Though the restaurant has been open little longer than a month, and the menu is at times unforthcoming with information like prices, availability of carafes, or the existence of a happy hour, on a Wednesday night at Sangria on the Burg both the outdoor patio and indoor tables were completely filled, many by large groups singing happy birthday and one by a group of tipsy ladies all adorned with the gaudy sashes of a bachelorette party.
Though typically made with brandy, red wine, and fruit, owner Cesar Zepeda realized that the monotone sweetness of the drink can leave it one-dimensional; as a result, many of his cocktails include guests like Jameson, Deep Eddy, and Jack Daniel’s.
As the name suggests, sangria is the move. During happy hour, which runs from 3 to 7 p.m., glasses of it are $4, flights are $7, and carafes are $8; regularly, the same items cost $6, $8, and $10 respectively. The restaurant also has wine, margaritas, and craft beer, but the sangrias deserve their eponymity.
The menu still has traditional offerings to appease the purists, but one sip of the Jameson Ginger and you will appreciate what headier liquors do to balance the taste. Still, just to make sure you get your fix of orthodoxy, order a Red, their by-the-book sangria with saccharine notes registering somewhere between cherry Sprite and a puppy with hiccups.
For all the splendor of sangria, though, you would be remiss to skip the food. Unfortunately, while happy hour pricing knocks all drink prices down at least $1, there are no discounts on food.
The sliders, made with local Bread Box buns, are phenomenal, and it’s possible that their little touches, such as the earthy bacon-bean puree on the Dirty Sanchez or the tart, sliced green apple in the Miss Piggy, might justify paying $10 for two sliders, but to many that price point may seem off-kilter. Though they come with a side, you can get two burgers and fries for less than $10, so paying the same for their miniature versions seems a little backwards.
Go with the daily fideo though, and your concerns will disappear. The fideo special rotates sporadically, and the beef and bacon version available for my visit stopped me short. Why have I not been eating fideo my entire life? Or, at least, this fideo?
With a luscious viscosity akin to risotto, a depth of roasted tomato and beef bone, and all the pliant, familiar comfort of soft, resinous noodles, the dish was a tiny miracle. Get a little taste for $3, and do yourself a favor for $8.
5115 Fredericksburg Road, (210) 744-1448.
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