A Review of Milagro Café, in Stonington Milagro Café sits in the heart of Stonington Borough, its bold turquoise exterior standing out amid the stately white buildings of Water Street, promising a vibrant alternative to Yankee fare. Inside, half-timbered beams are set in rough-plastered walls painted Halloween orange; mirrors struggle to amplify a truly tiny space. At the bar, we drank margaritas made with homemade tequila infusions ranging from hibiscus to habanero to beet, poured from shakers fashioned out of Kahlua bottles. We finally got a table - no reservations are taken - and ordered a couple ceviches. Tuna ceviche was a small but flavorful cup of cubed yellowfin stained purple from the citrus-soaked red onion in the pico de gallo. The crab ceviche was smaller still, but richly flavored, though the vinegar was strong. Choriqueso was a crowd-pleasing calorie bomb, bits of chorizo scattered into a mass of Oaxaca cheese, which was then broiled and served cowboy-style in a square cast-iron mini-skillet. Mexico City-style fish tacos consisted of bits of flounder, again with pico de gallo, wrapped in a tortilla and flash-fried. I preferred the house fish tacos, big flounder fillets laid over carrot slaw in a soft wheat tortilla drizzled with a habanero crema. The lobster roll contained chunks of claw and tail meat mixed with cream cheese, rolled tightly in a tortilla, then fried, cut on a slant and propped up like twin silos on a plate amid a swirl of guacamole mayonnaise. And a beet salad was a brilliant concoction of spaghetti-length curlicues of beet, served hot with kernels of corn, shards of bell pepper and crumbled queso Cotija in a light dressing touched with red-pepper flakes. Preparations like these signal ambitions a cut above the usual. I wish there were more of them. In an era when freethinking chefs dream up tacos with tamarind-glazed ham hocks, or with sweetbreads and pomegranate-molasses relish, you might think that "Modern Mexican" (which the restaurant advertises on its Web site) would denote a similar creativity. Yet Milagro, which opened in 2008, does mostly the old standbys. Some were very good. One of us who eats regularly in Mexico pronounced the chiles rellenos "fantastic" - two large, roasted poblanos filled with soft, milky-mild queso fresco in a light tomato sauce. "The cheese should not melt," according to Martin Zavala, the chef, who owns the restaurant with his wife, Genine, and his mother-in-law, Jan Loomis. Mole poblano covered an unusually moist roasted half-chicken in a mole sauce, lighter colored than usual and (refreshingly) more tart than sweet, sprinkled with sesame seeds. Others were run-of-the-mill. Enchiladas verdes needed more cilantro or onion - or something - to add pep. An order of pork tacos offered generous amounts of sliced roasted pork, but the flavor was wan, and I added smoky chipotle sauce to improve it. Similarly, I resorted to a side of mole to pep up characterless steak tacos. Though Milagro specializes in tacos, my favorite dishes were more off the beaten path. Niños envueltos are wraps interpreted differently across Latin America. Some resemble the stuffed-cabbage golabkis brought by Eastern European immigrants, but Milagro's version is similar to the Italian involtini: a thin sheet of rib-eye rolled around spinach, cheese and corn kernels, served in a tomato cream sauce with hints of chipotle. Cazuela was a deep earthenware bowl filled with a hearty stew of pork, cubed zucchini, corn and cheese, in a tomato-based sauce. Pork enchiladas benefited from a rich peanut-guajillo chile sauce. Milagro masters a number of details, like black beans mined with pork-belly bits, or the rapturously good pan-roasted slaw of cabbage, cucumber, carrots and zucchini that accompanies the chiles rellenos. But the guacamole was thin and liquidy, as if made with sour cream. And too many preparations tasted bland. Take the pico de gallo. The Milagro version of this ubiquitous condiment goes disappointingly light on the things that bite - garlic and jalapeños. I'm not looking for flamethrower dishes, but something is amiss when the spiciest thing on the menu is a habanero cocktail. Desserts were mixed in quality: a standard-issue flan; a light and airy chocolate cake layered with strawberries and whipped cream; and a sodden and uninspired bread pudding. Milagro means "miracle" in Spanish, and while it is not quite miraculous, the restaurant offers good value. One warning: a tiny place with a bar smack in the middle and a no-reservations policy is a formula for pandemonium. Milagro is loud - cup-your-hand-to-your-ear-and-shout-at-your-server loud. Dishes are rushed out soon after you order them. It's fun but hectic, and as we emerged one Friday night, ears ringing, what seemed miraculous was the soothing quiet of Stonington. Milagro Café 142 Water Street Stonington (860) 535-8178 milagrocafect.com THE SPACE Seating for 25 in a tiny, colorful room where servers maneuver like acrobats, and diners strain to hear one another amid a din of roaring merriment. Not wheelchair accessible. THE CROWD Regulars of all ages mingle with visitors of all ages. THE BAR Drinkers, diners and those waiting to dine vie for six seats, with overflow directed to a cheerless outdoor patio enclosed by high fencing. Full bar. House specialty drinks showcase unusual tequila infusions; a tiny wine list offers a few bargain bottles, all under $30. Wine by the glass, around $7. THE BILL Appetizers, $5 to $10; entrees, $14 to $22; desserts, $5 to $7. American Express, Visa and MasterCard are accepted. WHAT WE LIKED Crab ceviche, choriqueso, lobster roll, fish tacos, hot beet salad, chiles rellenos, mole poblano, niños envueltos, pork cazuela, pork enchiladas with peanut-guajillo sauce, chocolate cake with strawberries and whipped cream. IF YOU GO Lunch: Daily, 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. Dinner: Sunday through Thursday, 5 to 9 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, 5 to 10 p.m. Reservations are not accepted. Free parking anywhere you can find it along the narrow streets of Stonington.