After the World Series, I asked you guys to tell me where to ease my depression by going face down in a plate of enchiladas. I took all of your suggestions to heart, but headed to one of my usual down-and-dirty favs, Escondido. As I drove down Maple, I passed Avila’s. I haven’t eaten there since the high-drama family feud that sent Ricky Avila to open Mextopia on Greenville erupted.
I’ve always liked Avila’s. One of my favorite things about the place is the smell that greets you when you open the door—fresh chopped jalapenos, onions, and cilantro. The “new” Avila’s, now run by one branch of the family, has an updated interior. The walls are a cheery blue and the enlarged Mexican Loteria cards hanging on said walls pop out like friendly greeters.
But grrrrrrrrr on the enchiladas! I ordered the “Anita’s”: one cheese enchilada, one soft cheese taco, and one meat taco. The ground beef in the hard shell taco was inedible, almost sour. The soft cheese taco was covered with a runny yellow queso that, save for the pickled jalapenos I threw on top, was void of flavor. Even an enchilada covered with a meaty chili sauce was bland. There were no crunchy onions in the center. No think gooey melted cheese oozing out. No comfort. Oh, and the guacamole was just a scoop of mashed avocado we had to dress with spoonfuls of salsa, salt, and lemon. The underlying lettuce was brown. I know they can do better than this, but next time I want to use up valuable calories, I will head to El Jordan or Escondido. Or, at this point, Mexico. So depressed.