Mary Lou has got her quirks. One is the sauce that comes with the house’s equally quirky flour chips; it’s thin, warm, oniony and flavored with bay leaves. (Ask for the green salsa instead.) But when often-offhand refried beans and “Spanish” rice raise eyebrows, it’s clear that all is not lost.

Tangy and zesty are not words we use with regularity, but they came to mind upon tasting the enchiladas verdes. The tomatillo sauce is exceptional, the chicken is full of… [More]

Jones’ address is east of St. Philip’s College in a kind of no-man’s land. The building is a somewhat disquieting shade of dried-blood red, and, in a departure from the norm, there’s no outside dining. No order window, either; you must penetrate the interior, and at first it’s almost akin to stepping across the threshold of a dive geared more to beer and broads than barbecue and sweet tea. The inside, too, is dark red.

But shades of CSI quickly fade… [More]