I have a nasty habit of dining alone, which tends to confuse and occasionally terrify people. Often I have a notepad with me (as I do anywhere I go) and this raises eyebrows. "Is this guy a food critic?" they're all wondering. Well, if they want to provide me with better service and food prepared just a little more carefully, I'll take it! And in return, maybe I'll critique them!
I've been in the mood for a margarita all week. I'm always in the mood for some special treat, so I like to withhold said treat from myself, use it like a carrot on a stick, and tell myself that when I've done something I can be proud of, I may have the treat. And although I won no great victory this week, I still got my treat.
I noticed the sign by chance today as I was driving around. Located on the top floor of a shopping plaza, Las Margaritas is easy to miss. From the street it almost looks like an empty space due to a large stairwell and the dark atmosphere inside. When you can't find a parking place, you'll know you're there. Try the nearby side street or the closed Green Life groceries across Hixson Pike.
The interior's tastefully decorated. It has Chattanooga's signature warehouse-chic look: brick, exposed support beams, high ceilings. You'll find some of the trappings of a Mexican restaurant like pinatas and colorful tapestries, but none of those damned gaudy neon murals depicting Aztec Warriors and similar nonsense.
The staff was friendly if not overly aloof (due to my food critic nature). I have a feeling they went and found the best English speaker to serve me. Everything seemed to take a second longer than usual, which in a Mexican restaurant means just slightly below the speed of light. A very nice lady even came around and attempted to strike up a conversation in her elementary English, which unfortunately centered on solo dining, as if I needed to be reminded. Given her age and the pride with which she carried it, I'd wager that she's the owner.
The chips and salsa arrived as did the moment of truth; you can usually gauge a Mexican restaurant based on the chips and salsa. The chips were thicker but with a good consistency. No salt. And the salsa... wow. That's good. That's... delicate.
Mexican food is one of my two favorite cuisines, but nine times out of ten you end up getting the exact same food no matter where you go. It's big and cheap and chocked full of sodium, and the only real differentiation hinges on how much heart burn it gives you. Typically the salsa for any restaurant varies in two ways: consistency and predominant flavour.
The consistency was perfect: very small chunks, but low overall water content. The kind of stuff that will stick to your chip. The flavour was where things started getting interesting. Sometimes I'd get a bite of white onion. Other times there would be the flavour of cilantro, or green onion. And it wasn't until I was nearly done with my salsa dish that I started to get that tingling that us spice-masochists crave. It had a nice variance without being overbearing. I think that's a good way to describe the entire meal, actually. Las Margaritas is about moderation.
In order to more accurately judge every Mexican restaurant I go to, I always order the same thing: chicken burrito, refried beans. I used to have rice in there, but carbs this, calories that... Sometimes I'll be served a monstrous forearm-sized burrito, which is nice for the cost/quantity ratio, but do you really need it? My plate arrived decently portioned and attractive enough. Chowing down, I noticed two things missing – grease and salt. Shredded chicken will often have at least some orange grease, but every bite here was primo. The refried beans were unsalted, which I at first marked as a negative, then realized that there was salt on the table. Optional salt! What a health-coup!
But seriously, everything just seemed so healthy. Where Mexican food usually wins fans is with over-salted food and absurd portions. Here the ingredients and sauces were allowed to shine, and it made me appreciate the food even more. I left without that sick, post-overeating feeling. Like I said, moderation. Even the margaritas were less sweet than I'm accustomed to, and that was a treat as well. Las Margaritas is the French food of Mexican food.
I can't wait for summer, because the patio is huge and I could see myself having some good times here. I've still got to go back and sample the guacamole and queso, but I'll save that for a time that I'm not so very alone (self-deprecating joke here folks, not a cry for help.)
Las Margaritas is located at 1101 Hixson Pike (and not "Haxon Peak" as their website would have you believe). It's just around the corner from our beloved North Shore, stays open till 11 on the weekends, and swears to God that you can get a 32 oz Bud Light for three bucks, but I'll believe it when I see it.
If you're going to go, remember: travel alone, carry a notepad, and try to look like you're trying to look inconspicuous.
For those of you who skip to the bottom of a review to see how many "stars" or "chefs' hats" a place gets, let's just say that it's good.
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