My sure-fire breakfast on a bleak weekend morning? Migas at La Guadalupana (2109 Dunlavy, 713-522-2301), along with a cup of cafe de olla and a tall glass of jamaica. There's very little not to love about this breakfast, especially if you treat yourself to a bite from pastry case afterward.
Is there a standard recipe for migas? If there is, I don't want to know it. That's my favorite thing about this Mexican breakfast dish, long since adapted to Texan tastes, which takes leftovers -- much like chilaquiles does -- and transforms them into a comforting, hearty morning meal. The migas at La Guadalupana are certainly unique, but that could be said of any migas dish anywhere: The recipe depends totally upon the restaurant and who's doing the cooking.
At La Guadalupana, the corn tortillas that -- along with scrambled eggs -- form the base of the meal are diced and fried until crispy. In that way, they remind me of the migas my stepfather always made for breakfast, but with a finer dice on the tortillas. But that's where the similarities end. At home, migas was just tortillas and eggs cooked together in a skillet, topped with ketchup (hey, we were poor). Here, the dish also includes diced tomatoes, onions, jalapenos and plenty of chorizo.
Refried beans are an essential side item to this dish, however, which is always just a bit in need of salt. The pork fat the beans are cooked down with adds that necessary saltiness into the mix. Make a taco with the tortillas that are served on the side -- smeared with beans, of course, and some fiery salsa verde if you're feeling cocky -- and you've got one of the best breakfasts in Houston for $6.95.
La Guadalupana sells its cafe de olla -- cinnamon-flavored coffee -- by the pound in paper bags next to the register. Like the pastries, it's an in-house creation, and the unlimited refills when you're dining in will quickly get you hooked on the stuff. And even though I don't have much of a sweet tooth, I can't pass up a glass of sugary jamaica every time I eat here. Both drinks are oddly addictive.
I also rarely pass up a pastry. La Guadalupana is a bakery first, after all, and owner Trancito Diaz used to be a pastry chef at the Houston Country Club. Which means he makes as mean a croissant as he does a marranito.
