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You’re at a restaurant, eating enchiladas and slurping the first round. Everyone is behaving. Then the mariachis start strumming and trumpeting and suddenly, everyone in the whole place is at a party together. Like a natural disaster or the Cowboys winning the Superbowl, mariachis add a common denominator to a group of people that would otherwise have nothing in common. Whether it’s in the background or in your face, the festivity of mariachi appeals on a basic enough level to be gaining ground as the most popular entertainment in Mexican restaurants of all calibers, all around Austin.
The word mariachi evolved from the french mariage. It refers both to musicians and the festive music traditionally played at weddings and other celebrations in the state of Jalisco. The music gets passed down through families in an aural tradition, and is typically played on guitars, trumpets, violins, or some combination thereof. Guitars come in all different sizes — big ones are for picking out basslines and medium sized, and little ones are for strumming. All are percussive. Trumpets and violins dominate the guitars with melodies. Solos, both instrumental and vocal, have traditionally been anomalous to mariachi.
The story goes that early in the 20th century Mexican President Porforio Diaz requested that the Guadalajaran musicians performing at a foreign dignitary party shed their plebian ponchos and sandals and instead dress like wealthy property owners. Fluffy bow ties, short jackets, and dark trousers with silver buttons along the outside leg became the mariachi uniform, called trajes. The mariachis you’ll find around town range from Hispanic men to Anglo women, but for the most part they wear some variation of the standard outfit.
My research follows: I visited a number of restaurants in town that I heard had mariachi (and I can bet I inadvertently left someone out), listening to the music while keeping a critical eye on the food. What I found is conclusive evidence that every Mexican restaurant, from Little Mexico to Fonda San Miguel, improves with the addition of a mariachi band. Austin is the city of live music, and that doesn’t refer to any one genre. And Cinco de Mayo is the perfect pretext (as if you need one) for revelling in traditional Mexican music, drinks, and, of course, food.
Las Palomas
3201 Bee Caves Road #122, 327-9889
Los Romanceros:
every other Fri., 7-9pm
At first, I feared that I’d made a grave error in deciding to investigate local mariachi. Not to undermine the talent or enthusiasm of these three musicians — Los Romanceros are skilled performers — but the tunes were decidedly unobtrusive and their dress code that of a waiter rather than that of a mariachi. Instead of a rompin’, stompin’, fringe-shaking troop of roaring Mexicans in spangled suits, Los Romanceros sounded more like Jewish gypsy Klezmers with the minor key wailing of a violin. Then I remembered I was starting my research in a West Lake strip mall, and that in a place where neon signs are forbidden, the penalty for roaring is probably considerable.
Expectations aside, the music enhanced the Las Palomas experience, which is nothing to scoff at in the first place. Although the decor makes me a little nervous (too much wicker can spoil any meal) the Shrimp a la Veracruzana ($10.25) — butterflied shrimp in a tomato, green olive, onion, and caper sauce, with the caper essence bleeding into a parsley-topped side of seasoned rice — makes the world a better place. Their powerful mole poblano is some of the best in town, and I highly recommend the limeade. It’s fizzy.
La Feria
1816 S. Lamar, 326-8301
Mariachi Estrella: Thu, 7-9pm
At La Feria, Mariachi Estrella is the main event. Call to reserve a table and get there early, because during the two-hour show there’s little to no customer turnover on the ramshackled patio. It could be because there are seven happy mariachis crammed in front of the only exit, but I doubt it. These guys do wear trajes and they play from a vast repertoire — some Herb Alpert-ish songs, the wailing Klezmer stuff, and when the audience (older folks, hippies, Hispanics, and frat boys alike) was good and drunk, Oye Como Va and even a little Glenn Miller. Still no roaring, though. I learned by listening to Rupert Ortiz, Austin ex-cop and leader of Mariachi Estrella, that the voice of a mariachi is sweet, thick, and dark. Rupert sings like molasses but faster, though the younger, macho Jorge Torres sings my favorite, La Ni�a Fresa.
The food can’t compete with the performance, but maybe I’m just grumpy because the mushrooms in the mushroom enchiladas ($5.95) tasted like they were from a can. I finished them anyway, and the chips, hot sauce, margaritas, and chicken enchiladas verde ($5.95) did not disappoint. La Feria is the newest addition on a long list of places I’ll take out-of-towners to show them how much more fun Austin is than wherever they live.
Flores Mexican Restaurant
2700 West Anderson, 302-5470
Mariachi Relampago:
Thu, 6:30-8:30pm; Fri., 6:30-9:30pm
Flores Restaurant has enough of a sterile, family-restaurant flavor that I suspect children are not only welcome but maybe even given placemats to color. Mariachi Relampago’s syncopated rhythms and heavy horns didn’t dominate this scene (it actually seemed that the seven of them took a break every few songs to eat more dinner) but did add an element of character which was otherwise lacking.
The eager and genuine waitstaff raved about the award-winning salsa and when it came time to order, steered me toward a chicken chili relleno plate ($7.25). The tortillas had an unfortunate flame-broiled look to them, but we found the level of pork in the frijoles a la charra downright gratifying. The stuffed poblano itself was a pleasant surprise.
Jalisco Bar
411 Barton Springs Road, 476-4838
Mariachi Estrella: Wed. & Fri., 8pm
Even though Jalisco’s has more room than La Feria for Mariachi Estrella (my favorites), and you don’t need to make reservations, and in my opinion, the food is better, the experience doesn’t compare. This is due, at least in part, to La Feria’s utter lack of pretension. In contrast, Jalisco’s practically takes credit for the entire history of mariachi in a story printed on the front of their menu.
While watching the band’s tiny, synchronized dances, we shared the ceviche — the hunks of snapper marinated in lime, tomato, and orange juices (cup for $3.95) were evocative of, if busier than, a shrimp cocktail — and the Pollo con Pi�a ($8.95), a huge, salty, smoky chicken breast in a pineapple/ancho salsa. The chow and environs were better than expected, but Jalisco’s just can’t shake the warehouse feel I associate with large birthday luncheons and happy hours.
Little Mexico Restaurant
2304 S. First, 462-2188
Mariachi Continental: Fri., 8pm
“A good solid step above fast food” is how a friend describes Little Mexico and it’s not too far from the truth. Far from being deterred, though, I’m delighted. “Margaritas made with real tequila” boasts the menu and although Velveeta isn’t listed, it might be a staple. The Chalupas Compuesto ($3.95) are certainly basic but delicious and deeply satisfying. Refried beans, seasoned ground beef, shredded iceberg lettuce, and melted cheese on a fried corn tortilla brings back memories of something my mother in Connecticut would cook from a taco kit if my sister and I were very lucky.
This was one of my favorite places: It seems to be about 300 square feet full of almost that many shrill trumpets and bellowing voices. Mariachi Continental must’ve invited their entire extended family to be in the band, including an eight-year-old girl in a tiny, bright blue set of trajes who shyly sang her way into our hearts.
La Parilla
1422 Town Creek Drive, 442-6275
Mariachi Tapatia
During the short time between a phone call I made verifying that Mariachi Tapatia was indeed going to play and the time that I actually arrived at La Parilla on North Lamar, the restaurant had managed to shut down permanently and be completely gutted. A subsequent phone call clarified that the mariachis are alive and well at the version of La Parilla on Town Creek Drive. I showed up on Friday night, as planned, and this time the restaurant was open but the Mariachis didn’t show.
As for the food, rumor has it that it’s great but you’ll have to figure that out for yourself. This month, if there aren’t any mariachis, I’m not eating anything Mexican.
Los Comales Taqueria
2136 E. Seventh, 480-9358
Mariachi Tapatia: Fri, 8pm-3am
The person who answers the phone at Los Comales assured me they never feature Mariachi bands. I would never have suspected they might be mistaken about such a thing until I happened to drive by on a Friday night and noticed, through the window, that this spacious, Eastside taqueria was teeming with Mariachis. I went in and counted five men and a woman. At first I figured they might be the personal minstrels of some wealthy-looking Hispanic godfather-types, but they eventually left that table and began to roam freely among the brightly colored tables. Mariachi Tapatia! No wonder they weren’t at La Parilla.
We ordered the Pancho Grande platter ($7.75 for a carne asada, cheese chili relleno, rice, beans, lettuce, and tortillas). Big poncho no doubt, you won’t fit into anything else if you eat all this food. Here, the corn tortillas are as thick as pancakes and Carne asada means large sirloin steak. When we pierced our poblano, a truly decadent amount of cheese flowed forth, and the sheer magnitude of egg batter coating the pepper might have legally qualified it as an omelette.
Mexico Tipico Restaurante
1707 E. Sixth, 472-3222
Trio Los Castros or Mariachi Relampago: Fri. & Sat., as scheduled
Like a trim, Hispanic Santa Claus, violinist Ezekiel Castro is at once twinkling and distinguished. His son Chris plays guitarron, and guitar player Terri, a Castro by marriage to another of Ezekiel’s sons, completes the threesome, Trio Los Castros.
We split a pitcher of sangria and listened while they sang, in chorus and alone, each with equal strength and clarity. Peach stucco walls with shrines to the Virgin of Guadalupe and shiny red booths give Mexico Tipico the feel of another country, a place to wile away an evening drinking and telling stories or a morning sharing migas, drinking endless cups of coffee, and reading the paper. The night we went there the restaurant was nearly empty, so the band was the absolute focus, but they seemed completely at ease.
Fonda San Miguel
2330 W. North Loop, 459-4121
Pepe y los Tres Amigos: Hacienda Sunday Brunch ($24.95) 11:30am-2pm
Come during Sunday brunch if you want to catch the Pepe y los Tres Amigos show. It’s the smartest time to show up at Fonda San Miguel, anyway — Sundays are when chef Roberto Santiba�ez presides over tables and tables of his own fabulous creations. While he doesn’t offer quite the gastronomic direction as former chef Miguel Ravago did, this brunch is still probably the best in town. Venison salad sounds almost punitive but in reality it was one of the lightest, freshest salads I’ve ever eaten. A meal at Fonda might be your only chance to try huitlacoche locally, a fungus which is a plight for corn crops but a delicacy for humans. Mixed with shrimp, it mostly tasted silty and reinforced the concept of “acquired taste.” Other highlights included pork stewed in achiote with pickled onions as garnish, green beans in spiced, velvety yogurt sauce, and of course, the accordionist in Pepe y Los Tres Amigos. He is perhaps the only accordion-playing Mariachi in all of Austin.
This article appears in May 2 • 1997 and May 2 • 1997 (Cover).