Laredo's Tex-West Grill & Cantina: Strike up the bland

As our server at Laredo's Tex-West Grill & Cantina mixed up an order of guacamole at our table, she told us -- inadvertently, I'm certain -- all that we needed to know about the restaurant. "Do you do this a lot over the course of an evening?" my friend asked. She nodded yes and lamented what sounded like a potential OSHA concern: sore wrists. "Sometimes the avocados are so hard that it's difficult to mash them," she said as she pressed a fork with all her might into a particularly recalcitrant fruit.

Oh, dear. If a Tex-Mex operation can't discern the ripeness of an avocado, then, well, Houston, we have a problem.

The restaurant, owned by the Kansas City, Mo.-based company responsible for the neighboring McCoy's Public House, emphasizes but doesn't limit itself to the Tex-Mex vocabulary; there are also Mexican standards as well as touches of what's billed as San Diego's culinary traditions, although I'm not quite sure what that entails. Perhaps it's a reference to the fish tacos.

Laredo's replaced Brix Bistro & Wine Bar, the company's amiable, sort-of Italian effort. I wish I could say that Laredo's makes a convincing argument for making the change, but I can't. It feels half-hearted, a distant cousin to Tex-Mex's robust ranching roots; you can see a family resemblance, but just barely.

Perhaps my expectations are too high. After all, transplanting regional cooking beyond its traditional borders is always tricky. Maybe it's too much to ask that this rowdy, warm-blooded cuisine take hold in chilly, standoffish Minnesota. Then again, some restaurants are born out of passion, others rise via marketing fiat. Laredo's feels like the latter. I can envision the meeting now: Greek? No. Sushi? Huh-uh. Long pause. What about Tex-Mex? Sure, why not? And while we're at it, let's print up T-shirts that say, "Save a horse, ride a cowboy." Hilarious.

Frequent diners will discover that the formulaic menu is built on a handful of key ingredients that are mixed and matched in a variety of combinations. Very little feels fussed over. Much of what I ordered tasted as if it was prepared far in advance and dashed together just prior to being plated. I've rarely been fed so quickly; at one dinner, we enjoyed cocktails, appetizers, entrees and dessert in 65 breakneck minutes.

Sometimes an easy fix could have a huge impact: fresh tortillas instead of hard, stale ones; snappy rather than soggy shrimp; a consistent hand at the salad-tossing station. Even basics are bested elsewhere. Overstuffed burritos are filled with a slow-braised shredded pork, for example, but frankly, I'd rather go to Chipotle, where I'd pay less and enjoy more.

The one word that doesn't belong with this culinary genre is "bland." Oh dear, indeed.

Some good choices, too

There are occasional flashes of the real thing. If the rest of the menu had the gumption of the scorching habanero-tomatillo salsa, then Laredo's would be playing a whole new ball game. There's an exceptional meat loaf, stuffed with a bacon-wrapped chile relleno and served in a pool of hearty gravy. The aforementioned carnitas, finished with a nicely smoky ketchup, finds its way into slider-style starters -- as well as a more substantial sandwich crowned with coleslaw and crispy fried onions -- with satisfying results. Beer-marinated chicken is juicy and tender, and there are a few decent burgers. A pair of breakfast-all-day skillets -- huevos rancheros and tostadas topped with chicken, tomatoes, fried eggs and a pert salsa verde -- are a pleasant alternative to the fajita-quesadilla route.

The restaurant's saving grace is its workforce. Someone in management obviously knows how to hire or train, or both, because the staffers I encountered were almost uniformly first-rate. On several occasions we were so well-cared-for that I would happily nominate those servers and bartenders for Hospitality Employees of the Year.

Dessert is another story. There are subpar churros, a Duncan Hines-ish and absurdly oversized chocolate layer cake and the most tone-deaf choice of all, cheesecake. Huh? What about a pecan goodie of some kind, seeing as how it's the official nut of the state of Texas? Or perhaps a grapefruit granita, since the Texas Red Grapefruit is -- you got it -- the state's officially sanctioned fruit.

Rick Nelson • 612-673-4757