Every other Mexican restaurant in Budapest has let me down in one way or another, so I went to Mezcal, a newish mexikói eatery in the up-and-coming ninth district, determined to hate it. I left determined to hate it as well, but strangely enough, nothing so unpleasant happened in between.

Though they have taken pains to decorate the interior with the requisite sombreros and panchos, weather permitting there is no reason to sit anywhere but on Mezcal's outdoor terrace on the increasingly pedestrianized Tompa utca. There you can select your meal from the usual suspects: tacos, burritos, fajitas, enchiladas, plus some more exotic dishes such as chipotle chicken, beer-cooked beans, and - I was thrilled to see, mole, a complex dish of multiple types of hot pepper, chocolate and about a dozen other ingrediants combined and used as a sauce for turkey or chicken. The mole served in many restaurants is pre-made from a jar, because it takes an alchemist's sense of sorcery and patience to create it from scratch. Mezcal's mole (above, Ft 1,890/€7.65), the waiter insisted, was fresh-made. And it was good - it pulled no punches with the spice, and it was grainy enough to convince me it was hand-made. Nor did they use it to cover up an inferior piece of meat - the chicken was grilled to perfection.

Mezcal fared worse with its guacamole (Ft 800), which had been pulverized by a food processor into a paste the consistency of hand-lotion. Guacamole is not a sauce: it should be zesty and chunky: not the day-glo green condiment Taco Bell squirts on its food like catsup. The tortilla chips were fine, but no better than those you buy from Culinaris. But all-in-all, the menu makes a valiant effort at Tex-Mex, and is well-worth the price.

A note on the service: It is the restaurant's downfall, and the reason the ex-pat's unofficial canteen Iguana is in no danger of being knocked from its perch. Despite the presence of a pair of cheerful bartenders (above), there was but one lonely, harried waiter servicing the entire restaurant, indoors and outdoors. And the terrace was full. True, he did his best, though seemed a bit disoriented, prefacing the dishes with a bon appetite, as though it was a French restaurant. But there was no need for him to worry if he failed: the bill comes with a 15% tip already added - upping the ante of the usual 10% many service-unfriendly restaurants around town tack on. Am I the only one who loathes this practice? It's a shame: Mezcal could really be a stand out spot. If I am going to trust you to with a cherished dish like mole, you can trust me to show appreciation in my tipping, rather than treating me like a dumb gringo from north of the border.