An Update, of sorts

Chela's Tacos

3420 North St Mary's Street (at Mulberry)

After my rave a couple of weeks back about Chela's Tacos, on Broadway,  a reader informed me that the "other location" mentioned on the restaurant's web site was at North St. Mary's Street and 281, in the space occupied for many years by Joseph's Storehouse. That was good news for me, since that location is, just barely, within walking distance of my house. 

The St. Mary's location is close to being just across the freeway from the YMCA, and I've been thinking (for a long time -- major life-changing decisions must be given thorough consideration) about re-joining a gym; and I could picture myself walking over to the Y for a workout, then up to Chela's for a taco or two. It's a pleasant thought, and nothing motivates me to get to the gym like the promise of tacos.*

So today, my wife and I made that walk: had tacos at Chela's, then checked out the Y. 

The food at this location of Chela's is every bit as wonderful as at the Broadway location. This time I also tried a machacado barbacoa taco, which is very good but not something that sets my taste buds to humming like the machacado deshebrado. Maybe it's partly because I didn't specify corn tortillas, and apparently the default here is, unexpectedly, flour. (Based on experience, I'm pretty sure that everyone who operates a Mexican or Tex-Mex restaurant assumes that Anglos prefer flour tortillas. Is it racist that I've noticed that? Is it racist for them to assume that? Discuss among yourselves if you care about it; I'm only mildly offended by it.) That would be my mistake, I guess, so next time I go I'll remember that, and specify corn. 

The St Mary's location also has a few tables outside, so if the weather's good and there are two of us, we could take the dog -- another strong plus. (They may have table service at this location, although I placed my order at the counter. If they do, I can take the dog even when it's just me.)

On the down-side, the location also houses a cantina, and the room seems geared to that more than to the taquería. The whole space (it's one large room) is done up in a kind of techno style, an approach to commercial interior design that's really starting to seem retro, what with the hard surfaces and exposed wiring and air ducts hanging from a black-painted ceiling. The result is that the sound inside ricochets all over, producing a din that, with a few more bodies in it, would be as unbearable as at the original Rosario's in Southtown.

* Maybe a bakery would.

Absolutely the Best (so far)

Chela's Tacos

5231 Broadway (in Alamo Heights, south of Austin Highway)

 Every time I pass a certain taquería on Hildebrand, I'm reminded that in the recent past, two national culinary authorities* proclaimed it the source of The Best Tacos in America. As I've written before, I don't even consider it the best tacos on that street.

 Still true. Those authorities may know food in general, but they sure don't know Tex-Mex tacos.

I missed it, twice.

 And now I have to add a further caveat: the best tacos, the absolute best tacos, in San Antonio (and, therefore, the United States), that I've found so far, aren't on Hildebrand at all, but on Broadway, at a place called Chela's. It's tucked into as unprepossessing a strip-center as the upscale enclave of Alamo Heights can muster, with parking out front for maybe a dozen fashionable European sedans and SUVs, with more spaces in the back. (The restaurant's web site mentions another location, but refers to it only as "St Mary's," with no address. It may be a food truck on The Strip, or maybe it's some kind of facility at the university of that name.)

 Chela's takes seriously the mantra of fresh ingredients, and it produces results. The machacado tacos I had on my most recent visit, like every time I've been there, were a splendidly balanced blend of eggs, vegetables, and beef. The flavour had a smoothness to it that is hard to describe as anything other than buttery. The tortillas had exceptional integrity -- so often an issue -- and held together all the way to the end of the meal. The coffee was self-serve, with free refills; it's brewed a little more toward the acidic end of the spectrum than I like, but not so much that it needs a dose of salt. (This, from someone who prefers Community Coffee, the Louisiana brand that my go-to taquería on Hildebrand serves.)

 I rarely get over to Broadway these days, and even more rarely during breakfast-taco hours, so I consider the accidental discovery of this place a few months ago to be one of the great good things in my life since the Bush '41 administration. Honestly, if it were within walking distance of my house, I'd be there just about every morning, with a plate of deshebrada machacado tacos in front of me.

* Specifically, Bon Appétit magazine, and that guy from Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives on some foodie TV channel.

Still There, Still So-So

Blanco Cafe
1720 Blanco

just north of the Fulton Street circle

I've never really been a fan of the Blanco Cafe. It has a loyal following, people who presumably enjoy something about it, but I've never been among their number. To me, there were only two reasons to ever go there; one was its location, which is convenient to my house; the other was a neighbour who had some kind of personal relationship with the family that started the local chain.

Well, there are plenty of restaurants convenient to my house; and that neighbour died some years ago. I never went back to Blanco Cafe after that ... until last week. My immediate reason was the desire to get some exercise, something I don't do nearly enough of. My secondary reason was curiosity: had it improved at all in the years since I'd last been? In that time, one generation of owners had given way to successors, and I've been told that still others are now in charge there.

I've been back twice now, and have decided that twice is plenty.

The first time, I sat at the lunch counter on a stool that was so low I felt like a grown-up visiting a kindergarten. It was uncomfortable enough that, for my second visit, I resolved to take a table, even if that meant having to wait (though I would probably have just left and tried again later). But there were several open tables, and I took one in the back. I'm never comfortable occupying a table for four when I'm alone in a crowded restaurant -- a table for two, sure, but anything larger and you're taking food out of the servers' children's mouths. Fortunately at that moment, the place was busy but not crowded, and yes, it helped that about half the tables were occupied by people dining alone. That shouldn't matter, but it does.

Last city inspection, January; score: 84

These are the things I like about Blanco Cafe: they have a good menu, they have good coffee, and they have good prices. They also have a comfortable atmosphere, a true neighbourhood family-friendly feel, and just enough noise to be a warmly pleasant sanctuary. (Most of the time, anyway; at one point someone in the kitchen felt that something important needed saying in emphatic Spanish that was too loud for me to ignore but too rapid for me to follow.) And there is nothing trendy about the place. (That's probably part of the whole "neighbourhood feel" thing.)

And these are the things I don't like: the service is mediocre, the staff is unhappy, and the food is so-so. On both visits, it took too long for someone to wait on me. That might be understandable when I'm at a table in the back, though I know they saw me come in and sit down; there's no excuse for it when I'm at the lunch counter. Coffee refills were slow in coming, too. The waitress on my second visit spoke to me in what I can only describe in a murmur delivered through an etched frown. The cashier acted, on both visits, as though she had just that moment learned that her favourite soap opera had been cancelled, and she didn't want to talk about it. The staff I encountered on both visits were an effective counterpoint to the ambience of the place.

All my memory could conjure of the food at Blanco Cafe was the image of grease on a plate. That, at least, seems to no longer be the case. I ordered machacado tacos both times. Both times I got eggs with shreds of dried beef, scrambled with peppers and onions and wrapped in cold, dry flour tortillas. On the first visit, they didn't ask if I wanted corn or flour and I didn't specify; on the second visit, I specified corn but got flour anyway. They were not good tortillas. On the first visit, the eggs méjicana were done the way I like them, the way I think they should be; on the second visit, someone in the kitchen decided salt was a good thing for scrambled eggs. (I strongly disagree). Both times, though, they were scrambled to a very good consistency, without too much butter or oil, and had they been tucked into a nice, soft, pillowy warm corn tortilla they might have been enough to tempt me to come back to Blanco Cafe again and again. But being, as they were, stuffed into a couple of rigid old flour tortillas will ensure that, when I need an excuse to take a walk, I'll go to one of the many other taquerías near my house.

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