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.

Los Portales

201 2nd Street, Hillsboro, MO
Hillsboro, Mo.

I was again wearing my work leash, my turn in the on-call barrel. Automatic monitoring systems woke me up three times in two hours in the wee hours of the morning. I spent the rest of the day in a diminished mental state. The engine was running, but none of the gears seemed to want to catch.
Fortunately I'd already announced the weekend choice, our favorite Mexican hole in the wall. It's close, about ten minutes from the house, fast and inexpensive.
The Place:
In Hillsboro, that's all you need to know. If you find yourself in Hillsboro, it's right there. An old, remodeled single story joint. There's a patio area, no one was in it. Too hot.
Inside was busy, busier that I'm accustomed to seeing it so early. It's quite a popular watering hole for locals, most nights it's jumping.
The man at the bar, who seemed to be in charge, handed us menus and told us to find a seat, he'd be there shortly. I trusted this man. Over his head the flat screen was showing Brazil getting trounced by the Dutch. Just not Brazil's year.
Yes, I've been keeping an eye on the World Cup. But not for sports reasons.
You see, the systems I manage are mostly for our global users. There's another team that takes care of North America. My customers are in Russia, Mexico, Ukraine, Brazil, Argentina, etc. So the World Cup matters. I have working relationships with people in nearly all the countries playing in this month-long snooze fest. On the days that Brazil, especially, played, usage of my systems dipped noticeably, dramatically, lightening the load, so to speak.
I don't think I have users in the Netherlands, but I'm friends with a guy from there that I met nearly twenty years ago. I haven't heard from him lately, but he was a really neat guy. He once told me, in perfect English, that "Dutch is not a language, it's a throat disease."
Pedro, a Brazilian native that currently lives in  New York, IM'd me at the early stages of the games.
"Dennis, you excited about the World Cup?"
Me:   "(yawn)"
Pedro: "You don't like Soccer?"
Me: "I don't even care for or follow American football, why would I care one hoot about some second rate, foreign knock-off?"
It's okay, I talk to Pedro several times per week, he knows not to take me too seriously. On the day Brazil got pummeled by Germany, I IM'd him.
"Hey Pedro, how's that big soccer thing going?"
He didn't seem to be in a very good mood that day.
So I refused to root for either side this game. I didn't want to start an international incident amongst colleagues.
We took a booth by a big window.
Like I said, it was busier than usual. No one was watching the game though, because they were all Americans.
A couple of teen-twenty-something girls came in and sat nearby, I only noticed this because one of them was quite obviously OD'ing on eye makeup. She looked like she might be attractive without the clown mask, it was kind of like touching up a perfectly good, old masterpiece with glitter.
The Food:
We sat and true to his word, the man stopped by within a couple of minutes, loaded down with chips and salsa.
We asked for our drinks, tea, Diet Coke and Coke and dived into the chips. I almost immediately recalled that I had planned to have beer with the meal, but forgot. It's a problem I have, I'm always forgetting beer.
The menu was comprehensive, and in a few places, funny."Sure I'll have the Beer Taco as long as it truly is 'friend crisp!'"
I thought about ordering something new, something different, but I didn't. I like the enchiladas too much to go out on a limb. So once again, I asked for #1. Two enchiladas with re-fried beans and rice.
Adam asked for his tacos. One each, chicken and beef. Pretty much his standard order as well. Angel did not disappoint for once, she went with her perennial favorite as well, Enchiladas Del Mar, shrimp enchiladas. She did throw in a new variant though, more on that later.
We chomped through the chips, Angel and Adam e-deviced for a while. I leaned back and took in the ambiance. Mexican music played in the background, at once both happy, upbeat and forlorn. With a distinct rhythm and meter. I like Mexican music, It makes me feel.
The next best thing about LP is that it is fast. Angel had to leave to pick up a new client dog, so we were sort of pressed for time, another reason that this choice made sense.

Enchiladas

At another table, a middle aged foursome was growing louder and happier as the nearly empty fruity drink goblets stacked up around them. One of the men was wearing a sleeveless tee shirt with a logo and enough correctly spelled words that I could make out that he was apparently a member of a gang called 'The Christian Motorcyclists Association'.  The slogan was 'Riding for the Son'. I thought this a bit odd, but, okay. Whatever it takes, I guess. I looked them up, they do charitable events, so that's not so bad.
The food came quickly. Melty, steamy, aromatic. My plate looked simply luscious.The cheese melting into the beans, the sauce kissing all the edges of the enchiladas, the rice, tanned and hot.

Poblano

I chopped it all up and shoved it all together, that's just the way I roll. Every bite a combination of savory, spicy, cheesy delight.
Angel toyed with the extra 'side' she ordered, a roasted, sauced and cheese-laden poblano pepper.
She pronounced it quite good. I gave it a shot. Not bad at all. Not as spicy hot as I had imagined. It did taste like a roasted bell pepper, only slightly hotter, and the sauce and cheese were a great match for it. Near the end of the meal though, after she'd devoured the shrimp enchiladas, she said that after a while the pepper started tasting a little green 'grassy' as she called it. All in all she liked it, but didn't think it would stand up as well as a main course. "I absolutely love the shrimp enchiladas." She said a half dozen or so times.
About his tacos, which he finished off completely and very quickly, Adam merely said "Very Good, as usual."

Tacos

Enchiladas del Mar

Summary:
We were all filled and satisfied. The bill came to a modest $34.35. Overall I was feeling a little salty by the end of mine, but not nearly as bad as many places. The tea was quite good this time, a fresher batch that I usually encounter. The waiter/manager was quite helpful as well as efficient and attentive. Angel had some questions before ordering the poblano, he didn't seem to mind at all explaining to her the difference between that and a similar dish. I noticed he did the same for other people as well, they would point at an item and he'd kindly, proudly smile and tell them about it.
He also kept the foursome liquored up. LP has quite the local reputation for some of its enormous fruity drinks.
At other tables, some extended families with small kids, all local, seemed to be enjoying themselves as well.
Alas the poor creature that laments about hunger in a most famous Mexican corrido would not be so downtrodden here.
Ya se van los carrancistas,
ya se van por el alambre,
porque dicen los villistas,
que se estarán muriendo de hambre.
No, no dying of hunger at Los Portales. the food is great, inexpensive and quick.

Jack In The Box

899 Veterans Blvd
Festus, Mo

Still waiting for the new Hibachi Buffet to open, we had a plan B. Jack has been running an ad for a few weeks now for their 'Bacon Insider' burger.  Bacon on the burger as is traditional, but also with bacon mixed inside the patty, and it is topped with a bacon mayo. That's a lot of bacon, but we're mid-westerners. So this trip wasn't so much about the place as it was about a specific item.

The Place:

Clustered amongst a dozen or so fast food franchises just off I-55 on Highway A, or Veterans Blvd. as it is locally signed. It doesn't stand out very much, but if you are looking for it, just head to Burger King, Fazoli's or Taco Bell.
It is more nicely decorated than BK or McD's but it's still a fast-food burger joint. The floors and tables were mostly clean, unlike the last couple of times we'd been there. It wasn't very busy and there didn't seem to be a large crew working. As we stepped up to the counter I could see one young lady mass-producing tacos. The mature gentleman that waited on us seemed manager-like, yet he handled the drive-thru headset like a pro.
The Food:  We all ordered the same burger. I got mine as a medium combo with curly fries, so did Adam. Angel nixed the fries and got two tacos instead. Angel and Adam like Jack's tacos, I do not. We settled up, twenty five bucks and change.
We grabbed straws, ketchup packets and napkins and followed Angel to a booth near the front. Out came the electronic devices, two smart phones and a tablet. I use my tablet to take notes and photos for this review. Angel and Adam use theirs to goof off.
I told them about a study I'd heard about on the radio earlier in the day. A team of Japanese scientists, presumably not the same scientists that should have been figuring out what to do with that nuclear power plant disaster in Fukushima, did a four month study to find the best way to hold a hamburger. I knew the result and told my family that I would be demonstrating the technique. Granted this was a study conducted by a group culturally more accustomed to eating with sticks than a fork, and the study is a little suspect in that it took a group of scientists four months to conduct a study that most American kids figure out in a few minutes by the time they're teenagers. But anyway, it was an official study, so it must be important.
They called our name, Adam popped up to grab the tray.
The burgers were diapered in paper inside boxes, another part of a tree died to produce the paper product to transport food the fifteen feet to the booth and the fifteen feet to the trash bin, unnecessarily wasteful. But that's an argument for another day.
They looked like regular burgers, Angel's tacos looked flat and dead, like Mexican road kill.
Jack boasts in its commercial about this treat being served on brioche, a bread with a higher butter and egg content than good old America white bread. I appreciate up-scaling bread, usually, but to me, on a sandwich, it's more important what is between the bun. My curly fries looked fine, crispy looking, though not actually crispy. I took a bite or two of the burger, it tasted like a bacon cheeseburger, with mayonnaise.  I don't usually put mayo on a burger, I'm an old fashioned mustard and ketchup guy. I found the mayo to be distracting, too loud a note for a savory burger. Angel and Adam shared the tacos, ate them like they were good. I found nothing appetizing about them at all the time I'd tried one. Some people really like them though, one couple came in to pick up their phoned in order of seventy tacos. Yeah, seventy. Blech.
As I ate the burger I realized I was fantasizing about burgers and bacon, but not at Jacks. For the same price as my combo, a little over seven bucks, I'd had a breakfast that very morning at Huddle House in DeSoto. Two eggs, over medium, hash browns, wheat toast and two slices of bacon. That's how to enjoy bacon, plus, HH served up a continuous set of refills for my delicious coffee for the full hour I had sat there and read my book.
Unlike the tea at Jack's. The tea was floral, weak and a bit bitter, I only took a few sips.
At Jack's, as I ate the mediocre burger, flaccid curly fries and sipped that terrible tea, I was dreaming of breakfast at HH and the burgers, just down the road at Gordon's stop light.
The brioche bun was more of a complication than a bonus. It was tougher, chewier than the burger itself. It even made my newly discovered technique for holding a burger more difficult.

The 'right' way.

The 'wrong' way.

The study explained that by using the pinky finger to support the bottom of the bun along with the thumb, this provides more stability for the burger so the innards don't slip out as badly. This is an awkward hand position though, and is probably best suited for a flimsy bun. The brioche was closer to the consistency and density of pizza crust, structurally more rigid. So my findings with the technique were inconclusive.
Summary:
Bottom line, the burger tasted like a mediocre fast food burger. I probably won't make this a destination meal. It wasn't awful, but there are so many other things available nearby that this new burger just didn't stand out as anything special. The tea was not good at all, I threw most of it away on our way out. Angel said the burger seemed overcooked, perhaps because of the bacon inside it. No one applauded, no one moaned in ecstasy or delight and the conversation at the table and in the car was about nearly every other
subject other than the meal. I think that's like a C-. Passing, but not noteworthy. It was indeed more bacon-y than a traditional bacon cheeseburger, but unnecessarily so. I'm sure it sounded good in the development meetings, but the fact is, it really wasn't terribly interesting or delicious.
The tea?  -4. The price? Like I said I could have spent that same money in the area and received a much better meal. Sorry Jack, a swing and a miss.

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.

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.