The Chiles en Nogada Tradicionales, a regional specialty from the Mexican state of Puebla, is extraordinary. Typically available only during pomegranate season in Mexico, the pulled-pork filled poblano chiles, topped with a creamy walnut sauce and fresh pomegranate kernels, are so in demand that they've become a permanent feature on the menu at Pico's Mex-Mex.
Order this one to share because the rich, somewhat sweet meat (the meat is cooked with aromatics and dried fruits) and walnut cream topping can be cloying if too much of it is eaten continuously.
Likewise, the Chamorro de Puerco con Verdolagas en Salsa Verde is a sublime creation of fall-off-the-bone pork shank in a viscous tomatillo sauce speckled with still-crisp leaves of wilted purslane. Presented with the bone sticking straight up and stewed until the gelatinous cartilage and meat fibers had melded together, the meat flaked off the bone in juicy, fork-tender clumps.
Piling the meat and sauce generously onto a house-made flour tortilla is a delicious if somewhat dangerous endeavor -- make sure to lean over the table so any drippings land there or on a plate.
Though the restaurant bills itself as regional Mexican, the menu is something of a hybrid between the Tex-Mex and regional Mexican genres. Unlike the menu at Hugo's, where everything sounds foreign (Hugo's is probably the closest comparison to Pico's), the menu boasts items found on any Tex-Mex menu: the yellow-orange Velveeta-based dip known as queso, guacamole (get the one that's mixed a the table), Pico's own version of nachos, enchiladas de Tejas (Texas-style cheese enchiladas topped with chili con carne), and the familiar carne asadas and sizzling fajitas.
The presence of these items doesn't mean that Pico's is similar to the Pappasito's across the street. No, not at all. The items are there for the kids or whomever in the party is feeling like something other than regional Mexican. Because the true strength of Pico's menu comes in the form of dishes found in the Mexican countryside, at someone's home -- dishes that a Mexican abuela (grandmother) might make.
Since the restaurant moved from its old location in Bellaire (which they occupied for 30 years) to their new, larger, more upscale Upper Kirby location on Richmond at Kirby this past May, they've been tremendously popular, frequently besieged by waits of 30 minutes or more. Calling in advance doesn't do much good -- the policy calls for in-person sign-ups.
Which contributes to how many people end up at the crowded, festive, U-shaped bar where the medium margarita (called a "grande") checks in at 27 ounces and the large is a gargantuan 48 ounces. The small, or "regular," is a fairly normal 12 ounces. The margarita tasted of fresh lime juice, added in perfect proportion to the other ingredients -- agave nectar, Cointreau, Pura Vida Naranja and El Jimador Reposado -- the ratio of lime to alcohol masking the strong alcoholic bite of the drink. Its smooth, great taste made it deceptively weak, but it packs quite the punch and is definitely one of the best in Houston.
