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If you had to ask what jazz was, you'd never know, Louis Armstrong once said. His Zen-like dichotomy applies to more than music.

Becky Stein/Special (ENLARGE)
Nuevo Laredo's tamales are cooked in corn husks and served with beans and rice.
Becky Stein/Special (ENLARGE)
Pancho nachos are made with chorizo sausage, beans and white cheese.
Becky Stein/Special (ENLARGE)
Tacos sagrado are stuffed with mashed potatos, onion, white cheese and cabbage and are joined by a salsa verde.
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I'm betting the crowds that sit, stand and hunch over waiting two hours plus at Nuevo Laredo Cantina don't pass that time wondering what real Mexican food is — they just know what they like.

And what that seems to be at this plentifully popular West Side spot for Mexican pub grub is a Latin carb load of massive proportions.

Is it real Mexican? Ahhh ... not so much. Is it the Tex-Mex brand of vittles associated with the border town the restaurant is named after? Unh hunh. Yep. Cheesy offerings of nachos smothered in white cheese, beans and Mexican chorizo are their own little fiesta — gooey, oozing sloppiness that takes little effort to eat, other than the ensuing licking of fingers. Even the Web site touts "come in and see why Texans and southern Californians say, 'I've finally found a great Mexican Restaurant in Atlanta.' " Note their omission of Mexicans who feel it's a great Mexican restaurant.

That's because it isn't. But I'm ahead of myself — let's start at the beginning. Perhaps you remember a funky spot in ye olde days called U.S. Bar y Grill. Opened by Chance Evans back in the '80s, it brought margaritas, mole and madness to a city that — at the time — had never been south of the border. Then Evans opened Nuevo Laredo Cantina in a small house amid a wasteland of warehouses that is now centered in the fashionable West Side Warehouse District.

That was 1992, and Atlanta couldn't get enough of its new-found cheesy chompfest. And the beat goes on, since the parking lot is always full (prompting patrons to park across the street and take life and limb in hand to cross Chattahoochee Avenue). And the margaritas, though they are poured from a spout, not mixed, are always flowing. The bar — which seats four, maybe six people — is four to five folks deep. Frat boys from Tech rub elbows with moms from Cobb County. Westsiders looking for a cheap fix of frijoles mingle with folks from Decatur and Midtown. They wait hours for a table with no issue. The wait is all part of the appeal.

No one is noticing that, as far as authenticity goes, the emperor está sin ropa.

No one cares, either. Loading up on "tacos sagrado" (holy tacos), I can't blame them. This dish is perhaps one of the best the restaurant offers — a simple street taco filled with mashed potatoes. Unlike the tacos de papas from some other regions of Mexico, which usually sport a hash brown kind of mixture with salsa verde fried in a corn tortilla, these babies ooze mashed goo every time you crunch into one, along with onion and a succulent salsa verde. A Negro Modelo only heightens the enjoyment. Napkins are optional, but socially preferred.

Other goods — chile rellenos and tamales — are dumbed-down versions of these classics. Rellenos are stuffed with a tepid-tasting version of picadillo (seasoned beef), mushy and maddening. Tamales are dry and lack the musty earthiness that make them one of the most beloved foods of this culture. Steak tampiqueña — a classic from the border region of Tamaulipas, is completely forgettable, a little tough, with no measurement of flavor amid a mass of beans and rice though served, classically, (extra points here) with an enchilada.

Chicken mole fares a little better, with a rich sauce that smacks of a little too much cheap chocolate but a richness that contrasts nicely with shreds of tender chicken. Sticking with a messy plate of chicken nachos stacked high with chicken, cheese and beans alongside guacamole, pico de gallo and the restaurant's fresh, semi-fiery salsa is the way to go.

Props must go to Evans for bringing his version of Mexican to Atlanta before we knew our burritos from our buñuelos. And it's hardly his fault that in the 15 years since, bona fide Mexican is now easier to get here than fried chicken. I just wish everybody would admit the difference.

DINING REVIEW

Food: Tex-Mex

Service: Fast, steady, but always superbusy

Address, telephone: 1495 Chattahoochee Ave., 404-352-9009

Price range: $ - $$

Credit cards: Visa, MasterCard, American Express

Hours of operation: Open for lunch and dinner 11 a.m. to 10 p.m. Monday-Thursday, 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Friday and Saturday.

Best dishes: Tacos sagrado, nachos with chorizo, nachos with chicken and beans

Vegetarian selections: There is a veggie section featuring tacos with avocado and cheese and vegetable enchiladas.

Children: Definitely

Parking: Adjacent lot and across the street

Reservations: Accepted for parties of six or more, Monday through Thursday only

Wheelchair access: Yes

Smoking: Outside only

Noise level: High

Patio: Yes, but no table service

Takeout: Yes

Web site: www.nuevolaredocantina.com

KEY TO RATINGS
Outstanding: Sets the standard for fine dining in the region.
Excellent: One of the best in the Atlanta area.
Very good: Merits a drive if you're looking for this kind of dining.
Good: A worthy addition to its neighborhood, but food may be hit or miss.
Fair: The food is more miss than hit.
Restaurants that do not meet these criteria may be rated Poor.

Pricing code: $$$$$ means more than $75; $$$$ means $75 and less; $$$ means $50 and less; $$ means $25 and less; $ means $15 and less. (The price code represents a meal for one that includes appetizer, entree and dessert without including tax, tip and cocktails.)