The 524 Mexican Restaurant raises a lingering question about the overused word "authentic."

What does that mean when it comes to Mexican cuisine in California's capital?

Do we seek to capture a time and place in a specific region south of the border? Does your quest for "authentic" include biting into a taco filled with brains and flavored with cilantro? How about noshing on toasted grasshoppers?

Or does "authentic" mean something else entirely? How about honest, humble, credible, well-meaning and unwavering? How about food that does not yield to every culinary whim? That reaches out without selling out? At 524 Mexican Restaurant, this is what I found.

This restaurant bridges the gap between charming, threadbare taquerias and fashionable, upscale hot spots. Here, I savored a big bowl of beef-and-vegetable stew in a clear broth that more than satisfied my hunger. I enjoyed fresh, tender shrimp in a red-hot sauce. I appreciated the tender carnitas marinated in orange juice and, yes, Coca-Cola, then cooked so slowly that the meat breaks apart when you poke it with a fork.

This food hasn't changed in 40 years. The family is the same family that owned the restaurant when Nixon was president, cars ran on leaded gasoline, people smoked wherever they darn well pleased, and folks survived somehow without the ShamWow, the Internet, and the wit and wisdom of Sarah Palin.

In 1969, the year Diana Kennedy began giving cooking lessons in her New York apartment and three years before she published her seminal work "The Cuisines of Mexico," an unassuming man named Miguel Gomez took over 524 Mexican Restaurant on 12th Street at the edge of downtown.

With traditional, straightforward recipes, his goal was simple: Feed the Alkali Flat neighborhood by combining the time-honored cooking of Mexico with the preferences of modern Sacramento.

It worked. Folks of various backgrounds and income levels stopped in for a satisfying meal. In the 1980s, 524 stayed open until 4 a.m., attracting a crowd looking for food after the bars closed. Old-timers still call it the 524 Club.

Through thick and thin – a stroke, a fire, the shifting expectations of foodies, and now the state's cutbacks – this place has maintained the same values, though hardly the same hours. The food is refreshingly simple, the service uncommonly friendly and sincere. To this day, the clientele is eclectic.

The first thing I noticed upon entering is that 524 is no longer the hole in the wall it apparently once was. The bright, warm walls and appealing décor are the result of an extensive remodeling after a fire ravaged the historic building in 2003, thanks to a fryer left on overnight. The restaurant closed for more than three years as the owners struggled to bounce back.

The second observation came amid a double take: William T. Vollmann, the prolific, controversial and acclaimed writer and world traveler, was seated at the next booth. Turns out, Vollmann, who took 3,298 pages to chronicle nothing less than the history of violence, and whose 774-page novel "Royal Family" deals with prostitutes and drug addicts in San Francisco, has a writing studio nearby and is a regular for lunch. Vollmann once compared smoking crack to drinking three cups of coffee simultaneously, so we won't inquire about his favorite plate at 524.

Third, the pico de gallo and salsa have some serious pop, spicy enough that I immediately ordered and downed a cold beer – $5 to the first reader who sends me a video of someone eating an entire bowl of 524 chips and salsa without sipping a beverage.

I have a few favorite dishes to share, but first a cautionary note. The pico de gallo notwithstanding, this is not a place that tries to blow your socks off with heat. In fact, many of the main dishes are noteworthy for being low-key enough that you won't raise an eyebrow.

It's also not a place to further your quest to eat assorted body parts or unusual former living things – no menudo (tripe), no lingua or cabeza.

When I asked co-owner Jose Raphael Gomez about this – he runs 524 with his mother and father, and a small group of amiable employees – he replied: "90 percent of our food was created in the '60s. We haven't changed anything since Day One. If you go to small towns in Mexico, you will find simple food. Our food is simple."

524 is the actual address on 12th Street, which is not a great street these days. It could use a face-lift and an infusion of new ideas and perhaps a few pedestrians who look like they're ready to spend money.

This restaurant, with its good food and fair prices, is overlooked by motorists who simply want to keep moving along.

I really liked the cocida ($9.99), at once a hearty and low-key stew. Large portions of tender beef with cabbage, carrots, celery and potatoes make for an entire meal in a bowl. The broth is light and simple, nothing more than water, cilantro, salt. If you want it hot, introduce some of the red salsa.

If you're under the weather or in need of a nutritional shot in the arm, this is what I recommend.

The much flashier and far spicier camarones a la diabla ($13.99) is a very fine shrimp dish in a red chili sauce served with tortillas. The shrimp is sautéed in butter, along with tomatoes and onions. Then the red salsa is added. You'll notice the consistency of the shrimp, firm yet tender.

Diabla, of course, means devil – and this devil ain't playing. The balance of heat, flavor, texture and tenderness stands out.

Somewhere in between is the carnitas dinner, the restaurant's best-known dish. Gomez tells me the marinade of orange juice and Coke dates to the opening of the restaurant. The large portion of carnitas is presented without fanfare, nothing more than very tender pork sitting next to rice and beans. Add a little of each to a tortilla, spoon on some salsa, and you're face to face with simple food done well.

Several of the best entrees at 524 seem to involve shrimp, including the fajitas I enjoyed during a lunchtime visit. The steak fajitas are also quite good, as is the carne asada, another simple yet satisfying dish.

The meal can end with one of two desserts, both nicely done – an extra-large and very thick serving of sumptuous flan, or a large bowl of crunchy and sugary churros with ice cream.

Finally, food of any kind can taste better or worse, depending on how you are treated. 524 distinguishes itself with friendliness time and again. It apparently doesn't hire grouches, snobs, know-it-alls or flakes.

Gomez's first experience in the restaurant business was working as a waiter.

"It was the best job I ever had. Serving people, meeting people was awesome to me," he told me.

I could say the same thing about being served by him. He may be one of the owners, but he doesn't hide in a back office. He's out front meeting and greeting, often side by side with his mom, carrying on the family tradition.

I can assure you that the simple, honest, authentic food at 524 tasted that much better because of it.

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