In my household, we usually celebrate special occasions at a true St. Paul institution, Mancini’s Char House.

The free chips at Chi-Chi’s are thin and crispy, just the way you remember them. (Ross Raihala / Pioneer Press)

No slight to Mancini’s, but last month we tried a new restaurant for my birthday.

My partner Patric made the reservations weeks in advance for 5:30 p.m. on a brisk Tuesday. The early start gave us time to meet up with friends at my favorite bar, Tappers Pub in West St. Paul, later in the evening.

Despite the early hour and the chilly temperature outside, this place was hopping. It felt like Friday night, with a variety of folks — elderly couples, young families, small groups of friends — enjoying the food and atmosphere. Around 6, we overheard the hostess telling two would-be diners it would be a 45 minute wait. On a Tuesday night in the middle of February.

After we finished our meal, settled up the tab and enjoyed the free Andes mints, I asked our friendly but clearly slammed server if it was like all the time. Yup, he said, it’s been like this every night since the joint opened in October.

The hottest restaurant in the metro is none other than … Chi-Chi’s.

Restaurateur Marno McDermott and former Green Bay Packers player Max McGee opened the Tex-Mex restaurant in 1975 in Richfield. By 1995, it had expanded to more than 200 locations, many situated near a mall and next to a TGI Fridays and Olive Garden.

As a high schooler in Cloquet, I frequently spent Friday nights eating at the Chi-Chi’s at Fitger’s in Duluth, followed by whatever ’80s blockbuster that had just opened. A Kentucky native, Patric frequented one in Huntington, W. Va. We both celebrated our 16th birthdays at Chi-Chi’s. I fell in love with non-alcoholic margaritas as a teen and graduated to the real thing at countless happy hours while in college.

As I got older, I largely outgrew Chi-Chi’s in favor of more traditional Mexican fare. And I wasn’t alone. The chain had lived through several owners by 2003, when Chi-Chi’s filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. A month later, some bad green onions at a suburban Pittsburgh location led to the largest hepatitis A outbreak in the country’s history, with at least four deaths and hundreds of diners falling ill. A year later, the final 65 Chi-Chi’s closed for good.

Despite the inglorious ending, the Chi-Chi’s brand lived on through a decidedly mediocre jarred salsa available at grocery stores. But, apparently, the brand also lived on in the hearts of the hungry.

McDermott’s son Michael, a restaurant veteran himself, led the charge to bring Chi-Chi’s back and raised more than $2.3 million from some 2,000 people via crowdfunding. He opened the first of what’s promised to be many Chi-Chi’s at the Shops at West End in St. Louis Park in October.

As we scanned the crowd on my birthday, it was clear nostalgia was driving every last person in the place. You don’t end up dining at Chi-Chi’s in 2026 by accident.

The chicken fajitas at Chi-Chi’s are topped with enchilada sauce. (Ross Raihala / Pioneer Press)

The dinner began with the complimentary chips and salsa and I’m happy to say the chips remain every bit as thin and crispy as you remember them and the salsa was thankfully a step up from the jarred version. The menu offered old favorites like the Chimichanga and taco salad alongside quesabirria tacos, grilled Mexican street corn and other, more modern fare.

Yes, it’s still quite easy to pack on the calories and the sour cream and guacamole flow freely, but overall, the menu feels a little fresher than the old days of deep fried everything.

There’s always room for the fried ice cream for dessert at Chi-Chi’s. (Ross Raihala / Pioneer Press)

Patric went with a Baja combo plate ($24) with a short rib taco, cheese enchilada and beef enchilada. The enchiladas delivered a distinctly classic Chi-Chi’s vibe, but he thought the short rib taco was the best thing on the plate.

I’m a big fan of fajitas and I would eat them once a week if Patric let me. So, of course, I went with the chicken fajitas ($18), which arrived with a drizzle of enchilada sauce on top. Again, it brought to mind the Chi-Chi’s of my youth, although the onions could have stood more caramelization.

Both meals were quite hearty, but we saved room for dessert. I was disappointed that sopaipillas weren’t on the menu, but we settled on splitting the fried ice cream, a scoop of vanilla ice cream wrapped in cornflakes, dusted with cinnamon and surrounded by whipped cream. Like the chips and salsa, it served as an instant flashback to the late ’80s, in the best possible sense.

Will Chi-Chi’s replace Boca Chica as our go-to for Mexican fare? No, although if one opens closer to us in the east metro, I can see it becoming a place to visit occasionally, when we need a taste of the good old days.

Chi-Chi’s: 1602 West End Blvd., St. Louis Park; 952-657-5385; chichisrestaurants.com

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