Casamigos Mexican Grill

I have a ritual at Casamigos: order the to-go food, then talk my way into a plate of flautas to eat while I wait. They come out crisp, hot, put together with care, and the hostess clocks my face every time and treats me like I belong. The al pastor taco is the one that stuck with me, smoky and right, and a frozen mangonada hit like a cold slap of joy on a Texas afternoon. The volcano old fashioned is no joke either.

Two gripes, both small. The dining room runs dark, more late-night booth than first-date glow, so plan around that. And the tacos arrived on a single tortilla and fell apart in my hands, which is a fixable crime. Beyond that, this is a warm, welcoming little taste of Mexico that took good care of me even on a near-closing Sunday.