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.

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.

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.