Ten Years' Hiding in Plain Sight End

Enchilada Warehouse

2106 North St. Mary's Street, at Grayson

We went trolling around the Tobin Hill - Monte Vista - Alta Vista part of town in search of a dozen or so restaurants I found listed on Urbanspoon that I had never heard of. I figured that, this being My Home Turf, I would know what's where. Most of the places I'd written down did not, in fact, exist (one listing showed an Indian restaurant half a block from my house), a couple did, and though I don't know any more about them, I at least know now that they are there, waiting to be sampled.

Across the street from a continually-failed restaurant (an elegant, elaborate Mission-style place that's housed probably 15 different attempts at high-end Mexican cuisine since it was built about 15 years ago) on North Saint Mary's is the unprepossessing Enchilada Warehouse & Cantina, looking for all the world like a well-kept double-wide Hill Country mobile home. Something about it called to me: it didn't look sufficiently derelict to be in that neighbourhood, maybe. It being almost noon, and most of our potential eateries being but a sad episode in some entrepreneurial restaurateur's past, we decided to stop in.

It was too late for breakfast tacos; the menu says they're only served until 10AM. I know, they'd probably make them for us if we asked nicely, but there are reasons why restaurants have that sort of cut-off, and it'd be rude to insist at that late hour.

The specialty of the house is enchiladas in all their manifestations, although a sign out front claims they have the best carne guisada in town. Enchilada plates run about $7; daily specials are a dollar less, but today's was chicken mole enchiladas, and I'm not a big fan of most moles. According to our waitress, enchiladas tricolores are their biggest seller, so I went for that. Rick, who has his favourites and rarely departs from them (pot to kettle: "hey, you're black"), ordered enchiladas verdes.

Last city inspection: January 2011
22 demerits

As usual, while we waited for our orders, we had a chance to assess the look and feel of the place. There are two dining rooms: a small one, essentially a hallway, with half a dozen tables as you enter; and a larger one just beyond, with about a dozen tables and three or four booths. The tables are well-spaced, making the room feel larger than it is. The booths, however, had low benches that were too far from the table, making it a little uncomfortable to sit there. I tried moving the bench closer, but was only partly successful before I gave up.

The décor is taquería-standard. It looks like someone with a good eye for colours painted the place and suggested the major wall hangings, and then the children were brought in to adorn the remaining spaces with hand-lettered signs and souvenirs bought on a trip to Nuevo Laredo before the recent troubles. The combination produces a feeling of comfort, as though you were in your mom's dining room and no company was expected. 

The service was competently efficient with only a bit of stiffness. This restaurant, it seemed, is a place where regulars, and only regulars, come to eat, so we must have seemed stranger than we really are. But our waitress got over it, and went about her business promptly, and with a minimum of fuss. Chips and two kinds of salsa arrived with our coffee. The chips were fairly fresh, if not plentiful (there's a dollar charge for more) and the red salsa was tasty though not at all piquant. I didn't try the green. The coffee was pretty good, maybe a little weaker than would be my preference. (I don't like the kind of acidic sludge that seems to be the modern norm.)

The food, overall, was excellent. Rick's enchiladas verdes, he said, hit exactly the right level of spiciness. His frijoles refritos were well-made, and tasty, a little spicier than you get at most places. I had ranchero beans, which were also very good, and in the kind of quantity you expect: about a cup. Neither of us cared much for the Spanish rice, which was reasonably flavourful and not at all dry, as it so often is in Tex-Mex restaurants; the problem was that it was just a little mushy. My enchiladas were an absolute triumph. Beef, chicken and cheese, all were masterful creations, with good amounts of meat and cheese rolled in freshly-made tortillas and covered in excellent sauces, each good enough to serve to el obispo en domingo.  It made me feel special.

I've been down this stretch of St. Mary's Street a thousand times in the last twenty years and have never noticed this restaurant before today. The waitress says it's been there about ten years. My only excuse can be that my attention is always taken to the elaborate, colourful building across the street; the unassuming Enchilada Warehouse, set back behind its parking lot, never intruded on my consciousness. Well, that oversight has now been corrected.