This Mexican BYOB stands out in South Philly with a focus on the coastal wonders of Guerrero

There are no fewer than 50 classic regional varieties of mole simmering in cazuelas across Mexico. Greater still are the subtle variations and nuanced flavors that season these intricately complex and saucy stews. They are as numerous as family trees.

So while the mole Colorado at El Mictlan is already notable for its rusty red glow and punchy spice — typical of their recipe from the state of Guerrero, as compared to the sweeter, deep brown Poblano moles most common in South Philly’s Mexican community — what makes it so special here is the balance and grace of a mother’s touch.

“She’s my secret ingredient,” says chef-owner Chelo Manzanarez of his mom, Anabel Carmen Casiano, who works with him in the kitchen alongside his sister, Gabriela. And Casiano’s skill in drawing harmony from the nearly 25 different ingredients in her mole — fine-tuning the heat, fruitiness, and smoke of four kinds of chilies, the richness of pepitas and almonds, the body of crushed Maria cookies and fried tortillas, a sweet peck of chocolate, and the animating flow of good broth — is a reason in its own right to visit this colorful little BYOB at the corner of Beechwood and Snyder Streets.

You can taste that mole, puréed to sienna-colored silk and dusted with crushed sesame seeds, ladled over rolled enchiladas or a platter of moist chicken breast simmered to tenderness with cilantro and bay leaf, alongside a platter of rice and black beans. It’s one of several traditional dishes that Manzanarez says “shows my roots and ancestors” on a menu that pays tribute to Guerrero, on Mexico’s Pacific coast, and especially the seafood bounty of Acapulco, where he grew up.

I was transported straight back to the hot sands of that famed beach-resort city when I dove into the frosty chalice of El Mictlan’s ceviche, a tomatoey brew brightened with orange juice and the sweet sparkle of Fanta soda. With its lingering ping of serrano heat, the generous helping of well-marinated octopus, shrimp, and diced raw tuna was impossible to stop eating.

The pescadilla fish tacos are another renowned beachfront street food, and different from most fish tacos I’ve seen in Philly, which are usually tortillas simply topped with fish that’s either been separately grilled or fried. The firm white flesh of swai fish is stewed here with tomato and oregano before it’s sealed with tooth picks inside a corn tortilla and then fried. The effect is almost like a fish dumpling: crunchy on the outside, meltingly soft and moist at its heart, perked with the crunch of radishes and cilantro, plus a tangy splash of salsa verde.

Such Guerrero-fueled passion is a valuable asset for a city whose thriving Mexican restaurant scene is in a golden moment, diversifying beyond its Poblano standards with a growing variety of other regional cooking and increasingly luxe dining. The rebirth of elegant Tequilas and its new La Jefa cafe, showcasing the contemporary plates (and cocktails) of “Guadaladelphia,” as well as Frankie Ramirez’s modern Mexican moonshot at Amá in Kensington, are just the latest high-style gambits to make headlines.

El Mictlan is a low-frills 30-seat BYOB on an out-of-the-way corner of South Philly, in the former La Mula Terca space. At nearly two years old, it has eluded my attention for longer than it should have, despite the eye-catching splashes of hot pink and teal on its Snyder Avenue exterior and a vibrant mural inside depicting Mictlantecuhtli, the Aztec god of death, and the dog-headed god Xolotl, waiting to guide you through the underworld.

A series of compelling recent meals here drew me back repeatedly, each visit more intriguing than the last as I traveled deeper into the deceptively large menu, convincing me that El Mictlan has something special. Occasional modern flourishes from the adventurous and fusion-minded Manzanarez set it apart even more.

An inventive risotto made with a guajillo chili broth radiated a raisin-y, sun-dried spice. It came topped with sweet, pan-seared scallops scattered with edible flowers that bloomed like colorful bursts of spring from an otherwise earthy plate.

Manzanarez, who earned his culinary degree at the Community College of Philadelphia, brings an artistic spirit to almost every dish. Something as potentially straightforward as a bowl of nopales soup becomes gorgeous in the right bowl, whose wide indigo-hued brim contrasts with the creamy green cactus broth. Dustings of ancho chili powder dance like sunspots near the edges, and the crunchy tangle of tortilla strips and queso fresco at the center draws your spoon inwards like a magnetic force.

His tribute to the Asian influence on Latin American cuisine is evident in his take on a Peruvian-style tiradito, which arrives on a board of Asian soup spoons cradling cubes of raw ahi tuna in a bracingly tart green tomatillo broth spiked with serranos, mirin, and lime, with crunchy red onions and sesame seeds on top.

For all its mostly delightful fusion detours — a tempura-fried Bang Bang shrimp dusted with ancho powder; a salad of nopales shredded into noodles topped with creamy burrata; the one disappointment in a bland Mexicanized cheesesteak — El Mictlan’s most powerful draw is its distinctive renditions of classics.

It’s the details that separate one traditional kitchen from another. And you’ll see that here in bellwether dishes like the guacamole, whose avocados are spoon-mashed to order and seem a notch creamier than usual, with extra depth of flavor from the addition of salsa tatemada, made from charred serranos and garlic — a secret of Manzanarez‘s grandmother Maria Simon. The pozole verde, a Thursday ritual in Acapulco, is one of the best I’ve tasted in Philly, the hearty pork and hominy stew boosted by a generous garnish tray that includes a mini-fried taco stuffed with herb-flecked requesón cheese. The Guerrero-style tamale, as soft as masa pudding inside its banana leaf wrapper and fragrant with the family’s chili adobo, harbors moist hunks of bone-in chicken.

Don’t miss the crunchy mini-masa cups called chalupitas, stuffed with chipotle-spiced mashed potatoes, or the soulful lamb barbacoa, slow-cooked with banana leaves, cumin, canella, and cloves — another contribution from mom. There’s an eye-catching coil of plump octopus, simmered to tenderness then grilled to a crisp with peanut sauce and stylishly dusted with powdered green cilantro. It’s available solo as an appetizer, or as the surf to the turf of a N.Y. strip steak sauced with zesty chimichurri for the mixed grill platter, which, at $38, is an outlier on a menu that generally tops out at $20 a dish. It’s still a tremendous value, like everything Manzanarez cooks.

Even his chicken tacos, which I’d normally consider a boring choice, exceeded expectations, the meat tenderized and flavorful from its marinade in a charred pineapple adobo and cumin dressing.

The service is basic due to minimalist staffing but friendly and informative enough when servers are in the room, often with Gabriela making an appearance from the kitchen. They’re also more than happy to prepare carafes of the daily-made agua frescas as a mixers for your BYO spirits — a worthwhile feature not noted on the menu. A common margarita mixer isn’t among the choices, but it wasn’t missed; try the passion fruit mixer for tequila or (my favorite) a tart tamarind agua fresca, which is an ideal match for the smoke and herbaceousness of a good mezcal.

El Mictlan finishes strong with dessert, which is no surprise, considering Manzanarez first caught my attention for his exceptional pumpkin churros, which he made while still a sous-chef at La Llorona. (La Llorona’s owner, Arturo Lorenzo, helped him land in La Mula Terca’s space, which Lorenzo previously leased.)

Here, he offers a simple but creative riff on familiar tres leches, soaking his vanilla cake with cinnamon-scented horchata rice milk along with the usual trio of sweet dairy. It’s served beside a smear of torched meringue meant to evoke the birthday parties of his youth. But the dessert I kept returning to was the chocolate cake — or xocolatl, as he calls it in Nahuatl. It’s not especially unusual at first glance, a familiar low-rise slice of dark cake topped with icing and a strawberry that glints with a fleck of gold foil. But there’s just something about plunging your fork into a cake so beautifully moist, then swiping into the creamy cloud of chocolate mousse to discover a subtle whisper of cinnamon on the finish. Like El Mictlan itself, it has personality and the satisfaction of a handmade touch that lingers in your imagination and calls you back long after the meal is done.

2053 S. Beechwood St., Philadelphia, PA 19145; 267-265-4559; elmictlanrestaurantpa.com

Entire menu served Monday-Friday, 4-10 p.m.; Saturday and Sunday, 11 a.m.-10 p.m.

Entrees, $15-$20 (with sole exception of $38 mixed grill).

BYOB. Restaurant will provide agua fresca mixers for customer-brought spirits. Try the tamarind with mezcal, or the passion fruit with tequila.

Not wheelchair accessible.

Much of the corn-based menu is naturally gluten-free, but the kitchen is also careful with cross-contamination and willing to fry things separately in a pan for those with high sensitivities.

Menu highlights: Acapulco-style ceviche; nopalito soup; calamari; grilled octopus; tuna tiradito; pescadillas; Guerrero-style tamal; mole colorado; guajillo risotto with scallops; chicken tacos; lamb birria; pozole verde; horchata tres leches; xocolatl cake.