There are certain mornings when birds chirp.
And there are other mornings when you have no idea if birds chirp, because the inside of your head’s just one big banging kick drum.
The best way to take care of those mornings: tall glass of water, three Tylenol.
The tastiest way: tacos.
Rise and shine for Pepe’s Ranch, a brick house full of Mexican/American recovery breakfasts and margarita lunch breaks, now quietly open in Deep Ellum.
This place comes to you from the Pepe’s & Mito’s folks. So chalk up a credibility point. And then know that their new venture’s turned the old Velvet Hookah spot into an exposed brick/reclaimed wood haven for early-morning necessities. Like egg-and-chorizo tacos at 6am. And maybe a Dos Equis at 6:05am. Right, there’s also a bar.
What this means is that you’re now free to treat tonight like it’s the start of a holiday weekend. Go ahead, get a little nutty. Because tomorrow, when you wake up and put on some pants (shoes too, if you can find them), this place will be waiting. Just crash on a banquette along the back wall. Then, let the glory of huevos rancheros and chicken and waffles wash over you. Or, you know, just eat it.
Don’t want to make a scene.
And there are other mornings when you have no idea if birds chirp, because the inside of your head’s just one big banging kick drum.
The best way to take care of those mornings: tall glass of water, three Tylenol.
The tastiest way: tacos.
Rise and shine for Pepe’s Ranch, a brick house full of Mexican/American recovery breakfasts and margarita lunch breaks, now quietly open in Deep Ellum.
This place comes to you from the Pepe’s & Mito’s folks. So chalk up a credibility point. And then know that their new venture’s turned the old Velvet Hookah spot into an exposed brick/reclaimed wood haven for early-morning necessities. Like egg-and-chorizo tacos at 6am. And maybe a Dos Equis at 6:05am. Right, there’s also a bar.
What this means is that you’re now free to treat tonight like it’s the start of a holiday weekend. Go ahead, get a little nutty. Because tomorrow, when you wake up and put on some pants (shoes too, if you can find them), this place will be waiting. Just crash on a banquette along the back wall. Then, let the glory of huevos rancheros and chicken and waffles wash over you. Or, you know, just eat it.
Don’t want to make a scene.
