Marty and I stepped away today to have lunch at TaMolly's. Like the sign warned us, it was Real. It was Fresh. It was Tex-Mex. It fit my definition about everything else about Texarkana. I didn't hate it. But I don't see me jonesing to come back.
Generally, I order tacos at my first time in a new Texan Mexican restaurant. I figure that gives me an idea of what the meat tastes like. I was hungry enough to order the chicken chimi instead. I ate two bites and decided life was too short to eat dried out chicken. I brought the rest home for whomever feels like finishing my dish, which will probably be the dog. By the way, the beans were decent. The white sauce is a "sour cream" sauce, which tasted suspiciously like mayo and melted cheese.
Marty ordered the chili reyeno, which was filled with--and I'm not making this up--ground beef and was coated with--and again, I only wish I wasn't making this up--an avocado ranch dressing.
But honestly, we should have re-evaluated our decision to eat there when we walked in and saw this metal statute. I pointed out that those are the wrong flowers for the saguaro.
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