Casa Marina is on the Paseo de Montejo (at 45 St) just a few houses down from that bastion of Yucatecan sandwiches and stale potato chips; the Cafeteria Impala.
A bit of the buildings very recent history goes like this: the building was, prior to what it is now, a failed attempt at a fancy french restaurant called La Torre Eiffel complete with a miniature recreation of the Eiffel Tower all lit up in an inside patio type thing. Before that it was a Banamex office and before that it was somebody's house, presumably. I mention all this because you may wonder, when you visit Casa Marina, why there is an Eiffel Tower in the patio and another, smaller version holding up the menu on the street. This street menu is a faded photocopy by the way, maybe the menus were too valuable to put out in the public - someone might steal them or something. The glass doors inside leading to air-conditioned salons, all have the Banamex logo still emblazoned on the handles.
While Casa Marina promotes itself as some sort of classy seafood restaurant, the cheap photopcopy menu, the Banamex doors, the Eiffel Tower left over from the previous occupant and the vinyl 'We Are Open' banner that the Coca Cola company obviously paid for (their logo is prominently displayed as if it were another corner tiendita) don't convey much elegance in the Critic's humble opinion.
Upon entering the restaurant, no one actually greets you and you're sort of standing around when what you assume is a waiter (black pants, white shirt and the popular multicolored vest) appears to ask if you'll be dining in A/C or in the interior patio where the Eiffel Tower can remind you of past gastronomical disasters. So you pick the air conditioning which is quite cold, probably because Banamex left it there when they moved out, but this is just speculation.
This lonely, solitary waiter informed the group, when asked, that the chef (the main attraction) was not working tonight and that his second in command was on the job. The Critics' crew was disappointed, but decided to go ahead and try the food anyway.
And lo and behold, it was good! The Chilpachole seafood soup was tomato-y, thick with shrimp and had just a hint of guajillo spice, the coconut-breaded shrimp served in a half coconut with home-made apple compote were not only delicious but attractively presented (see the photo at the top of this article), also the fish with a huitlacoche sauce, a corn fungus popular among the more culinarily adventurous Mexicans and a fish filet with fish roe sauce were presented well, and very tasty. A special note to whomever orders the coconut shrimp - DO NOT eat the the coconut from the half-coconut - you will get a mouthful of detergent! Apparently these half-shells are washed and used over and over, which is a pretty unpleasant thought...
Although the food itself is quite good, the whole dining experience leaves a lot to be desired. Details, details, details!
Decor/plate settings etc. - the actual table is appropriately set, but the details mentioned earlier (Banamex arquitectural details, Eiffel Tower in a seafood restaurant, CocaCola banner, photocopy of the menu) say a lot about the lack of any effort that went into this restaurant.
Service - only one rather insecure waiter was ever seen, no hostess, no busboy, no manager, nothing. No second round of drinks was offered, and the food did seem to take a while in appearing at the table. When one of the coconut shrimp jumped out of the coconut shell to make a dash for freedom it was caught by the waiter who suddenly had a dilemna - since the shrimp was in his hand, what to do??!! He was relieved when one of the members of the Fussy Crew told him to stick it back in the coconut shell.
Food - As mentioned, generally quite good. Bread basket was unimaginative and featured rather stale french bread, tortilla chips and soda crackers. The air conditioning was at fault for the hard bread, our trembling little waiter informed us.
That famous chef - where is he? If you are going to advertise him, make sure he's around and very visible! And definitely make sure he's doing the cooking!
In general, the feeling is that the caterer (one of
the partners) took all his utensils, plates, cutlery, linens and kitchen
supplies that he had already and decided to make some money with them.
The Casa Marina doesn't feel like a real restaurant run by someone who
cares about running a restaurant; it feels more like an experiment, kind
of a sideline thing, with you, the hapless guest, as the guinea pig.