Earl Don Sweeney Visits Taqueria Miramar: Real Mexican Food!

Above Photo: The staff of Taqueria Miramar reacts as Earl Don Sweeney says in Spanish, for the first time, “Okay ya’ll smile.” From left are Benito Hernandez, Elvira Ibarra Martinez and Maria Perez Bojuy, presenting tacos, tortas and enchiladas.

 

Editor’s Note: This Eats of the Geezerplex column by Earl Don Sweeney originally appeared in the East Texas Journal in November 1995. In his distinctive humorous style, Sweeney visits Taqueria Miramar and discovers that the Mexican food he knew as Tex-Mex wasn’t necessarily the Mexican food being served there.

From the East Texas Journal, November 1995

By Earl Don Sweeney

Nadine went off like a fire cracker whenever the first blue norther rocked our double wide. First she wanted the trailer underpinned, then she wanted the ground grips put on her station wagon before the rains come.

Thinking quickly, I said, “I don’t guess that’ll leave us time to ride into town for dinner.”

All morning long, Nadine had been going on about a restaurant her new very best friend, which she’d met at her sister Florene’s beauty shop only three days before, had recommended.

(Have I mentioned that Nadine has worked herself up to Head Rinse girl at her sister Florene’s beauty salon?)

Her friend said the place only served authentic Mexican food and its name was Taqueria Miramar.

Nadine said a friend of hers at the washateria told her Taqueria meant “taco restaurant” and Miramar meant something like “woman of the sea” or “mermaid.”

I told her that I knew all that but that I had just recently forgotten it.

Since my light trash hauling business has been picking up (I love to say that), I thought I’d splurge on a meal out for my always hungry, but sometimes unappreciative wife.

Nothing beats authentic Mexican food on a cold day, so when the Miramar waitress approached our table, we immediately let her know that she was dealing with experienced and knowledgeable connoisseurs of south of the border cuisine.

Nadine waved off menus with a nice flourish.

“We won’t be needing those,” I said with a slight air of authority.

“I’ll have a frito pie and a donkey tail and she wants the regular enchilada dinner with a Diet Coke.”

“Par don?” our waitress said.

I politely explained our order.

“A donkey tail,” I said, “is one of those polish sausages wrapped in a big flour tortilla, then deep fried. Some finer establishments put a stick in the sausage. I’m not presumptuous in assuming yours is similarly presented, am I?”

The waitress tried to break in on me there, but it was people watching me, so I continued.

“You know, a Frito pie is when you split open a sack of Fritos and pour a gob of Wolf Brand chili in it and cover it with chopped red onions and longhorn rat cheese.”

“Par don?” she asked again, which is when it dawned on me that was probably Mexican for “you want fries with that?”

Not wanting to embarrass her, I said, “Certainly. Bring us two orders of par dons with dinner.”

I could tell the waitress was confused, maybe just star struck. A lot of my fans recognize me now, since we’ve released the first Earl Don commemorative T shirts. She walked off.

The owner showed up a while later and asked to take our order again. I slowly repeated it and could tell by the expression on his face that they had probably just run out of Frito pies and donkey tails.

Thinking quickly for the second time in less than an hour, I asked him to recommend something else.

He suggested tacos, enchiladas and something called agua de horchata.

Like I told Nadine, I wouldn’t recognize an agua de horchata if one jumped up and bit the hammer holder off my Dickies overalls.

Nadine says her friend at the laundry mat said it’s Tiger Milk. Yea, sure.

We got our food, and it wasn’t Tex Mex. The tacos were made with small, soft corn tortillas, filled with diced beef, chilies, onions and a heavy dose of cilantro. Lime wedges were served on the side.

The enchiladas at Miramar also lacked the Tex-Mex flavor. They were flour tortillas with queso blanco (white cheese) filling, covered with lettuce, tomatoes, cilantro and sliced avocados. A green chile salsa was served on the side.

While both of the dinners were probably healthier than my Tex Mex standards, I wished for a big bowl of red chili to pour over my enchiladas.

The agua de horchata was an unusual drink. I understand it’s made with water, milk, rice, sugar, cinnamon and ice. Strange, but good. It cost 75 cents. Other items on the menu included sopes (with beans, lettuce, cilantro and salsa) and menudo. Menudo, a popular tripe stew, has often been called Texas’s “breakfast of champions” because of its impact on a man after a night out sporting. Both looked good, especially the sopes.

MEALS: average about $6.

FOOD: Two and one-half stars.

This ain’t your standard redneck Tex-Mex, but if you drive in the fast lane, like me and Nadine, you too might enjoy an adventure in dining. I just sure wish they had some Texas chili gravy.

SERVICE: Two and one half stars.

A bottom line here — I can’t talk Mexican and the waitress had no English, which slowed things down. On the other hand, everybody was real friendly. I wish they’d print an English version of the menu.

ATMOSPHERE: Three stars.

The place has a great sounding juke box which is also loaded with cultural fare. This clean, sparsely decorated little cafe is a fun place. We were there on a Saturday at noon and it was full. Now if I could only get somebody to teach me how to say Donkey tail in Spanish.