Dateline - Hell Night 2013: As I lethargically, dejectedly disembarked the trolley en route home from a hostile, soul-crushing day of meager employment early this week, I noticed a change on Beechview Avenue. The modest, nameless Latino grocer that somehow managed to exist and stay relevant alongside Las Palmas (the proprietors of which have taken over the IGA market just doors away) had changed ownership and was advertising a hot food menu for takeout and dine-in.
Today, during my "required" lunchtime check-in with the live-in girlfriend, I mentioned El Milagro, and without hesitation, Kay announced that she wouldn't be making me dinner this evening.
The right side of the white, sparse store-space is still devoted to groceries while but the left half features tables, chairs, an ordering window, and an open kitchen full of smiling. eager-to-please faces happily working hard to create down-home Mexican food, a goal these folks have reached with a round of fireworks going off.
El Milagro offers the usual Mexican fare (tacos, quesadillas, faijitas) as well as less-traveled edibles such as Mojarra Frita, Chilaquiles, and Tampiquena. Our dinner would be a mixture of the familiar and unfamiliar.
Kay requested tacos and something involving chicken. Examining the glossy pamphlet takeaway menu and relying on my limited Spanish skills, I found an item called Milanesa De Pollo O De Res, one that Kay ended up being more than pleased with.
I went with an order of Flautas and a Torta Lengua and was left craving a cigarette afterwards. And I don't smoke.
The Flautas consists of a quintet of fried taquitos that are stuffed with chicken and sweet potatoes (?) and crowned with lettuce, sour cream, queso fresco, tomato, lettuce, avocados, and pickled jalapenos. I would attack the entire mound with knife and fork due to its messy, hodgepodge formation. The crunch of the taquitos, the savory chicken, the tangy/creamy tandem created by the crema and cheese, and the fresh, chilled veggies had me briefly fooled into thinking I was enjoying a meal-worthy Caesar salad. As I have stated many times, I am skeptical of the concept of authenticity, but if this is authentic, it is to know Chicomecoatl.
During my childhood, when Mexican food was still new to my family, I recall my father humorously referring to the tacos my mother made as "Mexican hamburgers." Blame Bourdain for showing me that there is in fact a such a thing South of the border sans tortillas. Advertised as a 'Mexican Sandwich," El Milagro's Torta can be filled with your choice of protein, be it tinga, campechano, chorizo, or cabeza. Getting a taste of lengua at Edgar's in Overbrook, I chose it to complete my Latin Dagwood. The standard build, one I dared not alter, included all of the vegetables that were in my Flautas along with onions and a sleeper of an ingredient in quesillo, a sort of cheese curd. The bread was pressed onto a griddle, making it lusciously oily and crisp like an arepa or a Cuban grinder. Zip clashed with the lardy while the cubed, dark grey tongue spoke the language of lovers with its delicate, brisket-ish texture and flavors. Sloppier than a drunken fratboy on Cinco De Mayo, I ate the street stand masterpiece while carefully hovered over the styrofoam container for fear of finding the entire precious thing in my lap, greedily poking at what fell out with a plastic utensil while washing it all down with a highly refreshing bottle of Tamarind-flavored Jarritos soda.
Attempting dessert, I walked out with two odd, spicy fruit leather-ish candies called Burritos De Mango from a brand known as El Super Leon. I'll merely state that the term "acquired taste" applies fully here.
Immigration is cordially rejuvenating and reinventing Beechview through new businesses like El Milagro. Welcome them into your hearts, South Hills residents. Turn your backs on Taco Bell and Chipotle forever, and embrace the vibrant change El Milagro represents.