When life hands you lemons, make lemonade; when life hands you tainted green onions, make a deal. That’s what Chi-Chi’s Mexican is doing.

The Kentucky-based restaurant chain is struggling to reinvigorate their business after bad batches of their salsa caused three fatalities and over 600 illnesses last November. On a recent visit to their North Hills location, Chi-Chi’s employees plied brave Pulse diners with promotional prices, cheap booze, and free dessert. With special treatment like that, hepatitis A is but a distant memory.

The food is generic, Americanized Mexican fare: Texas nachos and Velveeta-like chile con queso are tasty, but forgettable apart from the heavy way they settle in the stomach. But topped with tiny paper Mexican flags, the hearty combo platter entrees are decently appetizing and certainly satisfying.

Most notably, Chi-Chi’s offerings are competitively priced, their menu punctuated with special offers designed to recover patronage following the food poisoning scare. On “You Pick Tuesday,” for instance, diners pay only $7 for rice, beans, sweet corn cake, plus their choice of two items from a predetermined list that includes soft tacos, burritos, enchiladas, and tamales. Nothing exceptional, nothing authentic, but nothing to complain about either.

Chi-chi’s dessert, however, is a standout event. Though the fried ice cream is inadvisable — it’s nothing like delicately battered Japanese tempura ice cream, but merely a scoop of vanilla plopped down on a dry, crumbly disc of fried dough — the mini-cheesecakes are sweet and creamy. Better yet, as another customer-catcher, dessert on the night of the visit in question was completely free. In the words of Homer Simpson, “you don’t win friends with salad,” but Chi-Chi’s might be on the right track with the sweets.

The over-21 crowd will want to invite their designated drivers to Chi-Chi’s nearly nightly half-priced drinks specials. The “signature” margaritas are like their décor: cheap and brassy. Served by the pitcherful, combinations like “fresh mango” and “cabo waborita” are both pretty and potent, happy accents to either the mid-week hump or the weekend, pre-party roundup.

As far as service goes, Chi-Chi’s is again eager to please. Comprised mainly of high school students, the wait staff is pleasant if bumbling — which can be a good thing when you find that your waitress has forgotten to charge you for your appetizers and beverages. And since Chi-Chi’s has yet to lure back many customers, the empty restaurant means that you get your food fast.

Chi-Chi’s is not for the discerning palate, per se, but as far as Friday night bites go, this is safe territory. They’re not five-star — at prices like theirs, you shouldn’t expect them to be — but they’re friendly and filling. Moreover, fresh off the heels of the green onion scandal, their health and safety inspections are likely stringent; so eat at Chi-Chi’s. You probably won’t die.