In the less-buffed sector of Winter Park sits a little slice of Bohemia by way of Venezuela. It's called Maya Café Lounge & Gallery and it's run by three generations of women — Letty Vallve; her eldest daughter, Celeste Aguinaga; and Letty's mother, Leticia Gil. The trio of talents have single-handedly ... well, with six hands, that is ... transformed the old Goodwill Donation Xpress on Howell Branch Road into a striking, polychromatic design den for the local counter-culturati.
Aside from the dazzling number of hearts and plants, paintings and murals, rope pendants and mismatched chairs, there's a red Corvette in the middle of the dining room, or at least sections of one. A lounge area has been crafted from the roadster's red leather seats, and glass-topped engines double as tables. You'll see artifacts and memorabilia of that sweet ride scattered throughout the space; the items were procured when Vallve operated a used-car business. It takes a while for the eyes to adjust to all the vehicular vestiges and flower power motifs inside and outside, and I mean that in the most flattering way possible. There's a feel-good vibe at Maya and that love seeps its way onto the menu, even with a kitchen limited in terms of equipment.
You won't find a flat-top, a hood or deep fryers here, but you will find a chunky eggplant dip ($14.95) blended with olives and dill and flecked with pomegranate and sesame seeds that'll leave you blowing chef's kisses to your mates. "It's definitely one of our most loved dishes," our server told us. Bites of prosciutto-wrapped mozzarella ($18) served on a cheese board and drizzled with honey, seemed hastily put together, but we tried to see the creations as "organic" in form and the missing filling of nuts a "culinary improvisation."
Some lateral thinking was exhibited with the tuna sandwich ($8.50) as well — yogurt is used in the mustard and celery mix instead of mayo, and it's served on a plain bagel. "This is how you should make me my tuna fish sandwich," gushed my tuna-loving wife. "You got it!" I said before rolling my eyes into the back of my head. The tuna sandwich is probably my least favorite sandwich, but if it were a buttery Cuban sammie ($11.95) she wanted, like the one we ordered with pork, ham, Swiss cheese, pickles and mustard, I might be a little more keen. I also liked that it came sided with plantain and yuca chips.
When I came across an item on the menu that read "oven roasted meat," I liked that even more. It was offered for the intriguing price of $25.25, and a part of me — a quarter, perhaps — felt the urge to order it. The "meat" in this case was four chunks of medium-well sirloin shellacked in a red-wine glaze. A side of green beans and potatoes, as well as an extra side of honey-roasted carrots ($8.50), gave me all the Sunday-roast feels on a Friday evening. Yet another extra side of Mexican street corn ($8.50) served with tortilla chips only added to the communal conviviality.
And all the while, folks of every stripe walked through the doors — some to order a banana-caramel espresso (they use Bustelo); some to chill in the corner with a charcuterie board and a book. It's a linger-friendly zone, and linger we did over the luscious passionfruit mousse ($5.99), unlike the cheesecake ($9) heavily weighted by caramel sauce squeezed from a plastic bottle.
But food alone doesn't convey the whole story at Maya. It's a colorfully unconventional space to be experienced; a place to get to know the gifted, free-spirited women who run it; and a place to truly appreciate — wild artistry, Corvettes and all. Like the car of song fame, there's really no taming this little red love machine.
