Maestro of Enchiladas
Fine, fresh Lotería Grill makes Mexican food fit for a Texas guitar god.
By Dan Epstein
The appeal of the enchilada was long a mystery to me. I'd eaten at countless Mexican joints, from dingy corner tacquerias to elegant cantinas, but couldn't remember ever ordering one. Compared to savory soft tacos, sweetly smoky tamales, sizzling fajitas, or stuffed-to-bursting burritos, the enchilada plate seemed like the most uninspired (and uninspiring) menu option.
All that changed last spring, when I had the rare pleasure of hanging out in Houston with Billy F. Gibbons of ZZ Top. The good Reverend Willy - a charming gent who slyly hides a considerable intellect behind his cartoonish beard-and-sunglasses shtick - knows almost as much about Mexican food as he does about vintage guitars. And, since I was supposed to interview him for Guitar World magazine, he thought it'd be best if we combined both interests and taped our conversation over a late-night dinner at one of his favorite H-Town Mexican spots.
To be honest, my memories of said cerveza-soaked interview are mostly limited to the David Lynchian vision of an extremely wasted mariachi drooling copiously onto our basket of tortilla chips while stumbling through his final "Guantanamera" of the evening. But I still fondly recall the taste and texture of the chicken enchiladas Reverend Willy ordered for our table, wonderfully succulent wraps of slow-cooked white meat that, although almost submerged in melted cheese, somehow didn't turn to lead in your digestive tract. Finally realizing what I'd been missing, I humbly resolved to make up for all those enchilada-less years once I returned home.
Unfortunately, my initial enchilada reservations were pretty much right on the money. At best, the ones in L.A. were bland and forgettable; at worst, they were greasy, gristle-filled abominations so repellent, H.P. Lovecraft would've been hard-pressed to describe their true horror. But when I tried the enchiladas at Lotería Grill in the Farmers Market, my tastebuds once again wondered what took me so long.
A Mexico City-style tacqueria, Lotería Grill opened about a year ago and has built up a well-deserved reputation for inventive, inexpensive Mexican food. The heat factor seems to be dialed down in deference to timid tourist palates, but everything - from the shredded beef soft tacos (two for $3.85) to the cactus salad ($4.95) - tastes freshly made and deftly spiced. (Hey, you can always ask for hot sauce on the side.)
But it's Lotería's chicken enchiladas ($7.95) that keep me coming back. There's nothing in them except shredded pieces of long-simmered chicken breast (and maybe a few bits of tomato), but the meat is so melt-in-your-mouth tasty, you don't need anything else. The chicken is wrapped in two handmade corn tortillas, baked with a thick layer of melted cheese, and slathered with your choice of three sauces. The Enchiladas Suizas come with roasted tomatillo sauce, pale green with a mild flavor and a pleasantly sour undertone. The Enchiladas Rojas boast a rich red chile guajillo sauce, which delivers a nice kick without taking your head off. Best of all are the Enchiladas De Mole, which feature a mole sauce so dark and smoky and fine, I usually have to restrain myself from licking the plate clean. All the enchilada plates include rice (your choice of white or minty green) and black beans, which never fail to blend perfectly with whichever sauce you choose.
Lotería, however, isn't perfect. The lines can be slow, and the employees easily confused - on several occasions, my food has had to be rescued from the clutches of another patron. And charging $1.89 for a small cup of lemonade is kinda excessive. Still, the food's sheer excellence totally overrules the flaws. I'd have no qualms about taking a true Mexican-cuisine connoisseur like Reverend Willy to Lotería. Sure, there's no beer (though one of the Farmers Market bars is just a few feet away) or drooling mariachis, but I think he'd dig it just the same.
Published: 07/10/2003
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