La Margarita Mexican Restaurant & Oyster Bar
In the blistering heat of late afternoon in the Market Square district of downtown San Antonio, La Margarita sits proudly on the corner looking like a prop out of a Civil War-Era melodrama. Upon entering this establishment, I was greeted by a nearly empty dining room rimmed with booths and awkwardly cluttered with long tables and benches. We found our seats and within a minute, for the first of what would end up being nearly a dozen times that meal, a feral Mariachi came up to the table and asked us if we wanted a song. After shooing away this sequin-clad hobo, we turned our attention to the menu. What struck me was how much seafood was available; we were in San Antonio after all… so we were either talking about some very fast trucks or some very frozen seafood, peculiar seeing how the restaurant also claims the title of oyster house. It makes one shudder to imagine.
Our waiter came by the table to take our orders, his tired eye belied the simmering contempt he held for the tourists that pour through this establishment daily. He put on his best Speedy Gonzalez accent and proceeded to condescend to us with a Dora the Explorer-type Spanish lesson when describing any dish we enquired about. Trying not to feel insulted, we ordered our food and drinks
The margaritas came first, ample in size if not in strength, but passable. These were followed shortly by our appetizer, the obliquely named Queso Tejano or Texan Cheese. The menu described the dish as: Mushrooms, poblano peppers and onions sautéed in Presidente Brandy and topped with Monterrey Jack Cheese, Mexican sausage, diced tomato and cilantro. What we received was a good half pound of melted cheese swimming in a pool of its own grease, haphazardly studded with onions, cilantro, diced tomatoes, and the errant piece of diced pepper. We, hungry Swifts all, made short work of this questionable appetizer, but my God was it salty!
It was at this point when we realized that neither us, nor any of the rapidly increasing throng of other diners, had water to drink. We flagged down our waiter and he got a disgusted look on his face as we asked for some agua, or water.
Our entrees weren’t much better. My mom had a taco salad, her Mexican restaurant staple, and was satisfied with it. We should have all just followed suit, but Aaron and Jenny both ordered the fried fish, hoping that the seafood-centric menu would steer them true. What they received was worse than high school cafeteria fish n’ chips. The fish were actually perfectly square, crunchy, breaded fishsticks. They were served with a handful of lettuce and soggy tomato passed off as a salad, and mediocre French fries.
I ordered the Enchiladas Tres Colores and received three chicken enchiladas drowning in melted cheese, sour cream, and guacamole. I’d love to give you a play-by-play as to how each individual sauce that made up the three colors held up, but the dish was so damn salty that I couldn’t really taste anything but chicken, cheese, and salt… so much salt.
The cleanliness of this place left a lot to be desired as well. At one point, a waiter spilled a glass of something on the floor, and after a couple busboys and waiters nearly met their untimely end slipping on it, another waiter came by with a bar rag, dropped it on the floor, and scooted it over the spill with his shoe while travelling over to a table with a tray of food.
It is my honest opinion that La Margarita exists simply as an excuse to sell as many cocktails to unsuspecting restaurant-goers while bilking them out of their cash with salty, sub par food and transient bands of mariachis. If you find yourself in Market Square in San Antonio and you walk by La Margarita Mexican Restaurant & Oyster Bar, tell them Connoisseur Tom says “Su alimento es terrible y salado y usted insulte cada uno de México cuando usted actúa como un estereotipo.”