RESTAURANT REVIEW: Verde Garden

We in Houston are so incredibly spoiled for choice when it comes to Tex-Mex that we take it for granted (my sister who recently moved to Colorado is surely lamenting that decision, at least from a queso perspective). Just within literally an 8-minute drive from my house there are outposts of Pappasito's, El Tiempo, Lupe Tortilla, Chuy's, Cyclone Anaya's, Caliente, Escalante's, Goode Co. Kitchen & Cantina, Guadalajara Hacienda, Los Tios, and Ninfa's, not to mention more casual taco spots like Liberty Taco, Velvet Taco, El Rey, Fajita Pete's, and Torchy's... and right outside of that arbitrary distance lies the great Tacos Doña Lena. So there's rarely a need to go out of your way for this type of cuisine unless somewhere really sets itself apart.

One way to accomplish that would be a tremendous beverage program. Verde Garden comes from The Kirby Group, proprietors of Midtown staple bar Wooster's Garden (once home to arguably the best happy hour in Houston), as well as several other notable bars around the city (RIP to the great Holman Draft Hall). Their signature formula of dozens of tap beers plus numerous house cocktails is a proven winner; combine that with decent Mexican food and you're pretty much guaranteed results.

The restaurant is located in north Montrose as part of what some developer obnoxiously started calling the "Harlow District" a few years back, but which is really just a huge parking lot surrounded by a handful of restaurants (Katami, La Griglia, etc..) and bars. VG is housed in a pretty large Spanish-style building that features three distinct seating areas behind a green wrought-iron entrance gate, each bookable via reservation: the full-service main dining room with the signature long beer tap wall, a bar-service only cocktail lounge, and a large outdoor patio with stunning views of numerous cars on asphalt. The decor in the restaurant is very colorful, featuring brightly patterned wallpapers and seasonal Día de los Muertos adornments.

They are self-proclaimed famous for their frozen drinks, with twelve different options to choose from. I went for the La Frontera, featuring Ilegal Mezcal, Ancho Reyes Verde (a Mexican poblano liqueur), lime, and prickly pear cactus. It poured a gorgeous (and extremely feminine) pink color, not to mention the orchid flower garnish. I find the flavors of frozen beverages are often a bit muted, and that was somewhat the case here, as I didn't pick up as much of the smokiness of the mezcal or spicy herbaceousness of the chile as I would have liked. However, the cactus fruit did create a reliable sweetness that still rendered the drink quite tasty, even if not so complex.

I do kind of regret not ordering a true margarita, as they are reportedly very good here, but the not-quite-reformed Untappd addict in me couldn't resist that draft menu, including the rarely seen (in this area) Other Half NEIPA called "Breakfast Taco", which was actually a collaboration with Austin's Pinthouse Pizza. Alas, I've had better OH brews, albeit in cans... I'll just have to keep wondering what those margaritas were like.

Obviously any proper Tex-Mex meal starts with the chips and salsa (and queso). The complimentary table dip is a fire-roasted salsa roja, served hot, as it always should be. True story: one night at my old favorite Cinco Ranch haunt Baker St. Pub (gone but never forgotten), some random patron who claimed to be a chef started chatting with me, and for some reason went on a rant about how salsa has to be consumed hot... which I have always remembered and have adopted as a core tenet of my food philosophy to this day, even though I have no idea who this guy was and if he actually had any culinary training.

There was also the option to order a flight of additional salsas, which included a tremendous tomatillo salsa verde (also served hot with some killer citrus notes), a creamy poblano (cold but decidedly smoky), and a sort of hybrid of the two, a slightly creamy serrano-based dip with pretty good heat. And of course there was no way I wasn't trying the chile con queso: a blanco version with smoked hatch chiles and pico de gallo. The most important part of any queso is the consistency... too watery and it becomes a mess; too viscous and you run into that weird queso flameado territory (more authentic, perhaps, but a borderline solid cheese dip is not my cup of tea). Fortunately here it was just about perfect, clinging nicely to the thick fried tortilla chips and allowing one to get a sufficient-sized glob with each dunk.

Speaking of this distinctly Texan appetizer, another shockingly true story: I once had a friend/colleague from Arkansas who claimed that THEY were the ones who invented chile con queso, except that it was actually called "Cheese Dip" (which I know I used in the previous paragraph, but that was merely descriptive, hence the lower case). Needless to say, this was preposterous, and I let her know as much, as I'd defend Texas cuisine to the death if necessary (luckily it was not). I don't think I know anyone else from Arkansas to corroborate this, but if you do, bringing it up might be a fun way to ruffle some feathers.

My normal Tex-Mex entree is either fajitas (if sharing), or nachos or a smothered burrito, depending on if I feel like using my hands or not. However, I'd had plenty of all three lately, so I ventured out on a limb and ordered something much more unusual for me. I'm not really a huge enchiladas guy under normal circumstances, but here there were four different sauce options - Red Chili Tinga, Mole Verde, Suizas, and Barranco Mole - that sounded very interesting, plus the ability to customize your meat (or fill them with mushrooms if you are a serial killer). Since I had recently spent some time strolling through the Barranco district of Lima, that one seemed meant to be, so I decided to go for that option (even though I don't think this sauce has anything to do with Peru) stuffed with fajita beef.

Two corn tortillas encased well-seasoned steak, topped with the deep red-brown mole sauce, melted shredded white cheese, and an adorable Mexican flag garnish of pickled onions (red), cotija cheese (white), and cilantro (green). This was such a fun touch, but you sure as heck won't catch me eating this come the World Cup next year. The Barranco mole (ancho/morita/pasilla peppers, adobo chili, and onion) was clearly the star, with intensely smoky flavors to go along with some appreciable heat, earthiness, and a hint of sweetness. While I don't eat mole all the time, I almost always am happy when I do, because the good ones have so much complexity and depth of flavor that continue to evolve with every bite and really delight the palate.

I didn't get a chance to try the crispy picadillo tacos that my companion ordered, but they were apparently serviceable, and quite the bargain at only $11. The refried beans and Mexican rice served alongside both entrees were top-notch, up there with some of the best I've tried around town. As this was a two-top evening, I didn't sample as much of the menu as I would normally like to for a review, but I think for this type of cuisine you can get a general gist pretty easily from just a few items.

Does Verde Garden reach the level of El Tiempo or Ninfa's On Navigation? Not quite, but you could definitely do worse for reasonably-priced Tex-Mex food. I currently have a combined Mexican/Tex-Mex section in my Houston Restaurant Guide, and this doesn't quite crack that list, but if I ever decide to separate them, it could sneak into the Tex-Mex top 5.

NEXT UP: Just across the large parking lot at the heart of the "Harlow District" lies an innovative cocktail bar, whose former location in Spring Branch (which I infuriatingly never patronized before it closed) made Esquire's 2022 best bars in America list.