Los Portales

201 Main St.
Hillsboro, Mo.

Angel was in the mood for Mexican, 'nuff said. By any measure, Los Portales (LP) is the closest eatery to our house, beating out Hardee's by the width of one intersection. This place has been here since before we moved to Jefferson County ten years ago. So has Hardee's, but it says more about LP than a burger franchise. Hillsboro is not a big town. One or two thousand at most. Hillsboro was created to provide a more central county seat. Industries popped up along the river and the railroad tracks, neither of which run through Hillsboro. It's primary industry is county seat stuff, the courthouse, jail, various government offices and of course, lawyers and bail bond shops. Hillsboro does not even have a hotel or Walmart. There are a few strip malls, but with only a few exceptions, shops come and go in those fairly often.
So keeping an independent restaurant open for more than ten years is quite an accomplishment. It may have changed ownership, but I don't recall it ever not being open.
The Place:
We've actually been there several times. I don't always write about it for the same reason I don't write about Ruby Tuesday every time. At both places we get pretty much the same thing and enjoy what we have. It's hard to be fresh in a review doing that.
It's on the corner of Main and Business 21. You can't miss it, If you can see the courthouse and Hardee's, you're there.
An older building, perhaps a bit past its prime. You enter in the back and end up in the bar area. The main dining area is further forward towards the intersection. On a good day you can get a couple of bars of Hardee's WiFi. We were told to seat ourselves, there weren't many customers yet. We took a seat near a window, romantically lit by a bright, neon Corona sign.
Out came the chips and the menus, we were asked about drinks.
Angel, tea, Adam, Pepsi, and me? Sure, why not. . . "I'll have a Margarita please." My family looked at me like I'd just ordered an execution. The young man gave us a few minutes as we scanned the menu and cleaned out the basket of chips.
The Food:
We were ready, the young man came back with a fresh basket and his order pad.
Angel: Enchiladas Del Mar, her shrimp enchilada got-to.
Adam, also a favorite, a half order of Nachos Supreme, no tomatoes, por favor.
Me, time to shake it up again, "I'll have the Fish Tacos, good man."
Angel was stunned, she hadn't seen that. As you may remember, we've been looking for a decent fish taco. If any place was going to get it right, LP should be it. I didn't recall seeing it before, though the menus did look different as well. The old menu was quite cluttered and it may have gotten lost in the lists.

Overhead played soulful, passionate Mexican ballads, I've taken a liking to this form of music. The last thing I want in an 'authentic' Mexican restaurant is soft pop or country. This was completely appropriate and fit in well with the bright artwork and sombreros on the walls. As we sat I sipped my fruity Margarita.
I've had Margaritas before, though I can't seem to remember where and when. . . I've made my own, in fact, though rarely. There are only a few mixed drinks I can even stand, one being a New Orleans style Hurricane, a simple Screwdriver, and Margaritas. We don't keep vodka, tequila, etc. around the house, so it is fairly uncommon for us to imbibe in that manner.
The rim was heavily salted, the color was bright, the proportions of lime, lime juice, triple sec and tequila was spot on. There was one of these or some version of it at most of the tables. One table nearby went all in and ordered a pitcher.
Sweet, salty, fruity with a perfect twinge of bitterness. Wonderful.
Pretty soon the food arrived.
The offerings at LP look nothing like fast food. There is time and attention paid to the plates. My

plates (2) were more than I'd ever be able to finish. Three open-face soft tacos, loaded up with chopped lettuce, shredded white cheese, chopped fish, a sprinkling of fresh, chopped cilantro, and a small dose of a tomato salsa.
The second plate held the runny, oozy re-fried beans and the Mexican rice. I like to mix everything together, the two plates made this difficult. Also, I didn't need three tacos, one would have been perfect. My tummy has shrunk the past few years, I just can't eat as much at a sitting as I used to.

Angel's loosely wrapped enchiladas were laden with a beautiful red sauce. Alongside, on the same plate was a dollop of Guacamole and about that much rice. There's a plate you can swirl everything together. I've had enchiladas at LP in the past and that's exactly what I did with  them.
Adam's nachos did not look like anything you'd find at a ball park.
No glossy, plasticized cheese product, no, these had meat and real cheese, sprinkled with shredded lettuce and a splat of sour cream. They disappeared quickly.
As did Angel's enchiladas.
My tacos?  Not so much. I was  struggling after the first one. I rolled it up, cupped the backside and delighted in the combinations of taste and texture. Definitely fish, chopped up enough so it all didn't come out in one pull, the perfect tortilla, just a little pull, fresh and warm. The rice and beans, genuinely perfect.
Many Americanized Mexican franchises over do it with chili peppers, hot spices and flavors. Not here. LP offers up food like you'd imagine it might be on a working family's dinner table. No need to set the eater afire, it's comfort food, with plenty of light-touch flavors and a warmth, not a three alarm blaze.
I didn't even make it through the second taco. I used the foil on the plate to wrap up the third. I was satisfied, full. A perfect plate for me would have been on of these excellent tacos, the beans and the rice and of course, a couple of baskets of the chips and salsa.
Summary:
We were quite satisfied, all around. The tastes, the atmosphere and don't forget the price. All of this including the giant fruit drink, came to  a very modest thirty three dollars and change. The staff was on time, responsive and polite. The food was very satisfying and there was a very good variety of offerings.
I'm glad we have this place in Hillsboro. It represents the best of what privately owned and operated eateries have to offer.

Kettelhut's Smokehouse

1267 N. Truman Blvd.
Crystal City Mo.
On the Interwebs
Facebook

We were looking for recommendations for a good fish taco. Two conditions apply. Jefferson County, excluding Arnold and no fast food joints.
The only places mentioned so far, Taytro's and La Pachanga, there were problems with. Taytro's only has them on their lunch menu and we didn't really care for any thing else at La Pachanga.
So we didn't even try, Angel made a last minute call.
The Place:
Just opened up last September, we reviewed it the first weekend after that. As is the standard for a new place, we made note of some issues to follow up on. I don't care who you are, the first few weeks open is going to have issues. Service especially, the team hasn't had time to work out the kinks. That was several months before this trip, they've had plenty of time to get their act together.
I also told Angel and Adam what they'd ordered on that first trip. More about that later.
Kettelhut's is decorated in a theme of Memphis Blues. There are 'Beale Street' signs, photos of blues musicians and wall decor of saxophones, guitars, etc. The overhead music is all blues, all the time. I like this type of music better than some others, but I can't say I want to hear a lot of it. To me, it gets a bit repetitious after a while. It was tolerable for the time we were there though.
We were seated in a booth, remarkably the same booth as the first time from what I recalled from the wall decor above us.
Abby came by and introduced herself and took our drink order. She seemed nice. Tea, tea and Pepsi.
The Food.
I decided pretty quickly, a simple pulled pork sandwich. Nothing fancy. I sided it with baked beans and fries, almost as an afterthought. We'd had their 'Fried Taters and Onions' on the first trip, I'd mentioned that I didn't like thick cut fried potatoes, so I decided against them this time.
When Abby returned we were ready to order. Angel disappointed us by ordering the same thing she had the first time. I encourage the family to mix it up a little from time to time. But since I'd told her what she had the first time she just replied to my sigh with a "It sounded pretty good when you told me."
So she asked for a 2-fer, ribs and chicken, sided with cucumber salad and fried corn on the cob.
Gratefully, Adam shifted gears and ordered the BBQ Nachos, which are available as an appetizer or a meal.

I checked the time. On the first trip there had been a significant time delay between ordering and service, this is one of the things I was looking for.
The thing about a smokehouse is that there just shouldn't be a long wait. Everything's already made. Big batches of sides, slow cooked meats already cooked. . .
They did not disappoint, less than ten minutes. They also got all the orders right. So far, so good.
I was a little surprised by the amount of fries. My plate looked more like a French fry meal with side of beans and a sandwich. Too many fries is hardly a crime though. I just thought they overshadowed the main event and there was certainly more than I'd ever be able to finish, especially seeing that they'd been a tad over-salted.
The beans looked impressive. Nice and dark. There was more bean juice than I usually care for. The taste was outstanding though. This wasn't baked beans from a can, these were slow cooked, in house, with a hint of molasses. Mmmm
There was more meat on the sandwich that I originally thought. They'd piled it on quite generously. I tasted a sliver, definitely smoky, but a bit dry. That's what all the bottles of sauces were for. I chose two sauces, a sweet one and one called 'Pappa's Pride' which I highly recommend. A little sweet but less so than many bottled brands.
The fries were pretty good, but a little too salty and way, way too many of them.
Angel plowed through her meats like a Jurassic raptor. (BTW, the raptors in that movie were

modeled after cretaceous period dinosaurs, not Jurassic.) She claimed that the chicken was nice and crispy with a moist and tender interior. The ribs, tender and meaty. The corn, surprisingly wasn't dry from being fried. The 'toast' was barely toast. Cooked on one side only and barely buttered. "I think I OD'd on meat." she said.
Adam's nachos were "pretty good" though he added that there was too much cheese. . . as if such a thing were possible.
Abby kept the drinks refilled and processed the bill quickly.
Summary:
Frankly, we were impressed and quite satisfied. All the original, startup issues had been resolved. The food was good, the service, by that I mean Abby, was top notch, the tables were being cleaned promptly, orders were correct and served in a timely manner. . .
All for forty bucks.
Yeah, pretty much no significant complaints. It's good to see a local business do well, I hope they are here to stay.

Los Portales

201 Second Street
Hillsboro, Mo.

The weekend prior to this one, it had snowed. This weekend it was warmer, but windier and it had started to rain. After that snowfall, Angel had to sweep and scrape the snow and ice off of her windshield, rather aggressively. As we started into Hillsboro she turned on the wipers. The one on the passenger started making a funny noise and was soon flopping around like a snake on fire. She pulled over and shoved it back onto it's stem, got back in and drove another half mile. Then the drivers side wiper started doing the same thing. She stopped, got out and corrected it. About two miles later, just down the hill from Hillsboro, the first one started flopping again. She must have damaged them removing the snow and ice earlier in the week.
"Why don't you try your luck this time?" She urged. She pulled over, again. It took me a few moments to get out of the car, I couldn't figure out the door lock. She'd obviously called on a master mechanic to solve the wiper problem.
After comparing this wiper with the other one, I determined there was a critical piece missing. Perhaps its exhaust manifold or timing chain, or one of those other car parts I've heard about on 'Car Talk' and 'Top Gear'. I stood the bare stem upright so it wouldn't scrape the glass. The bare arm jogged back and forth. I suggested we put a glove on it so people would think we were waving. Angel was in no mood for my rapier wit. She was mumbling curses at the car. "I just paid it off, now it's just going to fall apart." and "You have one simple job you B&%$#!! wipers, one *^#$$ job."
We half-wiped and waved the last mile and found a parking spot on the street. Angel was in a mood. I dared not cross her the rest of the evening.
The Place:
Los Portales is the closest restaurant, in any direction, from our house. We were on a tight time frame, dog arrivals and departures were scheduled. We'd been often enough to know it was fast, cheap and satisfying.
The boys were with us again, Larry had never been to LP. I'm not even sure they have Mexican food in his hometown in central Tennessee. Adam, also a picky eater, had convinced him that there would be stuff he would like.
We went in and were led through the smoking area/bar to the main dining area. We took a booth, I picked one with the brightest beer neon in the window above it. I needed more than the ambient room light to take high quality photos with my magic tablet device.
We were handed menus, like we really needed them, and asked about drinks. I always forget that they make lousy tea, so I always order it. This night was no different.
Soon the drinks, chips and salsa arrived. I could sit there for nothing else but a good drink, maybe a margarita, I heard they make the best in the area, and the chips and salsa. But that would be rude.
Larry ate a bare chip. I looked at him accusingly. "I'm not a salsa person." he answered. Tennesseans, what curious fools they are. 
We ordered our meals and munched on chips. I listened to the always authentic music overhead. I asked Adam to 'Shazam' the music. Shazam is an app that listens to music, then goes out to the interwebs and finds the song and artist. I have it on my awesome tablet machine, but Los Portales has no WiFi. Adam has one of those 'smart' cellular telephones you may have heard about. These things not only make telephone calls, but they run apps as well. What will they think of next? He harrumphed at me at the thought, but like a good, decent if not completely filial son, he fired it up. It found the song and performer in mere seconds. 'El Siete Leguas' by Antonio Aguilar.  The title refers to a story about  Pancho Villa. Siete Leguas (Seven Leagues) was his horse's name, the story having to do with corruption, coercion and gunfights. A real lively number, trumpets, guitars, male crooners, the usual. I love it.
Another song started up. Shazam found it quickly as well, 'El Parrandero Enamorado' (Roughly, 'The Love Spree.'  That sounds dirty.) By the group 'Control.' Also a very upbeat and lively song.
Yeah, I could sit here, sip a fruity beverage, munch on chips and just bang my head to the great music.
The Food:

Me: #5 One chicken enchilada, one taco, beans and rice.
Angel: Enchiladas Supreme, Three enchiladas, one chesse, one bean, one beef, topped with lettuce and Ranchera sauce.
Adam: Half order of nachos and a chicken taco.
Larry: 3 beef enchiladas, a beef taco and a side of fries. Yeah, French fries. . . Tennesseans.
Food delivery is pretty quick at Los Portales. Most of the stuff is made in batches and assembled and plated to order. We hadn't even finished the chips when the meals arrived.
There's nothing fancy or dolled up on these plates, the food is simple, basic and deliberately not too spicy hot. The menu rather firmly states that ". . . all dishes are meticulously prepared with an authentic, but mild flavor. For those who like it hot we put hot sauce on the table."
I don't mind, I prefer it mild.
Lots of beans and rice on my plate, topped with that oozy, melty white cheese. A rich red sauce coated the enchilada, cheese and beef, the only ingredients in the taco, fell out the side of a crispy, thin shell.
Angel's was a real plateful. Lots of chopped lettuce and tomato and sour cream over the enchiladas, little nuggets of cheese scattered around. I didn't think she'd be able to finish it. She launched into it like a hungry sailor though, this seemed to assuage her foul mood a little.  "Always good, I like my three kinds of enchiladas."
Adam ran out of actual nacho chips well before the lettuce, etc. were used up. "It's hard to complain though." He said, pointing to the half full basket of chips in front of us. He loves the way LP prepares the chicken.
Larry was less vocal and enthusiastic. We'd all tried his fries and decided that though well fried, they were once frozen. They had that distinct one-off taste and texture you get with frozen potato products. Larry shrugged his shoulders though. Adam pointed out that this was a Mexican restaurant, not a burger chain. To complain about the fries here would be like complaining about the soup at a pizza joint. Otherwise he was more happy with the taco than the enchiladas.
I'm going to disqualify myself from the judgment round. I didn't come even close to finishing my meal. I'd made a strategic mistake earlier in the day. I had lunch. I don't usually eat lunch on Saturdays before these meals, but I broke this time. Angel had made up a big batch of Cream of Crab soup on Friday. Need I say more? I'd rather have cream of crab soup than most every other food, most sex, most good books, most years of my life. I couldn't not have some, the last creamy drop, for lunch. I had buttery crackers with it as well, since it was Saturday, so I was still carb-crammed by the time the evening meal came around. I really just wasn't hungry. When you're not really hungry, food just doesn't taste right. Well, except for pie. Pie, and by that I mean apple pie, since I am an American. Pie is good any time. If I were in charge of my life I would have coffee and pie twice or more per day, every day. Sure it would fatten me up and clog my arteries and eventually kill me, but I will have died after having plenty of pie. There are far sadder, sillier and more senseless ways to die.
Summary:
Larry was not overly impressed. Angel was delighted, Adam loves the way they prepare their chicken, I like the music. The food is probably not the best there is, but it is good, close to  home and cheap. Four full meals for thirty six bucks. The service is okay, they take care of things and check for refills and such. They kind of vanished when it was time for the ticket, but we just went up to the counter/bar and they dug it out.
It is certainly the best Mexican food in town, in fact, for several miles in any direction. I've heard from a few contacts about bad experiences there, but have never had a significant problem myself. The place is smokey, so if that is an issue for you then there might be a problem. It's a very popular get together joint and watering hole, so it has a solid, steady clientele.
Still recommended!

___________________

Epilogue: On Sunday I went to the finest auto parts store I know of in the area, Walmart, and picked out a brand new pair of wipers for her SUV, the most expensive brand in the store, since high price=high quality. I even installed them for her, in the rain. Well, she did have to show me how to get the old one off,  but after that I finished the installation all by myself. Nothing but the best for My sweetie!

Qdoba Mexican Grill

180 Gravois Bluffs Cir
Fenton, Mo.

'Qdoba' is Spanish for . . . Well, actually it's not Spanish, Mexican, Aztec, Latin, or Dutch for anything. It's one of those made up words that sounds like it means something but is actually the result of a 'branding' exercise to come up with a name that has no meaning in any language. That's just in case a company eventually goes global and finds out that their carefully and reasonably crafted English name translates in Malaysia or Portugal to something like 'puny man parts'.
Qdoba is wholly owned by another food franchise heavy hitter, Jack in the Box.
The food is classified as 'Fresh Mex' to differentiate itself from Taco Bell where all the ingredients are made of decades old space age polymers and squeezed from a tube.
The Place:
This was my choice, for all the wrong reasons.
I needed some new spiral notebooks, of a specific size and thickness. None of the places I usually go to shop at, by that I mean Walmart, carried them. I was going to need an office supply store. I recalled that Gravois Bluffs, the enormous and not too distant shopping center in Fenton had one. The Bluffs also hosts a dozen or more eateries from Subway to Olive Garden, so I told the family they needed to pick one of those for our weekend excursion. Once again, they wouldn't decide, so I looked up the roster and chose the only one we'd never been to. Qdoba.
We were not craving Mexican, in fact we'd had Mexican, real Mexican, the week before.
I had the family scan the online menu ahead of time so they would not embarrass me when we got there. I knew that the Q was counter-order, like a fast food chain, with many, many options, like at subway.
This sort of thing is a lot of pressure for a family of indecisive introverts. I suggested we try to order different things and share the variety.
The place was bigger than it looked, a high open ceiling, plenty of open floor space.
The counter was way in the back.
The Food:

Nachos

We lined up, fortunately there were some people in front of us. We each tried to decipher the options. Finally Angel stepped up and ordered nachos. We noted that the place worked like Subway. Choices, choices, choices. The man serving our account seemed to have a mastery of the task. He knew all the options and delivered them as multiple choice, one at a time. Angel asked for the grilled chicken with guacamole and sour cream. Adam stepped up and settled for a burrito with chicken and pinto beans. I panicked and asked for two tacos and a bowl of their signature gumbo. One soft taco, one crispy, chicken on one, steak on the other, cheese and sour cream all around. The gumbo is made from 'taco soup' and can

Burrito

be topped just like the other items. I added brown beans and steak, sour cream and corn. The server deftly processed the three diverse orders simultaneously without a mistake. The food came together quickly, Angel settled up and took possession of the three cups. She passed them out and pointed to the drink dispenser. Adam groaned, it was a one spigot electronic device, he hates those. Too many choices, too many buttons, one person at a time. He got his soda, Angel tasted the tea and made a sour face. "Bitter." she said, I think referring to the tea. I decided to have something else rather than write up yet another fast food chain for their lousy tea. So I braved the machine and took on some ginger ale. I don't drink soda pop very often, but when I do it's usually the tart, sweet, ale of the ginger.
We found a table, there were plenty available. The decor was stainless steel tables and nice wooden chairs.
Of course the table kind of made it seem like we were eating off of medical equipment. They clean up easily though, I imagine.
I'd grabbed a knife, fork and spoon, a straw and some napkins. Angel and Adam forgot napkins so I shared. I'm big hearted like that.

Gumbo + 2 tacos

I tasted some fallen meat fragments from  my basket. The steak and chicken were both fantastic! Grilled slowly, still moist and tender. The tortillas were great as well, fresh, thin, quite unlike the recycled phone books you get at Taco Bell. The taco ingredients were sizable chunks and fell freely since the Q doesn't use 'food as paste' like that other, horrible place. The tastes were all bright and indeed fresh. Angel and I decided that this must be Cali-Mex, since it seemed like the sort of thing a Californian would serve up (Qdoba is actually from Colorado, which is pretty much like California but with snow and thin, instead of chunky, sepia toned air.)
My gumbo was kind of disappointing. After a few bites, the earthy spices in the soup base drowned out the tastes of the individual ingredients. A stew/gumbo base should have flavor, but not too strong. Like this it was simply overpowering the freshness of the other stuff. There was also the temperature problem. I had noticed the finely shredded cheese topping was not melting. The gumbo was, at best, tepid, like it had been setting on the table for twenty minutes. I don't like 'cold' soups and stews. I only managed a few bites.
Angel liked just about everything about her nachos. The fresh, crispy, salty chips, even the guacamole. I don't get guac. For as green as it is it seems to me that it should have a distinct, if not strong taste. I don't dislike the taste, but for me it doesn't bring much to the party. The poop-like texture doesn't help either.
Adam was okay with his burrito, though he said it was a single note meal and he'd probably order something else should he ever go back.
Summary:
Overall we were quite pleased. We liked the idea, fresher, better quality 'fast' food at a reasonable price (under $30 for us). It's hardly an authentic Mexican restaurant like Coyol or Los Portales, it is definitely more like a Subway than an Applebees. Counter ordering, plastic forks, paper cups, self serve drinks. It is really nothing like Taco Bell since the Q uses actual, recognizable ingredients with actual nutritional value.
The gumbo was cold, that can be fixed. The soup base was not to my tastes, but the other items were. I loved the little tacos and now have a better idea of the kind(s) I would order next time. Yes, there will probably be a next time.
The place was clean, modern, spacious and busy. The crew worked efficiently and quickly.
I would advise new customers to plan ahead, there are many, many decisions to make for every offering. We did this and were able to immediately dismiss mangoes and black beans, things none of us care for. We'd also learned about the sweet corn salsa, which I highly recommend.
Qdoba is a refreshing alternative to that terrible, awful, disgusting Taco place, you know the one.

Coyol

Mexican Bar and Grill

12967 State Rt 21

Desoto, Mo.
On Facebook

 Angel's choice.
If we wanted to go out for Mexican and we weren't burdened with this heavy responsibility of a fickle and demanding fan base, we'd just go to one of our favorite Mexican places, that happens to also be the nearest restaurant to our house, Los Portales in Hillsboro.
But for you, our fans, we traveled a few more miles down the road.
The Place:
We'd been here before, a while back, we think we heard that it had changed owners since then.
It's located at a busy intersection on the North side of Desoto. If you see a Walgreens and a KFC you're in the right place.
Inside, the whole place was highly painted and decorated. Even the tables have bright, colorful Mexican themed folk art. You enter through the tasteful bar, dining, the non-smoking dining is to the right. We were greeted and seated by a pair of Caucasians, which was different than the last time, as we recalled. Nothing wrong with that, just an observation. I did notice  that the kitchen was staffed Hispanic. That's where the only music I detected was emanating from. Nice, passionate corridos. 
We took a table near the back. Along came our server with menus and asking about drinks. "Unsweetened tea, no sugar." I spoke. Yeah, it confused him at first, just as I hoped. Angel said she wanted the same, Adam ordered Coke/Pepsi. They serve Coke.
We each scanned the menus, very similar to Los Portales.
The place started filling up. There seemed to be lots and lots of big green margaritas being served.



The Food:
 They had specials and combos, even hamburgers. All the stuff a decent Mexican place should serve. Our server brought us our drinks, a basket of chips and a carafe of salsa. The salsa was so thick that we had to use an extra straw to coerce it out into the small bowls.
I saw that they had a chimichanga plate, though it didn't seem to come with rice.
Angel said she wanted the Steak and shrimp plate she'd had before, but it came with stuff she didn't want, namely beans and rice. Problem solved.
We ordered, the chimichanga plate for me, Angel asked for her Steak Jalisco, named for a coastal state in Mexico, Adam asked for 'every meat' nachos, no tomato, no guac.
"I've been wanting good nachos for a while now." He told us. His mom pointed at the basket in front of him. "Those are just chips." He answered dismissively.
"Oh." She seemed to think it was a distinction without a difference. If I'd wanted a fight I would have told her that nacho chips and salsa are to Nachos what Anheuser Busch products are to good beer.*
We munched at our chips, cleaned the basket. I watched the families come in and fill the tables. The moms seemed to really, really like the margaritas.
I sipped my tea as well, it wasn't too bad.

Steak Jalisco

The food arrived shortly. Angel's steak was still sizzling. The lady sat my plate down and cautioned me that it was "potentially hot".
I needed to take a picture of it but it was pointed the wrong way. So like the idiot I am, I  turned it.
"Ouch, ooch!"
"Was it potentially hot?" Adam asked, smart-aleck-ly.   
The plate was indeed more than potentially hot, it was 'actually' hot. But the stuff on it looked good for a burrito platter. It's just too bad I didn't ask for a burrito, I asked for a

Chimichangas

chimichanga. "Two flour tortillas, deep fried. . ." was the menu description. That's what I expected, wanted, that is not what I was looking at. It appeared that there had been some attempt to fry them, but not for very long, at all. They were not crispy, they were flaccid, like a non-deep fried tortilla, you know, a burrito. I could have said something, but I didn't, this would do. So I carved it up, swirled it in to the rice, beans and . . . what's that? Rice and beans? That's right, though the menu didn't mention rice for this plate, there it was. I certainly wasn't going to complain. Then Angel's rice and refried beans arrived

'Everything' Nachos

on a separate plate from her steak and shrimp.
Adam's plate looked a bit pale.  No tomatoes to offset the pale green, brown and beige items. 
Angel generously stuck one of her shrimps on my plate. It was delicious! Grilled, topped with a cheesy sauce and having absorbed some steak juices. Mmmmm.
The chicken in my chimichanga was spiced a little, a

Spare rice and beans.

very little and by itself a bit dry and chewy. It needed lots of the cheese sauce, beans and rice to moisten it up. Fortunately I had spare rice and beans, Angel's.
The beans and rice were good, not spectacular. The soft tortilla was disappointing, It could have used some crunch.
Adam was quite content with his nachos, they went pretty quick. Angel was more than pleased with her plate. She didn't use the foil wrapped tortillas, she had the steak and shrimp commando-style. It was a pretty thin ribeye, but it was moist, tender and tasty.
Summary:
I was a little disappointed with my plate, the tortilla, the dry-ish chicken, the lack of 'punch' of any of the flavors. Angel and Adam though were quite pleased with their choices though. Mine wasn't really bad, it just wasn't anything special.
The service was quite good, attentive and quick, even though our server tended to mumble a bit, or maybe I'm just a little hard of hearing. The price was reasonable, thirty eight bucks, a little more than we might pay for similar fare at Los Portales, but not out of whack. Coyol was quite busy, so apparently pretty popular, maybe they make a killer Margarita. Overall it was a pretty good meal. I still prefer Los Portales, but the food is mostly just as good. They really should line the menu descriptions up with the actual offerings a little better though.




* I'm just kidding. I used to work at AB and have several friends/fans there still. If AB beers weren't any good, they'd not be one of the biggest beer makers in the world. . . would they?  

Los Portales

201 Main St.
Hillsboro, Mo

My choice, a last minute decision. Once again, we'd put off making the choice, then the weather got iffy, so Angel said she didn't want to risk going too far in case it started getting icy again. On Friday I had slid the car into the front yard as she happened to be outside watching. She didn't know at the time that this was, though less than ideal, a fairly well controlled situation. The car had lost traction on the glazed pavement, but I'd already slowed it down to next to zero and I sort of leaned it toward the yard where it would regain grip immediately as opposed to the various stands of oak trees that were my only other option. I've actually done this before. Adam was watching the first time. The look on their faces, priceless.
So she didn't want to go to far, which meant Hillsboro, which seriously limited our choices. I just up and answered. "Mexican." That won immediate approval.
Los Portales can be described as a margarita joint that happens to serve food. Their fruity tequila drinks are quite popular. They come in various sizes, the larger version looks like a cereal bowl on a stem. I don't care for fruity mixed drinks much, ever since I discovered the satanic 'hurricanes' that I drank way too many of in New Orleans several years back. I loved those things, really sweet and fruity and you couldn't even taste the alcohol, and then next thing I know I'm stuffing my torn shirt into my pocket and swearing at some enormous trumpet players and my knees are bleeding and I'm pretty sure I just set fire to a dumpster . . .  well, not exactly. It wasn't really that bad, but I have learned to really, really limit the drinks I consume that mask or delay the alcohol or its effects.
Nearly every occupied table at LP held a big goblet of margarita. There were signs posted about offering special ones on certain evenings.
The Place:
LP is sort of a dive. An old building that certainly used to be something else entirely, uneven floors, low ceilings, dark. It has character though and is a very popular local watering hole and they make really good 'authentic' Mexican food. The people that work there are pretty much all Hispanic, Latino, or whatever you choose to call people from Central or South America. A recent study I heard on NPR said that the preference as to what to be called varies quite a bit among that population, though they'd mostly rather be referred to as being from the country they came from, Nicaraguan, Mexican, Bolivian, Canadian, etc. But the problem for us not from there is that all those places seem a lot more alike than the vast differences that there really are, so we tend to lump them all together as if they were one people. I didn't ask the people at LP where they were from, so I really don't know for sure. I apologize to them for my blatant ignorance.
The bottom line though is they make good food. I air quoted around 'authentic' again. I don't know how authentically Mexican the food is since I've never been to Mexico, but they are certainly, if there is a God, more authentic than Taco Bell.
We sat at a booth in the second-hand-only smoking section. Hillsboro hasn't banned smoking in restaurants, so in an old, low ceiling-ed place, the acrid, stale odor is palpable throughout.
We sat beneath a red serape and sombrero, a theme on several of the walls. The booths there are well worn and kind of low to the table.
Along the front wall most of the tables were full, with families, with more often than not, Mom sipping on a big, bright green drink.
Overhead were the happy guitars, trumpets and soulful, mostly male voices of songs sung in Spanish. It fit nicely.
The Food:
The gentleman who waited on us was polite and professional. He had brought the chips and salsa, which caused me to salivate openly. We perused the menus as we downed the drenched chips. The chips were thin and crispy, the salsa spicy and rich, though not too hot. We responded to his query with Tea, sweet tea (raspberry) and Coke.
It's easy, for me at least, to overdo it at LP. A couple of times I've ordered the big special platters that they drag through a little of everything they make. I've never been able to finish one, so I decided to be more surgical about my choice.

#1 Enchiladas

Enchiladas, mmmm. There it is known as Combination #1. Two enchiladas, rice and refried beans. Perfect.
Angel asked for the Enchiladas Del Mar, which she said contained shrimp. Adam split his order between Nachos Supreme and a chicken taco.
LP serves pretty quick, most of the stuff is batch made and assembled onto a plate when ordered. So it doesn't take a long time to dine there.
The plates arrived, exactly as ordered.

Enchilada Del Mar

White, molten cheese floating in a dark, muddy river of beans. Lightly tomato-sauced rice, tender and well cooked. I didn't recall specifying I wanted beef enchiladas, but that's what I got. After I took the picture I chopped it all up and stirred it all together. A piggish thing to do, but I like the depth of flavors and textures in every bite. Pretty much the same way I eat my eggs, hash browns and bacon at Huddle House. Angel's plate looked prettier than mine, it included a small lettuce, tomato and guac salad. She dug out and devoured the small shrimp.

Taco, Nachos Supreme

Adam excavated and discarded the tomato chunks from his nacho plate. The Taco went pretty quick. For some reason I finished before everyone else, this rarely happens what with me taking time out to make copious notes for these reviews. The flavors got the best of me though. I was hungry, lusted for Mexican and was being satisfied.  It's hard to slow down under pressure like that.
 Summary:
Angel said hers was quite good, Adam nodded his head. Yeah the food was good. The service was mostly good. We ran out of chips and were never offered a refill. Which is odd since the chips serve to make the customers thirsty and this place easily makes more from their drinks than from the food. Speaking of drinks, my tea was not very good, a minus 2 on the PJTea scale, Angel said the raspbery in hers tasted like raspberry Kool-Aid, she rated it a 'fail'.
Los Portales is pretty good, at least locally good. It's consistent, inexpensive (our bill came in under $30.) and very close to home. There are a few other Mexican places a little further out and most of them are pretty good, but why bother when this one is so close?
If you find yourself in Hillsboro, for courthouse reasons or to bail your idiot friend or spouse out of jail again, you really should stop in and give the place a try. Either for a tall green tequila drink, one of the many fine Mexican beers they serve, or maybe just a sloppy pile of enchiladas. It's good food, bargain priced, and nobody cares if you dribble sauce on your shirt.

Los Portales

201 Main Street
Hillsboro Mo.

Gray skies of October

This weekend was different. Several things merged which I’ll admit up front may have made me a little out of whack and off my game.
Angel was out of town, somewhere in Indiana for a dog training seminar or convention. She left Friday afternoon and was scheduled back home late on Monday. 

Also I’d had a tense and extremely busy week at work and by Friday night I was essentially comatose with exhaustion. Saturday morning I went through the motions of weekend errands somewhat robotically. My beautifully sculpted brain was mostly on vacation. On top of that, a co-worker that I sit near spent most of Thursday sniffling sneezing, wheezing and coughing. The early signs of a team-stifling bug. She stayed at home on Friday and even reported in that she would be going in to see a doctor. So Saturday I found myself dim of brain and sniffling. Either I’d picked up the bug or was succumbing to the wild weather changes that affected the area late in the week. Only early October, the skies were heavy, gray, wet, and cold. Not the pretty, crisp bright blue skies of October that I love, but the dreary, stark, wintry cold of a day like you imagine funerals should take place.

So this was the stage, a recipe for disappointment.

Adam was tending to the dogs. Diana, Angel’s part-time trainer, stopped by to conduct Saturday class and work with a couple of the pooches. I, without Angel’s gentle guidance and counsel, myself, limp of brain, moped about rudderless and somewhat puny.

When it came time to decide on dinner, I suggested to Adam that we just grab a burger or a couple of pizzas and to not worry about a review. This took the pressure off. So after I awoke from an extended nap, I asked if he had any thoughts on the matter.

The Place:

  He suggested this and I immediately accepted the recommendation. It allowed me not to think about it much and it had the added advantage of being close by. I went out and cleaned off the passenger seat of my unimpressive little commuter car. Since no one ever rides with me the passenger seat doubles as a desk, dining table, pantry and closet.  Paperwork, snack crackers, lists, insurance reports, hats, gloves and three or four books, along with an embarrassing amount of small trash.

Los Portales is about the closest restaurant to our front door, beating Hardee’s by about a hundred feet. It’s across the street from the courthouse at the town’s busiest intersection. It takes about seven minutes to get there, but in my lethargic condition, this time we made it in about ten.

There was already a fair crowd inside, mostly small families with kids crunching on chips and moms and dads sipping bright, colorful adult beverages.

We were told to find a seat on our own, a heavy responsibility without Angel as a guide. I chose a booth by a window, one that was about as far away from the other patrons as possible. I had taken the camera and notebook with me, “just in case” I told Adam. A true writer/journalist does this, it simply can’t be helped. For a good writer/journalist never knows when a review-able dining experience might pop up out of nowhere.

Shortly, the always bustling and ample in number, pink-shirted staff took our drink order and delivered the menus and obligatory chips and salsa.

Taco Salad, with added tomato.

The Food:
The menu was daunting. There seemed to be a thousand choices, none actually sounding that appetizing. I realized that I should be hungry, not having snacked or lunched at all since my weekend-morning ritual coffee and breakfast biscuit at Hardee’s, but I wasn't. Stress, exhaustion and the flu all have a similar effect on me, though so does the occasional extreme change in weather. I’m as fragile as a thoroughbred horse that way, the slightest bit of out-of-whackness causes me to lose my appetite, though I usually make up for it in spades later. (I am also like a thoroughbred horse in other ways, a big heart and flimsy knees to name a few. How I respond to a whip or spurs is not open for discussion in this venue.)

I teetered between the enchiladas, which I’d had there before and always enjoyed, and a simple taco salad, which seemed somehow kinder and gentler. By the time our order was taken, I was on the salad swing of that pendulum. Adam chose a nacho dish, the Nachos Supreme. “No tomatoes please.” He clearly added.

We munched on the chips, and tried to conduct a conversation. Angel said “                ”    because she wasn't there, which left a major, nearly insurmountable gap in the discourse. I tried to think of something she might say, but came up blank.

So we discussed evening entertainment options, movies, neither of us knew if there was anything out yet that we wanted to see. “But mom would want to watch them too.” Adam said, not wanting to watch something without her that she’d like to see. That was fair, but it seriously reduced our coming up with anything.

Nachos Supreme, tomato removed.

Our drinks were in front of us, tasteless, colorless, lifeless tea for me, which suited my condition, and Coke for Adam.

It wasn't long before the plates arrived.

In my mind I was thinking of the kind of taco salad we frequently have at home. We use Fritos, Catalina dressing, lettuce, olives, onions, tomatoes, refried beans, bright yellow shredded cheese, sour cream, taco sauce, and seasoned ground beef. To call it a salad is a little ridiculous since the only thing ‘salad’ about it, is the quantity of lettuce.

This one looked different. It had the crispy flour tortilla bowl, lettuce, white shredded cheese, sour cream, and shredded, almost puréed spiced chicken. The bowl was glued to the plate by a dollop of refried beans.

Adam’s nachos came with a tomato, which he had specifically asked to be omitted. I took it, chopped it up and put it on my salad to give it, if nothing else, a bit of color.

I noticed that around the base of the bowl, that a milky, soupy stream had formed around the refried beans. I assumed it to be the excess liquid from the sour cream and chicken, etc. dripping out of the bottom of the crispy bowl.  It didn't look very appetizing, so I ignored it.

The salad tasted fine, but seemed to be missing a few ingredients. Adam seemed to enjoy his nachos pretty well, once he’d removed the offensive tomato.

The puddle grew bigger. Only a quarter of the way into the salad, the milky, soupy puddle grew and threatened to breach the rim of the plate. It also saturated the bottom half of the tortilla, eliminating completely, the crunch. My salad was turning into mushy breakfast cereal.

Being as my tummy was timid anyhow with whatever anomalies or combination of anomalies that were occurring inside me, I stopped eating about one third of the way into the salad. By this time the soup had indeed breached the plate and as the staff member took it away it left a trail on the table and the floor all the way back to the kitchen.

I munched on a couple of more chips, Adam finished his nachos, and we settled up.

Summary:

The puddle grows, seeping from the inside.

The tab was light. Los Portales is a pretty cheap place to eat. The bill came to a paltry fifteen bucks and change.

We've been to LP many times, this was the first time I had experienced anything like disappointment. I do not know if it was the nature of the salad itself, just a bad job of serving it up, or something else entirely. Like I said though, I was not in the best of shape. However, salads are not supposed to turn into soup, this one did; a milky, sickly beige gazpacho, a room-temperature puke-like broth. I cannot imagine this is what the chef had in mind, I cannot imagine that if this is what it was supposed to be, that anyone would ever order it more than once.
We'll go back. LP has pleased us plenty in the past, but I simply cannot recommend the taco salad.

_____________________________

I am writing this on Saturday evening, a time I usually use to just open up the blog and upload the photos and little else, leaving the bulk of the task to Sunday afternoon between laundry cycles. However due to the increasing nature of the sniffles and mind-numbness, I thought I’d better knock out as much as I could in case the viruses, or whatever, overwhelmed me. So if this  review seems off-kilter, rushed, and weak, I apologize. My brain activity is diminished significantly, to the point to where my current mental capacity is significantly reduced, almost to the point of being like everyone else’s.  I apologize for any reduction of entertainment and enlightenment this may cause.