A So-So Theme Restaurant

Lee's Taco Garage
8403 Broadway, just inside Loop 410

Another fall-back restaurant. This time we wanted to go to Capparelli's on Broadway, but it's either closed for remodelling or out of business. Heading inside the Loop, we spotted a large, somewhat garish building that I thought said "Taco Grande," and the why-the-hell-not approach landed us in their parking lot. 

Last city inspection: November 30, 2010
24 demerits

Space is tight in there, and traffic is one way; to leave, you have to go down the alley behind, which takes you through an potholed obstacle course to either the Loop 410 access road to the north, or a small side-street to the south. Or you could do like the driver of a sign-company pickup truck did while we were there, and try to back out to Broadway, hoping nobody tries to come in while you're doing that. (He eventually gave up and went down the alley.)

The restaurant itself is similarly casual in layout. There must be a main entrance, somewhere up toward the avenue, but we didn't see it. we saw the middle section, by the parking lot entrance. There was also a back room, making a total of maybe 30 to 35 tables in the place. We chose one of the few available clean tables, near the egress from the kitchen. 

You know how, when you knock a little hole in a dike, the water rushing out has a lot of force right near the dam, but soon is spent? That's how we felt, sitting there. Wait staff rushed by like water gushing from a hole. There seemed to be a whole lot of waitrons, too, but after an initial flurry of menu-bringing and drink-bringing, there was a lull. A long lull. Then someone brought chips and salsa. Then more chips and salsa. Then, after what seemed like an age, our waitress stopped by long enough to take our order. The food came soon enough after that, but the check didn't arrive until we'd already started a pool on how long it'd take getting there.

The sort of tag-team table-waiting that Lee's Taco Garage appears to engage in is either very well done, as at J Alexander, or very poorly done, as here. There seems to be no middle ground. One waitress seemed to be devoting her entire effort to one table of three people near the door; she must have visited them half a dozen times while we were in the place, and we didn't see her tending to any other table.

The interior of the Taco Garage is fairly large, and decorated in accordance with its theme of "Tex-Mex Cruizine": hanging lamps made from engine parts; a rack of magazines worthy of any auto-shop waiting room; a few old (or fake-old) advertising signs. In one area, near the restrooms, a woman makes tortillas behind a large sneeze-guard. The walls are orange. On this cloudy day, the overall impression was of darkness, despite the glass wall on the southern exposure. It looked unkempt. When we arrived, there were a number of unoccupied tables, but only two that had been bussed. At least one of the cluttered tables remained untouched the entire time we were in the room. For all the staff at the Taco Garage, there seem not to be enough people whose job description includes busing tables. 

The menu continues the theme: lunch plates are "licensed plates." Clever. Enchiladas come under the rubric "Wrenchiladas," and margaritas are "high-octane" drinks, while soft drinks and coffee are, of course, "unleaded." Desserts are "tail lights"; surprisingly, appetizers are not "starters." We both selected quesadilla plates: norteño for me, primo for Rick.

I didn't care for the chips or salsa at Taco Garage. For probably the first time in my life, I added salt to the tostadas, but it didn't help. The first tasted like soap; the second like soap with salt. I'd call them inedible were it not for the fact that Rick sucked down the entire first bowl and half of the second. He also seemed to approve of the roasted-pepper salsa, which I thought tasted like the peppers had been allowed to roast too long. Anyone who has tried roasting peppers knows how quickly they go from "done" to "burnt," so some leeway has to be allowed, and I'll say no more about that.

Rick's quesadillas primo consisted of beef fajita and cheese, lots of cheese, pressed between two fried flour tortillas. It's hard to ruin so basic a dish, and as hard to excel at it. Nothing about it was remarkable, other than the generous portion of cheese. It wouldn't have hurt to leave the meat on the grill another half a minute, but it was acceptable. The quesadillas were accompanied by rice and beans (choice of refried or borracho; we both chose borracho), a dollop of sour cream, and a large dose of guacamole. The beans were well-seasoned and tasty, but the serving was a little on the stingy side. Given that they were the best thing on either of our plates, the kitchen might want to make the portions larger. The other sides were only so-so: the rice a little dry (but I found that, added to the beans, it made a delicious protien-laden blend), the guacamole bland. 

My quesadillas norteño consisted of beef, peppers and onions folded into corn tortillas, accompanied by rice, beans, and a small lettuce, tomato and avocado salad, which a smear of Rick's sour cream made tolerable. The peppers and onion on my quesadillas had only the barest acquaintance with the grill, and so were lacking in flavour and disturbing in texture. The tortillas, at least, were pretty good.

Southside Authenticity on the North Side

Rita's Enchiladas
2249 Austin Highway
650-0095

The unregrettable discovery that Le Peep is no longer at the Carousel Shopping Center (it's now Billy T's, a burger shop that used to be on Austin Highway, its place taken by Cerroni's Purple Garlic Pizza, one of my favourite pizza places) led us on a quest for another place to have a late breakfast yesterday. Somehow, that journey took us all the way out Austin Highway, to that rather seamy stretch of road between Ira Lee and Perrin Beitel, where, plunked down in the parking lot of an old-fashioned motor-court, we found Rita's Enchiladas, looking resplendently unsophisticated in its sheet-metal walls, the sign outside proclaiming the arrival of new owners.

Well, what the hell. We figured that, worst-case scenario, it'd be mediocre, like most of the more respectable-looking taquerías we find strewn about the north side of town. 

The atmosphere here is thoroughly working-class. We were alone in the place when we arrived, but by the time we were done we felt out of place, as we have not a tattoo or a piercing between us, while everyone else seemed to have spent all their paychecks on body art for the past three years. 

This is the kind of place where you really need to have some Spanish if you want to talk to the waitress. I could just manage it myself, but I did have to ask her to speak more slowly at one point, which she found funny and (I think) adorable. (Everyone I know in Mexico thinks so, but they always appreciate the effort.) Coming in here is like being transported to the kind of place you used to have to drive to the South Side to find, where nothing has consciously been done to attract an Anglo clientele. The place is resolutely and unapologetically Tex-Mex in every respect, with no emendations made in the name of modern marketing theory.

This is a good thing, at least to those of us who are growing tired of the dreary homogenization of comida mejicana as it moves into the national mainstream. (As opposed to the local mainstream; let's face it, Tex-Mex has long been mainstream here, but without the homogeneity.)

The place is small, only about six or seven tables. It looks like it used to be an ice house, another charming attribute. The decor features the same kind of sheet-metal on the walls and counter, with a few inexpensive paintings and some whimsical welded folk-art: a chicken, a rooster, and two musicos that stand on the vinyl-tiled floor as though they were going to be put somewhere eventually. It seems reasonably clean, like your cousin's living room when they weren't expecting you. 

The menu is simple: the usual breakfast tacos and daily specials, and half a dozen reasonably-priced ($6.50) lunch plates. Nothing fancy at all. I decided on machacado tacos on flour tortillas; Rick went for the picadillo. (We've come to know it as "Column B." He almost always orders beef fajita tacos, ("Column A"), but when he feels like a change, it's picadillo.) 

Rick was impressed with the picadillo at Rita's. There was a lot of it, and it was very well seasoned, and not nearly as messy as the same dish at most other taquerías. And the flour tortillas here were made in a fashion rarely seen locally, but much appreciated. Smaller than in most Tex-Mex restaurants, about 6", and very thin, cooked right to the farther edge of done-ness, so that, thin as the tortillas are, they can be separated into layers. In the end, Rick pronounced it the best picadillo he'd ever had, and gave serious thought to ordering another.

I had similar thoughts about the machacado. Not as large as at Blanquita's, and not as meaty, they were still as finely seasoned, as well-cooked, and as nicely balanced in the various tastes as those delicious tacos I had last week. The excellent salsas, both red and green, add just the right note of piquancy to the experience.

No city inspection yet for this business.

The only imperfection was the coffee, which -- it'll amaze those who know me -- I considered a little weak. There was a large Bunn coffee maker on the counter in the back of the service area, but it apparently isn't hooked up, as the waitress used a carafe from a drip coffee maker back in the kitchen. The coffee tasted like they skimped just a little in loading the filter. Not enough to complain about, but enough to keep their rating from reaching the top mark it'd get if we hadn't had the coffee.

Mmm Mmm Good!

Blanquita's Mexican Restaurant

1619 Goliad Road

333-0441

I wonder: would it be worth driving all the way over to Goliad Road for tacos? It's a tough call. From where I live, it's about a 15-minute trip to Blanquita's. And for me, as for most north-siders, there's a mental obstacle involved in crossing Durango Boulevard, even on the freeway. But the machacado tacos I had there this morning make me think that, yes, from time to time, it would be worth the trip. 

It's an unassuming little place, a block north of where Hot Wells Boulevard ends, surrounded by small mom-&-pop businesses. A photocopied sign on the walls advises customers that tips for good service would be greatly appreciated, as if that is not already the custom among Blanquita's regular patrons. The interior is unimpressively furnished with unexceptional tables and chairs, but very clean; and except for the television showing "Dog: The Bounty Hunter," a so-called reality show about some of the sleaziest people you could ever hope not to meet, it's a comfortable place to have a meal.

Last city inspection: January 31
11 demerits

The service was prompt and efficient, though I admit to having had a little difficulty understanding one of the three waitresses we dealt with, because she mumbled. I just finally had to guess at what she might be saying, and apparently guessed right.

The coffee here was good. I've had better, but it's definitely in the top 25% for restaurants of this type. As for the food, my friend Rick, who almost always goes for the beef fajita tacos, and when he doesn't goes for the picadillo tacos, decided this morning to hedge his bets, and got one of each. The picadillo, he said, was good, but messy, even for piccadillo. (Which puts me in mind of the old rule of thumb, that a sandwich is good in direct proportion to how messy it is, and the best ones must be eaten over the sink. It seems the rule for tacos, too.) The beef fajita taco, though lacking the pepper and onion accoutrements that I would have hoped for, was perfectly season and cooked. If it's not quite as good as the same dish at Potosino #2 on San Pedro, it's because Blanquita's uses the (authentic) cheaper cut of meat. (Fajitas were, after all, poor-people food until they became fashionable back in the late 1980s.) The home-made tortillas at Blanquita's seem to be a little larger than at similar restaurants; as a result, the portions are a little larger than you get in most similar places. And although those larger tortillas are stuffed to the point where stress fractures are a consideration, both the corn and flour tortillas hold together admirably.

But the star of the show was the machacado con huevo. The large tortillas were absolutely stuffed with a mixture that was mostly meat, and wonderfully seasoned, with just enough of the other ingredients to give it a full, rich taste. The salsa rojo on the table was piquant enough to make a mouth tingle, but not so hot as to make an eye water. Excellent. Really.

I'm thinking, you know...just about every place is fifteen minutes away. It'd be worth the trip.

Tacos On McCullough

I did an extra-long workout at the gym this morning just so that I could pig out a little. My friend Rick and I had decided to try the three taquerías that are in a short stretch of McCullough, and so I knew I'd be having three tacos today instead of my usual two. These restaurants are all a short distance from San Antonio College, and from Metropolitan Hospital; both institutions are expanding, and the area is becoming more built up, so I reckon all three restaurants, as well as their non-Tex-Mex neighbours, will be with us a while.

The idea was to order the same thing at each of the three restaurants, for head-to-head comparison. Once again, though, that plan was frustrated slightly.

The first of the three was Taquería Chapala Jalisco, in a converted pizzeria on the corner of McCullough and Dewey. (There's another restaurant with the same name on Perrin Beitel; I don't know if it's part of the same restaurant group.) Brightly painted in yellow with red trim, inside and out, this converted Pizza Hut (nice to see something productive done with old buildings, isn't it?) had been my favourite of the three from previous visits. I expected that opinion to be sustained, but it was not.

I ordered one chilaquile taco, my preferred breakfast food; Rick got his usual, a beef fajita taco. We both had coffee.

Latest city inspection, Sept. 2010;
12 demerits

Although the place is clean and neat, and the service is good, and the prices are very reasonable, we were both disappointed. We both found the coffee slightly acidic, but that's a minor point. Our main dissatisfaction was with the food. Rick's beef fajita taco was chewy and dry, with just a hint of seasoning and no vegetable component. My chilaquiles were generally disappointing in texture, with thick, chewy pieces of fried tortilla, very little onion or pepper, and a small dose of tomato; and what little there was of the veggies could have used another minute or two on the grill. The taco was also runny. It was, however, well seasoned. The cheese used was mozzarella, which was unusual but surprisingly tasty. 

A block south, and across the street, is Regio Cafe, a smaller Tex-Mex place with more of a traditional look. While the staff clearly take some pains to keep the place clean and neat, they are undone by the nature of the vinyl tablecloths used. Made to simulate leather, the numerous small creases show the dirt that has accumulated and not been scrubbed out. The pale colour matches the seat-cushion covers, many of which have split and cracked despite being, from appearances, not all that old. Otherwise, though, the place is nicely decorated, with ivy arranged like bunting through racks of terra cotta pottery. As at Jalisco, the service is good, and the prices are almost exactly the same.

Last city inspection, Jan 2011
7 demerits

The food here was more to our liking. Rick's beef fajita taco contained a generous portion of meat, along with sautéed onion and pepper. It was deftly seasoned, tender, and moist. My chilaquiles were good but not great. They had a good texture, with the egg and tortilla chips properly cooked, but there was no discernible onion or pepper in the mix. The cheese was the American-traditional cheddar, thinly shredded and allowed to melt into the filling without forming the sort of repulsive, tasteless goo that one gets where Velveeta is used. The salsa verde that was provided was very hot, adding a nice edge to the overall taste. 

Last city inspection, April 2010;
11 demerits

The third place on this row is the Little Taco Factory, another block or two south (catty-corner from Armadillo's, one of the better burger joints in town -- where Little Hipps used to be). This is a more casual spot, with the air of an old-fashioned lunch counter. You place your order at the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room; drinks and utensils are self-serve. Your food is brought out to you in very short order.

The dining room, beside being very small, is noisy. There's some noise from the kitchen, but that's subdued, being in another room behind the counter; and some noise from the other tables, but not a roar like we find in so many recently-designed restaurants spaces. The irritating aspect of the noise at the Little Taco Factory is the noise of machinery, especially the ice machine, whirring and whining just a few feet away. I'm not sure it's as bad in reality as it is in my recollection -- it did, on the plus-side, provide white noise to mask the conversations going on around us -- but it was, as I said, irritating. Mildly irritating, but irritating nonetheless.

More importantly, the food: the Little Taco Factory's menu put paid to our plan to compare all three restaurants on the same basis. They do not offer beef fajita tacos, they have brisket. And they do not offer chilaquiles, they have migas; but they don't offer migas tacos, only plates. (This is, incidentally, the first time any Tex-Mex place has ever refused to serve a taco filled with something offered on the menu in another form. I think that's shortsighted, to so blithely pass on the opportunity to provide the customer what he wants, but it's their shop, and so it's their prerogative to be anal-retentive about their menu. It just becomes another reason I won't care to return to their shop.)

Rick found his brisket taco bland, tasteless, and dry. He did not appear to enjoy it at all. 

Stymied by the restaurant's lack of chilaquiles, and their unwillingness to slap some migas into a tortilla for me, I ordered a potato and egg taco with cheese. This is my default order when I can't have anything I want. It's hard to ruin a potato and egg taco. About all you can do wrong, in my prior experience, is overcook the eggs.

These eggs weren't over cooked, but alas! they found another way to displease. Two other ways, actually. The potatoes were overcooked, and the eggs were salty. I liked it not at all.

At least the coffee was good. As were the prices, but not good enough to  make up for the quality of food, the lack of preferred options, or the restaurant's unwillingness to accommodate variations.