Missy Foxall

Jacqui Taffel enjoys a Mexican fling with flan and little fatties.

Whoever Missy Foxall is, she knows how to have a good time. Almost as soon as we're seated at her restaurant and margarita bar, we sense we're in for a good night, even before the complimentary corn chips and salsa arrive.

It's only 7pm – we were warned to arrive by 6.30pm to be sure of a table – and the room is buzzy with happy-looking people. Bookings are only taken for tables of eight or more – it's first in, first served for smaller groups – and, by 7.30pm, the bar is packed with prospective diners.

Perched on high chairs at our tall table, we use the thin, crispy corn chips to dig into fresh, chunky salsa. It raises hopes that the Mexican food will be a cut above the standard Tex Mex, as previously served in this building. On Barrenjoey Road, it looks like an old barn from a western film set but was actually built as a general store in the early 1900s, with original sandstone to prove it.

The hand-written photocopied menu doubles as a place mat. Drinks arrive quickly – two Missy's on the Rocks margaritas and a sangria. Served in chunky cut-glass tumblers with over-salted rims, the margaritas are strong at first but improve as the ice melts. The sangria, jewel-like and fruity, is perfect for this sort of weather.

Surveying the room, we decide "rusticana" best describes the decor – half barn, half cantina. Cooking implements hang from an old ladder attached to the ceiling; a tiered stone fountain holds fat candles instead of water; attentive, friendly waitresses wear embroidered black blouses; and small succulents adorn each table.

The chef is Lucienne Curchod, who used to own The Chelsea Tea House in Avalon. It might seem an unexpected swap but Curchod grew up in California eating "Cal Mex"; she now cooks Oz Mex.

Our share plates arrive. A bowl piled high with fried calamari looks like a huge serving until we realise it's sitting on a mound of shredded lettuce. The guacamole is also on lettuce – we'd prefer smaller servings without the rabbit-food filler. Both dishes are in need of a serious flavour boost.

Gorditas – "little fatties" – restore our faith. The plump packages are made with masa flour and fresh corn with pipian sauce, a delicious green concoction of pumpkin seeds. It's perfect drinking food. Even better are three small, soft street tacos with duck, beetroot and crema (like creme fraiche), which look and taste fantastic, a satisfying combination of rich duck, sweet beetroot and pretty pink, lightly pickled cabbage.

The mains are similarly up and down. Tostada con pollo is rather bland but the generous serving of grilled chicken is very good, tender and smoky from the grill. It sits on a mess of green rice and salad held in a corn tortilla.

The carnitas – baby back pork ribs – nearly create an unseemly brawl as we rush to get our fair share. The honey-adobo sauce is tangy, smoky and not too sweet, while the ribs are surprisingly meaty and so tender.

For dessert, we discover a Mexican flan is a dead ringer for creme caramel. Our waitress recommends the Mexican and Belgian chocolate mousse, which we find strange at first – too hard, cold and oddly crunchy – but then realise we can't stop eating it.

By 9pm, the bar area has cleared. Despite the lettuce overload, we're already planning to come back to hang with Missy Foxall. She's hot.