This Legendary Texas Soul Food Café Serves Comfort Dishes Locals Swear They Can’t Live Without
There’s a place in Houston where the aroma of fried chicken and collard greens hits you before you even open the door.
Mikki’s Soul Food Café isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a Houston institution where locals have been lining up for over 20 years.
The tiny, unassuming spot tucked away on West Bellfort Avenue serves up plates so good they’ve turned first-time visitors into lifetime regulars.
Oxtails That’ll Make You Weep
Last Tuesday, I watched a grown man nearly cry after taking his first bite of Mikki’s famous oxtails. No exaggeration! These aren’t your average oxtails—they’re fall-off-the-bone tender with a rich gravy that somehow tastes like it’s been simmering since Sunday morning church service started.
The meat is braised until it practically melts in your mouth, seasoned with a secret blend that owner Jeanette Williams refuses to reveal even when I begged (and trust me, I tried). Served over a bed of fluffy white rice that soaks up all that magical gravy, this dish consistently sells out by mid-afternoon.
Fun fact: The recipe comes from Jeanette’s grandmother, who used to cook these same oxtails for field workers in East Texas during the 1940s.
Mac And Cheese Worth Breaking Your Diet For
“Girl, this ain’t no regular mac and cheese—this is what the angels eat!” That’s what the lady behind me in line told me my first time at Mikki’s. She wasn’t lying. Their mac and cheese isn’t that sad, soupy stuff from a box. It’s a glorious brick of creamy, cheesy heaven with a perfectly crisped top that makes the most satisfying crack when you dig in.
Four different cheeses (including one they won’t name) blend together in this baked masterpiece. The pasta maintains just enough bite while swimming in that velvety cheese sauce that somehow never separates or gets oily.
When I asked the server if there was a secret ingredient, she just winked and said, “A whole lot of love and maybe a little something extra.”
Smothered Pork Chops That Haunt Your Dreams
My grandmother used to make smothered pork chops for Sunday dinner, but even she would bow down to Mikki’s version. These aren’t those thin, sad chops you might be picturing—these monsters are thick-cut, bone-in beauties that barely fit on the plate!
Perfectly seasoned and seared before being bathed in a savory brown gravy with onions so tender they’ve practically become one with the sauce. The meat stays juicy inside while that gravy works its magic, creating something that’s simultaneously familiar yet impossible to replicate at home.
The regulars have a ritual: save some of that gravy for your cornbread. I watched an elderly gentleman scoop the last bits with cornbread, close his eyes, and whisper, “Just like mama made” before nodding silently in appreciation.
Collard Greens That Could Convert Vegetable Haters
Remember how your mama couldn’t get you to eat greens as a kid? One forkful of Mikki’s collards would’ve changed everything! The first time I tried them, an older gentleman at the next table caught me swooning and chuckled, “They put a little pig in there to make ’em dance.”
These aren’t those bitter, tough greens that give vegetables a bad name. Mikki’s collards are tender without being mushy, swimming in a smoky pot liquor that balances sweet, savory, and tangy notes perfectly. Yes, there’s smoked turkey and ham hocks involved, creating a flavor so deep you’ll want to bottle that liquid gold.
The staff told me they start cooking these at dawn, letting them simmer low and slow for hours before the doors even open. That’s dedication you can taste in every bite.
Sweet Potato Pie That’ll Make You Slap Your Mama
“Don’t you dare leave without dessert!” shouted a regular from across the room when he saw me paying my bill. Thank goodness I listened. Mikki’s sweet potato pie isn’t just dessert—it’s practically a religious experience that’ll have you speaking in tongues!
The filling hits that perfect balance: creamy but substantial, sweet but not cloying, with warm spices that don’t overwhelm the natural sweetness of the potatoes. But the crust? Lord have mercy! Flaky, buttery, and somehow staying crisp despite the luscious filling.
A slice costs less than four dollars, which might be the biggest bargain in Texas considering the size. The waitress told me they roast and mash fresh sweet potatoes daily—no canned nonsense here. “Some folks come in just for the pie,” she confided. “We don’t judge.”