Blue Margarita, Woodhaven

The other day I was sitting in the living room listening to Selena’s version of Toro Relajo. The sound of mariachis rushed headlong to the taste cortex of my brain. The music made me crave a burrito dinner the way a Chaabi string sample from the Chemical Bros makes me want to smash a falafel sandwich; music, associated with feelings, associated with food. And the memories of foods that make me happy arent going anywhere. They’re stuck in my mind like a split-rail fencepost buried in Michigan dirt. 

Milanesa, Blue Margarita 

I started remembering Las Brisas, the Mexican restaurant that no longer exists. 

In the 90’s, I would have been sitting in Las Brisas on Vernor, in Detroit, listening to mariachis strum their guitars, blowing their trumpets, belting-out “El Rey” in baritone voices, while I sated myself with things like a heavy tampiquena platter or burritos, stuffed with chunky beef guisada, covered in cheese, baked until bronze and bubbly.

Their beans were the best: light, silky, complimentary to everything—not the globs of beans you see today, gluey, and heavier than a batch of drywall repair. The rice was always in fine form—peppery, modestly hued, delicate, not orange, overcooked mushy stuff. But, I digress; Las Brisas is long gone, having been turned into a dance club/taqueria, years ago. 

Blue Margarita, Trenton

What has become evident is that the food around us changes. New influences. New cultures. New chefs with new ideas. Even commercial places like to mix things up, changing ingredients, sizes, formulae, and menus. 

Some foods from the past simply no longer exists in the exact same way….

…except for possibly a few things on the menu at Blue Margarita in Trenton. Their botanas are still topped with shredded lettuce, avocado, green olives, pungent onion, and slices of ripe tomato. The salsa and house made chips are usually pretty good. The chiles rellenos is fine. But, what I get is their milanesa. Milanesa, back in the day, was thinly pounded steak, coated in bread crumbs, fried, covered with a flood of melted cheese, then topped with tangy red salsa, elevated by a tincture of Mexican oregano. Blue’s comes pretty close, although the beef is more substantial—a plus, actually. 

( Check out my Instagram for more downriver Michigan food adventures: @foodranting )

When rich gravy and gooey cheese, crisp crumbs and succulent beef combine, the effect is similar to what happens with lasagna or chicken and waffles: the dish becomes greater than the sum of its parts. It’s all better the next day too, after the flavors have really melded.