The huevos rancheros, drowning in a vinegary-tasting sauce, are fine. A combo of a beef taco, burrito, and chili relleno is loaded with that familiar vinegary ground beef. The tortilla soup looks the same, but the chicken isn’t. A chicken flauta is not thin and crisp—it’s more like a huge fried burrito stuffed with dry, overcooked meat and little else. And a chicken breast, seasoned apparently only with chili powder, has the look and texture of a rubber chicken.
The service is atrocious. The waiter never even asks whether we want our soft drinks and ice tea refilled—the glasses just sit there empty. The desserts again arrive without separate plates, and when we ask we first get one saucer (not a plate) and have to ask again before we are brought other saucers masquerading as dessert plates. Fried ice cream sits atop cornflakes and is slobbered with honey and cinnamon—comfort food. The churros have been transformed into apple-filled pastries that remind me of Hostess apple pies.
And, most tragically, the marvelous sopaipillas have been replaced by thick, bland chunks of overcooked dough that are so leathery you have to work overtime to chew and swallow them.