It was a small space: so tiny, in fact, that our group of thirteen had to huddle together at the front register to avoid bumping into the rows of little wooden tables resting against papaya-colored walls. The smells were enticing, drawing us closer to that front counter where two women were kneading a ball of masa for use in crafting handmade tortillas. From somewhere further back came the ambrosial scent of meat cooking on a stove top, and to my right, a generous spread of onions, cilantro, limes, and other traditional Mexican fixins (as we would say in Kentucky) constituted the condiment bar. This one step inside was all it took to send my stomach somersaulting in anticipation; I could already tell Birrieria Jalisco was going to deliver a phenomenal meal.
Though short on space, this little restaurant is big on flavor. After ordering drinks, we were treated to chips and salsa, the only indication of the eatery’s possible Tex-Mex influence. However, the salsas here far exceeded the mediocre showings at other less traditional places in Lexington, providing us with not one, not two, but three varieties of the appetizer. Our waitress, a kind woman in her mid-twenties who was happy to converse with us all in both Spanish and English, pointed to each dish, describing them as “mild,” “hot,” and “extra hot.” I decided to be daring with one of my first chips, plunging it into the blood-red, “extra hot” bowl, and soon regretted my decision. The kick of the fiery salsa burned the whole way down my throat, lingering with an intense bite that didn’t go away until I’d downed a good portion of my water. But, if you’re a more adventurous eater than I am, you’re sure to love this offering. Some of my more adventurous compañeros returned to that salsa dish time and again, enjoying the spice that the extra hot concoction delivered. For the rest of the time, I stuck to the hot and mild versions, especially enjoying the hint of lime in the latter. But to be honest, each variety is so unique and chock-full of flavor, that it’s impossible to go wrong.
For my entrée, I decided to go with birria en su jugo chivo, birria soup made from goat meat. I also threw in a side of arroz, worried that the soup portions might be small. While I waited on the food, I took the chance to explore the restaurant a bit more, noting the cute vegetable figurines whose legs dangled over a recess in the wall, and the clay figurines of a farmer and his mule. The decorations certainly give the place a homey feel, while also using colors reminiscent of Jaliscan streets.
The rice was the first thing to get delivered to my table, arranged in a perfect dome on its saucer and topped with a cilantro garnish. I could see the steam radiating off the dish as it as placed before me, its savory aroma tickling my nose. I couldn’t resist digging in with my fork, not bothering to wait on the birria to arrive. The rice tasted as expected–no surprises or incredibly flavors there–but its warmth was enough to place it above most other rice dishes I’ve had in town. I didn’t find a single grain that wasn’t perfectly cooked, and tender dish practically melted in my mouth.
When the birria arrived not long after, I was greeted with a gamy smell that both excited and terrified me. This was my first experience with goat meat, and I was a little hesitant about digging in. However, the first taste of the perfectly seasoned broth sent my taste buds into overdrive, and motivated me to scoop up a big chunk of meat, which was bathing in the watery mixture.
To be honest, the meat itself wasn’t the best thing in the world. I found goat to be a lot chewier than chicken, tougher to pull apart and attached to the occasional piece of bone. But the unadulterated deliciousness of the rest of the soup was enough to make the dish a phenomenal one, and I probably would get the birria en su jugo again if given the chance. For those of you who are even more timid around meat than I am, you may want to consider giving Jalisco Birrieria’s birria platter a chance. Though a bit more expensive, it comes with rice and beans and most of the meat provided looked to be more tender.
The main downsides to the restaurant are the lack of water (they ran out when we were there, and only provide water that’s bottled) and the expense of the food itself. Unlike some of the diner-style joints where you can get a tasty taco for no more than $2 and a hearty dish for around $5, some of Jalisco’s plates soar to 11 bucks. But considering the sheer amount of food that is provided and the fact that all dishes are prepared in-house right when you order, this restaurant really isn’t such a bad deal.
Overall, my first experience with birria was a huge success, and I’m so glad I chose this eatery to introduce me to the world of Jaliscan fare. Though my fellow Lexingtonians are more used to milder items like burgoo and deer jerky, I know their palettes would not be disappointed with a stop to try this much spicier cuisine.
Taco 'bout Delicious! 
March 11, 2016 at 1:14 pm
If and when you go back, they also have birria de res, which is beef. And all can be in burritos, which when I saw there literally made me step back. I think they give Ramirez a run for the money.
The waitress, Alicia, was impressed with everyone’s Spanish. She thought y’all were pretty cool. I said, yeah, I like ’em too.
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