The saying isn’t commonly used in polite society around Houston, but border rats will know just what I mean by "getting the chorizo."
A feast at Teotihuacan.: Katherine Hook photos
Since I finally moved here two years ago after being a vicarious Houstonian for way too long, I have been getting the chorizo in a bad way every time I ordered it in various Mexican dives and palaces. For an item that is the punch line of food humor, chorizo is pretty sophisticated stuff. At least it is if it is done right.

It was when I wrote about this spicy raw sausage with Spanish roots but a Mexican heart for Saveur magazine that I was forced to admit that this peasant delicacy was not lowest common denominator cuisine after all. At least it wasn’t at the Chorizo de San Manuel in Edinburgh.

The company only uses fresh, never-frozen, lean pork brought in special from Iowa. The family's secret spice blend is ground and mixed on site. The packaging plant gleams from spotless stainless steel that would make Memorial Hospital blush from envy. Standing in the middle of countless pounds of fresh pork sausage I was struck by the smell of the place. It could only be described as refreshingly clean, certainly not the expected aroma of a chorizo plant. The proud, and rightfully so, owners gave me the complete tour, from unloading their fresh pork to sending their never-to-be-frozen-until-post-purchase sausage onto immaculate trucks bound for your neighborhood grocery.
Queso flameado
Well, if you’re lucky it’s bound for your neighborhood. Most H.E.B. stores in town, including Central Market, stock it, but I’m not promising anything from the other guys. As you would imagine there are cheaper chorizos available, but if you go that route then you too may discover that getting the chorizo isn’t always positive.

On a pilgrimage to the Canino Produce Market on Airline Saturday we took a side adventure to Teotihuacan Mexican Café on Irvington. Even though there is one closer to the produce market, just a couple blocks south of it actually, we went to the Irvington location on the strong recommendation of a fellow border ex-pat. This is another of those places that if you’re not a local, and I mean really local, you will want to visit the first time while the sun is up. This was just the kind of place for Houston to use one more of its dwindling number of opportunities to show me that it speaks fluent chorizo.

The menu revealed the perfect test: queso flameado. This simple cheese and chorizo concoction is almost never actually flamed as the name implies, but you know that a little alcohol and some pyrotechnics definitely improves it.

To make queso flameado, AKA queso fundido, all you do is throw some shredded asadero, Chihuahua or Monterey jack cheese into an oven proof dish, top it with sautéed chorizo and/or sautéed mushrooms and then bake until bubbly and slightly browned. In Northeastern Mexico, it is served with fresh corn tortillas and a wedge of Mexican lime. Tecate usually is involved so the lime wedge does double duty, although any bebida Mexicana works, even freshly made lemonade.

Teotihuacan came through with classic handmade corn tortillas and the queso was strong as well. Their chorizo was not de San Manuel, but way better than average and it was good enough to keep this snob searching. The reality is that I really like good chorizo and so I’m going to keep getting it and maybe, just maybe someday I’ll get it in the good way and smile.