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| - Z Tejas exists for one reason and one reason alone, to sell awesome margaritas at not so awesome prices that you'll totally shell out for anyway because their massive strength will sucker punch you with the first sip and then bat you around like an orca playing with a baby seal right before going in for the kill.
Seriously.
Three of these things will have you giggling, slurring declarations of love to the members of your party, believing your sexiness status just gained +2, craving Jack in the Box tacos and possibly breaking a heel upon your exit.
They are a thing of beauty. (And the reason why they enforce a three margarita limit.)
Unfortunately, they'll run you 6 to 9 bucks depending on how much razzle dazzle you're going for. The Sixth Street Margarita is the most basic, frozen or on the rocks, and is delicious. So is the Z Top Shelf, and the Chambord, and the Frozen Watermelon, and the Grand Marnier, and I think you're sensing the trend here.
And the food... Well, it exists so you don't leave in the condition discussed above. It's not as good as the margaritas, but once you have a couple, you're really not going to care that much.
Brunch is the best time to hit this place up and indulge in a three dollar mimosa, their three dollar top shelf do-it-yourself bloody mary bar (with all the fixins, including beef jerky stir sticks!), or the epic margaritas. The chicken and potato hash is decent, but it used to be much better back when it was the savory sage chicken and potato hash and had, how do you say, actual flavor. Now it's just blah by comparison. Well done blah. But blah all the same (although Mr. Man loves it). So you may want to hit up the smothered burrito or jerk chicken salad instead, both of which are delicious.
Happy hour is also a pretty good deal, with one dollar off all drinks and half price appetizers. I'd recommend the Cast Iron Skillet Dumplings that are like crispy round Asian pot stickers that come out sizzlin' in sweet chile sauce or the Tortilla Soup, which is done really, really well here with avocado and lots of chunky chicken.
But forget the food. It's the backup vocals to the wailing showboat sex symbol of a lead singer that runs back stage for a mid show sex/drug/booze binge while his second tier stand-in entertains the crowd with a limp solo.
The margaritas are bad ass and they know it. Let 'em get a little saucy with ya.
Oh, and the patio rocks almost as hard as the margaritas, so make sure to be seated out there.
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