We at Goles y Frijoles awoke on the morning after Fourth of July festivities to the familiar sight of our favorite accountant, Swanick, sprawled out on the couch. After crunching the numbers, he realized he was hungry and suggested initiation into this great culinary rite. GyF made a few calculations of our own and accepted. Swan and I rode down Charlotte's perennial nominee for Depressing Highway of the Year (aka Independence Blvd) to find Plans A and B, La Isla Cuba and Las Brazas (once again), closed. Plan C turned out to be Las Margaritas, a spacious and reputable restaurant in an Independence strip mall just on the city side of the Sharon Amity intersection. Fate and Mexican had aligned once again.
The real story of our visit to Las Margaritas was that of the amateur out-ordering the professional. Swan countered my wimpish "water with lemon" drink order with that of a Jumbo Mango Frozen Margarita, a move he claimed to have made in order to avoid the sacrilege of failing to order a margarita at a restaurant called Las Margaritas. Touché. His unassailable logic (and invitation to sample the chilly mango goodness) won me over, and I ordered one of the same, but guava. What I got was most likely guava mixed with strawberry, or perhaps just strawberry--not going to pretend I know what guava tastes like. Whatever the case, it wasn't as good as the mango.
Then, per my advice to eat something he normally wouldn't, Swan ordered Chilaquiles Mexicanas, a selection that our waitress enthusiastically approved. Chilaquiles is a dish Goles y Frijoles has yet avoided, because if done wrong it can be nothing more than corn chips soggy in green sauce. The pro then bypassed the numerous seafood dishes, including four types of ceviche, and the waitress-recommended Camerones con Arroz and Carnitas de Puerco, for the daily special, chicken and spinach enchiladas. Short story: Swan's chilaquiles are the best I've ever tasted, while my enchiladas were merely adequate with too much cheese sauce and not enough spinach. The rice and beans were also a little disappointing.
Insult to injury: Swan, at one point, took a sip of his delicious mango margarita and then went to sample mine in comparison, but not before announcing, "Gotta cleanse the palate" and shoving a forkful of food into his mouth, thereby making him the only man on record to attempt neutralizing unwanted flavor with rice, beans, and sour cream. All this only to concur that my guava and/or strawberry margarita was indeed inferior to his own. All hail the Chosen Swan!
The Score: $5.75 meal, $7.75 margarita says it all for me. But I might feel differently had I ordered the chilaquiles.
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