6825 San Pedro
(Just south of Oblate)
The very first time I ever heard the word "chilaquiles" was a small restaurant at the back of Jardín Unión in Guanajuato. A friend of mine, wanting to expose me to the local culture of his city, took me to El Penguis and ordered my breakfast. What I had this morning at Sabrosas de Guanajuato looked, smelled, and tasted exactly as I remember that breakfast many years ago.
In the interim, I've tried chilaquiles in perhaps three hundred different places, in Mexico and the US, and have learned that there are major regional variations in the dish, so that if you order it in Guanajuato, or Mexico City, or Laredo, or Bismarck, North Dakota, you may not get anything like what you expect.
|What's that mean?|
Last city inspection: November 2015
But the dish I had this morning was, like I say, exactly like what I would have gotten in Jardín Unión. And, style and memory aside, it was delicious. The fried tortilla chips (the actual "chilaquiles" for which the dish is named) were so perfectly cooked that you could cut them with a fork, yet still feel the crispiness when you bit into them. The salsa verde was piquant and tangy. The shreds of chicken had been slowly cooked for a long, long time and gave way readily in the mouth. And there was a generous dollop of sour cream to mix in, giving the dish that last bit of complexity in flavour, texture and temperature. It was served with good refried beans and two homemade tortillas (I chose flour because, well, ya soy gringo.)
If I had to choose between these and what I had all those years ago, I'd choose these; but only because the coffee at this restaurant is better -- that is, more to my liking -- than anything I ever got in Mexico. As was the service. Otherwise, I'd much rather be sitting in the Jardín.