There's something awfully comforting about a cookbook that starts with a chapter on what to drink (which beers with which kinds of food) followed by eight cocktail recipes, five of them a variation on the margarita theme. Hibiscus Margaritas and Mango-Key Lime Margaritas should tip off the unsuspecting that they have just entered uncharted territory. The drink chapter is followed by the salsa chapter (Papaya-Habanero Salsa, anyone?) is followed by breakfast--Truffled Egg Tacos? Bacon-Gruyere Migas? "What a cathartic joy it is," writes Robb Walsh, former food editor of the Austin Chronicle and one of the few American food writers with functioning taste buds, "to make a happy face with two sunny-side up eggs for eyes and bacon strips for a mouth, and to douse that cheerful bastard with a torrent of fiery red sauce." With sentiments like that, the reader is assured that only good food can follow. And follow it does: Steak, Endive, and Blue Cheese Tacos; Shark-BLT Tacos; Serrano Ham Quesadillas; Pork and Raisin Pasillas; Wild Mushroom Mole Enchiladas; Duck Breast in Green Mole; Chipotle Swordfish Fajitas; and on into desserts. The authors would like us to believe that this is a whole new departure on Tex-Mex food. And it certainly is that, a departure. But what they call Nuevo Tex-Mex is really just the same contrived "fusion" that happens when overamped chefs shove cuisines and ingredients of the world up against each other. There isn't anything in this book tha