La Morena

One need not travel down to the Italian Market for authentic Mexican, or so many iterations thereof. Just a short drive down the road from Rey Azteca and in Warminster, La Morena furthers the conversation of the cuisine it represents via its own interpretation of history.

Much like a diorama filled with a lurid depiction of life, the view afforded via the wraparound windows of this tiny storefront cajoles you inside to sit amidst tables placed in close proximity -- so very fitting given the menu's promise of free margaritas -- and walls adorned with handsome black and white prints of banditos of yore.

Thick, corn redolent tortilla chips wear a dressing of flavorful refried beans bejeweled with soft, semi-melted oaxaca. The only thing wrong with a creamy, salsa-mixed guacamole is the faux stone mortar it's served in.

The chili sauces are a tandem of nicely contrasting flavors; the green is more soothing, with the milder pepper accompanied by a refreshing breeze of cilantro; the heat of the red is heightened by concentrated chunks of dried pepper.

I kept alternating between the two, the nuanced fire of the red balanced by either the placid breath of the green chile sauce or another quenching draught of a subdued horchata -- the milk itself is less sweet, the sugar applied more frugally, for a perhaps more studied take on a classic whose deep character is richly informed by fresh, grated vanilla left to both dance upon the milky tide and stud your glass with each pull.

The tacos are exactly as they should be: light, flavorful and as refreshing as the aforementioned green chile sauce. Small cuts of tilapia, though not my preference for fish tacos (see mahi mahi), are juicy and buttery, so much so the tacos probably benefited from a light use of onion and cilantro in a salsa marked with vocal chunks of tomato.

The al pastor offers more corn tortilla wrapped joy; moist porcine goodness permeates every morsel -- too many places overcook their pork, restricting the juices to the exterior -- set to mingle with lightly grilled pineapple, a not to thick, not too thin slice that readily breaks apart into a tropical diaspora.

The cemitas is a house specialty from their torta or Mexican sandwich menu. The seeded bun, given a light pan fry amidst a seeming cast of butter, hold chunks of braised pork seared and left to soak in its own fat. While this provides for ample flavor, especially when combined with moist avocado, lightly pan fried onion, and moist, stringy chords of oaxaca (Mexico's take on mozzarella), the unctuousness has the sandwich vacillating between good and bad in a manner akin to Nicolas Cage in both Face/Off and, well, his entire career (the promised papalo is conspicuously absent). Best to split this one with a friend, so you're not left with an unpleasant feeling akin to that of watching a movie overly saturated with bad acting (i.e. anything with both Cage and Travolta).

The fajitas, however, are far lighter, the sizzling platter holding onions and red and green pepper enriched with oil and the steak's residual fat. While the greens are perfectly soft and replete with lush flavor, several pieces of the thinly cut steak, unfortunately, are given more than a hint of charring. While not enough to ruin an ensemble complemented by sides of refried beans and rice (I skipped a too-watery sour cream), the experience would have been much better had the already weaker cut not suffered from too much time in the broiler.

Overall, however, La Morena does more than just adequately fly the colors of El Tri; its simple, yet earnest approach matches that of its Warminster neighbors, while its own nuances add a greater depth to the area's take on Mexican cuisine.

11 E. Moreland Ave., Hatboro, PA 19040. 215-675-4429.