When I was a kid living in the borderland, most of the time going out to eat meant stopping by a nameless taco cart representing the Holy Saints, pulling up to tables outside with the wasps buzzing near the trashcans, and then scarfing down some Flaming Hot Cheetos elote for a well-balanced dinner.
But for my abuela, that was truly no bueno.
Donning her pristine polka-dot wardrobe, she would always take us to some dressy place on the Islands, and with our “church shirts” laundered, impeccable good manners present, and, of course, the local priest always having a seat at the table, treat us to fine Mexican meals.
Usually, it was more of a show than an actual experience and, for the most part, Casa de los Milagros, 5111 N Classen Blvd., is exactly like that.
Quietly stationed down the street the Belle Isle Walmart and its retail minions, Milagros was seemingly quiet and tranquil, with the place giving an ecclesiastical stillness as I went through to the double church-doors of the entrance.
Like a monk, the server seated us near the wishing-well fountain, next to an orenda of all the prayers to all our loved ones.
As the waitstaff took our orders, I had a frosty glass of horchata. Taking a sip, I looked up and saw the remnants of a skeletal society of crones and bones.
I realized how much I truly liked this place and, especially, the Choriqueso ($12.49). It sounds like an over-the-counter cough syrup from across the border, but, instead, it’s chorizo sausage served on top of a “bed of special melted white Mexican cheeses.”
Of course, it was a fine appetizer. The mighty chorizo was topped with the meltiest cheese, and as my tortilla bent and scuffled into the choriqueso, giving into my own will, every bite poured into the dripping crevice, making a more-than-delirious appetizer.
For our main courses, my own beloved Queso Fresco ordered the Fajitas ($18.99). With the selection of meat being the ribald chicken, it was served on a bed of sautéed bell peppers and onions and sided with two options—rice and beans—as well as pico de gallo, sour cream and guacamole.
While I thought her selection was a little passe, after one bite, I realized it was glorious! The strands of chicken were well-done on the very hot plate, and the bell peppers and onions provided a scrumptious treat, but it was the pico de gallo and guacamole being very one-to-one in this dish and I liked it.
The fajitas, though, plaid second-fiddle to my order of the Birria Tacos ($14.99) – one of the best salutations in the whole dang restaurant.
A trio of typical tacos loaded with explosive birria beef—braised beef that is slow-roasted, with the run-off drowned in the meat—and served with a side of beans, I marveled as the plater dropped before me, eagerly awaiting the tacos to explode in my full mouth.
And explode they did.
While they were made with tender beef side instead of goat meat, it was very on-point and on-target, with every chomp wanting to be explored. As the sonic run-off poured out the tacos, it was truly ballistic, as the new flesh was dipped and savored into the sloppy mess. So good, I thought.
And even though I wanted a dessert, instead I wanted to tell everyone about the religious experience I had, cumulating in this grande review. And, most of all, because of my grandmother—my abuela—I remembered that Mexican food comes all flavors and tastes, most of it really, really good. Cómpralo ya!
-
Follow Louis on Twitter at @LouisFowler and Instagram at @louisfowler78.
