Mosquitoes buzz around the sticky neon-orange picnic tables made of recycled lumber. Women wearing flip-flops, flowing skirts and tank tops sip green, slushy margaritas, while men anxiously wait by a graffiti-ridden wall for dinner. The trombone and conga thunder from large black speakers. One man eagerly holds onto his corn, generously battered with mayonnaise, cotija cheese, chili powder and lime juice. A dark-skinned child with ripped jeans and a stained blue undershirt break-dances on a wooden stage with cheap burgundy curtains. The crowds swarm, anticipating food and dancing girls. This isn’t a typical Havana evening, but instead, a Monday night out in Sean Meenan’s Habana Outpost, which ultimately becomes disastrous.

Just over a year old, Habana Outpost is Fort Green’s version of Café Habana, Meenan’s family-run luncheonette in Manhattan. Known as the first “eco-eatery,” Habana Outpost insures that everything is solar powered. Sugarcane plates, biodegradable cornstarch cups, a sun-lit chandelier, even a human powered bicycle blender makes visitors a bit more earth-conscious. While the venue satisfyingly transforms from flea market by day, to packed courtyard at night, visitors will be insulted with Café Habana‘s many flaws.

As a restaurant celebrating “Burlesque Night” on July 30^th, Habana Outpost gets a big, red F. Upon exiting the subway station, you’ll immediately spot the moss-green building with Persian blue columns, including what used to be a parking lot, now a lime green patio with plastic flowers. Inside is a room with similar neon tones, along with huge signs pointing where to order. For a place promoting Latin cuisine, it seemed outrageous that frozen mojitos ($8) weren’t available. After placing orders, customers go outside to the garden where empty benches are scarce, 30 people await their meals and two men in a coral-red bus rapidly grill on an open fire. Expect to wait 30 minutes for an Americanized chicken burrito ($7.75). The black beans are tasteless, the rice too moist, the chicken resembles charcoal and a radish-tasting lettuce mounts on top of a warm, but mediocre tortilla. By 8pm, there wasn’t any lighting to see what was being eaten, but the spectacle of people pushing each other for a seat made the evening mildly entertaining. The monthly installment of Habana Burlesque, which was suppose to begin at 8:30, was like everything else, incredibly late, starting at 9:15.

If a group of half-naked women couldn’t make the evening worthwhile, then you know there’s a serious problem. While the burlesque show lasted about an hour with brief intermissions, expect to only catch a glimpse of a stocking or pastie. Diners stood around preventing others from seeing the stage and spoke during the show, giving an attitude to those asking them to step aside or lower their voices. As Kit Cat, a red riding hood with shoulder-length bistre hair and alabaster skin, shimmied on the meek, wooden, soapbox stage, the barely-heard tune of her dance skipped beyond control, causing her segment to end abruptly. The few peeks of Creamy Stevens revealed a blond bob and an eager girl pulling down her panties. Darlinda Just Darlinda, a sultry redhead wearing a fire-engine halter dress, slowly undresses, flicking her tongue towards the audience while rotating her hips in a wild frenzy. Sadly, the five minutes of peeking weren’t convincing enough to stay the entire night.

Habana Outpost may be eco-conscious, but it fails to provide basic hospitality to an untamed audience. Meenan may want hipsters to enjoy themselves while saving the planet, but instead provides cheap replicas of Latin food, as well as neglectful behavior in advocating noise pollution on a quiet, brownstone neighborhood. If you’re seeking a deal, try across the street where “Not Ray’s Pizza” will serve greasy, delicious slices on paper plates, just as it should be.

For more information, visit www.ecoeatery.com.

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