Dallas Food - Mexican on Maple (Part 1)

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Mexican on Maple (Part 1)
Posted on Friday, April 15 @ 16:12:01 PDT
Topic: Mexican

Maple Avenue stretches from the shadow of The Crescent to the foot of Love Field. Much of the road is dotted with Tex-Mex joints, taquerias, and tiendas. Though I’ve eaten at many of these spots over the years, my efforts have been anything but systematic or exhaustive. Convinced that there’s some undiscovered (by me, at least) greatness on that street, I’ve been working my way up its length, eating at every taco stand, sit-down restaurant, and elote cart along the way. This report starts in the 4000 block with Herrera’s Café and La Condesa. On to the food...

Herrera’s Café #1, 4001 Maple Ave.

Herrera’s claims to have been “serving great Tex-Mex since 1971.” I don’t agree with that self-assessment of greatness. They are, however, a quintessential Tex-Mex joint. That’s good, in some ways. It can be interesting--and, for some, comforting--to experience such a culinary throwback. But being a “classic” isn’t necessarily a plus when the regional cuisine’s roots are so entwined with concerns for commercial economy and convenience.

Here we have a bean tostada. Undistinguished refried beans, shredded lettuce, and cheese over a store-bought tostada. This dish, like many at Herrera’s, doesn’t taste bad. Nor does it taste very good. It tastes just like mom used to make, if your mom was a gringo using Old El Paso. There’s not anything wrong with that sort of thing. But in this competitive market, one can do much better.

This, plus the tostada, constitutes the #1 Combo (aka “Herrera’s Mexican Dinner,” $7.75): one cheese enchilada, one tamale, one beef taco, one bean tostada, and beans and rice. It’s hard to get excited about eating a plate like this and even harder to get excited about describing it. The taco, in a store-bought shell, was filled with a couple of tablespoons of mushy, salty, seasoned ground beef with the mealy texture one associates with fast food chains. The beans lacked dimension--no richness or meatiness (e.g., from lard or asiento). The rice was dry, but passable. The enchilada was filled with a salty yellow cheese (or “cheese product”). The tamale was probably the best thing on the plate. But it was so smothered in chili and cheese that any nuance in flavor or texture, if there was any, was drowned out.

In keeping with the retro vibe, the salsa, served in a small plastic pitcher, was really more of a “hot sauce”--peppery and warm with jalapenos, but without the complexity of a good table salsa.

The Pepe’s combo ($8.75) was somewhat better than the #1. Sure, there were the same vices: pre-formed taco shells, factory-made tortillas, insipid beans, and the ubiquitous morass of chili con carne and “performance cheese.” But I was pleasantly surprised to find the chili-doused burrito (or enchirito) filled with reasonably tender chunks of beef, instead of the expected saucy ground beef. And the chicken taco had decent, though somewhat bland, shredded chicken. Though not outstanding, these were the only two items sampled that didn’t taste like they came out of a bag, box, or can. The overall mediocre quality is particularly disappointing because of the prices, which are significantly higher than most other restaurants on Maple.

See that dark green valley on either side of Maple Avenue? Those portions of the map, according to the latest US Census data, are between 66.7% to 94.6% Hispanic or Latino. That demographic is largely responsible for the abundance of Mexican food options on Maple. But it isn’t responsible for Herrera’s (or a couple of other places we’ll get to, in due course). The only brown faces at Herrera’s are in the kitchen and front of the house. What accounts for a phenomenon like this? How does a Mexican-American restaurant in a mostly Mexican-American neighborhood end up with an almost entirely gringo clientele? I have my theories, but I’ll hold off on them for now. (This is DallasFood.org, not DallasArmchairSociology.org.)

Robb Walsh, in his “Tex-Mex Cookbook,” expresses a willingness to indulge in the occasional combo plate, not for guaranteed foodie pleasure, but to get an insight into the evolution of the cuisine. For those sharing that anthropological bent, Herrera’s may offer a deep and intriguing core sample. But for those who like their Tex-Mex with an upright gait and opposable thumb, move on.

La Condesa, 4024 Maple Ave.

La Condesa is more restaurant than taqueria. In addition to common taqueria offerings (e.g., tacos, gorditas, sopes, and tortas), they offer a pretty good selection of mariscos (i.e., seafood dishes), soups, and northern Mexico-style grilled beef and pork dishes. Special weekend items include pozole and caldos de pescado, camaron, and mariscos. Prices are very reasonable, with lunch specials (including beans, rice, and iced tea) under $5 and dinner menu items averaging about $7.50. Most of the waitresses speak little English, but bilingual menus are available for monoglots.

On my first visit, I got the gordita lunch special. For the special, they limited the meat selections to chicken, carnitas, and picadillo. I opted for the latter two. The hand-span sized gorditas came out piping hot, not too greasy, and filled with the meat, plus some lettuce and tomatoes. The picadillo (well-seasoned ground beef, but with no noticeable additions) was decent, but not outstanding. The carnitas had the flavor of boiled pork, rather than the rich succulence of Michoacan-style carnitas (i.e., basically pork confit crisped in lard). The rice was okay; but the refried beans, flecked with bits of thick-cut bacon, were quite a bit better. The table salsa was mild and bright, with heavy cilantro and garlic notes. (My wife told me to mention that this is her favorite salsa of the fifteen or so she’s tried along Maple.)

Enchiladas en salsa verde were also very workmanlike. The chicken was moist and flavorful. There was just enough tomatillo salsa to add a tangy brightness to the enchiladas, without overwhelming the chicken (which had good flavor, but wasn’t kicked up to tinga proportions).

La Condesa’s chile relleno was a picadillo-stuffed poblano, battered, fried, and topped with a light ranchero sauce and cheese. The very tasty picadillo consisted of ground beef, onion, serranos, and diced carrot and potato. The thick batter started off well, but grew soggy the longer the dish sat. In all, though, it was a good chile relleno.

On one visit, the waitresses went around the room handing out complimentary cups of soup. The soup consisted of a slightly spicy chicken broth with elbow macaroni and diced potato, carrots, and celery. It was tasty enough that I would have been happy with it even if I had ordered and paid for it.

La Condesa has a more mixed clientele, with Mexican-Americans constituting a little over half the crowd most of the time. Up to now, nothing I’ve had at the restaurant has blown me away. But nor have I ever walked away feeling I’d gotten a bad meal and/or value. It’s just solid, honest Mexican food. That’s enough to keep me coming back. And with a little persistence, perhaps I’ll turn up some true standout dishes on the menu.

Next week: Esquivel’s and El Rincon Tapatio No. 3.