In restaurant years Baja Betty’s is a young adult with a penchant for tequila and good times. Having just turned four last month, it’s become a community magnet for consumers seeking a spirited bar and dining experience wrapped loosely in a Baja theme.

The concept is better achieved through the restaurant’s faux-tropical atmosphere and lengthy tequila list than by its firmly Americanized south-of-the-border fare. Though El Torrito or Chevy’s this isn’t. The salsas are feistier and a little more varied. The cocktails aren’t watered down. And of those phallic-shaped balloons and desserts you occasionally see rousing large groups, they’re the campy tokens given free to birthday celebrants. Whether you’re straight or gay, it’s penises for the guys, vaginas for the girls. Surrounding Hillcrest is hardly forgotten.

Baja Betty’s atmosphere is reliably festive, if not anesthetizing when over-dabbling in the high-powered margaritas or shooters of finely aged tequilas. It’s one of those places where dining and cavorting are pleasurably unified amid wildly colorful paintings, fake palm trees and a center bar marked by thatched eaves.

From a dining standpoint, I’m generally struck by indifference over the food. As with most Ameri-Mex restaurants, redundancy trails through multiple dishes using particular base ingredients. Here, it’s queso, chipotle sauce, rice, beans and other usual suspects that repeat heavily. However, certain house specialties draped in mole, verde or rojo sauces spare us from what might otherwise taste like Mexican food from northern Maine.

Portions are shockingly large. Full-size burritos are more than a foot long. Or in the case of a half order of “build your own” nachos, we ended up with a weighty block of densely stacked tortilla chips cemented by cooling cheddar. The plate could’ve easily fed four. Mushrooms were among several ingredients my companion chose, an appealing and novel addition to nachos, but if only they were criminis or portobellas instead of boring button caps.

Another chip-based appetizer, the “Mexi-Queen” cheese dip, held our interest longer. The melted cheeses (cheddar and I think Oaxaca) are contained in a pretty tortilla vessel; the curds behaving much better than standard queso because they stayed miraculously thin and silky after cooling. Rich and buttery tasting, it didn’t resemble Velveeta.

Jalapeno “bottle caps” seem tailor made for beer drinking, as I discovered with a bottle of malty Bohemian ale on hand. The bite-sized peppers offered just enough capsaicin to overlook their lackluster breading. After savoring the accompanying chipotle dipping sauce throughout the duration, I abandoned my decision on ordering the popular chicken chipotle entrée, which we were told uses the same sauce.

We expressed opposing opinions over the el tigre salad featuring grilled romaine lettuce drizzled with queso fresco and Caesar dressing. My companion applauded the interplay of the wilted greens with the tangy appointments. I felt the lettuce was too thready and bitter from overcooking, unlike other grilled romaine salads I’ve had where the heads are left fully intact with only the outer leaves lightly charred.

Moving to other menu categories (and there are many), we ordered a chili relleno and cheese enchilada from the combo section. Loaded also with beans and rice, the dish offered typical north-of-the-border flavors – not bad, but nothing to write home about if your family lives in Cabo.

The kitchen decently prepares carnitas and carne asada, my usual standbys when frolicking here. Both meats show up as choices in a plethora of dishes; the pork moist and tender, the beef lean and spiced. So I turned instead to “shrimply tacos” from the specialty list, tempted by the menu’s description that the shrimp are sautéed in white wine, garlic and peppers. With so many other occupants tucked inside this trio of corn tortillas (cabbage, salsa fresco and queso fresco), and then partially buried by beans and rice, I couldn’t distinguish how these shrimp tacos differ from those made at my favorite fast-food stands.

Betty’s tequila offerings serve as your true passport into Mexico, with more than 100 distillations ranging in age from 14 days to more than three years. The older the tequila, the smoother and more interesting it will taste straight up rather than having it dumped into a margarita. Shooters of the good stuff average about $11 apiece, although if you’re gainfully employed with money to burn, a mere $69 will buy you several sips of superior, stomach-warming Don Julio Real, touted for its honey and herbaceous characteristics.

Rarely do I find a restaurant that doubles as a lively watering hole, with neither infringing on the other. Betty’s atmosphere is charged with upbeat music, a jovial wait staff and a patronage bent on limbering up over a few libations. Just like its parent restaurant, Urban Mo’s, it has grown up to become one of the happiest and successful haunts in Hillcrest.