Not too long ago, El Chile was just about the best Texican restaurant in town, but it downward spiraled pretty tragically over the years until it reached rock bottom. We’re not sure if a new controlling force despises chile heat and can’t get enough of sweetness, but it certainly tastes that way. The house salsa still is inexplicably addictive, dark, and smoky, made from oven-charred tomatoes, jalapeños, and possibly crack. Rajas con queso, with roasted poblanos, onions, and a truly creamy texture, are fine too. But enchiladas continue to come bland and crackly; carne asada battles toughness; the Oaxacan red mole is not what it once was; and don’t even get us started on the overcooked, flavorless chicken mains. Tilapia ceviche can be fishy at times, nice and limey at others.

We still like the atmosphere. The small Manor house is brightly painted without being garish, and it’s tastefully decorated with milagros, crosses, and Latin American art. The covered porch area enjoys an equally chilled-out elegance; few restaurants manage such a beautiful balance of hip and relaxed. The Northwest branch feels newer and more corporate, but there’s still nice outside seating; the South location is better.

Drinks remain competent: a sweet, eye-catching prickly-pear frozen margarita; the well-balanced regular rocks margarita; and the fun and eminently Mexican Michelada in which you can drown your sorrows and longings for the old El Chile.