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La Fogata – Irmo SC – Facebook
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Reviews
Stepped inside. Lots of bright colors. Reminded me of Hayley’s questionable art phase, but with more structural integrity. The music wasn’t exactly Toby Keith, if you catch my drift, more… festive? A little too festive? Made me wonder what they were celebrating. Maybe the successful infiltration of deliciousness into the American heartland? The chairs were sturdy, though. Passed the “support a vigilant, steak-fed patriot” test. That’s critical infrastructure, people. You need reliable seating when contemplating national security, or deciding between mild and hot salsa. Stability is key, unlike Roger’s latest disguise.
Now, the chow. Ordered the “Fajitas Texanas” – steak, chicken, and shrimp sizzling on a platter hotter than Langley in August. Came out smoking like a C.I.A. operation gone right. The aroma alone could make a bald eagle weep tears of joy. Portions were huge, enough to feed a small platoon or one growing Steve after band practice. Meat quality? Acceptable! Tender, flavorful – clearly, they understand the American demand for protein superiority, the cornerstone of our great nation. The tortillas? Warm, pliable… suspiciously perfect landing pads for freedom fillings. And the cheese dip! Oh, the queso! Golden, gooey, practically demanded its own national anthem and a security detail. Even the salsa, while likely harboring secrets about its true pepper origins, had a decent, non-threatening kick. We didn’t try anything too weird, stuck to the classics. Got to maintain operational security, even at dinner. Francine seemed happy, humming along to the foreign music, which is mission objective number two.
Service was prompt. Maybe too prompt? Our waiter, Jorge – or was it Hector? – moved with unsettling speed, like he knew something I didn’t. Efficient, yes, but what was he hiding behind that polite smile? Regardless, the plates were cleared faster than a classified document shredder, the bill was reasonable (didn’t require dipping into the emergency C.I.A. slush fund), and we escaped without incident. La Fogata, Irmo… you’ve passed the initial Smith family inspection. It’s a decent outpost for obtaining large quantities of acceptably non-threatening, cheese-covered grub that respects American values like “lots of food.” Solid B+. Needs more flags, maybe a picture of Reagan riding a dinosaur, but the fajitas were good enough to make you wanna shout “¡USA!”. Almost. Okay, gotta go, pretty sure I saw Bullock lurking near the sopapillas, probably assessing the structural integrity of the fried ice cream. Stan out.
Service is friendly and laid-back–something I have needed after almost sixteen months of COVID-19 isolation.
Dining patio is small, but comfortable in the late evening.
Their Virgin margaritas ain’t HALF-BAD either!!!