Cheap Bastard

Come to Your Senses and Check Out Desperados Mexican Restaurant

I've heard the legend of the Desperado taco for some time now. Usually starts with, "Oh my God—these things are life-changing," or I get the typical straight punch to the uterus when someone discovers that I haven't been there before. But, uterus punch or no, I avoided the place like the popped-collar plague because I figured there was absolutely, positively no way in holy hell that a place located in such close proximity to Ozona Grill, SMU and a Darque Tan could serve up a drool-worthy, cheapo taco.

Initially, I drove right past the place without seeing it. Which was actually a good sign. I had expected a giant, nasty, neon, Dallasified building with a valet-only parking lot out front . To my happy surprise, instead, there was a modest sign in a small, awkward-to-park-in-and-completely-valet-free gravel parking lot. Nothing says "cheap as shit" like a crappy parking lot.

The cute little house-taurant has a patio out front with beautiful, green vines growing happily all over it like they're in some town that's not one-hundred-and-nuts degrees outside every day of the summer by 7 a.m. Would have enjoyed a table out there, but I got freaked out watching the patio-sitters' faces melt Total Recall-style and opted for a table inside instead.

It's kinda dark in the house, which only felt right to me. I mean, you name a place "Desperados," it shouldn't be all flowers and fluorescents. I ordered the Desperado taco lunch plate, which comes with two Desperado tacos (your choice of beef or chicken, I went with beef), beans and a mini salad.

While I'm not positive that actual desperados work in the kitchen here, I do really hope that's the case. And as I bite into my beef fajita Desperado taco, I'm thinking it must be true. This isn't your normal beef fajita meat. No, this is Desperado meat—it's the kind of beef that'll pistol-whip a sheriff and make out with your sister without taking her to the movies first. The flour tortilla isn't playing it safe, either: Outta nowhere, it's fried and crispy. And the meltified jack cheese, fresh avocado and crunchy pico de gallo will totally fuck you up if they catch you cheating at cards. Holy crap-on-a-quesadilla, this taco is dangerously good.

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Alice Laussade writes about food, kids, music, and anything else she finds to be completely ridiculous. She created and hosts the Dallas event, Meat Fight, which is a barbecue competition and fundraiser that benefits the National MS Society. Last year, the event raised $100,000 for people living with MS, and 750 people could be seen shoving sausage links into their faces. And one time, she won a James Beard Award for Humor in Writing. That was pretty cool.
Contact: Alice Laussade

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