Three generations of Austinites have passed through the doors of deeply Eastside Joe’s Bakery. The distinctly Tejano food and vibe is a time machine: step into it, and you’re in the Tex-Mex restaurants of your childhood. There’s something so familiar in every bite and corner of Joe’s that transcends discussions of regionality.

On weekends, people crowd the waiting area, gawking at rows of pan dulce in toxic shades of yellow and pink. The walls are equally colorful: peacock blue, butternut squash. One wall is covered with 8x10s of Texas politicians, Tejano stars, and the sunglassed Joe himself. The Virgen de Guadalupe towers over the main room, which is filled to capacity with Mexican-Americans and gringos, the old and young, the skinny and portly.

The wait moves quickly at this chow factory. We love migas with added onions, tomatoes, and jalapeños, each ingredient tasting fresh and flavorful. Mild cheddar melts on the tacos and better enchiladas, and lard-flavored refried beans produce sensory flashbacks that make Proust’s mawkish sentiments toward the madeleine look like a shrug. Infant-length bacon is unabashedly unhealthy, battered and fried. Some old-school antics we could do without: shriveled, bland potatoes, and pricey containers of watery Borden orange juice.

But when you’re here, you’re home. That’s something beyond critique.