Le maudit Mo D.

dueling restaurant review: El Patio

So, for the past 7.5 years, I have driven or walked past El Patio without ever stopping in for an old-school Tex-Mex meal. I go up and down that stretch of Guadalupe pretty much every day, but for years, El Patio was off my radar. Maybe it was Ryan calling it "El Ratio" (rat-io, not 2:1) that made me overlook the neon sombrero hundreds, if not thousands, of times. Tonight, after a particularly punishing anusara yoga class in which, during the 80th bout of downward dog (adho mukhavasana), I vowed to eat something fattening and unhealthful for dinner, I informed Bob that we would be dining at El Patio and he was down.

El Patio is one of those rare gems of a restaurant where the decor, menu, and spirit of the place has changed little in fifty years. El Patio is basically Mexican Frisco Shop, which is confirmed by the high number of senior citizens partaking in chalupas at their Formica tables. There were an equal number of families with young children, UT undergrads, and real Latinos dining there as well, so you get a cross-section of salt-of-the-earth Texans. Upon entering the restaurant, we were greeted by a friendly woman who took our name, told us the wait wouldn't be long, and then offered to bring us drinks. A waiter appeared later with Bob's Negra Modelo and my water, and soon after, we were seated.

The salsa that came with the chips was thin but flavorful. I had read earlier online that BITD, El Patio would put out Saltines and salsa, and that, due to the high cost of Saltines, they only give you that if you ask. We stuck with chips. We ordered a half-order of bean and beef supreme nachos (bean, beef, cheese, guac, and jalapeno, $3.99) for an appetizer. Bob ordered three "Fletcher's Tacos" ($7.19) and I had "El Patio Special" (taco, chalupa, chile con queso, guacamole salad, $7.99)

The nachos are made with El Patio's own homemade corn chips, which are big, round, freshly deep-fried corny discs, coated in beans, meat, and that Tex-Mex orange cheese that's kind of creamy and glassy, like it's the love child of Velveeta and real Cheddar. That cheese weirds me out, but in the spirit of Tex-Mex, I went with it. Our entrees appeared soon after. I did not realize that pretty much everything except enchiladas are made with the deep-fried corn discs. My taco and chalupa were created thusly, and my "chile con queso" was just one of those corn discs slathered with queso. I told Bob I thought I tasted chicken broth in the queso and he told me I had crazy bonkers taste buds.

I can't handle that much deep-fried, crispy-fried heavy-ass food. Fortunately, we were given a plate of unadulterated, plain corn tortillas. I scraped the meat and beans off my crunchy corn discs and put them in the corn tortillas, officially removing the Tex from my Mex. True to my California roots, I had to play it healthy, although one should not select El Patio if they are watching their figures.

Our meals included coffee or tea AND a scoop of sherbet with the price. Who the hell throws in dessert for free these days? No wonder the old folks still come here! That's value! And if the old folks who eat at El Patio have been eating there for so long and are still alive, then it can't be THAT bad for you, right?

I enjoyed the knotty-wood walls and old Texasy decor, and the waiters were very attentive once you flagged them down. I beamed everytime the salsa bowl was refilled from a pitcher. I felt good about being part of Texas history and would very much like to go again. I am also happy to report that I didn't have to book it to the can after eating at El Patio. (I'm looking at you, Chuy's)

If you're thinking of eating at El Greco, substitute PATI for GREC and walk a block south. You won't be sorry!

Posted by Zerd at February 16, 2008 12:03 AM