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Gloria's Brunch Lacks On The Lake

The Gloria's Mexican Omelet
The Gloria's Mexican Omelet
Photos by Andrea Grimes and Man O' The Hour

Waterfront dining is one of the great mysteries of the universe. For reasons unknown to us mortals, the Great and Powerful Spiritual Being of Oneness and Things of the Like has decreed that all restaurants within 20 feet of a body of water will serve mediocre food at ridiculous prices -- because the Great and Powerful Spiritual Being of Oneness and Things of the Like knows that we humans are but simple and long to be surrounded by faux Tuscan promenades and people wearing their "nice" Crocs.

The Man of the Hour and I would not normally have engaged in the waterfront dining experience except that Rockwall's Restaurant Ava, the Bolsa spin-off we'd been anxious to try, was closed for the Labor Day weekend. Suddenly, we found ourselves facing empty stomachs and a long drive back home. We were desperate, is what I am saying to you, and I said surely, surely, we cannot go wrong with the suburban outpost of Dallas Latin staple Gloria's. We parked somewhere in Texarkana and headed down to the prefab harbor district past a cigar shop and a charming little store that sells the kind of clothing preferred by the cast of The Real Housewives Of Harry Hines Boulevard.

At Gloria's, were seated quickly on the patio, given chips and salsa and bean dip to shush our grumbling stomachs and served two glasses of remarkably cold water, all the better to suppress our hangovers. We ordered two Bloody Marys and massive plates of eggs -- the food at Gloria's is served on plates built for giants. I believe I saw a woman eating a salad out of a toilet bowl.

But the flashy plates were compensating for mediocre food and drink.

The Gloria's Bloody Mary. Somewhere in there, there is a whang.
The Gloria's Bloody Mary. Somewhere in there, there is a whang.

Of all the Bloody Marys drunk for Brunch Drunk Love, the Gloria's Bloody was by far the worst. It had what you might call a whang to it. That is, a whang to what little of it there was. Compared with the wakeboard-sized plates, the Bloody Marys came in teeny glasses with only a lime garnish, and at the end of every sip came a cheek-stinging sourness. No spice to them at all. I grudgingly finished mine, but I wasn't particularly excited about it and was mainly just trying to get my $4 worth.

Man of the Hour had the heuvos rancheros, which he found to be satisfactory but, he admits, "

The Gloria's huevos rancheros.
The Gloria's huevos rancheros.

Myself, I had the Mexican omelet, which was filled with chorizo and cheese and topped with avocado and those sad, mealy tomatoes they can't give away at the grocery store. The omelet was of ridiculous size, and even in my hungover state of starvation, I was unable to even eat half, which seemed like a real waste considering I didn't really want to take it home with me, either. I opted for the fruit cup instead of the potatoes because I care deeply about my health, and was rewarded with tasty pineapples and strawberries and more melon than I'd like but, oh well, it was the waterfront so there you go.

Altogether we got out of there for around $40, which is practically a free meal in the world of overpriced waterfront dining. The brunchtime hour made the drive through the hell on earth that is the Garland-to-Rockwall stretch of Interstate 30 far more tolerable, but I wouldn't say the whole thing was really worth the effort for food you can get in town. I'll give you that the lake and the boats are fun. I will give you that -- and with it, the last of my Gloria's Bloody Mary.

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