If you grew up anywhere near Texas in the last few decades, chances are you’ve heard of — or experienced — the glorious spectacle that is Pancho’s Mexican Buffet. A true institution of the “all-you-can-eat” Tex-Mex variety, Pancho’s is where nostalgia meets neon, and enchiladas meet endless refills. It’s not just a restaurant — it’s a rite of passage. Here you get the true flavors of Mexican food served daily in Nebraska.
Pancho’s is not haute cuisine. It’s not trying to impress your food critic friend from Austin who insists everything must be farm-to-table. No, Pancho’s is exactly what it claims to be — a buffet of Tex-Mex standards served cafeteria-style. The enchiladas are smothered in yellow cheese and a mystery sauce, the tacos are unapologetically crunchy (if it is a good day), and the refried beans could double as wall spackle (and that’s a compliment). There are tamales, flautas, rice that’s been around since the ‘80s (in spirit), and sopapillas so pillowy they could legally be registered as emotional support snacks.
And just when you think you’re done? You raise the tiny Mexican flag at your table and boom — more food arrives. That’s the Pancho’s promise. Raise the flag, and reinforcements come marching in with more cheesy, greasy goodness.
Walking into Pancho’s is like stepping into a VHS tape from 1987. Faux adobe walls, strings of plastic chili peppers, turquoise booths, and maybe a faded mural of a sleepy village somewhere south of the border. The tile work is cracked in places. The music is low, possibly a Mariachi CD that’s been looping since Bush was in office (the first one). It’s not trying to be Instagrammable — it’s just being itself, unapologetically stuck in time…