Si Senor

Mexican Bar and Grill
227 Arnold Crossroads Ctr.
Arnold, Mo.
On The Web

There's a lively, vocal and active local FaceBook group I belong to called Jeffco411 that occasionally posts a link to this fine site. This week Angel and I were struggling to come up with something different to try. I had an idea. Mexican, but not the ones we've been to already. So I posted a note on Jeffco411:
"Eat and Critique! Is looking to review the best Mexican restaurants in Jefferson County. Where should we go?
P.S. we've already reviewed Los Portales in Hillsboro, several times.
Thanks!"
To my mild surprise and delight, there were about 125 replies in the first 24 hours.
Scrolling scientifically down the list, one place started to be a standout.
This one. Not by a lot, but those posting about this place seemed more articulate and better looking than most of the others. Yes, being attractive will get my attention. I never said that this operation was a democracy, or fair, or unbiased. I set my own standards here and rule over the site with an iron fist, a velvet-y, handsome iron fist.

The Place:
Since this was in Arnold, we invited Adam to join, he agreed. He lives in South St. Louis County and works in Arnold, so this was less of a drive for him than us. It's located in one of that city's many, many shopping center. Arnold is Jefferson County's largest city. It's location at the northeast corner make it basically a suburb of St. Louis. I've mentioned before that I don't particularly like Arnold, but that's mostly because of the often very heavy traffic and confounding intersections. They do have a lot of nice places to eat and shop. So as long as Angel drives, I can tolerate it.
Just as we entered, the staff was finishing off a singing, clapping Happy Birthday tribute to some snot nosed kid. Adam and I looked at each other, his eyes wide. (see the post about Texas Roadhouse a few weeks back and you'll see why.) I decided to keep an open mind though, for at least a little longer. I wanted some enchiladas.

On the inside, the place was brightly and boldly painted and mural-ized floor to ceiling. Colorful parrots, lizards throughout, even on the booths, chairs and tables. It was quite busy as well, in terms of people. Nearly every table filled to capacity with families, groups of seniors, and just about every kind of person you can imagine. There was a buzz, a  din if you will, but not really too bad. It barely drowned out the Mexican music playing faintly in the overhead speakers. We were seated at the very front, next to a window.
We were greeted by a handsome young man named 'Carlos' if his name tag was to be believed. Very gracious and polite, he asked about drinks just as the chips and salsa were delivered by another handsome young man. The entire staff were in neat black shirts and they all looked busy, competent and efficient.
There were TV's on the walls and hanging from the ceiling, all muted. Golf, some kind of golf game was underway. In my mind the only thing more excruciatingly boring than golf on TV is the actual game itself. My in-laws watch a lot of TV golf, they even play golf. It is the one and only thing I don't care for about my in-laws. . . lets just leave it at that.
The Food:
The chips were perfect. The salsa, beautifully, refreshingly fresh with a slight, but noticeable sweat inducing bite to it. Not overpoweringly hot, just right on that narrow edge between pleasure and discomfort. You know the sensation, right?
We gobbled them down, all three of us love this part of a Mexican meal.
Carlos returned with our drinks, one tea and two Diet Dr. Peppers. He carefully took our orders making sure and rechecking that he had it right. His accent had a thickness to it but we managed just fine. I'm currently learning to speak a foreign language myself, I know how difficult it can be, the nuances and oddly shaped syllables. The answer to your question is of course, 'Icelandic.'
Not really a handy language to know, there are only about 300,000 native speakers of it and almost all of them also speak English.
This was not helpful with Carlos, I got the impression that he was not Icelandic. My perfectly practiced "Hvað segir þú gott?" just bounced right off of him.

I'd researched the menu beforehand so the choice was pretty much made already. Angel and Adam didn't struggle long either.
Me: Combo; one chicken enchilada and two beef flautas. The combo came with beans, rice and a 'corn cake'. I ordered the flautas specifically so I could say 'flautas'* out loud and write it several times. It's not what you think. Flautas is Spanish for 'flute'. It is a wheat wrap rolled into a long cylinder shape, filled with. . . something, then fried.
Adam: Chipotle Chicken Chimichanga.
Angel: Steak and shrimp. This was weird and surprising. On Saturday I'd commandeered the kitchen and prepared us a five course dinner. Grilled steak and shrimp, garlic toast, salad and roasted potatoes. She loved it, there was even enough left over for her to have steak and shrimp for Sunday lunch as well.
This was to be her third steak and shrimp meal in a row. I guess I'd really dialed in on her tastes. . .

Then the Si Senor staff made a mistake. Angel's plate was delivered in just a few minutes.
Have you ever gone to lunch or dinner with people from work and you all order but the food comes out in incomplete batches? Someone, usually me, is stuck sitting there at a blank spot on the table while everyone else politely watches, as their lobsters start to approach room temperature waiting for every one else's food to arrive. . .
Well, that's what happened here. Angel's plate arrived then, for about five or more minutes, nothing else. Fortunately for Angel we're all familiar family so she went ahead and un-apologetically dug right in. Adam and I didn't mind, we just wanted our food. Still it was a notable gaff, though not a fatal one.
One could say that the meals were worth the wait, because they were very, very good.

The chicken inside the enchilada was lightly spiced and quite moist. Usually at Mexican joints the bulk-cooked and steamer-warmed shredded meat ends up being quite dry. Not here. The light coating of enchilada sauce made me want more of it, a gallon or so would have been good. To my surprise and giggly delight, the flautas was quite tasty. The beef was also lightly spiced and quite smoky tasting. A very good little finger food. As always, I chopped up my enchilada and stirred it around into the cheesy beans and rice. I love that combination, when it is prepared right, and this was. Once again they'd held off on overdoing it. They let the beans and rice speak for themselves without going all Taco-Bell with the seasonings. The corn cake, a mush of corn meal with actual sweet kernels embedded in it was quite good as well.
There was absolutely nothing I did not like about the meal.
Angel too was quite impressed. "They grilled the broccoli instead of just steaming it." And "The shrimp is beautifully spiced."
Adam didn't have to say much, I know when he likes and doesn't like things. He loved this. "The chicken is very good." He even sawed off a chunk to let me try. Yep, he was right.
"I didn't share my shrimp." Angel said, unnecessarily.
Summary:
There was that one and only one misstep. Staggered serving time. Easily fixable, but it would be annoying if it turned into a regular occurrence.
Angel said she'd already decided what to order next time. The seafood soup. She had seen it on the menu but passed over it for the same stuff she'd had twice before in less than 24 hours. Someone else had ordered the soup and she saw it delivered, long crab legs dangling out the side of the bowl.
The food itself was really, really good. I hear they make a pretty good margarita as well.
Now about the price. There was some mention on the Facebook group about Si Senor being a bit pricey. Well, compared to some of the other Mexican restaurants in the area, I suppose that it was. However, at forty nine bucks for three meals, it's cheaper than the popular chain places like Applebee's or Ruby T's or Olive Garden. The restaurant was very clean, the ingredients were all fresh and the staff was well trained and polite. Some of the local Mexican places are essentially dingy dives with pretty drinks. This place worried about its food, they didn't just pop open some cans and fry down some ground beef saturated with powdered taco seasoning.
This was much, much better than that. They've set the bar pretty high for a very reasonable price. In the coming months other places that were recommended will be visited, I'd have to say though, they are going to have to really impress me to beat Si Senor.






*Flautas. You need permanently juvenile male brain parts to giggle at this. In case you don't get it 'flautas' looks and sounds like the word 'flatus' which is a fancy word for 'stomach' gas.  You know. . . farts.

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?  

Taco Bell

10255 Business Highway 21
Hillsboro, Mo
www.tacobell.com

Surprised?
You should be. I wasn't.
Angel's pick, and I knew exactly why. I've been bad mouthing the Bell for several years, but in all that time I've not actually set foot in one. I used to go occasionally, but I finally got tired of the lack of variety and the mediocre, at best, flavors. Every time it's Adam's turn to pick a place, his mom suggests to him that if he's having trouble deciding he should just pick Taco Bell. They go frequently for lunches, when I'm not around.
"But dad doesn't want to go there." He would reply.
When Angel told me this, I told her "Does the boy not understand the purpose of these meals? It doesn't matter if I have a preconceived notion or not, it's about going to places and gathering data then publicly declaring my official dislike."
So she picked it.
The Place:
On a hilltop north of downtown Hillsboro, next to McD's. I can't recall ever going into the place. It's been a long, long time since I've been to a Bell, anywhere.
The place was actually fairly attractive inside, browns and oranges, darkly painted ceiling tiles. There were some bistro tables and some half-booths (bench on one side, chairs on the other). It didn't look nearly as fast food-y as I recalled it. It had the look of a Panerea or Crazy Bowls.
The Food:
We stepped up to the counter and were greeted by a petite, almost elfin, young lady wearing the name 'Jennifer' on her name tag. Long brown hair pulled back into a quick ponytail, big, dark bright eyes, and a huge but sincere looking smile. Angel stepped up first and ordered like a pro. It occurred to me that she might have been there even more often that I was aware of. I'd looked at the menu online earlier in the day and had pretty much decided, but took a couple of minutes to scan the overhead to see if there was anything else that might pop out. There wasn't. Angel asked for two shredded chicken burritos and a steak taco. I took the plunge and went with my original, purposeful, strategic choice, a steak gordita and a soft shredded chicken taco. Jennifer said something in her tiny, happy voice that I didn't hear, so she repeated it. "Would you like a drink?"
Of course this offered up a comedic opportunity. "Yes, yes I would."
She smiled even bigger, didn't skip a beat. "Would you like our one dollar medium drink?" She asked. I had nowhere to take that, my shallow comedy tool box now empty. "Yes, that will be fine." was my reply. She'd won that round.

Steak Gordita

Adam stepped through, more deliberate and purposeful, still seeming a little unsure, though I knew he visited often. "Two shredded chicken tacos and a five layer beef burrito." He also asked for the one dollar drink. Copycat.
Angel was already picking out condiments at the condiment bar, packets of mild sauce and napkins. I filled my one dollar cup with unsweetened ice tea, Adam dispensed Dr. Pepper. Angel was not dispensing anything, she'd gone for the secret (in that I wasn't aware of it) drink menu and asked for a cherry limeade, which was assembled/brewed/distilled behind the counter.

Soft Chicken Taco

We found us a regular sized table. The place wasn't very crowded, and hot adult contemporary music played overhead. I don't know exactly what constitutes hot adult contemporary music, but that's how radio station KYKY in St. Louis describes what they play. I didn't recognize any of it, nor the artists names when they were mentioned, but it wasn't country or Christmas music, so I didn't hate it.
It wasn't very long before someone called Angel's name and the trays arrived. Adam sorted it all out and kept the tray for himself. I examined my gordita.

Chicken  Soft Taco, exposed

In Mexico if you order a gordita you will get what we might consider a sheppard's pie, stew served with a thick crust. Taco Bell has decided to screw all that authenticity malarkey, there it's just a soft pita taco. Taco Bell has tried twice to enter the food market in Mexico, both attempts failed, even when they offered Americanized things like fries. I don't know that it was the food that caused it to fail, I think it had to do with their slogan "Make a run for the border" which suffers an entirely different context in Mexico.
The pita bread wrapper was only slightly thicker than the regular soft taco's wrap. My strategy had been to test a gordita, not knowing what it was, and go with steak, since I didn't recall that being offered back in the 80's or 90's or whenever I'd last been to a Bell. I decided on the chicken for the same reason, and to test the soft shell.
I still had the taste in my mouth of the old hard-shelled ground 'beef' (in air quotes) that were so common back in the day. I steered far away from that terrible, greasy, bitter, salty memory.

Chicken Burrito

The steak in the steak taco looked like steak. It was cubed, charred and juicy looking. It had a good mix of toppings on it, cheese, tomato, lettuce and the wrap itself was indeed soft. The meat looked a little suspicious, and to the bite was very, very tender, uniformly so, no gristle or tough spots whatsoever. Too tender to be straight off a cow. I decided that the only way it could be that uniform and tender, other than the beast having been hand massaged and lived a life of leisure in Japan, was if it was beef, broken down and rebuilt like tofu is made from soy beans, highly processed, reconstituted, like their current 'taco meat filling' which can be, by law with that moniker, only 15-20% protein according to many accounts. (The Bell insists that it is at least 88% 'meat', but is struggling with official food labels and some lawsuits.) All  I'm saying is that beef, that smooth, uniform and consistent does not come straight from the cow that way.

Steak Taco,  Cherry lime-ade

The fact of the matter is that whatever it actually is, it did taste pretty good. I finished the gordita and  bit into the chicken taco. It took a couple of bites to find the chicken, which was also the last bite. That same ghastly salty and greasy taste was back. I was done. My feelings were mixed.

Oozing Cheese

Meanwhile, Angel was disassembling her burrito. It was like a pound of potatoes in a ten pound sack. She tore off large chunks of the tortilla and shoved them aside, revealing only a small smattering of actual ingredients, mostly rice. As for actual chicken there was maybe a heaping tablespoon of it, about the same as in the chicken tacos.  She didn't eat most of it, since most of it was the tortilla and the rice, which she said she didn't care for. The steak taco was different though, basically the same as my gordita, but with a slightly thinner tortilla. She had no complaints about that. She added that she loved the limeade at the Bell.

Chicken Burrito, exposed

Adam had no complaints about his, "Pretty good" he said adding that this was college kid food, lots of empty carbs, calories and grease to fuel the fast-burning, raging maturation metabolism. He said this as his burrito developed a leakage, cheese started oozing out a small tear in the tortilla, like thick yellow pus out of a punctured boil. (You're welcome)
Oh, and the tea. I was surprised, it was actually pretty good. Clear, fairly fresh and strong enough to actually taste. Believe it or not The Bell gets a +3.

Summary:
The place was prettied up, the service at the counter was outstanding, the price, at twenty three dollars and change, very, very cheap.

Several dead trees.

The food was "Not awful".
This is the Bell's forte, the low price. With that price though, there comes a, er,  price, though. The food is made of the cheapest ingredients possible. These ingredients will not properly sustain a mature, slow burning metabolism. All those carbs and fats together will build up as excess sugars and fat in your system (don't even get me started on the sodium) unless you are super-active, or addicted to meth. I shouldn't have to tell a responsible, reasonable adult that this food, if eaten very regularly will make you and your kids fat. Of course this is true of burgers and pizza as well, it's all pretty much the same thing, bread, greasy, fatty meat and a few token veggie toppings with some kind of sauce. Taco Bell gets a lot of grief over their ingredients, but they are really not that much different than most plasticized, high-volume, low cost  fast food offerings.
That being said if you just need a quick and dirty calorie load, then go for it. They are fast and certainly cheap.
My biggest concern though after this trek, was what I noticed at the end of the meal. Look at that pile of refuse. I'm certainly not the greenest, tree-huggiest person around, but crimeny, that was a lot of trash. Some places present to-go orders and inside orders differently, not here. The paper wrappers sort of make sense for a bundle of food being taken elsewhere, but in-store it seems a bit much. The excess paper travels only twenty feet and fifteen minutes from initial deployment to trash bin. That seems to be very, very wasteful and inefficient to me.
So will I go back? Well frankly, I can't think of a reason to. Though the steak gordita was tasty, it was not as tasty as a good burger or a slice of pizza (especially Pizza Junction Pizza!)* and no more nutritious, just cheaper and faster. Hardees is just up the road and has pretty good burgers, as well as decent coffee and WiFi. There's nothing at the bell that really calls to me. I'd just as soon stay home and make a sandwich. I will say this though, The Bell seems to be trying to improve its image. They're just stuck in a price point problem. To keep the college kids stopping in they are forced to use faked, excuse me, processed and enhanced meat and lots and lots of cheap corn and wheat filler material.
You get what you pay for.


* Gratuitous plug for the place my son works.

Coyol Mexican Restaurant

12967 Rt 21
DeSoto, Mo
On Facebook

 The Place:

In the location that was formerly called 'Senor Nacho'. Next to the KFC. As Senor Nacho, we didn't care for it very much. As we recall, it has changed ownership and name at least once, we think maybe more since we were last there.
Of course, we need to discuss the name. 'Coyol' is the name of a palm tree (acrocomia aculeata) common in Southern Mexico all the way down into Argentina. It produces a small coconut-like fruit which is really hard to break open and there's not much inside it when you get there. So it is not at all common to find the fruit many places other than where it falls on the ground. Why would you name a restaurant in DeSoto after a palm fruit no one around here will likely ever see or taste? Well, I'm not done yet. You see the trees are good for something else. Cut one down, drain the sap, let that sap ferment and man, you've got a potent beverage. One that not only can get you face-down wasted because of the alcohol, but bonus: the enzymes in that drink react with your body chemistry, intensifying the drunkenness considerably when you step out into sunlight for a while.
Since the restaurant's sign has on it a palm tree, I'm pretty sure the name is based on the tree, not the nut nor the sap wine derived from it, though I'm not real sure.

One of the table tops

We went in the already busy place and were led to a booth in the back. The walls were painted in a rough textured, adobe-colored paint, with faux exposed brink painted on in various places. Murals depicting simple, traditional Mexican themes were also painted in. The table tops were thickly laminated with more Mexican-style art, some quite striking.
There were several tables and booths filled, families, couples. Some of the adults were drinking a variety of adult beverages. One man across from us was drinking a Dos Equis, though oddly enough he didn't really seem all that interesting.
Our waiter brought menus and asked about drinks. He was a handsome man, tall, lean, forty-ish, with pronounced Spanish features. He was dressed in jeans and a white cotton shirt and reminded me of the type of man that could handle himself quite well in harsh dry climates as well as the rugged lands of his European ancestry. His accent was thick, and made every syllable sound important. We ordered tea, Diet Coke and Dr. Pepper.
The menus were about six pages, laminated and included labeled photos of many of the dishes. All of which looked very good. I wanted an enchilada, or a chimichanga, but I also wanted rice and beans. I picked my meal because it included all of that. Angel wanted a steak, and Adam wanted a taco.
We took a while to ultimately choose, Angel and I changing our minds several times before finally settling. In the mean time the chips and salsa arrived and quickly disappeared.
On the wall above our heads, were several sombreros. There were Polaroids  taped to the wall of the entrance of customers wearing these sombreros having a great time. I assume alcohol was involved.
The Food:
For me it was chimichangas, fried chicken burritos, which included beans, rice, guacamole, sour cream and a lettuce and tomato salad. Angel chose the Steak Jalisco, which she mispronounced but was repeated perfectly and precisely by the waiter.(Jalisco is a south western Mexican state, the capital of which is Guadalajara, and includes the popular port city of  Puerto Vallarta.)

Chimichangas

The Steak Jalisco was offered as being covered in mushroom and shrimp. Adam indeed ordered one of the many combo plates, one burrito, one taco, rice on the side.
As we waited and munched on chips I listened to the rich, passionate Mexican music, enjoying it thoroughly even though I didn't understand a word of it. True passion translates perfectly though, even without words. I mentioned to Angel and Adam that one of his co-workers at Pizza Junction had left a comment on the review I'd written a couple of weeks prior. I said she'd said some very nice things about him. This alarmed him and he demanded to know who it was. I asked his mother to dial the blog up on her smart-ass-phone and she did.

Steak Jalisco

"Adam is a great worker and a funny guy!" it said. It was written by someone named 'Dawn'. "That's my manager's wife" He said. "Awesome!" I replied. I also thought how nice it would be to get a public compliment from my manager's wife, or even my manager. Must be nice to be appreciated.
The plates arrived, luscious looking, steaming, my plate was still almost too hot to touch. Angel's steak sizzled, as hot as a summer day in Guadalajara. Adam's plate came next and the table went quiet for the next ten minutes. I ate and ate, savoring every bite. The chicken was moist, the pinnacle test for quality preparation. The lettuce was crisp, the guacamole was fresh and bright, the beans cheesy and the rice, not overly tomato-ey. they'd nailed it.

Burrito+Taco

Angel made satisfied grunting noises as she ate, carved the steak and dipped the shrimp. "Tender" She said of the steak between bites, once again quite an accomplishment for such a thin cut. Another bowl of chips arrived, drink refills were timely. The waiter maintained his professionalism even as he swept out the crumbs from underneath a table recently vacated by a family. Pride in his work was obvious.
None of us could finish our meals, we tried, but the stuff was delicious and at the same time quite filling. It didn't look like much at the start, but it took quite and effort to whittle it down. At one drink refill I turned to Angel and asked; "Do you consider the waiter to be quite handsome?" She looked at me flustered and flushed. She stammered. "I didn't know we were here to judge." Adam laughed, I did to, because judging is precisely what we do at these places.
Summary:
     We were quite impressed, to put it mildly. We didn't care for Senor Nacho, but in its present incarnation as Coyol, all the things that the previous place was lacking are fixed. The food was fresh, tasty and perfectly prepared. The service was excellent, timely and professional. Around the table there was not a single complaint. In the car Angel did admit that the cheese sauce got a little salty after a while, but not terribly so. That was all we could come up with. Otherwise the atmosphere, the food and the experience was fantastic.
The price as well was reasonable at about forty bucks. A lot of quality, a lot of food, for a very good price.

Cinco de Mayo

4587 Hunter Lane
Byrnes Mill, Mo

This was a near last-minute decision. No one in the clan had given much thought to eating out this weekend and no one wanted to make a decision. I suggested Los Portales out of lack of a better idea, Angel offered up another Mexican joint, Cinco de Mayo, a place we don’t get to very often. I thought that was better choice for the very reason that we don’t get there often.

The Place:

Alongside highway 30 in Byrnes Mill/House Springs. It’s an orange, faux-adobe structure topped with a big yellow sign. The parking lot was packed pretty tight. Inside, the place itself was nearly filled. The hostess had to think for a moment about where to seat us. She took us to the left this time to what probably used to be the smoking section. The interior walls were also orange and heavily populated with beer signs. Two big, flat TV’s mutely played ESPN, neither TV was in eyesight of our booth.

A young man rushed up and introduced himself as our waiter. He asked about drinks, and against better judgment I asked for tea. Angel went for Diet Pepsi and Adam, the regular Pepsi. Angel recalled that the last time we’d been there that the tea was horrible. I remembered that too, it was a flowery concoction that tasted a little like hand lotion. At the time the manager said that they were thinking of canceling the tea vendor’s contract. Apparently they had, the tea I was given didn’t taste like hand lotion anymore, it tasted like nothing at all.

There were large parrots painted on the windows and several faux-parrots hanging from the ceiling, enough immobile parrots that I kind of expected a Monty Python sketch to break out at any moment.

The Food:

The chips arrived shortly, a big basket, along with a beaker of salsa. Adam poured the lumpy stuff into the provided bowl and the crunching began in earnest as we scanned the menus.

 Burritos, tacos, fajitas, enchiladas, various combinations of beef, pork, chicken and shrimp. Oddly, ‘parrot’ was not listed anywhere.

I finally decided on a chicken chimichanga which included rice and refried beans. Angel, a fan of most things seafood, decided on shrimp pollo which sounded exciting to me until I found out that it was not a sport involving smacking a little ball around with a mallet whilst riding saddled shrimp, I’d pay to see that. No, it simply meant a dish of shrimp and chicken. She said later that she’d actually wanted the fajitas, served sizzling on a blazing hot iron platter, but with her still-recovering left arm she thought it might simply be too dangerous. A wise plan being as merely shampooing her hair has proven almost lethal.

Nachos Supreme

Adam went simple, the Nachos Supreme (chicken). No one was really pushing the edge, pretty basic stuff. So we sat and munched on the thin, some might say too thin chips. Many of them broke off scooping up the moderately thick, spicy salsa. Nearly half the chips in the basket were barely more than crumbs, we’d been served from the bottom of the bag.

The people kept flowing in, it was nearly stacked to the rafters with people, a bustling, busy place amped up in energy by the classic rock radio station playing ‘Walkin’ on Sunshine’ and other upbeat anthems overhead.  No mariachi, corridos, ranchera, or even creepy narco-corridos*, it was all-American rock, which clashed with the parrot and palm on adobe theme of the restaurant. About as Mexican in overall ambiance as Taco Bell.

Call me old fashioned, call me a traditionalist call me a romantic, call  me a hapless idiot, but when I go to a place-themed restaurant I like music from that area. Chinese, Italian, Greek, Mexican, even Kentucky Fried Chicken, I want music from the place. Is that too much to ask?

Chimichanga

Another basket of chips arrived, the very busy place was keeping the young, pale, all-American staff on their toes. There used to be Mexicans working there, none could be seen this evening. Not necessarily a problem, but all my favorite Mexican joints are owned or at least operated by Latinos. I’m not meaning to be racist, but I really believe the best Mexican food is made by Mexicans.

The wait grew longer. I was almost full from the addictive chips and salsa. Our waiter, not named Pedro, Jose or Miguel, but rather ‘Kyle’ came out and apologized, saying that the ‘party of twenty one’ was almost done being served and our order would follow that one shortly.

About one third or less of the way into the second basket of chips, a young lady brought a third basket, saying “your server said you wanted more.”

Okay, the place was busy, but not beyond advertised capacity. In all, three people stopped by to check on us. None offered drink refills.

The food finally did arrive; Adam and I got our plates a full several minutes ahead of Angel’s. Awkward waiting ensued.

Chimichanga: A deep-fried burrito.

So what I expected was a crunchy tortilla wrap. No, it wasn’t. It didn’t look as though it had been anywhere near cooking oil. The tortilla cut like a fresh one, even doughy on the ends. There was no crunch to it at all. The taste wasn’t bad, but it was a burrito, not a chimichanga. In the middle of the plate was a pile of green avocado puree, guacamole, which at best I am not a huge fan of, but in this case it had absolutely no flavor at all. Something that green should have a stronger taste. There was also a smattering of shredded lettuce and tiny pieces of tomato topped by a dollop of sour cream. I cut the chimichanga/burrito and swirled everything together. It would have been better with a crunchy element, but it wasn’t bad, though it lacked any ‘zing’.

Shrimp Pollo

Angel enjoyed hers thoroughly. She said that the chicken was moist, almost buttery and the onions, peppers, shrimp and mushrooms were all very good. Adam didn’t say a lot about his nachos but he did eat more than half and didn’t complain other than ‘The chips were too thin.’ They used the same fragile, wafer-thin (yet another Monty Python reference) chips in the nachos as were in the baskets.

Summary:

We had our fill and the food was pretty good to excellent. The crowd may have led to the several service slips, the unsolicited chip glut, the complete lack of drink refills and the delays. These are typical anywhere when staff is stretched thin. They worked hard to be sure, but you could almost see on their faces the overwhelming pressure to just get through the busy night. It’s chief among reasons I don’t care for really busy places.

The bill came to only thirty three dollars and change, a good bargain for the amount of food. I didn’t tip very much, too many service mistakes. I’ve seen servers thrive in such chaos, this gets tipped well. There were no catastrophic errors here, just no one rising to the occasion and too many small errors.

I was hoping for something a little more fresh and bright. My food was certainly okay, but it lacked punch, zing, sparkle. The rice, beans and chicken all pretty much tasted alike. Angel even said that as good as hers was, it didn’t seem Mexican at all, more like Mexican-lite.

I’d like to go back, but only if the crowd was smaller, to give them a chance to shine. The place is certainly popular, which says a lot.

_____________

*Narco corridos: Ballads about drug trafficking and related violence, I’m not making this up, they’re quite common.