closer, the full spectacle came into sight. Amidst an otherwise bleak strip mall, surrounded by Planet Fitness, Ross Dress for Less and a singular boba shop, this pink and white, vaguely Mexican castle arose, drowning out the ruins of late-stage fiat capitalism around us.
We were greeted at the entrance by two (possibly armed) security guards and an intense-looking metal detector.
We were surrounded by families with young children, couples on suspect dates and groups of people who looked like they hadn’t showered in a while (South Park fans in other words). We cut through the crowd, entering a tunnel-esque system to the main dining area.
We arrived from the tunnel to what can only be described as likely what the first man on the moon experienced. In front of us was a new world, a new dimension, a new planet of acid-soaked insanity. Around us, we experienced a jungle, a pueblo, a lagoon, a zoo, a mine and a cavern — all wrapped into a 65,000-square-foot restaurant.
If you look closely though, you could break the thinly veiled illusion created by the loud acoustic rendition of “Despacito,” neon lighting, the faint smell of chlorine, and fake palm trees. If one looked straight up at any point during the experience, one would find spotted gypsum ceiling tiles — the same tiles you would find at a Walmart or any other massive department store — a sore reminder that we were in a strip mall in Lakewood, Colorado.
We arrived at the table and needed a margarita immediately to help conceptualize our new surroundings. The margs were offered in singles or doubles. Being it was a weeknight, we obviously opted for the double. They were brought to our table with Switzerland-esque efficiency and speed, and in one sip we knew that they were made by the heavy hand of Dionysus himself. In four sips, we were buzzing.
Accompanying the drinks were chips and salsa. The salsa was gas, yet unique, and the chips were warm. We annihilated two baskets at pace.
For our mains, we were presented with seven options. We had five tickets, meaning five choices. Tragically, one of our intended guests, Claire Thompson, ‘25, was sent to the hospital by CROOZ and was unable to attend. We haven’t seen her since, but thankfully we turned her ticket into an appetizer of shrimp ceviche for the table. Close one! It was a unique ceviche, as the shrimp were marinated in a pineapple sauce that made them taste somewhat like pink starbursts. The sweet, fruity flavor paired well with the side guacamole and warm chips.
For our mains, we chose cheese enchiladas, carnitas tacos, chicken mole and braised beef Suadero. Each main came with a coleslaw, Mexican rice, and a splatter of refried beans. On these dishes, our opinions were split.
The enchiladas were solid. Chase Hetler ‘25 ordered them “Christmas style” and was entranced by the smoky tang of the red and green salsas. She was unable to finish her whole portion and was frustrated by the slight crust on her beans.
The Suadero beef was splendid. It was incredibly tender, Finn remarked, then fell apart succulently. The dish’s only flaw was a somewhat small serving of beef. The small serving, however, was reasonable considering the massive amounts of food we were provided during the experience.
Our table faced the actual lagoon and cliff in the middle of the restaurant. Every 20 minutes, we would witness two scantily clad men perform a complex dance, then leap in a majestic dive into the water below. The speaker would blare mysterious music, then we would go back to our meal.
Theo’s chicken mole was by far the most unique. It was a solid, introductory-level mole. The waitress informed us it was made without nuts so as not to cause any accidental tragedies during a child’s birthday party (Theo could have died otherwise). It was slightly lukewarm but rich and flavorful.
Mason’s carnitas were forgettable, but what was memorable was the giant furry pig gorilla mascot who came to take a picture with him halfway through the meal.
Once we finished the meal, the real party began. We were helped to unlimited seemingly quality honey-covered sopapillas, which seemed to be the north star of the whole operation. All you needed to do was raise a flag at the table, and the fried squares appeared in seconds — a perfect palate cleanser.
All in all, the meal was remarkable. Created by James Beard award-nominated chef Dana Rodriguez, it was a perfect taste-based complement to the overload of every other bodily sense.
Somehow, the meal was only the first step in our casa bonita journey. In the next two hours, we would roam the entire establishment, witnessing a puppet show, magic show, experiential cave, gift shop, and an arcade.
The puppet show, created by the Book of Mormon producers, was great. It involved a taco and divorce jokes. The security presence preventing videos near the stage was intense, so we are unsure if we can divulge anything else.
The magic show was interesting. At that point, it was around 10:30 p.m., and we were losing steam. The magic tricks were creative, but the surprising element of twerking involved in some of them seemed out of place. Again, the security presence in the theater was also high.
After leaving the theater, we decided to watch one more cliff dive. This time, from ground level, a few feet from the pool itself. In a shocking turn of events, the diver cannonballed. The proceeding tsunami was sent directly at our faces. We were left dripping and confused in a suburban Denver strip mall. This seemed like a pretty common experience.
Mason had to drive an hour and twenty minutes home in a moist sweater. But he would gladly do it again. On the drive home, we discussed the mental state of the employees who acted as the human “entertainment” at Casa Bonita. We could imagine the restaurant’s loud music and repetitive nature to be a hellish eternal purgatory where joy for others means their suffering. But hey! It was fun and whimsical! Isn’t that what life’s all about? Oh, and making profit — almost forgot about that part!
Score: 100/100.