Two distinctive takes on migas tie for the city’s best. More like scrambled eggs, the version at Manuel’s two stylish locations is almost fluffy; spiked with not-too-many bits of fried tortilla, serrano, cilantro, tomato, and crisp onion, it is topped with a discreet grating of Monterey Jack cheese. By contrast, in the jumping bungalow that houses El Chile, near-crunchy migas are heavy on the crisply fried tortilla strips and light on the eggs and onion; grated yellow cheese completes the picture.
Ah, the breakfast of hangover champions doesn’t get better than at casual, often rowdy Primo’s. Throngs of imbibers erase the vestiges of last night’s stupidity with plates of wonderfully fresh eggs scrambled with onion, tomato, cilantro, and strips of crispy-fried corn tortillas and topped with grated cheddar. Wash it down with a mimosa and start all over again. Likewise, party hounds crawl into Gloria’s homey confines in Oak Cliff to enjoy an altogether different version: a platter of light-as-air eggs studded with tortilla, onion, tomato, and smoky bacon. Wrap them in hot homemade flour tortillas with a spoonful or two of the house’s spicy black bean dip. In Deep Ellum, the migas destination is a Mexican cafe and beer joint known as Pepe’s & Mito’s, where the soothing dish mingles eggs, chopped tomato and onion, and crispy tortilla strips, all drizzled with a smooth ranchero sauce.
Bustling, cheery Esperanza’s wins Fort Worth’s prize for great migas, a hearty breakfast that renders lunch superfluous. Wide, crispy strips of corn tortilla and big pieces of shredded chicken breast are scrambled with eggs and the restaurant’s mellow, tomatoey “migas sauce,” then buried under melted white cheese and served with fried potatoes and creamy, lard-laden refried beans.
Migas means “crumbs” in Spanish, but the version at refined Rustika Cafe and Bakery is nothing to throw to the birds. Grande in size, the mound of well-scrambled eggs is laced with sweet onions, peppers, and tomatoes and topped with a restrained sprinkle of crisp tortilla strips and cheddar. At tiny La Guadalupana Bakery and Café spicy chorizo revs up the chips-heavy migas, which are blessedly light on the oil and savory with sautéed onions and peppers. Wash them down with a Mexican milk shake or some freshly squeezed juice.
A former mercantile store, Tito’s is just the place to slip in when you don’t want to change out of jeans and a T-shirt; the excellent migas here are really more like huevos mexicanos (scrambled with onions and tomatoes) boosted with bits of tortilla. At cozy El Mirador, with its enveloping green forest of banana trees, you’ll find migas made with a deft hand: eggs fluffily scrambled with crisp tortilla pieces and crunchy nibbles of onion and jalapeño—but no cheese. The cooks at bustling Los Barrios scramble a mean egg; their quite fine migas are also spiked with onions and crisps of red tortilla; if you don’t like yellow cheese grated on top, speak or forever hold your peace.