A New Mexican Meets Tex-Mex

Tex-Mex. Throughout my childhood I was warned against this monstrosity from the east, an unholy combination of my beloved Mexican food and... Well, I was never quite told what it was combined with, except colors like "Orange Cheese" and "Green Sauce." For some reason I was reminded of crayons, their flavor names so enticing yet their actual flavors always lacking in the deliciousness department. It was these crayons that I saw when I ordered my first Tex-Mex, an enchilada platter covered in a substance waxy in appearance that, despite my dining partners' insistence was cheese, screamed "Sunflower Orange." I was scared, and my meal proved to be ruined.

It wasn't until this past weekend that I was persuaded into dining at the altar of Tex-Mex itself, Chuys. The tacky decor and the exclamations of Tex-Mexiness on the menu only convinced me that I had descended deeper into culinary hell, exactly where I feared I'd be so many years ago. But then there was a glimmer of hope: Green Chile. The defining aspect of New Mexican cuisine, and there was not one but TWO varieties on the menu. I was shocked, amazed because they even went so far as to name two legendary sources of this green gold that I knew. I ordered the enchiladas and, while attempting to keep my excitement level to a minimum, bit down on the platter that made it's way to our table. My taste buds exploded in applause. Not only was it a direct connection to home, it was a good one. Even though the sauce may have been just a bit lacking in the spicy department (and why two types of cheese are used I'll never understand) it was a bite that brought back memories in an instant. Therefore, Tex-Mex, while you don't have my full approval just yet, I'm not ashamed to say you've got a winner in Chuys. Or at least a respectable runner up to the countless better places back home.