OK chowhounds, here's your challenge.
Our friends all warned us before we moved from Ft. Worth that the Mexican food in NYC stinks. No, to be more precise, I should say that we were warned that what passes for Mexican food up here would be worse than week-old leftovers from Taco Cabana. That what New Yorkers called "Mexican" was in fact overpriced, high-falutin' Southwestern garbage of the Coyote Cafe/Mark Miller variety that even a Californian-turned-Austinite would recognize as a crime against nature. Or worse yet, that "Mexican" up here meant a limp California perversion consisting of humongous, tasteless burrito "wraps"--I shudder even to mention that word!
Before we threw in the towel, though, we thought we'd give it a try. Zagat's and Sidewalk have been useless, written by New Yorkers for New Yorkers. What we're looking for is the stuff that every Texan will recognize instantly as a piece of home. For some, this means Tex-Mex like Joe T's or La Familia in Ft. Worth, or Guero's or Las Manitas in Austin. It means incredible mole sauce; pecan pralines in Saran wrap by the register; piping hot tortillas made like they do at Ninfa's; Lone Star or Shiner on tap, and of course, iced and salted margaritas on demand; $7 combo plates so big that you're set for lunch the next day; salsa made fresh every day, sometimes twice a day, served with greasy chips so thick and crunchy that you're likely to sever an artery if you bite one wrong; maybe even off-the-menu items like roast cabrito tacos; greasy migas with chorizo for Sunday breakfasts; and finally, food that's not-too greasy going down, but is sure to give you a lard-induced food coma.
So what do you say, chowhounds, does it exist up here? Help us Obi-Wan, you're our only hope!
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