Walsh, the "Tex-Mex apologist," unabashedly showcases old favorites on the menu alongside memorabilia and photos of Tex-Mex kings (and queens), past and present. On a wall upstairs hangs an ancient photo of legendary Tex-Mex purveyor Felix Tijerina with Pancho Villa's army; downstairs, posters tout the new Chingo Bling platter, named for the popular Houston rapper (whose real name, by the way, is Pedro Herrera III).
Those old menu favorites include dishes rarely seen elsewhere in Houston: San Antonio-style puffy tacos that are at their best when filled with soft shreds of mesquite-smoked chicken; enchiladas borunda, stacked enchiladas in the style of West Texas, filled with hearty pork and laced with sweet guajillo chiles; old-school cheese enchiladas topped with real-deal chili gravy, thick with high-quality ground beef and darker than the thin, ruddy sauce so many Houstonians have come to know and — in my case — accept grudgingly. The #7 cheese enchiladas at El Real are a revelation for younger generations who've never known the old style, and a pleasant trip down memory lane for people like my Texan parents.
Troy Fields
The old-school cheese enchiladas are topped with real-deal chili gravy.
Location Info
Details
11 a.m. to 10 p.m., Monday through Wednesday, 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Thursday, 11 a.m. to 3 a.m. Friday through Saturday, 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Sunday
Frito pie: $6.95
Queso fundido: $7.95
Tacos al carbon: $14.95
San Antonio puffy taco plate: $9.95
Enchiladas #7: $10.95
El Gallo Verde: $12.95
Roosevelt Special: $13.95
El Real burger: $8.95
Churros: $4.95
Milkshake No Minors: $5.95
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"These taste just like the enchiladas I grew up with," my mother kept exclaiming over lunch one day. She delighted in reading the old menus that are planted under each tabletop — 25 cents for an enchilada platter here, 5 cents for a margarita there — and in browsing through the Tex-Mex "museum" upstairs after lunch. There's an odd, shrine-like sense to the memorabilia and old menus that sit, lit professionally, behind thick panes of glass.
For that museum, however, I don't see El Real becoming a shrine itself any time soon, although it could become one over a long period of time. Say, about the same length of time it took for places like Leo's and Felix — the restaurants that El Real seeks to emulate through an elaborate homage — to become shrines of their own.
To achieve that kind of success, El Real will have to perform an intricate dance between offering its patrons that nostalgic cuisine as well as creating their own. With dishes like the simply fantastic El Real burger and Caswell's signature "Wholefish" fajitas — the restaurant's twist on snapper a la plancha — it has real possibilities. And that's to say nothing of the actual beef fajitas here, that symbolic dish of "new" Tex-Mex cuisine, which use the same deeply flavorful outside skirt steak that Walsh has long touted as the best in the biz. But it will have to overcome those service and kitchen issues first.
I'd also like to see the restaurant be more inviting, something that's hard to achieve in such a vast, high-ceilinged space. It could start with the hostesses, many of whom seem irritated to have to greet and seat guests, and often end up seating them in bizarre places: right next to the kitchen or bathrooms when the restaurant is otherwise empty, or all alone in the desolate section upstairs with no other tables. At least up there, though, you have El Real's fascinating museum to entertain you while you wait for a server to climb the metal stairs to your aerie.
And in this large space that was carved out of the old Tower Theater, I'd love to see more of an emphasis on the giant movie screen that Caswell insisted on installing, a throwback to the building's glory days as Montrose's main movie palace. Its neon lights and marquee have been lovingly restored as well, bringing a bright new sense of wonder to the Lower Westheimer curve once again.
Instead of the third screening of Fort Apache on the restaurant's giant back wall, why not host midnight movies once in a while? Charge $20 a head for a screening of La Bamba or Selena, $20 that covers the movie as well as one margarita, chips and salsa (which are already bottomless) and one plate of those magical #7 cheese enchiladas. It's $20 that I'd be more than happy to spend, here in a place that treasures Tex-Mex food as much as I do.
katharine.shilcutt@houstonpress.com