Another Damn Good Taquería

Carmelita's
2218 Broadway

(where North Alamo Street ends)

I haven't figured out, yet, why it is that almost all the taquerías in Loopland are so mediocre, while almost all the places inside the Loop are so good. Could it be that a certain amount of time is required for a taco house to acquire ... what? A layer of grease on everything in the kitchen? I don't think that's what it is. 

There are, of course, a few mediocre places inside the Loop — two come to mind, in my own neighbourhood — but I have yet to find any — any — good taquerías outside of 410, until you get to Comal County. (If anybody has a suggestion, by all means, let me hear it.)

Today, feeling my curmudgeonly oats, I had a hankering to find a place not to like. I wanted something to grouse about, something mediocre or worse, something that'd make me want to rant about just how bad a restaurant could be. I had no place in mind, but just struck out at random, with my sidekick; we headed towards Broadway, because he had some business over there, and that was sufficient excuse. 

The place we settled was Carmelita's, in a former fast-food restaurant in the triangle of land where Alamo Street runs into Broadway. The old Butter Krust Bakery is across the avenue, in the throes of renovation, and the ruins of Playland Park lie across Alamo. A promising setting for a culinary horror story, I thought. 

Alas, no. I liked it.

It being our first visit to this place, which neither of us had ever heard of before (or, for that matter, even noticed on any of our frequent trips up and down Broadway), we both ordered what we consider our "usuals." For me, that's one chilaquile taco and one machacado taco; I asked for the former in a flour tortilla, the latter in a corn tortilla. My Kato went for one beef fajita and one picadillo, both in flour. We both had coffee.

All the windows in the place face north and west. I suppose in the afternoon it might get hot in the dining room, but they close at 3pm, and I doubt ghosts and burglars would complain. In the morning, the shade of the building and the trees outside make a pleasant setting. The dining room tables, chairs, floors and walls all appear clean, and the blue-and-white Poblano-style table tops add to that feeling. The whole place looks to have had a new coat of paint recently. (I don't know how long the place has been around, but it looked, generally, fresh and new; though I know it has health inspections going back over three years.)

The coffee was reasonably strong, without an acidic bite; the way we both like it. And it was hot but not excessively so; we've recently had some issues with scalding coffee, so that was a plus for Carmelita's. The service was cheerful and prompt, and everything was correct when it came. The staff were assiduous about keeping everyone in the place (and it was nearly full) supplied with anything they wanted. 

The first thing I noticed on the menu was the price of coffee. Normally, I don't even look at this, and am always being unpleasantly surprised at what people charge for it. With the rise of the Seattle-style coffeehouse, prices for even ordinary coffee have steadily climbed, so that it's not unusual to pay $1.69 or so for what used to be described as "coffee service." Usually it's not really worth that, but people seem conditioned to making mental comparisons between diner coffee and Starbucks, where a single cup of coffee requires mortgage financing. That's not a valid comparison, of course, even if you like Starbucks coffee (which, I don't). But Carmelita's charges only $1.25 for coffee service (and I do mean service), and I noticed that their prices for my tacos were slightly less than I've become accustomed to paying elsewhere, no matter how bad they are. Not a big savings, but it adds up, especially when you eat them several times a week, as I tend to do.

Last city inspection: June 2011
26 demerits

The picadillo was good, but not great. I'd say the same about the chilaquiles. And the flour tortillas used on three of our four tacos were what Mexicans call regulár — ordinary, neither bad nor particularly good. Fortunately for this place's ratings, the other foods we sampled stood out as better than most. 

The beef fajitas were leaner than is usual, yet not the least bit dry. They were served with a plentiful, though not overwhelming, quantity of grilled peppers and onions, and lightly doused with a delicious sauce. And my machacado taco was perhaps the second-best I've ever eaten, and it was wrapped in a good-sized corn tortilla, made in-house, that Goldilocks would have been pleased with: of even thickness, cohesive, heated through but not burned at any point, and more flavourful than is, strictly-speaking, normal — all qualities that will endear the things to anglos and hispanicos alike. 

My good friend Kato, a/k/a Rick, who generally accompanies me on my taco quests, lives out in Loopland, so we've tried to find good places located in between our houses. It's getting harder and harder to justify going to some of them. There are so many more really good taco houses closer to downtown. Carmelita's makes it just that much harder to meet in between.

Only Slightly Over-Sold

Gourmet Burger Grill
18414 U.S. 281 North

(on the northeast corner of the 281/1604 interchange)

On the lighted menu boards above the counter at Gourmet Burger Grill is a placard touting all the awards the food has won. They're mostly popularity contests orchestrated by the local newspaper or the local disreputable throwaway weekly rag. I didn't read through the whole list — it's quite long — because I don't really care about such things. (It's on their web site, too, if you feel even the least little bit curious.) Everybody has their own subjective standards by which a burger is to be judged, and I've seen enough mediocre things awarded "Best in S.A." titles to consider that crown an empty shell, a meaningless gimmick, a piffle. And I know that even reputable and presumably knowledgeable national authorities will sometimes ascribe an even loftier title to food that's merely a little better than average. No, the only way to judge food is to taste it, and compare it to what you think is superb. Today, I unleashed my skeptical taste buds on the Gourmet Burger Grill.

First, what makes it "gourmet"? I suppose they have in mind the fact that you can choose Kobe beef, or Certified Angus, or lamb or chicken, and you can choose your bread and cheese and sauce and all kinds of other things. Dictionary.com defines "gourmet" in its adjectival form as "involving or purporting to involve high-quality or exotic ingredients and skilled preparation." GBG does use, as far as I could see, high-quality ingredients, and I suppose lamb and Kobe beef are still sufficiently exotic to warrant the name. So, yeah, "gourmet" is a fair enough descriptor.

But is it good? More importantly, is it exceptional? The simple answer is, yes and no.

The place itself is clean, uncrowded, and decorated with some small aplomb: claret walls with occasional advertising posters, a couple of televisions, an uncarpeted floor, a black techno-chic ceiling set high enough to keep the hard surfaces from making the noise level unpleasant. The tables are spaced to leave room for comfort and passage. The chairs at the two-tops on either side feel flimsy and seem designed without comfort foremost in mind. If you're of average size or less, and plan to spend your mealtime surfing on your smart phone, you'll be fine leaning forward in those chairs. If you plan to have a relaxing conversation, you might want to sit elsewhere. The larger tables have chairs that are sturdier, and slightly more comfortable.

You enter from the parking lot and make your way to the counter in the rear, with gigantic fluorescently-lit menu boards above. There are those exotic items; others are more commonplace, but not ubiquitous, like sweet-potato fries and tots. In addition to an array of burger and burger-like products, they have salads, real salads, and a daily soup; unusually for a burger joint, there's also a wine list, and a selection of somewhat elaborate desserts. You can even order your burger wrapped in lettuce instead of bread.

Your order is taken by a less than ebullient employee. I think it would be unfair to call him, or the other young man we noticed, surly; let's just say they both seem preoccupied, no doubt concerned about making our dining experience pleasant. They aren't rude or cold, merely ... unsmiling. Perfectly efficient. It's like placing an order with Mr Data, and having it delivered by Mr Spock.

Having ordered, you choose your table and spend a few minutes scoping out the crowd. I noticed, to my surprise, that, at the age of 49 (again this year), I was the second-youngest patron in the dining room. There was a young woman at a table along the wall, but the rest of the crowd, which filled more than half the available seats, lived through the Cuban missile crisis. For some reason, I'd expected this borderline-New-Age burger house to be most popular among people who came into the world after Elton John came out. It apparently isn't, at least not at lunchtime.

Last city inspection: April 2011
A perfect score!

The food itself was good enough. My hamburger meat, ordered medium rare, was exactly that way, which surprised me. I've gotten in the habit of ordering meat cooked medium rare so that it will be served medium. Had I know this kitchen actually understands the difference, I'd've ordered it medium. Well, that's a point in their favour. And the condiments were all good quality items, and fresh, from the lettuce (green-leaf, I think, or was it Romaine? I don't remember now) to the red onion. The cheddar cheese was less sharp than I would have liked, while the bacon (applewood-smoked, of course; that's de rigueur these days) was cooked right to the deliciously chewy edge of crispiness. My friend's burger, the day's special, was similarly adorned, though he was disappointed to find that the bleu cheese on it seemed but a suggestion.

The french fries we both ordered were very good, with an aroma of freshness that made me think they had been fried in oil unsullied by any previous use. I do wish, though, that they'd been allowed another half-minute in there, to give them just a bit more crunch. The buns were smaller than their contents, which I suspect is an intentional device aimed at making the burgers look bigger than they are. The burgers are plenty big; the unintended consequence of the buns' size is that they look down-sized and puny.

When I first looked over the menu, I thought the prices were a little on the high side. That is the difference between presumption and informed consideration. These burgers ain't cheap, but in my opinion, you get a good value for the prices asked, on most items, at Gourmet Burger Grill.

Whiskey and Steak

Josephine Street
400 East Josephine Street

(next to 281; parking under the freeway)

Their web site says that tree growing in the dining room is 500 years old. I don't buy that; it doesn't look a day over 450. But then, you know businesses are always stretching the truth.

Josephine Street has been around for about 30 years, though I've only been coming for about 20. I don't believe a thing has changed in all that time. The place has an admirable consistency for those who would be regulars; and judging from the people-watching I did there this evening, that'd be just about everybody. I haven't been out for dinner on a Thursday night since the demise of the old Thursday Evening Supper Club in 2001, so maybe it's not as unusual as it seems to come to a place on a weeknight and have a 30-minute wait for a table. But Jo St is just that popular.

It's not hard to see why. The service is casual and unhurried, but effective and extremely friendly, as though the customers were old friends they don't see often enough. The atmosphere is warm and familial, making the other customers seem to you like friends of friends. The buzz in the room never ends, but neither does it intrude. There's music playing, but you'll never follow it and probably won't even notice it. It is, in short, almost a perfect atmosphere for a casual restaurant.

I wish I could say better things about the food, but — strangely, for a restaurant — it's the weak point of the Jo St experience. Their draw is "whiskey and steak," and that is, fundamentally, what they offer, though you can also get chicken and pork and sandwiches and such. Josephine Street, though, doesn't approach it the way the fancy steak houses do. They're serving lower-grade meats, not that USDA Prime stuff you shell out bodily extremeties for at the fancy places. This is just meat, like you'd maybe buy at HEB and cook at home. You can probably do it about as well, but you'd miss the ambience. Josephine Street is a social, even a sensual experience; the food is secondary. (The booze, it should go without saying, is not.) Not great stuff, just good enough that you like it enough to want to come back.

Last city inspection: January 2010
33 demerits (a lot)

They do, on the other hand, do their vegetables better than a lot of other places. Tonight I had the steamed broccoli with my cracked-pepper rib eye (today's special, a 12-ounce steak for $15). The steak was on the fatty side and the cracked pepper was, well, just that. But the side order of broccoli was about as good as a vegetable can get in a restaurant. It was steamed to exactly the right point, bright green and still crispy, and doused with a little lemon juice; I tasted no oil or butter on it. It was even nicely presented, upright in a small bowl, as though it were a monochromatic bouquet of flowers.

Used to Be Good

Lulu's Bakery & Café

918 North Main Avenue

(behind the Rodeway Inn, by I-35)

Lulu's menu opens with a little self-congratulatory pat on the back about the big-time publicity they got when a Food Network show called "Man vs Food" visited them. The host of that show, a man, it would seem, of unrestrained appetite, ate an entire giant cinnamon roll and a big ol' chicken fried steak dinner. And the menu makes prominent mention of the fact that Lulu's chicken fried steak was voted the best in town, not once but twice.

The most recent such win was in 2003. I don't eat chicken fried steak all that often — three times this year, and that's a lot, for me — but I do know something about it, after a lifetime spent gorging myself on this Lone Star delicacy. And now that I've had Lulu's (again, the last time being about eight years ago), I'd say there's a good reason why they haven't won for eight years.

We arrived at the peak of the lunch rush. Because of its location on the fringe of downtown, close to the medical offices clustered around Baptist and Metropolitan hospitals, and because it has a good-sized parking lot, it's a popular lunch venue. The parking lot was full, as were almost all the tables. We took a seat by the window and waited for someone to come bus the table. And waited. And waited. 

They seem to have plenty of help, with five or six 20-something women in black shirts going in and out of the work area, but it seemed an undue amount of time before one of them came to us with menus and noticed that the table needed wiping down. By the time she got back to take care of that, we'd had time to read the blurb on the menu attributing Lulu's success to a mix of home cooking and Southern Hospitality. We decided before we left, having had to ask first for napkins, then for utensils, that our waitress had not read up on that part. If I had to describe her, I'd say she was a little on the surly side, but maybe "distracted" would be equally accurate, and kinder. So let's say she was distracted, there being so many people for her to deal with. (By the end of our time there, she had even begun to display a sense of humour, saying that if I was too full to walk to the car they could rent me a wheelbarrow.)

We started with iced tea and an order of onion rings. The tea is served in those giant 40-ounce plastic glasses, and didn't that go down good in this hot weather we're getting so resignedly used to. The onion rings were plentiful, and large, and they had a good, seasoned wheat-flour batter laid on thickly. Surprisingly, the onion rings weren't at all greasy, but they were chewy rather than crispy. 

I mentioned to my friend that I was thinking of trying the tortilla soup, which the menu hypes as "the best you'll find," or some such nonsense; but I didn't want soup and onion rings and chicken fried steak and green beans and corn. I asked the waitress if I could have a cup of soup instead of the corn, but she made one of those faces that mean "no, I don't think I can do that." So I was kind of surprised when she brought us both a cup of soup (which, incidentally, we weren't charged for). 

It was definitely not the best tortilla soup around. It's not even in the top five. In fact, I'd say it's closer to the bottom five. The only good quality it had was that it was spicily seasoned. Other than that, the broth was thin and salty; the vegetables, cut in large chunks, had been cooked to death; the cheese was all in a lump at the bottom; and the tortilla strips, which are presented dry in a pile on the platter next to the soup, for you to add as you please, were stale enough to raise the question of how long it takes to petrify a tortilla.

Last city inspection: October 2010
37 demerits (that's a lot)

My friend chose the grilled chicken sandwich, with fries. The chicken breast was indeed grilled, and juicy, yet oddly lacking in flavour. It was served on a bun with too much mayonnaise, a large pile of wilted, aging lettuce leaves, an equally senescent slice of tomato, and some pickles. The plentiful fries would have been good if they'd been cooked a little longer. They were cut as steak-fries, and had a good potato flavour but not the least whisper of crispiness about them. They were too much like particle board after the glue dissolves.

My plate was the erstwhile award-winning chicken fried steak, served with corn and green beans and a large dinner roll. The chicken fried steak seemed admirably Texas-sized, until you cut away the inch and a half of empty batter on each side. After that, you're left with a respectable sized piece of meat, but definitely not Texas-sized. More Illinois-sized, and when's the last time somebody bragged about that? It reminded me of those "black hole awards" that Consumer Reports shows on its back page: large containers for small items. The meat is of the traditional toughness — chicken fried steak is po'-folk food, after all — but tenderized well, so it is eminently edible. The cream gravy was unusually thin but quite good otherwise.

The dinner roll was of the type that entices. It looks delicious, fluffy, with a little crust and lots and lots of soft, yeasty bread. Looks, as they say, can be deceiving. The dough has been kneaded too much, and then not been allowed to rise long enough; making the roll dense and chewy instead of light and fluffy. And it has the taste of those rolls you got in middle school (though it did taste better than that.)

The green beans were well-seasoned and well-drained; I always hate it when they're served in a little bowl full of liquid that always ends up splashing if a bean drops off the fork. Unfortunately — and this is a common problem with veggies like this — they sat too long in hot water to retain any crispiness of texture. They still taste good, but, like the green beans you got in middle school (with the roll), they don't feel good. Ironically, the corn I had not really wanted (but chose as the least bad option for a side dish) was ... well, I won't say it was good; let's just say it was the dish that most closely approximated its paradigmatic form: it was innately corn-like.

Lulu's is open late — 24 hours a day, I believe — and it was one of the first places in town to offer Wi-Fi. But after all these years, it's lost a lot of the characteristics that once promised to make it a Place To Go. You can still get large servings of food pretty cheap, but you really are getting what you pay for.