Mexican food and culture, on both sides of the border
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&]
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
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.