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 St.
Hillsboro, Mo.


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

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

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

The Place:

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Food:

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

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

Mexicali Cheese Steak

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

Taco-Burrito combo

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

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

Enchiladas Missouri

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

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

Summary:

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

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

So there, I’ve said it again.

Otherwise, the place is pretty decent.

Casa Gallardo

1092 Old Des Peres Road
St. Louis
www.casagallardo.com/

  For over a year a couple of buddies from work and I would cross the road and have lunch at the Westport Plaza location of Casa Gallardo each Friday. We did it so often that the staff eventually recognized us and just let us head back to our usual seats, they’d bring us our chips, salsas and tea without even asking. The same waitress would stop by and confirm our orders, which seldom varied.

I’d always get a combination plate, one chicken enchilada and one chicken taquito, refried beans, rice and a corn cake. Of course this was only after the three of us slaughtered a couple of baskets of chips and salsa. They offered three kinds of salsa, normal, hotter and ‘oh my god!’ Each of us had our favorite, mine being the wimpier stuff. I stopped doing this a few months back as one of the three amigos left for another job.

It was always quite good, not that I really measured it against anything else. During the week I don’t eat anything before lunch so I’m not very picky when I do eat something.

During our visit to Ponderosa last week I noticed a Casa Gallardo across the street. So this past weekend I decided to take the family there and impress them.

What a difference a few miles can make.

The Place:

Across from / near the South County Mall, a free standing building, fairly large. Inside the décor worked really, really hard to make it appear like a courtyard in old Mexico, adobe/mission style facade, paved terra cotta floor, colorful red, white and green bunting, etc. There were three levels of seating and the place was busy and loud.

The menu didn’t look familiar, though it had been over a year since I needed a menu at the Westport location, I couldn’t say for sure if they were the same.

The young redhead asked us about drinks, Angel went for sweet tea, Adam a Pepsi, I decided, since I wouldn’t be driving, to go for beer again. She spat out the names of several Anheuser Busch products, I passed. I asked about Sam Adams, nope. She then went through a list of ‘Mexican’ beers. I stopped her at Dos Equis. All I knew about the brand was that the 'most interesting man in the world' enjoys it, at least according to the commercials.

The chips, one bowl of red salsa and the drinks arrived. The salsa was a little hotter than what I expected but not too bad. Angel said yes to the offer of chile con queso cheese dip, it was brought out quickly, about the time that we’d decided on meals.

The Food:

I didn’t see any taquitos listed anywhere, so I went for the Tres Enchiladas. (Three enchiladas) One beef, one chicken and one shrimp. I thought it was served with beans and rice, I was wrong. It was served with rice but instead of creamy beans, they plopped a pile of sautéed veggies, onions, carrot shreds and broccoli. Yeah, broccoli. (blech)

Adam ordered the Ultimate Combo #2, a ground beef enchilada, chicken burrito and a taco, without tomato, Angel ordered the Trio Favoritos, a Steak taco, enchilada and a mini-chim.

We crunched on chips and salsa but after a taste or two abandoned the cheese dip. Though it had floaters, a few pepper chunks, it tasted like heated Cheez-Whiz. Too American-Cheesy, no punch.

The plates arrived after a drink refill or two. I spent the time being thoroughly annoyed by the constantly talking and moving family across from us. My beer was served in the bottle with a lime stuck in it. I squeezed a little into the beer and then Angel grabbed it away and took a sip. She seemed unimpressed, as was I when I did the same. No body, no texture, just another typical light beer. Nor did I feel more interesting for having tried it.

My enchiladas looked limp and puny. There was barely any sauce on any of them. When I took knife to them they resisted in a rubbery way. The tortilla wrapping was as thin as paper and had the slimy appearance and texture of overcooked calamari. Inside the first one there was only four shrimp, and nothing else. If there was sauce on it, it had no distinct flavor. The shrimps themselves were dry, overcooked, though fairly spicy. The second one, shredded beef was coated with a red sauce that turned out to be more barbecue sauce than enchilada. The beef was tough and not shredded quite enough. The last hope was the chicken, strike three. The chicken was blackened and cubed, the sauce was once again, tasteless and nearly non-existent. I ended up plucking the meat out of the slimy wraps, only the shrimp got eaten completely. The rice was too dry, but not nasty. The veggies were under-cooked and there was broccoli on my plate.

Adam and Angel’s experience wasn’t much better.

Her taco was spicy and quite good, but the enchilada was too salty. Her beans were not very creamy, she too said the rice was dry. Inside the chimi, the vegetables were undercooked and tough.

Adam liked the rice, but said the chicken was skimpy. His tortillas as well were without taste or texture.

After the meal he said that he’d always heard that the nicer a Mexican restaurant looked the worse the food. This of course was a tip of the hat to our favorite Mexican place, Los Portales in Hillsboro, which by nearly every description is a run down, worn out, non-pretentious dive, but man-o’-man the food is good.

We agreed that at best this location was a family restaurant pretending to be Mexican.

Being as none of us actually finished our meals, we decided to order dessert, the choices were fried ice cream or flan.

Flan is a custard, this one covered in a brown caramel (burnt sugar) and a dab of whipped cream. They arrived quickly, large portions, too large. The texture was spot-on, but the taste was very rich and overwhelmingly eggy. Washing it down with beer was just weird. Angel said that it might have been better with coffee. None of us finished our desserts either. The redhead offered take away boxes, we all declined.

Summary:

Very, very disappointed. There was nothing actually very good among the meals. As a whole it was unanimously thumbs down. I noticed that other folks seemed to not be making a fuss about the food, maybe this was the best they’d had. I feel sorry for them if that was true. It doesn’t take a lot to make a good Mexican meal, it’s simple, only a few ingredients and the cooking process is not difficult. Los Portales, admittedly run by a Mexican family, has this stuff nailed, for a lot less money.

The tab came to sixty plus dollars, partially excused by the extras, the flans and the cheese dip, but even with that the food really wasn’t worth the price.

I’ll be going back to the Westport location sometime soon I’m sure. I’m curious if this bad experience is simply location-based or if the chain has really stepped back that much.

La Pachanga

1185 Scenic Drive
Herculaneum, MO 63048-1433

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

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