By Petaluma Pete
"Why a restaurant column for the Chronicle ?" somebody asked me the other day. "There aren't that many restaurants in Austin, and everybody knows about the good ones. You'll either be writing stuff everybody discovered years ago, or you'll be writing nothing but pans."
Not so, not at all. Let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time, there was a Mexican restaurant. Not a Tex-Mex restaurant, not a migas-and-tacos place, but a Mexican restaurant. It was called Elda's, and it was owned by Abdon and Elda Cortez, both of whom were from Mexico, and who had already achieved fame in their respective occupations of college professor and lawyer.
Eating at Elda's was a joy. You'd get in there, and in a flash Abdon would have fresh-fried chips and fresh-squeezed hot sauce on the table. The hot sauce was so good that you'd go through three bowls looking over the menu. Then came the guacamole, done cotnpletely authentically with bits of hard-boiled egg, green onion, tomato, and seeded serrano peppers mixed in.
And the main courses ! Fortunately, since Elda's was only a twoperson operation, not everything was available every time you went. But there was chiles retallenos with four different stuffings jammed into chiles as big as your foot. Tacos al vapor were made from huge flour tortillas, in which a beef and potato stew had been placed. The enchiladas had a fascinating brown sauce, slightly bitter, and were stuffed with authentic Mexican goat cheese, Two different cabrito dishes had sauces that were the equal of a good curry for complexity, and the chicken mole had just the right balance of spices to set off the sweetness of the chicken meat. Then there was a pork adobo that was hairraising, the sauce spicy, the pork, in tiny cubes, just falling apart. When she had time, Elda would make tamales, but it was usually a futile effort: one day I went in for some, and Abdon confessed he'd eaten three dozen for lunch. They were good enough that I believed him. And from time to time, Abdon would ferment one of the Mexican fruit drinks he loved so much.
They were open for lunch and dinner and they stayed open til 3 on Friday and Saturday nights. That meant you'd find musicians eating there (I saw various Thunderbirds, Z Z Tops, and Carrasco Clowns) along with a good balance of Mexican-American and Anglo foodlovers. The place wasn't cheap, but it wasn't overpriced, for certain: $7.50 would buy you a meal and a beer. Word was getting out (I found out about it from Ed Ward's column in the AmericanStatesman), and Texas Monthly was about to write it up when it closed and Abdon and Elda disappeared.
Now, what happened is anybody's guess, but I think they went broke. Elda's was located on the East Side, but not on any main thoroughfare. They were down Lydia Street, just off E. 7th, and you had to look to find them. Abdon kept talking about finding a location closer to the Anglo-bucks he was sure could bring about the success he was after. But when so few people knew he was there -- let alone looking for the place -- the chances of his finding it were slim. And, dining superstars and oblique references in the paper notwithstanding, the crowds weren't large enough to turn the profit.
If I'd had a place to say it, I would have said, "Next time you feel like going to San Miguel, go to Elda's. Next time you feel like going to Jorge's, go to Elda's. Next time you feel hungry, go to Elda's, but GO !" But I didn't, and you probably didn't, so it was Elda's that went instead.
So no, everybody doesn't know about the good restaurants in Austin. Some of the good restaurants aren't really that good, either, and some of the ones that don't look too good are well worth investigating. I hope I can turn you on to a good meal from time to time, and steer you away from bad ones, as well as make constructive suggestions that can turn okay places into fine ones.
And if anybody out there knows where Abdon and Elda went, I wish they'd get in touch.