Cheap Bastard Finds Grace at El Jordan -- the Cafe, Not the River.
I get lost all the fucking time. Yes, I have GPS in my car and yes, I still fuck it up. Anyway, getting lost is sometimes fortunate, because I discover lunch places I wouldn't have otherwise. On this episode of Where The Stink Am I?, my friend and I came at Bishop Arts District in Oak Cliff from what I like to call "The Butt Way," and saw El Jordan Cafe. A sandwich board out front boasted enchiladas and lunch specials under 10 bucks, which for me is basically a sign that says, "Hey, bitch! Eat here!" So, we did.
El Jordan is a cute little hole-in-the-wall that feels authentic among some of the more brand-new-tryin'-to-look-retro Bishop Arts shoppes. From what I'd heard, El Jordan is known for their migas and breakfast, so even though it was lunchtime I went straight for the breakfast menu. And there it was: chicken-fried steak (Hmmm. Chicken-fried steak on a mostly Mexican-food menu. Could be disastrous or delicious. Commence guinea piggage.) and eggs (scrambled) which comes with home fries and two tortillas for $6.50. My friend ordered a lunch combo including an enchilada, chalupa, rice and beans that was under 10 bucks, too.
Seconds later, when the waitress brought our food out and asked, "Chicken-fried steak?" in my head, I thought, "Lady—I ordered five seconds ago. How can you not remember?" One look at the food and I immediately knew why she was having to ask: The gravy was completely covering the chicken-fried steak. Onlookers probably thought, "Awww—fuckin' nasty! Look at that crazy bitch who just ordered a plate of gravy for lunch! It looks like the shit I had sucked outta my thighs in the '90s!" (The other patrons were grandmas, and grandmas think in curse words. It's a known fact.) Another El Jordan waiter came over and gave me some shit for the ridiculous gravyfest, "Want some gravy on that?" I like this place.
I Tabasco-ed my eggs, ketchupped my fries and cut into my chicken-fried steak. Sweet, sweet merciful gravy, this was delicious. I forever want Tabasco and eggs and buttery tortillas with my chicken-fried steak. Thank you, The Butt Way To Bishop Arts District, for bringing El Jordan to my facehole.
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