Editor’s note: This article appeared in the July 2021 issue of St. Louis Magazine.
After its much-anticipated opening this spring, Uncle Julio’s is a hot ticket, with reservations tougher to tie down than the Goodyear Blimp in a whole gale. It’s on Lindbergh (Julio’s, not the blimp), near Plaza Frontenac. Flavors there are infused with mesquite coals, garlic- and citrus-spiked butter, and a pico de gallo with a fragrance like a summer garden.
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Upscale Tex-Mex is an intriguing notion—a regional cuisine with deep historical roots ushered into the present and leveled-up. Old or new, you know bad Tex-Mex: canned or premade ingredients, hastily assembled with more microwave than la madre. Uncle Julio’s runs a very different sort of kitchen, presenting exactly the opposite—and wonderfully so. Everything’s made from scratch.
Two dishes make that clear instantly. The cumin-dusted charro beans with tiny bits of meat are smoky and redolent, tasting as though they just came off a Sonoran campfire. The guacamole is similarly exciting. Perfect guacamole is often elusive; ideally, it should be smooth and creamy, with chopped onions, garlic, and tomatoes. Julio’s is pretty close to perfect. We’re guessing olive oil plays a big role: The richness and creamy texture of the dip is fabulous, and the servings are generous. Whatever the recipe, you’re one happy diner after it arrives with a bin of warm chips.
Those sides and starters are all it takes to realize that Uncle Julio’s is something different. Fortunately, there’s much more. Fajitas are a specialty; aged skirt steak is transformed into prime-rib-tender strips that arrive sizzling and popping on an iron plate that’s blast-furnace hot. Sour cream, chopped tomatoes, and guacamole add to the fun, but the quality of this beef would be lovely by itself. (The carne asada dish proves the point.) Grilled shrimp or chicken can be combined with the steak in other fajita offerings, or you can go all in with the Guadalajara, pairing the steak with Monterey Jack and jalapeño-stuffed shrimp wrapped in bacon and grilled—like the Las Vegas Strip of fajitas.
Now consider this Critic’s Fine Dining Rule No. 19: When waitstaff behave like surgical nurses, bustling about on Important Business, the Mondoliciousness Factor will be high. Much of the restaurant’s technology is aimed at demonstrating the modern vibe of Uncle Julio’s. A website replaces real menus (so passé). The staff carries tablets, and you pay via Star Trek–like hand-held devices. It’s an odd juxtaposition because the food is decidedly low-tech. Every bite splendidly tastes of the unadulterated ingredients. Even the tortillas are fresh and expertly made.
Enchiladas are lavishly stuffed, with exactly the right combination of ground beef and cheese. A queso agave sauce adds another layer of flavor. It tastes like sour cream and agave nectar. Pulled chicken enchiladas are covered with an emerald Hatch chili sauce; those stuffed with cheese and onions are blanketed with a smoky salsa carne gravy. Tacos—both hard- and soft-shelled and loaded with beef, chicken, or fish—are definitely not drive-thru style. They’ll delight any tacotarian.
Envision a hacienda that’s set inside a factory. Such is Uncle Julio’s. A mix of traditional décor, such as lanterns and old tools, fills the interior, which also houses a roomy bar. A cement floor and tall ceilings foster a noise level usually associated with a NASCAR infield.
Can’t decide between a margarita or a sangria? Order the Big Swirl, which combines both. There are plenty of other offerings, the usual Tex-Mex assortment of fruity, tequila-centric quaff monsters. Go big with the pineapple margarita, which you can almost swim in, with a reposada tequila floater that adds to the fun. A range of Mexican cerveza, including the famous Budweiser Clara, are also worthwhile.
Uncle Julio’s has found a niche as a daily fiesta field for local workers. The bar, a roomy square with comfortable stools, starts getting packed by mid-afternoon. By half past 5 p.m., it’s the center of a buzzing—then roaring—hive. If you’d like a quieter meal, go later in the evening, or try to get a table at the attached enclosed patio, which is a comfy refuge.
Everything’s big here, including a remarkable frieze outside. It’s the fanciest Mexican restaurant in town. Just don’t fall into one of those margaritas.
