Los Portales

201 Main St.
Hillsboro, Mo.


Angel was out of town, yet again. Her and her training associate, Diana, took off for Elgin Illinois on Friday, some sort of canine professional's seminar. She told me what it was but I don't recall paying attention at the time. Elgin is Northwest of Chicago, which I have learned is also in Illinois.  I used to know someone from there, but that was a long time ago.
Adam had worked some earlier in the day but was home in time for our regular outing. Up until we left the house we still hadn't decided where to go. I mentioned maybe something Mexican, he agreed. That meant, without need for further discussion, Los Portales.
The Place:
By best possible definition, LP is a dive. The building is old, the decor is rough and simple, the floors lean, the tile on the floors is cheap, and many of the furnishing do not match. It's just the kind of place you'd expect would serve excellent Mexican food.
The food there is authentic, it says so right on the sign. We've been there fairly often, it is close to home and  right on Main street.
A lot of people go there for their drinks. On this early evening there were already three or four ladies listing to port side, clutching bright yellow, fruity looking concoctions in massive goblets at the bar.
There's a smoking section by the bar that you have to go through before you get to the second-hand smoking section. Like I said, it's a dive.
We were greeted and then seated at a booth at a window that fronted Main street. A few other tables were loaded with locals. I've lived here long enough now that I had to carefully scan the room to see if I knew anyone. It's a popular place and many of the town's movers and shakers frequent the place.
A member of the purple-shirted wait staff brought us menus and the obligatory chips and salsa. LP's chips and salsa are pretty good, the salsa is not too hot, but it will eventually open up the sinuses.
I looked around the room, soaking in the atmosphere. Overhead the music system played authentic Mexican music, soulful, pleading songs, that sucked you in even though the words were undecipherable. He may have been singing about a lost love, a dying pet, a lonely existence, or he may have just been lamenting a blown piston in his pickup truck, I couldn't tell, but I was certain that it made the poor man hurt. The passion was intense, real and personal.
Mounted on one wall was a coat rack. Stuffed in the top of it were several gaudy sombreros. I told Adam that I imagined that on more formal occasions that if a patron violated the dress code and came in without a sombrero, that these were the loaners, like that box of ugly ties fancy restaurants keep on hand.
He suggested in reply that they belonged to the staff. He laughed, he imagined them greeting each other with a boisterous "Buenos dias!" as they removed their bright serapes and big hats in preparation to begin the days work.
I told him that sort of thing might be considered racist.
The staff is, unmistakably, mostly Mexican. I see this as a huge plus. I thought about Angel in Elgin. I wondered if there were any authentic Mexican or Mexican restaurants way up there. I don't know much about Elgin, but I sincerely doubt that they are nearly as cosmopolitan as Hillsboro. Their loss.
I did read somewhere that Elgin has a large Laotian community. I'm not exactly sure what that is, but it can't be as good as authentic Mexican. I mean, when't the last time you heard anyone say "Hey let's go to that nice little Laotian restaurant!"
About the only thing I know about Laos is that we may or may not have accidentally bombed them during that messy Viet Nam thing. I don't know if they still hold that against us. I'm just glad we never bombed Mexico.
The Food:
It really doesn't matter what you order here. Everything mostly has the same ingredients. The difference lies in the way it gets served up. Enchiladas, tacos, burritos, fajitas, it's all got the same stuff available to be stuffed into them. I prefer chicken enchiladas though. I like the red sauce that tops them. I also like refried beans and rice. So that's what I ordered, otherwise known as Combo #1.
Adam asked for #11, two tacos and an enchilada. Beef in the enchilada, chicken in the tacos. There was something on the side as well, though neither of us can remember what it was called.
There's never a long wait at LP's. Since everything is just a variation on basic ingredients, it's a matter of plating it up more than anything. Five minutes, maybe, and the food arrived. Adam's two tacos took up their own plate. they didn't look at all like Taco Bell tacos, which is good since Taco Bell is basically crap.
My enchiladas swam in the same plate with the beans and the rice, just the way I like it. Generous helpings of white cheese, spicy red sauce, mmmmmm...
I chopped up the enchiladas and let chaos ensue, all the bits mixing together beautifully.
The sauce was excellent, a little, but not too spicy, the chicken still tender and moist, the beans are about the best I've had.
This isn't fancy food. This is working person food. No pretense no garnish, no exotic ingredients or fancy plating. It's hard to compare this to a great steak dinner or a complex pasta/seafood offering. But for what it is, and when it is what you are craving, Los Portales gets it all right.
Just look at those tacos, thick crispy shells, plenty of white cheese. Even the chips and salsa are amazing.
I cleaned my plate, enjoying every bite. There may be better Mexican food somewhere, but i don't know how.
Summary:
Yeah, it's good. It's also cheap. Adam and I stuffed ourselves, enjoyed every bit of it, and it only set us back eighteen dollars and eighty five cents. Oh yeah, I almost forgot, the tea. My expectations were low. The worst as I can say is that I've had better and I've certainly had worse, which means for all intents and purposes it ranks on the PJTea scale about in the middle. I'm going to give it a +.25 though since the tea came in a larger tumbler than at Pizza Junction. It's only fair.
Hillsboro is not much of a destination town, well unless you have a court date, so I don't expect a lot of out of towners to go there. Too bad, you'd probably really like it, especially if you also like fruity rum or tequila drinks.
While there, Adam and I toasted my oldest son Matthew. He couldn't join us because he lives in Tempe, Arizona. It was his birthday though and what with him living in a state that loves authentic Mexican stuff, (except for many of the authentic Mexicans) I'm sure he would have wanted to join us.

Cinco de Mayo

4587 Hunter Lane

Byrnes Mill, MO

We went to this place a while back, nearly two years ago. It was good then, but two years is a long time in restaurant years. We’d probably go there more often except for the fact that it is on Highway 30, which is inconvenient. Highway 30 runs pretty much parallel with 21 and has more traffic lights. It turns into Gravois Road in St. Louis County. So there’s really no really good reason for us to use 30, unless we’re specifically looking for something on that road.

The Place:

We got to the restaurant, a free-standing building, and were immediately put on our guard. A banner was hanging from the front announcing “Under New Ownership”. This could be bad, it could be good.

It didn’t really look any different, though it had been two years and minor changes might have simply been unnoticed. We were seated and handed menus and asked about drinks.

The drinks, tea, Diet Pepsi and Pepsi along with the chips, warm, thin and crispy arrived shortly after that while we were still perusing. Along with the chips came a beaker of salsa and a salsa dipping bowl. Fierce crunching ensued. The salsa was medium spicy and pretty tasty.

The inside of the restaurant was adorned with typical Mexican restaurant stuff, sombreros on the walls, colorful wooden and plastic parrots swung from the ceiling, and Corona signage throughout. One wall was painted to appear to be a window looking out onto a beach, sand, waves, and parrots on branches.

It was busy, about half full, there was a large group with kids celebrating something, and behind us and to one side sat middle aged folks, mostly women having a little food and a lot of drink. The volume was especially high at one of the tables, liquored up laughter thundered throughout, too often to be sober.

There was music in the background, not quite what I expected, it was adult contemporary, REO Speedwagon’s “Keep on Loving You”, and Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly” stood out, yet clashed with the parrots and sombreros. There we a couple of TV’s mounted and muted, all playing the Lifetime Channel, which is about the worst channel on TV. A movie with Kathy Bates, whom I like, and Jennifer Aniston, who I do not. Kevin Kostner popped up as well, I can go either way with him. Tattooed to the screen was a note declaring “Love! Love Marathon!”  Which, if I was forced to watch it, would have motivated me to run away at least 26 miles and 385 yards in the other direction.

The Food:

There was plenty to choose from, quesadillas, enchiladas, burritos, etc. There were three or four things that I would have been happy with. I settled, on a whim, on the Mexicali Cheese Steak. Angel picked the Enchilada Missouri, which for reasons I can’t quite grasp, was filled with shrimp. I’m pretty sure theses weren’t Missouri shrimp, I don’t even think the Show Me State has indigenous shrimp.

Adam opted more traditionally, a combo of a beef taco and a chicken burrito. We munched on our chips for a while, the second basket had arrived. We didn’t have long to wait. The plates steamed and sizzled.

Mexicali Cheese Steak

Mine was chunks of beef, mushrooms, onions and bell pepper chunks on a soft tortilla, covered in white cheese. Also on the plate were rice and about a half cup of sour cream. The rice was not the rich red, tomato-y style we expected. This rice was more brownish and contained green peas and corn kernels. Interesting. The taste was a little on the bland side. Not bad, it just didn’t stand out.

Taco-Burrito combo

The beef was moist and tender, the peppers and mushrooms were excellent. The first few bites were rich, the sweet cheese was almost, but not quite, too sweet. Had the portions been larger the cheese would have been eventually overpowering.

Angel picked through her enchiladas, savoring the spicy grilled shrimp, even offering me a taste. I liked it. She made the same observation about the rice and mentioned the really rich cheese.

Enchiladas Missouri

Adam’s more traditional dishes fared well, though he insisted that it just wasn’t as good as Los Portales. “Fine, just not the same.”

Angel asked about the tea. She recalled that on our previous trip that it was awful, flowery. We’d mentioned it at the time and the waiter told us that it was not made in-house, but was delivered by a service. I sipped it, the stuff under new ownership was okay. It tasted like everyone else’s tea, not bad, but pretty much tasteless.

Summary:

Not bad, not bad at all. Certainly better than some of the Mexican joints we’ve tried. I agree with Adam that Los Portales is just a bit better. The price was as good, thirty one bucks, we didn’t even need a coupon. The new ownership issue didn’t seem to cause any problems, the staff was plentiful and efficient, the food good and the place was clean. If I had any suggestions it would be about the rice. It may have been someone’s favorite recipe, but it just wasn’t tasty enough.

And then there’s the cheese. I think they might use Provel, that St. Louis area favorite. I’ve riled up a few fans out there by saying this, but Provel is just too sweet for me. The taste builds up and becomes the only note in the orchestra after a while.

So there, I’ve said it again.

Otherwise, the place is pretty decent.

Los Portales

Hillsboro, Mo.

Adam’s pick, no objections.

Hillsboro is not large in any respect, around 1,800 residents. It sits in the near center of the county, deliberately. While most of the county’s oldest towns were built around mines, railroads and rivers, Hillsboro was designed, built from nothing, to serve as the county seat. Private industry did not follow, to this day its most prominent features are the courthouse, sheriff’s department, other county offices and facilities and of course, lawyers, bail bonds, etc.

There’s a McDonalds, a Hardees, a Subway and a Dairy Queen. There’s three or four local restaurants other than the franchises. The city government boasts eighteen full-time employees, including eight police officers. Compare that to the County Sheriff’s office, also headquartered in Hillsboro, which has 162 sworn officers and 76 full time employees and manages a 260 bed county lockup in the middle of town. It’s an odd  situation because of its commutable proximity to the St. Louis suburbs. Tiny, little Hillsboro, population 1,800 is the driver’s seat for a county that boasts 225,000 residents.

The Place:

Across form the courthouse is Los Portales. It serves the town as a bar as well as an eatery. It is run primarily by people of the Hispanic persuasion, which, according to City-Data.com, there are only 39 of in Hillsboro itself.

It’s a rather old building that used to be something else. Inside the floors feel a bit old and slightly warped, I call it character. Like Hillsboro itself, there’s not a lot of effort wasted on décor or ambience, merely the requisite sombreros and Mexican artwork mounted on the walls. The entry is through the bar and it is immediately obvious that Hillsboro hasn’t adopted a smoking ban for such establishments.

We waited at the bar for a moment, a Hispanic lady stepped out and escorted us out of the ashtray and into the ‘smoke-free’ dining area, a large open room made to look much larger by the full-wall mirror on one side. Nearly half of the ten or so tables were already occupied by families with sticky, noisy children. Moms sipped margaritas, dads threw back Coronas. I’ve heard the margaritas here are quite good, if you like that sort of thing. They also boast home-made sangria, I don’t even know what that is. I prefer my alcohol of choice, white wine, as God himself intended it, fresh out of a box. I don’t say this to sound pretentious, rather that I just have more refined tastes and would not be a suitable judge of inferior mixed potables.

After last week’s beer problem, I decided to just order tea. Angel did so as well, Adam went for a Coke. The drinks, chips and salsa were delivered together, we dug in as we scanned the menu. I then noticed that a mere twenty feet away, in the smoking section, sat 37.5% of the Hillsboro Police department. There were three of them, one wearing the gold bars of a Lieutenant. I quickly checked my family for any overt signs of recent illegal activity, I hoped to avoid trouble. Then I recalled that cops always know the best places to eat, and these guys seemed well fed, so they probably weren’t there just to keep an eye on us. I relaxed but avoided eye contact the rest of the time we were there. As it turned out they didn’t arrest, beat up or shoot anyone. Maybe next time.

The Food:

The menu had gotten lighter since our last visit. My old notes said I’d had the #18 combo, this menu only went up to #15.

Me: #15, burrito, enchilada, rice, beans.

Angel: Three-shrimp enchilada with rice.

Adam: Two tacos, one burrito.

I looked at my notes again, the #18 I’d had then was the same as the #15 on the new menu. Oh well. There was also a notation that it would have been better with chicken instead of beef. Too late, the order was already in. We’d barely gnawed through half the chips when the lady returned with our plates. Still sizzling, aromatic, earthy and handsomely, though not delicately, plated.

I went about chopping up my food and swirling it all together, sopping up the beans with burrito, stacking rice on top of it all. I like my Mexican food just like I like my women, spicy, a bit disorganized, (some would say messy) and covered in enchilada sauce.

Angel disassembled her enchilada. “Not much in it beside shrimp, but it’s good shrimp and it has a nice little cheese sauce.” Just as she said this, her fork slipped and somersaulted into her lap, leaving a bright red stain on the front of her shirt. She looked like she’d taken a bullet, though the cops didn’t seem to notice. Out of sympathy/generosity/nobility I let her take a few bites of my beans, and as you know I don’t share my beans with just anyone.

 Adam wolfed his down with his usual speed and near-total silence. When I queried him about his food he replied “I like  consistency.” Which is about as high and verbose a compliment as he can give to anything.

My plate had the most food of the three dishes, I made it most of the way through. It was indeed quite good, but I still thought it might be a little better with chicken rather than beef. I wrote that down so I’d know next time.

The food at Los Portales is good, quite good. It isn’t complicated and it doesn’t have many delicate or subtle features. Many fancier Mexican places try too hard and lose the wonderful simplicity that is really good, Mexican food. This is the food of hard-working, common people. Substantial, savory and simple. It doesn’t need frill or flower. Good, fresh ingredients, solid recipes, and a gifted, consistent cook.

Summary:

I am quite unable to say anything bad about this place. The food is great, the service is dutiful and professional. Okay, the tea is lackluster and the bar smells like an ashtray. But put that aside and you’ve got the best Mexican food that we’ve been able to find anywhere in the area. The price is awesome, the total bill came in at just over thirty two dollars.

The atmosphere is relaxed, casual, and open. The overhead music is always lively or hopeful and not too loud. The patrons are pretty much all locals and there aren’t that many locals. The place is kid friendly, unfortunately.

I paid the tab. I thought about stepping over to the cops and offering a thumbs up or a thanks. They have a town to protect and serve, in the last ten years they’ve responded to no less than 0 murders, 2 rapes, 3 robberies, 118 assaults, 47 burglaries, 802 thefts, 28 auto thefts and 4 arsons. Impressive for such a small force.

La Pachanga

1185 Scenic Drive
Herculaneum, MO 63048-1433

Just off I-55 at the Herculaneum exit, in a small strip mall behind the more visible Cracker Barrel.
'Pachanga' does not translate to anything I can find in online translators.
The Urban Dictionary defines it as follows:
1. Someone who used to be your friend and no longer is.
2. A traitor.
“Comes from the name of Luis Guzman's character in Carlito’s Way. Also a song by Fabolous describing this situation.”
Either that or it’s a Cuban dance, but that doesn’t make sense as this was a Mexican restaurant, not Cuban.
So I really don’t know what it means. We discussed this in the car on the way, and decided that at worst ‘Pachanga’ sounded like something that Dr. Reed from the TV show ‘Scrubs’ would call someone’s private parts.

The Place:
Anchoring one side of a rather new strip mall La Pachanga is larger than the other two or three establishments. The windows were lit up by numerous neon signs advertising Mexican-ish beers. The inside was surprising, they’d put some thought and $$$ into it. The walls were textured to resemble aged adobe. Around the walls and above the bar there were faux roofs made of Spanish style terra cotta tiles giving the impression, or trying to, that you were on a quaint Mexican veranda. This kind of worked since the remaining ceiling was painted glossy back which could be interpreted as a night sky.
The seating and the tables, both in the center tables and the verand-ized booths, were brightly painted in primary colors highlighting the Mexican theme. There was apparently some mariachi music playing, I could occasionally hear a note or two.
We were seated by one of the four or five waiters, all of whom were dressed in black, head to toe. There was a basket of the obligatory thin nacho chips and we were quickly served a carafe of mild, lump-less salsa and individual dipping bowls (which allows for double-dipping). We reminded ourselves to not overdo on the chips, finishing them off merely means more will be brought to you until you eventually explode. This, I suspect, is how the Mexicans intend to ultimately defeat us; endless complimentary nacho chips.
We ordered our drinks, tea, Diet Coke and Pepsi. The menus were laminated tri-folds with lots and lots of selections; fajitas, burritos and enchiladas in various configurations along with a full page dedicated to combinations of all the standards.
Angel ordered a combo, enchilada and tamale,. Adam asked for a taco and the beef enchiladas, I loosened my belt, unsnapped my jeans and went for the ‘Diner Especial’ which was to put it simply, one each of everything. All came with refried beans and Spanish rice.
I had a little trouble ordering my meal, as I didn’t know whether to try to pronounce it as it was printed. I tried that and the waiter looked at me as if I were speaking Klingon. I ended up pointing to it on the menu and he replied “Ah, The Dinner Special!” I apologized adding that my Americanese was a bit rusty.
The tea was unremarkable, but not bitter. The other drinks were universal and mass-produced and not worthy of being rated or mentioned further. Soda pop is an unsophisticated or lazy person’s drink of choice. Sugar (real or fake) and bubbles, nothing more. No class, no craftsmanship, no thinking or discerning palette required. It’s always exactly the same wherever you go; it is certainly evidence that there is still rampant, evil communism lurking just around every corner.
We were well into the second basket of chips when our food arrived. Mine arrived on two large plates. It all looked great with enchilada sauce bleeding all over the rice and beans. I love Mexican style food where everything mixes together in a red, brown and white cheesy puddle.
The tacos were simple and excellent; thin shelled as you find in places that aren’t Taco Bell, probably because of their fragility. These were filled only with beef and cheese, the beef was mildly seasoned, the cheese was coarse shredded white with a sultry, smoky flavor.
The enchiladas were generous though the sauce was a bit timid. The first few bites of everything caused ummm’s all around. That is until Angel let Adam try her tamale.
The tamales (I had one as well) were meat filled, wrapped in very thick corn dough and were the size of an enchilada. Adam tasted it and declared it “Too cornbready”.
I tried mine and agreed there was too much dough, and the innards were very salty. After that discovery we made a few more. Some of the stuff was good, but there was a salt dome building up in our mouths. Angel’s tamales were abandoned, as was mine. The enchiladas were okay, but nothing to write home to Uncle Pedro about. I didn’t come close to finishing my meal, there was just too much that wasn’t great and the saltiness built up fast and weighed heavy.
I mentioned to my beloved family that I had ordered essentially the same platter at Los Portales in Hillsboro earlier on our quest and had no problem finishing it there, even though it required willpower and a certain amount of near-suicidal reckless abandon. Los Portales, I declared, was significantly better. Angel grumbled at the time, but later, in the car she agreed.
Summary:
At first it was fine, the ambiance was exceptional, the service quick and flawless. The price was in line with similar places coming in at under forty dollars including the tip. The food was the problem. It was at best not bad as for the enchiladas and tacos, but that tamale was nasty.
After we left we made a stop at Wal-Mart to pick up some dog food. It was about then that I detected another foul aftertaste, distinctly metallic, like a mouthful of old pennies. I’m pretty sure it was the enchilada meat seasoning. I tried killing it with a cough drop, then another, but only time and wine finally restored normality.
I can’t say that I’d recommend La Pachanga. It wasn’t entirely awful and some more precise selection rather than a shotgun platter would probably make it okay, but only okay. I’ll give it an eighty five. Next time we want Mexican though we’ll just go to Los Portales in Hillsboro. Sure there’s no fake adobe or tiled faux verandas, but the food is just that much better