When a hangover strikes, there are really only a few food groups that will satisfy: gravy, big steaming bowls of soup, tacos, and greasy Tex-Mex, to name a few. So put on your sunglasses to hide those bleary eyes and tell your similarly hungover friends to meet you somewhere besides the bar this time — preferably at one of these places.
Pozole is sort of pho's Mexican cousin, and Avila's serves one of the most reliably satisfying bowls of pozole in DFW. Like with pho, the ritual of building your own bowl — oregano? jalapeno? cilantro? all of the above? — is clearly allegorical, symbolic of you attempting to rebuild what's left of the rest of your booze-addled life. Bonus: The salsa is uncompromisingly spicy, and they even trust you with your own carafe of it despite the bad decisions in your wake.
[Photo: Mike S./Foursquare]
Bubba's is sloppy, your-sleeves-as-napkins comfort food ordered from a drive-thru. Bubba's means sopping up last night’s Jameson with a threepiece alongside a veritable UHaul of mashed potatoes and gravy. Oh, and yeast rolls. In the land of the hungover, the yeast roll is king. And the saint who makes the dumplings – as in chicken and dumplings, which you can also get here, every day – they sit atop the same throne.
A hangover meal at Cane Rosso could go one of several different ways: meatballs and Velvet Hammer. Brisket pizza (on those glorious Pecan Lodge Wednesdays). A whole Delia — that's the one smothered in bacon marmalade — straight to the face. And why yes, they do serve an off-menu gravy pizza for brunch, if you were wondering. The fact that the pizzas cook in 90 seconds flat is a very, very good thing for your hungover soul.
Cool & Hot is always open, meaning they'll never let you down no matter what time your hangover strikes. The same care they put into perfecting crispy, tangy, ill-erasing al pastor, they also put into expertly fluffy, never overcooked huevos con papas, always the exact right amount of crunchy and pillowy, tucked into the most adorable little flour tortillas. Seriously, they're the corgis of tortillas. The salsa verde is piquant and acidic, they have a drive-thru, and while you wait they're eager to crack you open the official nonalcoholic drink of getting over your hangover: Topo Chico.
[Photo: Marc R./Foursquare]
There's a good chance you've never even heard of La Gaviota, and that's a damn shame. Breakfast tacos are in abundance here, and two chorizo, egg, potato and cheese tacos, each bite awash in salsa verde, is a revelatory experience. La Gaviota for a while but has recently reopened, so get there, quickly. As quickly as you can when you're hungover, that is.
Chef Jon’s menu is a prescription for your hangover pain. They even have a dish called The Kure, and yes, you guessed it: it is, obviously, a riff on biscuits and gravy turned up to 11. Craving the hair of the dog that bit you? Indulge in the build-your-own bloody bar stocked with homemade mary mix. Need your nourishment deepfried? Look no further than chicken-fried steak, the size of your parents’ house, drenched in pepper gravy, side by side with incomparably, indecently runny eggs. On Sundays, stagger in and order a bowl of heart-revitalizing, life re-affirming chicken tortilla soup.
The Local Oak has both Spam sliders and candied bacon, and they are both spectacular. They're also generous with their whiskey pours, so while you may enter hungover, leaving that way, after a few local ryes, is unlikely. In any state of mind, their hatch green chile sauce — a smoky reduction which adorns both enchiladas and chicken-fried steak — is guaranteed to make you feel good again.
[Photo: The Local Oak/Facebook]
I'll bet you that no place serves more burgers made by the hungover to the hungover than Maple & Motor. Because Jack Perkins is one hell of a model American, he allows you to add a fried egg, or chili, or bacon, or jalapenos, or, you know, all of it, onto the burgers at his establishment. Perhaps most crucially, you can order, and consume, without overt sneering or judgment from others, a fried bologna sandwich. Because hangovers.
If you've ever agreed to brunch, stumbled through the doors of the joint, and thought "I am the most hungover person here," welcome to Old West, where everyone is as hungover as you. Six different kinds of biscuits and gravy are on this menu. A burrito called the Trainrobber, stuffed with hashbrowns, bacon, sausage, and ham, is of course also smothered in queso. Other titles of menu items: Jailbird, Gunslinger, and Papi's Huevos. Old West is the only place in DFW where you can order food that happens to be named after the people you met in the drunk tank the night before. (P.S. There are also locations in Arlington, Bedford, Denton, and Sanger.)
[Photo: Narciso T./Foursquare]
The menu at this Deep Ellum gem is quite something. Behold: nachos, dumplings, crab cakes, pizza, fried fish, grilled fish, over a dozen kinds of pasta, burgers, a tuna sandwich, and a kid's menu I think we just...yup, we just covered every food in the whole country ever. And even better: the food is actually good. The bartenders are fantastic. The tap list is inspired. Again, this is a place — that isn't Applebee's — that you can go to, hungover, with your kids. A dancing marlin? They should paint it over with a bald eagle.
[Photo: Amber A./Foursquare]
Taco Joint gets it. On Mondays when 8 out of 10 working professionals are hungover out of their minds, they serve the Picoso Burrito, filled with grilled onions and peppers plus fajita chicken or beef. Then these wonderful humans cover the massive, impressive beast in spicy queso and serve it with rice and beans as if to say hey, those Fireball shots led to this, so they can't be all bad. And jalapeno ranch, you say? This time, do yourself a favor: whisper "habanero ranch" to an employee in the know; they'll suppy you with the kind of mind-altering ranch trip you can only get behind the counter.
[Photo: Taco Joint/Facebook]
Suaqueso and green sauce. Al pastor quesadillas. Mexican Coke. Tripas tacos — tripas extra crispy. No fewer than three, no more than six. And did I mention suaqueso? And green sauce? They should put it in IVs.
[Photo: Jose Rodriguez]
A substantial hangover means that long waits and crowds of other humans are deal breakers. Enter Ten Bells. Relative solitude, introspection, $2 bloodys, chicken-fried chicken, gravy, and – no hyperbole – the best eggs in the city. Ten Bells is the egg whisperer. They’re cooked perfectly to order always and seasoned impeccably. Order your eggs runny as hell, your steak medium-rare, and go from fetal position, weeping-in-the-dark hungover to skipping down the streets of Oak Cliff. Related: If you’re here tying one on, the short rib frites make for an ideal, and silent, drinking buddy.
Vietnam — just Vietnam — a place with a title so pithy, so succinct, so simultaneously perfect and terrible, serves a respectable bowl of pho, the steaming, aromatic beef noodle soup that's a hangover fix for the masses. Pro tip: On the weekends they also serve chao, a pork blood rice porridge chock full of ginger, a favorite home remedy for nausea. (Nausea, as we all know, is one of the telltale signs of a really solid hangover, along with palpable regret and hating yourself.) A bowl of hot, thick, and delicious ginger-spiked organ meat: it's Vietnamese Dramamine.
[Photo: Google Maps]
Pozole is sort of pho's Mexican cousin, and Avila's serves one of the most reliably satisfying bowls of pozole in DFW. Like with pho, the ritual of building your own bowl — oregano? jalapeno? cilantro? all of the above? — is clearly allegorical, symbolic of you attempting to rebuild what's left of the rest of your booze-addled life. Bonus: The salsa is uncompromisingly spicy, and they even trust you with your own carafe of it despite the bad decisions in your wake.
[Photo: Mike S./Foursquare]
Bubba's is sloppy, your-sleeves-as-napkins comfort food ordered from a drive-thru. Bubba's means sopping up last night’s Jameson with a threepiece alongside a veritable UHaul of mashed potatoes and gravy. Oh, and yeast rolls. In the land of the hungover, the yeast roll is king. And the saint who makes the dumplings – as in chicken and dumplings, which you can also get here, every day – they sit atop the same throne.
A hangover meal at Cane Rosso could go one of several different ways: meatballs and Velvet Hammer. Brisket pizza (on those glorious Pecan Lodge Wednesdays). A whole Delia — that's the one smothered in bacon marmalade — straight to the face. And why yes, they do serve an off-menu gravy pizza for brunch, if you were wondering. The fact that the pizzas cook in 90 seconds flat is a very, very good thing for your hungover soul.
Cool & Hot is always open, meaning they'll never let you down no matter what time your hangover strikes. The same care they put into perfecting crispy, tangy, ill-erasing al pastor, they also put into expertly fluffy, never overcooked huevos con papas, always the exact right amount of crunchy and pillowy, tucked into the most adorable little flour tortillas. Seriously, they're the corgis of tortillas. The salsa verde is piquant and acidic, they have a drive-thru, and while you wait they're eager to crack you open the official nonalcoholic drink of getting over your hangover: Topo Chico.
[Photo: Marc R./Foursquare]
There's a good chance you've never even heard of La Gaviota, and that's a damn shame. Breakfast tacos are in abundance here, and two chorizo, egg, potato and cheese tacos, each bite awash in salsa verde, is a revelatory experience. La Gaviota for a while but has recently reopened, so get there, quickly. As quickly as you can when you're hungover, that is.
Chef Jon’s menu is a prescription for your hangover pain. They even have a dish called The Kure, and yes, you guessed it: it is, obviously, a riff on biscuits and gravy turned up to 11. Craving the hair of the dog that bit you? Indulge in the build-your-own bloody bar stocked with homemade mary mix. Need your nourishment deepfried? Look no further than chicken-fried steak, the size of your parents’ house, drenched in pepper gravy, side by side with incomparably, indecently runny eggs. On Sundays, stagger in and order a bowl of heart-revitalizing, life re-affirming chicken tortilla soup.
The Local Oak has both Spam sliders and candied bacon, and they are both spectacular. They're also generous with their whiskey pours, so while you may enter hungover, leaving that way, after a few local ryes, is unlikely. In any state of mind, their hatch green chile sauce — a smoky reduction which adorns both enchiladas and chicken-fried steak — is guaranteed to make you feel good again.
[Photo: The Local Oak/Facebook]
I'll bet you that no place serves more burgers made by the hungover to the hungover than Maple & Motor. Because Jack Perkins is one hell of a model American, he allows you to add a fried egg, or chili, or bacon, or jalapenos, or, you know, all of it, onto the burgers at his establishment. Perhaps most crucially, you can order, and consume, without overt sneering or judgment from others, a fried bologna sandwich. Because hangovers.
If you've ever agreed to brunch, stumbled through the doors of the joint, and thought "I am the most hungover person here," welcome to Old West, where everyone is as hungover as you. Six different kinds of biscuits and gravy are on this menu. A burrito called the Trainrobber, stuffed with hashbrowns, bacon, sausage, and ham, is of course also smothered in queso. Other titles of menu items: Jailbird, Gunslinger, and Papi's Huevos. Old West is the only place in DFW where you can order food that happens to be named after the people you met in the drunk tank the night before. (P.S. There are also locations in Arlington, Bedford, Denton, and Sanger.)
[Photo: Narciso T./Foursquare]
The menu at this Deep Ellum gem is quite something. Behold: nachos, dumplings, crab cakes, pizza, fried fish, grilled fish, over a dozen kinds of pasta, burgers, a tuna sandwich, and a kid's menu I think we just...yup, we just covered every food in the whole country ever. And even better: the food is actually good. The bartenders are fantastic. The tap list is inspired. Again, this is a place — that isn't Applebee's — that you can go to, hungover, with your kids. A dancing marlin? They should paint it over with a bald eagle.
[Photo: Amber A./Foursquare]
Taco Joint gets it. On Mondays when 8 out of 10 working professionals are hungover out of their minds, they serve the Picoso Burrito, filled with grilled onions and peppers plus fajita chicken or beef. Then these wonderful humans cover the massive, impressive beast in spicy queso and serve it with rice and beans as if to say hey, those Fireball shots led to this, so they can't be all bad. And jalapeno ranch, you say? This time, do yourself a favor: whisper "habanero ranch" to an employee in the know; they'll suppy you with the kind of mind-altering ranch trip you can only get behind the counter.
[Photo: Taco Joint/Facebook]
Suaqueso and green sauce. Al pastor quesadillas. Mexican Coke. Tripas tacos — tripas extra crispy. No fewer than three, no more than six. And did I mention suaqueso? And green sauce? They should put it in IVs.
[Photo: Jose Rodriguez]
A substantial hangover means that long waits and crowds of other humans are deal breakers. Enter Ten Bells. Relative solitude, introspection, $2 bloodys, chicken-fried chicken, gravy, and – no hyperbole – the best eggs in the city. Ten Bells is the egg whisperer. They’re cooked perfectly to order always and seasoned impeccably. Order your eggs runny as hell, your steak medium-rare, and go from fetal position, weeping-in-the-dark hungover to skipping down the streets of Oak Cliff. Related: If you’re here tying one on, the short rib frites make for an ideal, and silent, drinking buddy.
Vietnam — just Vietnam — a place with a title so pithy, so succinct, so simultaneously perfect and terrible, serves a respectable bowl of pho, the steaming, aromatic beef noodle soup that's a hangover fix for the masses. Pro tip: On the weekends they also serve chao, a pork blood rice porridge chock full of ginger, a favorite home remedy for nausea. (Nausea, as we all know, is one of the telltale signs of a really solid hangover, along with palpable regret and hating yourself.) A bowl of hot, thick, and delicious ginger-spiked organ meat: it's Vietnamese Dramamine.
[Photo: Google Maps]
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