The chicken in my enchilada is as succulent as the meat in a hearty chicken soup made from scratch. In everything sampled on the first visit, the ingredients are fresh and full of home-cooked goodness. I could picture my Mexican grandmother, if I had one, cooking in her own kitchen just to make this wholesome food especially for me.
The service is enthusiastic and attentive. The prices are extremely reasonable.
At dessert, the sopaipillas are the best I’ve ever tasted—soft wispy puffs of thin fried dough, drizzled with honey and nestled on a plate speckled with cinnamon sugar. They literally melt in your mouth. I plan to write that Chelsea’s first Mexican restaurant in anyone’s memory may in fact be the best Mexican eatery in Washtenaw County—and as good as any place in southwest Detroit’s Mexicantown area.
Act 2 is a messy intermezzo full of discordant notes. I return less than a month after my first visit for a sampling of lunchtime fare. There’s an odd sign in the window that says the restaurant is not affiliated with any other restaurant in the area. The menu has changed. Gone are some of the specials and more unusual items; newly included are pedestrian appetizers such as Buffalo wings and potato skins.