Life in an economic crater. A coal cotton fog, not seen since the mid ’70s, is settling upon playground Manhattan. Glossy magazines and alternative weeklies alike now report the same sunless fact: the good times, they are far away.

But this new age of modesty is not without its dispensations.

The next few years will thrust all kinds of previously cocooned young citizens into the undiscovered countries of their own kitchens and the less fashionable neighborhoods of underappreciated cooks. And though I’ve noted only a trickle so far, I have seen more than a few new faces in the uneven neighborhoods I enjoy.

So, enough preamble: I do, in fact, have a Mexican restaurant for you. And not a small, joyless taqueria of flickering halogens and killer tacos al pastor. Instead, please consider the Rocking Horse Cafe.

So that there are no misunderstandings, know this: this place is not a secret. It is already successful and has enjoyed regular crowds for nearly two decades in kitschy Chelsea. Nonetheless, Rocking Horse Cafe hasn’t yet gotten its due. Its name, ultimately, does not circulate. Next to no one has heard of it and no one makes a special trip to try it out.

This is a shame because it has the attributes of every great Mexican restaurant: the threat of genuine spiciness; a menu with regional surprises; a few knock-down great drinks; and accessible neighborhood joint prices.

Take a relaxed Friday night, get away from the now-dated indulgences of 2006, and make your way out here to this loud quiet spot. Jan Mendelson (read: El Jefe) has come up with some pleasurable and nuanced dishes.

(uno.) Chile Relleno de Hongos: Sautéed wild mushrooms stuffed into a roasted poblano in a tomato chile cream sauce.

(dos.) Cordero Enchipotlado: Chipotle braised lamb shank with caramelized onions, tomatoes and epazote on a bed of cotija polenta.

(tres.) Burrito de Bistec y Huevos: Hanger steak, scrambled eggs, avocado, panela cheese and jalapeño salsa in standard burrito configuration.

Don’t worry about the pretensions wafting off the ingredients above — the food, on your fork, is something else.