This nostalgic stand in the shredded, fading parking lot at the end of a line of shoddy Airport-Boulevard eateries has long since graduated from its Tastee Freeze origins to become a mom-and-pop Tex-Mex operation.

Burgers and fries here evoke the fast-food goodness of the old guard. Patties are thin with little nuggets of gristle, and are overly mustarded—just the way we remember them; but no way would the Freeze have let fries come out this completely undercooked, even if they are tasty.

The Tex-Mex is totally reminiscent of our grade-school cafeterias, right down to Burrito Friday’s greasy, filthy little treat, wrapped tight like a palm-sized egg roll. Joe’s serves up that very same thick, gummy tortilla filled with a shockingly familiar Lawry’s-flavored beef paste. They take it even further by drowning the poor little thing in a sea of melted American cheese that we doubt was ever in solid form. Discerning diners will quit after one bite (maybe two, just to confirm its badness), but sentimental types might find a sort of nauseous comfort in it.

Breakfast tacos are a better reason to come. With four ingredients costing you less than a large soda, and soft, warm, flour tortillas, you could certainly do worse. But for lunch tacos, you’re better off a few blocks away at Tamale House. While barbacoa here is appropriately gamey and greasy-tasting, chicharrones are sweet, gelatinous globs of pork skin whose just-fried crispness is as faded a memory as the name of your first cafeteria lady.

In another nostalgic move we like, they make lemonade fresh to order. It’s decent—not too sweet, not too tart. Hand-dipped Blue Bell ice cream makes great milkshakes and root beer floats. There’s a $5 minimum for credit cards, so you’d do well to slap one of these onto your order when you find you’re out of cash.

We don’t recommend hanging around. They did add on a modest, shaded deck with industrial-strength fans, but you’re essentially dining in a ramshackle lot with a view of traffic. Long gone are the days when the Mueller Airport was adequate for small-town Austin, when finned convertibles full of teenagers would have frequented a place like Joe’s. When a burrito this white bread would have been considered exotic.

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