The Mija Chronicles

Mexican food and culture, on both sides of the border

Mexico City

A day in Santa Maria la Ribera

by

Santa Maria moorish kiosk

The New York Times recently touted Santa Maria La Ribera as Mexico City’s next big bohemian neighborhood, surpassing the apparently played-out Condesa and Roma. Turns out I actually have a friend, Jesus, who lives there. We knew each other in Dallas.

He invited me out for a neighborhood tour on Tuesday. We stopped for doughy empanadas and sweet Russian punch at Kolobok, a Russian restaurant on the square, and we wandered through the park (home to the historic Moorish Kiosk above) and the market.

Unlike Polanco, where high-end clothing stores and trendy cafes abound, Sta. Maria seems like it hasn’t changed much since 1950. Some of the restaurants had masa machines set up near the doorway, where long, soft cylinders of masa rotated on a mechanical spit, waiting for hands to rip off a piece and pat it into a tortilla.

In another store, two young boys cranked out tortillas on an old-fashioned press. The streets were quiet, except for the occasional car horn. (“Klaxon” in Spanish.)

After we stopped for a celery-pineapple juice and a freshly made quesadilla, I was officially in love with this neighborhood. Too bad it’s too far away from Crayton’s job and not near a subway stop.

More pictures after the jump.
…

Read More

How to get business cards in Mexico City, if you have no idea what you’re doing

by

My friend Aura — also my soon-to-be landlady — took me to get business cards yesterday. She swore we’d find everything we needed in the Centro, which is the bustling, historic part of town where, once upon a time, Monteczuma ruled. (Then the Spaniards came and razed the pyramids to build a cathedral.)

It was my first time going there during the day, and I figured we’d just pop in a store and buy them. Oh, sweet, naive American girl….
…

Read More

A light Mexican breakfast

by

Anise rolls with fig

Anise rolls, purchased at the tianguis, with homemade balsamic-fig chutney. (What’s in the chutney, you ask? Oh, a little butter, a little balsamic, a little turbinado scented with vanilla.)

Compared to Dallas, figs are insanely cheap here. I bought about seven of them — big, plump, juicy ones — for 15 pesos. In Dallas they’re $10 a pound.

Tips on riding the metro in Mexico City

by

Mexico City metro sign

I’ve taken the metro a lot in the past few days, while conducting what I’m now calling The House Search of All House Searches.

(I am so exhausted right now, Crayton isn’t even laughing at my jokes. Is it wrong to try and come up with a joke with the words “guten tag”?)

Anyway, even though the metro is generally hot and crowded, you can’t beat the two-peso (roughly 14-cent) price. There are a few weird things I’ve noticed though…
…

Read More

An ode to conchas at Bondy in Mexico City

by

Conchas at Bondy's

Oh soft concha pillow
Quilted with cocoa and sugar
One crackling bite
She swoons
Dreams of lolling around on its gauzy mounds
Is there such a word as “Yummerifico?”
I just invented it

Seriously: Bondy inspires poetry. We went there for breakfast this morning and the waiter immediately set down one of these huge trays of bread. After using my knife to cut a small piece of everything, including a honeyed donut, a cinnamon roll, a cheese-stuffed pastry and said poetic conchas (they’re the dark brown rolls above), I ordered my real breakfast: Scrambled eggs with ham and rajas, or strips of grilled poblano pepper.

Oh god. The tangy, charred peppers, the smoky ham… where had this combination been all my life? It’s hangover food Numero Uno. (We stayed out a little late last night.) I am so making this at home when we get a kitchen. Crayton had huevos divorciados — poached eggs on soft corn tortillas, one doused in green sauce, the other in red sauce.

I did actually say “yummerifico” when we finished eating. I know you’re not surprised.

Added to the list of torta places to check out…

by

Tortas Homero

Sorry part of the sign is cut off — I was standing in the median while I took this. Saw this place this morning on Calle Homero, on my way back from my very first Gold’s Gym “Body Pump” class. (As a totally unrelated sidenote, I had a VERY animated instructor named Wendy who kept yelling “Pompa, pompa” — as in English-ized “pump, pump”? — or “bomba, bomba,” as in, this stuff is hard, it’s like a bomb dropped on your head. In either case, I will be back. Preferably not the same day I eat a torta.)

If there’s such a thing as bakery porn, it resides at El Globo

by

El Globo

Lola, the woman who does our housekeeping, told me last week that if I ever wanted a “trocito de pan,” they’re delicious at El Globo. It’s a French bakery chain that originally opened in el D.F. in 1884. There’s one in my neighborhood, a few blocks away.

Since we really don’t eat much bread — “Hmmm,” you say, “what about the bisquets?” — okay, since we, I mean I, TRY not to eat much bread, I thought I’d pop in and check it out from a cultural perspective. Also, I kind of adore bakeries, and the smell of baking bread turns me into one of those cartoon characters levitating with her nose in the air.

I’ve been inside Mexican panaderias before, but El Globo took things to a whole new level.
…

Read More