Archives for October 2009

Day of the Dead sugar skulls in Toluca

October 30, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

I’m loving this time of year. Here I was, thinking the city went crazy for El Dieciséis, but Day of the Dead is so much more colorful, and soulful. Brightly colored sheets of papel picado hang in store windows. Velvety, crimson terciopelo flowers sit in vases at restaurants. Orange marigolds, the traditional Day of the Dead flower (called cempasúchil in Spanish) have suddenly bloomed in the street medians.

Some stores have even set up altars, which look like a series of steps draped in white cloth, and then covered in oranges, bananas, and bread. Yesterday I saw one at El Tizoncito, the tacos al pastor place.

I even got into the mood and created a small altar in our house. I draped a white crocheted doily on our buffet, and placed candles, cempasúchil in old jam jars, and photos of my grandparents, great-grandparents and my stepdad, who died when I was in high school. I’ve also got a tiny sugar skull wearing a wide-brimmed catrina hat, which I bought at the Feria de Alfeñique in Toluca. This is my first altar ever, by the way. I didn’t celebrate Dia de los Muertos growing up.

You absolutely have to go to the Toluca sugar skull fair, if you live anywhere close in Mexico or if you’re traveling during this time of year. They’ve got chocolate skulls. Sugar skulls. Skulls in cowboy hats. They’ve got all the traditional Mexican sweets, which I’ll write about in another post, because they’re just too detailed to try to cover here. I ate so much sugar — and a taco de quelites, to balance it all out — that I had a stomach ache on the car ride home.

Here are a few photos. If you’re interested in going, the fair is located just off the colonial square, about two blocks from the church.

Chocolate skulls with cotton "hair" at the Feria de Alfeñique in Toluca, Estado de Mexico

Sugar skulls, ready to be personalized with a name, at the Feria de Alfeñique in Toluca

These skulls are ready to be personalized -- it's a custom to write a friend's name on the skulls' forehead.

Oficios are traditional during Day of the Dead -- they're skeletons arranged in funny scenes that depict everyday life.

These are called oficios -- they're traditional during Day of the Dead, and the skeletons are always posed in funny scenes that depict everyday life.

Alfeñique piggies, or piggies made out of sugar, at the Feria de Alfeñique in Toluca, Mexico

A traditional style of alfeñique, or animal-shaped candy molded from sugar.

An ofrenda, or traditional Day of the Dead altar, located a few blocks from the Feria de Alfeñique in Toluca, Mexico

A traditional Day of the Dead ofrenda, or altar

Banh mi tacos

October 28, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

A few days ago, while wondering what the heck we were going to eat for dinner, I had a moment of inspiration and made a quick version of a banh mi sandwich. I took a chunk leftover baguette, smeared it lime juice-spiked mayonnaise, and layered on cilantro, pickled carrots and jicama, and chunks of roasted chicken. (The latter leftover from the great huazontle disaster.) I placed it on a plate and served it with leftover quinoa, drizzled in a miso-honey glaze.

Crayton looked at it. “What’s this?”

“Banh mi!” I said, supremely proud of myself.

Of course the real banh mi is made with liver pate. Or, as Andrea Nguyen describes in her cookbook Into the Vietnamese Kitchen (a must-have, if you’re into Vietnamese food), it’s made with nearly any “boldly flavored” meat, such as five-spice pork or garlic-roasted chicken.

My chicken was plain, but the thing still tasted great. The mayo mingled with the French bread, which mingled with the cilantro and pickled carrots, creating this sweet-savory mess that you just wanted to bury your face in. I wanted to make them again the next day, but we were out of bread. So I got out my package of tortillas from the fridge.

I half-burned one on the gas flame, and then added the chicken, two heaping spoonfuls of pickled carrot and jicama, a handful of cilantro, and a dab of sriracha. The result was just about as good as the sandwich — except with less bread, I had direct contact with the hot sauce, which made my tongue swell up. I love it when that happens.

Really, the secret here is the pickled veggies, which add just the right note of tangy-sweetness. Alice gave me this bunch, but I can’t wait to make them on my own. They’re my new fridge staple.

Banh Mi Tacos
Serves 4

4 corn tortillas
1/2 cup pickled carrots and jicama (the NYT has a great recipe here; just swap out the daikon for jicama)
Two to three pieces leftover roasted chicken, or boldly flavored meat of your choice, cut into chunks
1 handful cilantro
Sriracha sauce

Heat up your corn tortillas on a comal or gas flame. (Or, if you don’t have either of those, wrap them in paper towels or a dish towel, and stick them in the microwave.) Zap your chicken in the microwave for 10 seconds, just to warm it slightly, and add it to your tortillas. Top with at least two tablespoons of pickled carrots and jicama, and add cilantro and a dollop of sriracha. (Note on the latter: A little goes a long way.)

For the miso-honey quinoa: For 1 cup of cooked quinoa, cooked according to the package directions — In a small bowl, mix 1 tablespoon of brown miso paste in a bowl with about 2 tablespoons of walnut oil. Add honey (I used agave because it was all I had on hand), and soy or worcestershire sauce to taste. I also added a splash of Chinese cooking wine for depth. Drizzle this mixture over your quinoa, and stir to blend.

How to cook a tortilla

October 27, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

When I was growing up, my mom used to heat up tortillas by placing them, one at a time, on our stove’s gas flame. We usually had flour instead of corn, and she’d put one on the flame and then go away for a few seconds. When the air started to smell like charred toast, she’d come back and flip it. One side of the tortilla would be covered with black, burned splotches.

“You burned it!” I’d tell her.

She’d say: “I like them that way.”

I used to think eating burned tortillas was weird. But lately, I’ve started leaving my corn tortillas on the flame just a little bit longer. The burned parts give it this smoky, carbony taste, and it makes the tortilla a little crisper, without turning it into a tostada.

Here in Mexico, our stove has a comal between the burners. I used it once to heat up my corn tortillas, and I’m kind of ashamed to admit that I didn’t like it too much. The tortillas came out too soft. Not enough burnt parts.

How do you like your tortillas? And how do you cook them?

The great huazontle disaster

October 26, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

Last week, while grocery shopping at the Superama in Polanco, I got seduced by a big bunch of huazontle.

It sat in the herb section, towering over the epazote and parsley like emerald-green heather. (Huazontle, pronounded “wan-ZONE-tlay,” is a tall, wild green native to Mexico. People here remove the rough stems, cover the buds with cheese and eat them.)

I had a vague recollection of trying huazontle once, and an even vaguer recollection that I didn’t like it. But — this plant was so pretty. I may not have liked it before, but that was when other people had cooked it. In my own kitchen, with my All Clad cookware and pantry full of vinegars and oils, I could whip the huazontle into submission and make it taste the way I liked.
…

Three cool Mexico City markets

October 26, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

If you’ve got a few minutes, check out my guest post over on Ever The Nomad, a travel blog maintained by writer Anja Mutic. I wrote about three of my favorite Mexico City markets and why they’re so great. (Hint: pig uterus tacos, anyone?)

Be sure to leave a comment if you like what you read, or if you have your own favorite market experience.

My first pan de muerto

October 23, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

It’s Day of the Dead season in Mexico City, meaning pan de muerto has suddenly appeared in all the bakery windows. The light, sugary loaves taste faintly of orange, and they’re criss-crossed with doughy ropes meant to signify “bones.”

After trying them on my last Concha Taste Test, I wanted to learn how to make my own pan de muerto. So I trolled around the Internet and found a four-hour class at the Universidad Iberoamericana in Santa Fe.

I hesitated signing up at first, worried that I might not understand Spanish baking terms. Or, heaven forbid, that we’d have to stand in front of the class and introduce ourselves. Would I say I was an ama de casa, or an escritora? What if we had to say why we’re taking this class? “Me gusta hacer panadería” would probably sound really lame.

Then again, fearing something means you should probably jump right in. So on Tuesday, I arrived at the class kitchen with an apron and two dish towels tucked into my bag.
…

An old-fashioned dance

October 21, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

This is the last thing I’ll share about Monterrey, but while we were there last weekend, we came across a party in a covered plaza.

Dozens of senior citizens were dancing, holding each other closely, hands pressed into backs. At the far edge of the dance floor, someone was slicing a sheet cake.

I have no idea what they were celebrating, but the scene was so sweet, I had to record it.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4Zj9deZgsw&hl=en&fs=1&]

Eating my way through Monterrey

October 21, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

Even though we were only in Monterrey for two full days — and we were sleep deprived pretty much the whole weekend, having woke up on Saturday at 4 a.m. to catch our flight, and then lying awake most of that night due to a rock concert outside our door — we managed to get a pretty good feel for regio cuisine. (A regio is the Spanish name for someone from Monterrey.)

I felt like I was in Texas a lot of the time. Tortilla baskets came with flour, not corn, tortillas. Waiters served chips and salsa as soon as we sat down, most places. The salsa reminded me of what you’d get at Mexican restaurants in San Antonio — something mouth-puckeringly tangy and watery. Some places served it warm.

We tried cabrito, or roasted goat, because that’s the regional specialty. El Rey de Cabrito — heralded by guidebooks as the city’s best — was a short walk from our hotel. A row of skewered, roasted animals sat in the window, in case you might have forgotten what you’d be eating.

The goat breast we got looked great, covered in a crackly brown skin, but it was a little too chewy and tough. I expected more for $200 pesos. (About $15 USD.)

My favorite spot ended up being Fonda San Francisco, a tiny, casual spot in the suburb of San Pedro Garza Garcia.

Our cabbie got lost on the way there, but it didn’t matter in the end because we were the only customers, despite it being Saturday night at 8:30 p.m. (Everyone arrived after 9, fueling my lingering confusion about when, exactly, Mexicans eat dinner.) The menu had been painted on a chalkboard, and it included things like pork in plum-guajillo chile sauce, salmon gorditas, and sesame-seed enchiladas.

I wanted all of it. Unfortunately — damn you, stomach, for getting full on chips and guac at the Barra Antigua — I wasn’t extremely hungry. So we ordered three plates, in half-portions: fried goat cheese with strips of nopal; enchiladas in peanut sauce, and the pork in the plum-guajillo sauce.

I’m not the hugest nopal fan, but the goat cheese, which had been seared to deep-golden brown and doused in some type of honey vinaigrette, went perfectly with the tangy strips of cactus. We gobbled them up, and then sopped up the sauce with the restaurant’s thick, homemade corn tortillas.

It was the pork, though, that left me a little breathless. It was covered in a thick, deep-purple compote, and it fell apart as I scooped it onto my plate. I took a bite and felt my eyes light up, catch fire. I closed my eyes and desperately tried to record what I was tasting. Sweet… smoky… jammy…. what was this? I took a picture of my plate, but of course it came out horribly. And I didn’t want to keep taking pictures. This was the type of dish where you wanted to sit, eyes closed, and stay in the moment.

Crayton surprised me. He’d been eating his pork in silence, when he said: “I know this sounds weird, but this reminds me of smoking a cigar. But in a good way. You know? Doesn’t it have that smoky, tobacco taste?”

I nearly fell out of my chair. Wasn’t that supposed to be my line?

And then I felt a twinge of pride. I’ve trained him well.

IF YOU GO

Fonda San Francisco: An intimate fonda with a creative, traditionally Mexican-inspired menu.
Los Aldama 123, Col. San Pedro Garza García
(81) 8336-6706

Cafe Infinito: A dark, romantic spot in the Barrio Antiguo with great thin-crust pizza, and an affordable wine list.
Jardón 904 Ote., in the Barrio Antiguo
(81) 8989-5252

Barra Antigua: We hit this Barrio Antiguo sports bar for beers and bontanas. Highly recommend the chips and guac. (Unless you’re dining at Fonda San Francisco later, in which case, I would try to save room.)
Ave. Constitucion 1030 Ote., in the Barrio Antiguo
(81) 8345-4848

El Rey de Cabrito: Great norteño ambience, with its roasted meat in the window and kitschy decor. The food is pricey and somewhat mediocre, but if you’re dying for cabrito, it’ll do.
Avenida Constitucion 817, in the Barrio Antiguo
(81) 8345-3232

The Phoenix Suns basketball game in Monterrey, Mexico

October 20, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

Crayton and I visited Monterrey this weekend to watch the Phoenix Suns, his favorite team, play the Philadelphia 76ers. It was a pre-season game intended to spread the NBA love in Mexico. (This marked the 18th time the NBA has hosted a game in Mexico — the most in any other country besides Canada.)

The whole thing ended up being this really cool, Mexican/American hybrid experience. Jay-Z and Rhianna and FloRida blared through the stadium speakers, while the announcer gave a play-by-play in Spanish. (“Dos puntos para Andre Iguodala!”) Vendors trudged up and down the stairs selling salted peanuts with hot sauce, cotton candy, and those little plastic hand-clappers.

I bought some Japanese-style peanuts, rolled in chili powder…

… And then listened to Steve Nash greet the crowd in Spanish. (He’s my favorite player.) Click below for an audio clip.

Before the game, an announcer warned fans — most of whom appeared to be locals, in jeans and T-shirts and the occasional designer handbag — not to rush the court, or use any “obscene language.” Surprisingly, everybody was exceedingly polite. (Are these the same Mexicans who throw beer at soccer games?) From our seats, somewhere around the 12th row, it was so quiet that we could hear the players yelling at each other. “Red! Red!” a few Sixers kept shouting.

You could also hear the referees, without their microphones.

“Hip check! Number one-four!”

Crayton kept grumbling: “Replacement refs.”

The stadium, a smallish venue with two tiers of seats, was about two-thirds full. Felipe Baloy, a bald, tattooed soccer player for the Rayados de Monterrey, sat two rows in front of us with his wife. During halftime he posed for photos with fans.

The Suns shot horribly during the first half, but there were still some NBA nuggets to keep the fans entertained. People gasped when one Sixers player, racing to keep a loose ball inbounds, dived into a row of journalists, who ducked to avoid getting creamed. Andre Iguodala had some beautiful shots that people applauded, even if, you know, the 76ers were technically the away team.

Mostly everyone stayed until the end of the game, even when it was obvious that the Suns weren’t going to win. After the game, people filed out in an organized fashion, and we found a cab easily in front of the arena. The cabbie asked us what had been going on, and we told him.

“Perdimos!” I said, dejected.

“Eh — the Chicago Bulls are better anyway,” he said.

Crayton snorted.

Overall, I’d go to an NBA game in Mexico again in a heartbeat. The seats were cheaper (we had awesome seats for the price of nosebleed seats in Dallas); the beer was cheaper, and they sold bananas drizzled with chocolate. You can’t beat that.

A five-course lunch in Condesa

October 16, 2009 by Lesley Tellez

My friend Hugh moved to New York this week, and we went out to lunch as a last hurrah. He found the place: The Colegio Superior de Gastronomía, a Condesa culinary school that offered a five-course meal for 250 pesos (about $19 USD). The price also included four drinks.

I’ve never eaten at a culinary school restaurant before, but I’ve been intrigued by the idea. Two culinary-school restaurants sit just a 10-minute cab ride from my house, and I’ve been reading a lot about another cooking school restaurant in the south, Alkimia, which is supposed to be one of the top restaurants in the city.

I hadn’t heard anything about this Condesa place, but you can’t beat five courses for $20. Hugh made reservations and arrived before me, so I met him in the open, airy dining room. A flat screen TV played a slideshow of the menu items, including beef wellington with fig compote (pictured above), and slices of duck stuffed with pistachios and spices.

A young waiter (who I think was sweating from nervousness, poor guy) arrived and took our order, announcing that day’s drink special as “green beer.” It was a mix of beer, curacao and lime juice.

Oh hell, why not. The drinks are included!

It was actually kinda good, if you ignored the color.

I was surprised not to see more traditional Mexican dishes on the menu. A lot of the menu items leaned toward molecular gastronomy, which I thought the restaurant world had moved on from — meat topped with airs and foams, deconstructed soups, a chemical-reaction take (picture an oozy puddle of chicken broth, surrounded by dollops of corn) on Mexico’s famous corn-in-the-cup.

I would have loved to see simple dishes, oomphed up with high-quality ingredients. But the “plain food, done well” movement hasn’t really hit here yet. People still really love foams and beef wellingtons.

I ended up ordering the sliced duck, fideos en adobo, tuna with risotto (my only dish that was truly bad; it’d been saturated with wine), and a chocolate tart with beer ice cream.

My favorite dish was the fideos, which were served with a big ol’ scallop that wasn’t mentioned on the menu. Good thing I’m not allergic to shellfish.

Overall: The food was average, but worth the price. I’d go back with a girlfriend or two, because it’s a different experience, and the menu makes you feel like you’re dining somewhere elegant. I don’t think I’d recommend it to visitors, though. Unless they were looking for a deal.

I plan to visit Alkimia in a few weeks — they have a Mexican wine dinner on the last Wednesday of each month, and Crayton and I are going for my birthday. Will let you know how that turns out!

Colegio Superior de Gastronomía
Av. Sonora no. 189
Col. Hipódromo Condesa
México D.F. 06100
To reserve a table: 55 84 38 00 Ext. 103
A five-course meal, including four drinks, is 250 pesos. It’s cash-only.