The New State of Chilaquiles in Austin, Texas (or, what a long, strange trip it's been).

150+ plates of chilaquiles in Austin, Texas. © Ryan Schierling

As a lot of you know, we've been on a epic, epicurean quest – a grand gustatory gamble with breaking the fast deep in the heart of Texas.

We've been scouring Austin for the very best chilaquiles it has to offer. We've torn apart the town, top to bottom, for almost fifteen years sampling both highbrow and humble versions of this traditional Mexican dish. 

There are no shortage of restaurants offering up their take on what shouldn't really be more than crisp fresh-fried tortilla chips (totopos) simmered with a red or green sauce until just slightly softened, crowned with a pair of properly-cooked eggs. With such a simple preparation, you'd think it would be difficult to screw up this classic.

We weren't looking for haute cuisine a la Mexicana, we just wanted an honest, reliable, simple Sunday morning comfort-food breakfast at a joint where everyone might eventually know us (and our broken Spanish).

There were standouts, certainly, but just as often there were store-bought chips, soggy and swimming in sub-par sauces, eggs that were under-cooked, over-cooked or not even offered as an option. There were some surprises, and there were some disappointments. 

There were also some stunningly brilliant breakfasts. 

If a restaurant presented only one salsa option for chilaquiles, Julie and I would typically order the same dish. If a restaurant had both verdes (green) and rojos (red), we'd order one of each. The majority of the time, we'd order eggs over-easy. If we knew the eggs were hopefully going to be happy eggs (see $14-plus chilaquiles), I'd go for sunny-side-up. Beans, potatoes and accoutrements (if available) were taken into consideration, as was the coffee or aguas frescas. The overall experience was key, but really, it all came down to the chilaquiles. 

After eating 150-plus different restaurant and food truck plates of chilaquiles, I can say we've done our due diligence, and now, we humbly present to you establishments that Julie and I both agreed have the finest chilaquiles in Austin. These are our favorites, the places we return to time and time again. 

These chilaquiles are Austin's best of the best. 

TGICFS.

CFS. OMG. HTS. STFU. SMDH.  © Ryan Schierling

Editor's note: As of February 2019, Hit The Spot Cafe has closed. One of the best, last, proper breakfast CFS and eggs plates is gone. 

"...so that's how I woke up with shin splints and found out I'd been banned from the community pool..."

"...I don't know what happened. I opened the front door and the light was blinding. It felt like I'd been in the house for two days instead of two hours and now the upper atmosphere was burning. It was incapacitating overexposure, hot white light that turned the insides of my cleaved eyelids bright blood red, even through the futile shade of my outstretched hand..."

"...I'd fight you right now, 'cept I don't wanna crush my cig'rettes..."

I'm not sure what to relay here. It's been a while. I really don't even want to tell you where this place is. Really. I guess if you run in the right, tight AUSTIN TEXAS CFS circles, you'll figure it out.

Your Haiku:

A breakfast stunner
Location curated, so
locals only please

SaveSave

The 'New' State of Chilaquiles in Austin, Texas.

100 plates of chilaquiles. © Ryan Schierling

(FGHD editor's note: Originally updated March 2016 for the AFBA City Guide with 100 plates of chilaquiles.)

As a lot of you know, we've been on a epic, epicurean quest – a grand gustatory gamble with breaking the fast deep in the heart of Texas.

We've been scouring Austin for the very best chilaquiles it has to offer. We've torn apart the town, top to bottom, for more than two years sampling both highbrow and humble versions of this traditional Mexican dish. 

There are no shortage of restaurants offering up their take on what shouldn't really be more than crisp fresh-fried tortilla chips (totopos) simmered with a red or green sauce until just slightly softened, crowned with a pair of properly-cooked eggs. With such a simple preparation, you'd think it would be difficult to screw up this classic.

We weren't looking for haute cuisine a la Mexicana, we just wanted an honest, reliable, simple Sunday morning comfort-food breakfast at a joint where everyone might eventually know us (and our broken Spanish).

There were standouts, certainly, but just as often there were store-bought chips, soggy and swimming in sub-par sauces, eggs that were under-cooked, over-cooked or not even offered as an option. There were some surprises, and there were some disappointments. 

There were also some stunningly brilliant breakfasts. 

If a restaurant presented only one sauce option for chilaquiles, Julie and I would typically order the same dish. If a restaurant had both verdes (green) and rojos (red), we'd order one of each. The majority of the time, we'd order eggs over-easy. If we knew the eggs were going to be happy eggs (see $9 chilaquiles), I'd go for sunny-side-up. Beans, potatoes and accoutrements (if available) were taken into consideration, as was the coffee or aguas frescas. The overall experience was key, but really, it all came down to the chilaquiles. 

After eating 100 different plates of chilaquiles, we've done our due diligence, and now, we humbly present to you ten establishments that Julie and I both agreed have the finest chilaquiles in Austin. These are our favorites, the places we return to time and time again. 

These chilaquiles are the best of the best. 

All hail klobasniky!

Pan sausage, American cheese and jalapeño klobasnek. © Ryan Schierling

There are a few hearty breakfast handfuls that I've come to rely on that just don't exist outside of Texas. Living in Seattle, I never saw a breakfast taco. There were such curiosities as breakfast burritos, but they occupied a space that was an afterthought to most carriers of A.M. comestibles. The closest you could come to a klobasnek is a piroshky, and while delicious any time of day, none were dedicated to breaking the fast. The latter – klobasnek, klobasnik, kolache if you don't know any better – are a Czech savory morsel with the same slightly-sweet dough used for kolaches. Klobasnek filling is usually a little oblong sausage like a pig in a blanket, but Texans have taken to putting all sorts of things inside that luxurious, pillowy dough. My favorite is a piece of pan sausage (breakfast sausage), pickled jalapeño and a nice melty American cheese, which is a klobasnek that's not too hard to find at kolache shops in Austin.

But a beef summer sausage, Swiss cheese and sauerkraut klobasnek? I had to make this combination myself, and recipe testing was not a problem. I think I ate three dozen over the course of a week before I was satisfied with the end result. Hell, I was satisfied with the first round, I just had to keep making them because they're irresistible.

Ice, de-ice, baby.

(L) Arapahoe Basin, Colorado. (R) Denver International Airport. © Ryan Schierling

We haven’t been on a proper vacation in eight years, which is longer than this Foie Gras Hot Dog thing has existed and longer than we’ve been in Austin. The last time we hopped on a plane for some adventuring was 2006 when we took a week away in Hawaii – sunning, snorkeling, and sampling plate lunch and proper poke every chance we got. It’s been far too long since we travelled for play, with a side of relaxing, dining and drinking.

Back in November, we thought it might be nice to see some snow and planned ahead for a Colorado trip. I’ve got history there, and though it’s been nearly 20 years since I’ve set foot on and strapped in at Arapahoe Basin, mountain topography does not change. They’ve added a lift on the back bowl that I used to hike, there are a few new beers on tap and lift ticket prices are about $70 (!!!) more than what I remember, but The Legend is, and will always be, my absolute favorite place to ride. 

I spent the better part of the early 1990s faithfully snowboarding A-Basin two or three times a week. What is now called the “Early Riser Lot” was church at 7 a.m. Bad Religion at volume, changing into snow gear and finishing off a travel mug of black coffee before nodding at ski patrol and catching first chair behind them. From mid-mountain, it was just a hard left down to the Lenawee lift and 13,000 feet was minutes away. From there, it was a cruise to the right and a drop off Cornice Run, or left and as far as you could get traversing the East Wall before turning in and churning through powder in Land of the Giants. I rode a Burton Craig Kelly Extreme and that board, on that prominence, made a mountain man of me. Twenty years is too long to have been away.

The secrets we keep – chilaquiles at El Torito.

Chilaquiles at El Torito. © Ryan Schierling

Editor's note: Sadly, El Torito has closed. 

When we first visited Anna Salinas' El Torito seven months ago, there was no information across the wood shake above the front windows, only a blank open signage slot with exposed fluorescent tubes, waiting to illuminate something, anything.

There was no banner with the tiny restaurant's name, or specials, or letting the public know that the flour and corn tortillas were hand-made. There were only large, hand-written signs in the windows that read "TACOS," "GORDITAS" and "MENUDO."

There is a larger taqueria in this same strip mall, just down the way, and an even bigger Mexican restaurant/cantina across the street where the parking lot always seems to be full. Truth be told, we're not ones for sizzling fajita specials, frozen margaritas and roving mariachi bands, and we've never been the least bit curious about either of those joints. After our first breakfast at El Torito, we were absolutely, unequivocally hooked.

Hangover breakfast, part two.

Caramelized fennel and onion hash. © Ryan Schierling

Sometimes, there’s not a definitive narrative to the things we make.

Sometimes we mumble. 

Sometimes there’s just an overflowing refrigerator and a short-order cook aesthetic – throw some stuff together and put an egg on it. The treatments will vary depending on what we’ve been cooking lately (have you ever eaten taco salad variants five nights in a row?) and what happens to be in the pantry, but shaking things up sometimes requires a reset and breakfast is always where I begin again.

We had pounds of potatoes, tons of onions and two generous fronds of fennel. How am I supposed to be fabulous with fennel?

I don’t enjoy anise-flavored things in the least – Jagermeister and NyQuil (which may as well be the same disgusting thing when you have a cold), absinthe (love the old-world concept and execution, hate the liquor), Black Jack chewing gum (what the…?), star anise (pretty, but pretty repulsive) uhm… black licorice (sue me, it's foul). Some spell it “liquorice” and that would seem to imply I’d love it, seeing that it’s a compound word containing “liquor” and “ice.” Not so. Definitely... not so. 

But fennel that is slow-cooked down with onions until it’s brown and supremely sweet isn’t something we’ve ever done before. The fennel flavor changes from a bracing, bright anise hit to a far more complex, mellow mouthful that’s so very nice with potatoes. A squeeze of lemon juice and a couple of garden-fresh tomato slices add some acidity, and the egg on top is required whether this is for breakfast or not. Enjoy.

Cornbread Florentine Benny

Cornbread Florentine with sour cream hollandiase. © Ryan Schierling

One of my favorite breakfasts is Eggs Florentine with hash browns. I developed this strong affection when we were in Seattle and lived walking distance from The Shanty Cafe, whose straight-forward Florentine Benny and hash browns were delicious comfort on many a chilly Northwest morning. I'll resist making this a diatribe about the rarity of finding really good, crispy, diner-style shredded hash browns in this town (no, really, it's invariably "home fries" in these parts), because today I'm all about sharing another way to enjoy runny eggs and spinach greens.

There's something all sparkly-sawdust about living in Austin that causes us to eventually give all of our favorite dishes a Texas twist. In this instance, a not-too-sweet cornbread finds its place in lieu of the traditional English muffin, and the hollandaise is modified to include a touch of lime and sour cream.

The cornbread recipe is my adaptation of “Yankee Corn Bread” from Bernard Clayton’s New Complete Book of Breads, but using a hot cast iron skillet method for baking. I omitted the bacon, of course. I also added some masa harina (a type of corn flour used for making tortillas and tamales) – because if you know me well, you know that I am loath to bake anything containing corn that doesn't include a bit of masa harina for the delicious flavor it imparts. Hell, I even put it in my pizza dough. Ahem... I've also reduced the amount of sugar considerably, because I don't need or want a sweet cornbread for this preparation, and the addition of frozen corn kernels naturally adds a bit of sweetness. And – to digress for the second time in this paragraph – this cornbread is also pretty awesome to use for making stuffing/dressing during the holidays.

We like the Cornbread Florentine with my Southwest Sour Cream Hollandaise because, well, how can you not offer up a bit of the rich yolky goodness that makes poached eggs happy the world around. This is essentially a blender hollandaise with lime juice in lieu of some of the lemon and sour cream in place of some of the butter. It's a little "softer" than the traditional variety and compliments the cornbread. Ryan generally doesn't dig regular hollandaise sauce, but this one he finds delightful. Go figure. That said, if busting out the blender seems like too much of an stretch on a given morning, I won't hesitate for a second to just use plain ol' sour cream and a good hot sauce drift. I assure you it is really quite good both ways.

We typically make this with cornbread that was baked the night before, so it makes for a relatively quick and easy breakfast. 

The rarest chilaquiles in all of Austin.

Chilaquiles at Veracruz All Natural. © Ryan Schierling

Elusive. Exclusive. Exquisite. 

We finally stopped with 50 plates of chilaquiles. This is chilaquiles plate number 51.

Just when I thought Julie and I had closed the book on chilaquiles in Austin, Reyna Vasquez – owner of Veracruz All Natural – dropped a first-class, stunningly-good breakfast beso on us.

We had already tried a few times to get ahold of these rarified chilaquiles. The first Sunday we stopped by, the trailer was closed for repairs. I called the following week to find that the special brunch menu was served only on the first Sunday of each month – essentially making these the most elusive of all chilaquiles in Austin, offered only 12 times a year.

I had a feeling they were going to be pretty good, but I had no idea just how good. At one point, Julie took a perfectly-proportioned bite and simply started laughing. She had no words, only a giddy roll of the eyes and a slight swoon. My reaction was incredulous silence, stunned disbelief, and an immediate clearing of my calendar for all following first Sundays of the month.

Both rojo y verde are offered, plated (yes, actual plates out of a trailer) with your choice of charro, black, or refried black beans, and fried plantains. I ladled out a bit of the spicy green and rich red hot sauces that are so wonderful on the Veracruz All Natural tacos, but the salsas went unused, wholly unnecessary. The chilaquiles verde were as ideal as they get – fresh totopos with perfect tooth under a sauce so natural, bright and right, with just the slightest heat. Under the over-easy eggs were a few slivers of raw white onion and a dusting of hard-grated cheese. The red version was more mild and subtle, a little delicate, but refined and ridicously-satisfying. There were none of the overly-heavy, thickly-spiced, tomato-chile flavors we'd seen on so many plates of chilaquiles rojo before. Refried black beans (flawlessly seasoned) and sweet, crispy-edged, creamy-interior fried plantains finished the plate. 

Texas Coffee Roasters provided the café and the sandia agua fresca was amazing. 

Veracruz All Natural is now at the top of our list of the best chilaquiles in Austin. Thank you, Reyna. We'll see you again soon.

The *New* State of Chilaquiles in Austin, Texas.

65 plates of chilaquiles. © Ryan Schierling

(FGHD editor's note: Updated February 2015 for AFBA City Guide)

As a lot of you know, we've been on a epic, epicurean quest – a grand gustatory gamble with breaking the fast deep in the heart of Texas.

We've been scouring Austin for the very best chilaquiles it has to offer. We've torn apart the town, top to bottom, for more than a year sampling both highbrow and humble versions of this traditional Mexican dish. 

There are no shortage of restaurants offering up their take on what shouldn't really be more than crisp fresh-fried tortilla chips (totopos) simmered with a red or green sauce until just slightly softened, crowned with a pair of properly-cooked eggs. With such a simple preparation, you'd think it would be difficult to screw up this classic.

We weren't looking for haute cuisine a la Mexicana, we just wanted an honest, reliable, simple Sunday morning comfort-food breakfast at a joint where everyone might eventually know us (and our broken Spanish).

There were standouts, certainly, but just as often there were store-bought chips, soggy and swimming in sub-par sauces, eggs that were under-cooked, over-cooked or not even offered as an option. There were some surprises, and there were some disappointments. 

There were also some stunningly brilliant breakfasts. 

If a restaurant presented only one sauce option for chilaquiles, Julie and I would typically order the same dish. If a restaurant had both verdes (green) and rojos (red), we'd order one of each. The majority of the time, we'd order eggs over-easy. If we knew the eggs were going to be happy eggs (see $9 chilaquiles), I'd go for sunny-side-up. Beans, potatoes and accoutrements (if available) were taken into consideration, as was the coffee or aguas frescas. The overall experience was key, but really, it all came down to the chilaquiles. 

We've done our due diligence, and now, we humbly present to you ten establishments that Julie and I both agreed have the finest chilaquiles in Austin. These are our favorites, the places we return to time and time again. 

These chilaquiles are the best of the best. 

Scrapple.

(L) Scrapple and duck eggs. (R) Pan-frying scrapple in butter. © Ryan Schierling

It's been a bit of a stretch since we've posted anything new here on Foie Gras Hot Dog. A few weeks ago – in a bizarre work-related accident – a frantic, frightened feral cat chomped down on my hand a good half-dozen times. Apparently, felines have filthier mouths than Richard Pryor. The cat escaped, and as my hand swelled to twice-normal size, the doctors said I was going to need a truckload of antibiotics and it was imperative that I start rabies vaccination shots. Did you ever hear the horror stories about getting rabies shots when you were a kid? That the needle was the size of a #2 pencil and they put it into your bellybutton until it scraped your spine? Thankfully, the process isn't really like that anymore. Not a great time, but my hand is getting better – I can type and hold a camera again.

So, it's good to get the goose back on the hot dog. 

As most of you already know, I'm a huge fan of geographic oddities when it comes to food. There are dishes that never stray too far from their origins, and if you don't seek them out, it's possible to go through your entire life without ever having them pass your lips. The Horseshoe. The Hot Brown. Lobster rolls. Loco Moco. Burgoo. Cincinnati chili. Chicken riggies. Zydeco salad. 

TGICFS.

Chicken-fried steak and eggs at Monument Cafe. © Ryan Schierling

There aren't too many old-school diners in Austin proper. The last, best place to get chicken-fried steak and eggs for breakfast was Arkie's Grill over on E. Cesar Chavez, but their temporary closure for remodeling turned permanent, and now the space is slated for a "New Orleans-inspired diner serving classy Texas comfort food with a Louisiana flare." Whenever I hear "classy" and "comfort food" in the same sentence, I default to "overpriced comfort food." I will miss Arkie's, but I guess the world keeps on turning.

We trekked 30 minutes north to Monument Cafe in Georgetown for breakfast, and it was worth the drive. While the four-ounce CFS was a bit slight by typical Texas standards (pounded-out, plate-sized behemoths), it was well-breaded, pleasantly-seasoned and served with delicious cream gravy. Julie's revered Florentine Benedict, a classic, simple dish easily screwed up by crab or diced tomatoes or spicy hollandaise, was so nicely done – and served with proper hash browns – that she nearly wept tears of joy. 

A tender moment
between beef and cream gravy
My fork is content 

Tortilla Española-dilla.

Walking Tortilla Española? Indeed. © Ryan Schierling

Disclaimer: This is not a recipe for authentic tortilla Española, so don't get your calzoncillos in a bunch.

Julie didn't set out to make tortilla Española when she decided to whip up a quick, portable breakfast with a bare minimum of ingredients, but at its simplest, that is what it has become. Similar to the Spanish bocadillo, but subbing a big flour tortilla for bread, this delicious and deceptively-easy egg, potato and onion dish has quickly become one of my all-time hand-holdable morning favorites.

It's not a stretch, because tacos of all kinds find their way into my waking routine at least a few times a week, but this is a fast, one-pan breakfast that takes nothing more than one tortilla, one egg, a serving of hash browns and a little chopped onion. 

It doesn't need bacon or roasted red pepper or basil or tomatoes or cheese, but any additions or substitutions make for effortless frittata-like possibilities (as long as the overall moisture-level and consistency stays the same), and we do mix it up occasionally. This morning's version included leftover mashed potatoes instead of hash browns, a little fresh salsa verde, a chopped-up Morningstar Farms® sausage patty, onion and egg. Tater tots, frozen shredded hash browns, chopped-up hash brown patties or leftover latkes also work well. 

We've been joking about how this should have been our Today Show Home Chef Challenge entry, because it's much closer to what our Papaquiles were re-imagined as for large-scale preparation and service by the Today Show food trucks at SXSW. Perhaps next time...

This is a simple, single-serving tortilla Española that gives you creamy potato, custardy egg and a bit of bright onion, all in a fraction of the time it would take to create the superlative Spanish classic. As an added bonus, you can eat it while driving. Try that with a proper tortilla Española.

The State of Chilaquiles in Austin, Texas.

30 chilaquiles. (Click this image only if you have a gigantic monitor.) © Ryan Schierling

(FGHD editor's note: This post has been superceded – with an added 35 plates of chilaquiles – by The *New* State of Chilaquiles in Austin, Texas.)

As a lot of you know, we've been on a epic, epicurean quest – a grand gustatory gamble with breaking the fast deep in the heart of Texas.

We've been scouring Austin for the very best chilaquiles it has to offer. We've torn apart the town, top to bottom, for more than a year sampling both highbrow and humble versions of this traditional Mexican dish. 

There are no shortage of restaurants offering up their take on what shouldn't really be more than crisp fresh-fried tortilla chips (totopos) simmered with a red or green sauce until just slightly softened, crowned with a pair of properly-cooked eggs. With such a simple preparation, you'd think it would be difficult to screw up this classic.

We weren't looking for haute cuisine a la Mexicana, we just wanted an honest, reliable, simple Sunday morning comfort-food breakfast at a joint where everyone might eventually know us (and our broken Spanish).

There were standouts, certainly, but just as often there were store-bought chips, soggy and swimming in sub-par sauces, eggs that were under-cooked, over-cooked or not even offered as an option. There were some surprises, and there were some disappointments. 

There were also some stunningly brilliant breakfasts. 

If a restaurant presented only one sauce option for chilaquiles, Julie and I would typically order the same dish. If a restaurant had both verde (green) and rojo (red), we'd order one of each. The majority of the time, we'd order eggs over-easy. If we knew the eggs were going to be happy eggs (see $9 chilaquiles), I'd go for sunny-side-up. Beans, potatoes and accoutrements (if available) were taken into consideration, as was the coffee or aguas frescas. The overall experience was key, but really, it all came down to the chilaquiles. 

We've done our due diligence, and now, we humbly present to you five establishments that Julie and I both agreed have the finest chilaquiles in Austin (along with one restaurant from each of us that we feel should be included as well). These are our favorites, the places we return to time and time again. 

These chilaquiles are the best of the best. 

TGICFS.

Chicken-fried steak and eggs at Rise & Shine - Arlington, Texas. © Ryan Schierling

Texas CFS, it's been a while.

I've had some time to think about things. We've had a lot of fun together, you and I, but I guess I've just got to put this out there...

I think I need to see other breakfast options.

When you're good, you're really, really good. Sometimes amazing. But those times have been few and far between, and I expect the best of you here in this great state. I mean, this is your stomping grounds. It's where you came from.

You were certainly stunning (even after breakfast hours) in Blanco, leaving any lusty thoughts of an on-the-road, one-morning-stand in Wallace, Idaho behind (I was just passing through, on tour with this rock band from Seattle... no hard feelings). But you've been distant of late. Inconsistent. A little sloppy. If we only see each other infrequently, I want those meetings, those delicious liaisons, to be fireworks and waving flags, and cholesterol tests be damned. I want to wake up with you, start the day with you.

I'm sorry, Texas chicken-fried steak. Unless you can show me that you want to be with me for breakfast on the regular, I'm going to have to move on.

Wondrous homemade bread
cast a breakfast pall on you,
Sysco CFS

Masa is manna. Plantains are love.

Sopes con platanos. © Ryan Schierling

As far back as memory serves, I've had a food crush of biblical proportions on masa de maize. Unlike plain old cornmeal or fresh-roasted corn, masa is made from corn baptized (or cooked… whatever... semantics) in a solution of slaked lime. I'm pretty sure there must also be some kind of mystical ceremony involved before these divine kernels are ground into this dough-of-the-gods. My personal food mythology even goes so far as to claim that the manna collected by the Israelites as they wandered the desert was actually masa. I'm just that committed.

There are certainly lots of wonderful Mexican items that are created from masa – tamales, tortillas, gorditas. But the one I believe shows the best that masa can be is in sopes, with just enough tender cakiness to highlight the fresh masa flavor and a brief deep-frying which gives them a wonderfully light golden crunch.

The little restaurant that introduced me to proper chilaquiles is the same joint that introduced me to this sope – Señor Moose Café. Reasonable prices, unassuming and casual, this place serves up "Mexican Mexican" food. Comida tipica from many regions of Mexico grace their menu, with an authenticity that does not shy in the least from using ingredients such as chicken livers and/or making their own 25-ingredient mole. The sope with plantains (sope con platanos) on their breakfast-lunch menu was a deeply-appreciated favorite of mine. And, once again, I have been driven to making my own out of a desperate sense of loss and burning desire. When it gets to the point that you're considering booking tickets to either Seattle or the state of Nayarit in Mexico, you know it's time to get cooking.

Pigs and eggs.

Three little pigs, potatoes and eggs. © Ryan Schierling

Austin may call itself the live music capital of the world, but it's actually the breakfast taco capital of the world. I'm also pretty sure there are more solid Mexican restaurants and taco trucks than there are music venues and bands in the ATX. Some of my favorite breakfast tacos, ever, have been doled out of a soft-sided cooler from the back of a mini-van driven by a little Hispanic lady with some bad-ass homemade hot sauce to drizzle over the foil-wrapped deliciousness. They're everywhere – ubiquitous and cheap enough that you would never even have to think about making them at home.

And I never did, until our "taco lady" that got me hooked on her amazing picadillo, her tangy nopales and creamy homemade refritos, her handmade tortillas that would leave a kiss of flour on your lips, her rippin' hot homemade salsa, stopped showing up in her mini-van at the shop every morning. I'd been cut off, cold turkey, and it hurt.

Six months is enough of a morning mourning process, and I simply can't abide the new "taco man" that pulls up in his green Chevy Blazer, honking his horn and passing off hard-scrambled eggs with Jimmy Dean sausage in a gummy, sweaty, store-bought flour tortilla. Today, I made two dozen breakfast tacos with pork, potatoes and chorizo in red chile, bacon and soft-scrambled eggs and took them to work.

When the "taco man" pulled up, no one bought… and I got a hearty "Hombre vato!" from the guys, which I take as "not too bad for the white guy of Russian/German heritage."

VOTE for our Papaquiles to be served at SXSW.

***UPDATE*** We won! Papaquiles for everyone! We are humbled and honored that our breakfast dish will be served at SXSW from the Today food truck. Thank you to Today Food, our hometown helpers here in Austin, our Seattle auxiliary, all our wonderful friends and family, and everyone on this big ol' earth with a computer and internets that voted for us! We would like to feed you! Exclamation points! (DEEP BREATH.) We'll let you know when the official announcement will be made on the Today Show on NBC, and when we go up on the Bites/Today page on MSNBC.com. Exclamation points! !!! !

Image © Today Food

The Today Show's food page on Facebook has a recurring Home Chef Challenge where recipes are submitted to fit a specific theme. The latest, an homage to Southwestern-style breakfast, was right up our alley. From the submissions, three recipes are chosen as finalists and then voted on by the general public  (you just have to "like" Today Food on Facebook to be able to vote). The winner's dish will be served by the Today Food crew out of a food truck at this year's SXSW Music Festival in Austin. 

I'm a proud papa, because our papaquiles recipe is one of the three finalists. 

So, now we need your help. Click here to vote for the hometown favorite... papaquiles, through Friday, Feb. 24.

But please don't do it just for us. Do it for the hash browns, the salsa verde, the onions and sour cream, and the runny egg that all aspire to be something bigger than they are. Do it for the harried, the hungry, and the hungover of SXSW. Do it because it's an original, and a delicious original at that. Do it because you know it's the right thing to do. 

Do it because real cowboys don't eat frittata. 

Papaquiles.

Papaquiles (the imaginary friend of chilaquiles). © Ryan Schierling

Disclaimer: The name chilaquiles comes from the Nahuatl word chil-a-quilitl, which means "herbs or greens in chile broth. "Papaquiles" is not actually a word. We made it up. That's alright, though, because this concoction bears only a passing resemblance to one of our other favorite breakfast dishes. You guessed it... chilaquiles.

Since our very first introduction to this Mexican breakfast, we've been huge fans. Fried tortillas all sauced up in red or green salsa, with sour cream or fresh crema, a little diced onion and the glorious yellow of yolks spilling from fried eggs – what's not to adore?

One weekend morning about four years ago, after we had been making chilaquiles at home for a few months, I woke up wanting all those delicious flavors. Except, I was in the mood for hash browns... and why not instead of totopos? Barely into my first cup of coffee, I articulated this to Ryan and within the hour he had created a breakfast dish that met my craving with wild success.

It's ridiculously simple, actually. Hash browns cooked to perfection with nice crispy edges, a big spoonful of salsa verde, a dollop of cool sour cream, chopped white onions for their brightness and crunch, and crowned with an over-easy egg. Finish this with a drift of your favorite hot sauce and your day is at once off to a fantastically rich and savory start.

We don't play favorites between roja and verde versions of chilaquiles, but with hash browns the salsa verde has been our mainstay and the best fit in terms of consistency and flavor. While we're still running all over Austin exploring the plethora of amazing chilaquiles at local taquerias, for breakfast at home "papaquiles" remains one of our very favorites.

TGICFS.

CFS and eggs at Arkie's Grill. © Ryan Schierling

Traditionally, TGICFS has been a weekend installment here at Foie Gras Hot Dog. There's just nothing better than clearing Sunday morning cobwebs with a cup of black coffee – and if I have my way – comforting the belly with a plate of chicken-fried steak and eggs.

I've been wanting to try the CFS at Arkie's Grill for a while now. The problem is, they're not bloody open on Sundays.

So, I took a mid-week morning for myself and snuck off after Julie went to work, just to give Arkie's a shot.

Situated in a well-worn Eastside neighborhood and surrounded by automotive, junk and machine shops, Arkie's Grill is an old-school, truck stop-type diner of the best sort. It looks like not much has been changed since they opened 64 years ago, and the menu offers tried and true classics – burgers, fried chicken, and daily specials with your choice of three out of four available sides (hint, you tell your waitress the one you don't want). Arkie's breakfast offering is what I came for, and while the chicken-fried steak doesn't best the Blanco Bowling Club Cafe for my number one spot, it is by far the tastiest CFS and eggs I've had in Austin proper.

Wiz Khalifa got
nothing on the table like
old school brown and white.