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Home , Maguey worm, Mexican cuisine, Sangrita

OCUS of Trav IN F el PortugalMexico

A Bite of is a riot of colours. Bars (left), eateries, and stalls advertise their and drink in big, bold fonts (extreme right), souvenir stores are piled with vivid, hand-painted curios (extreme left), and in the markets, food vendors (above) loudly hawk their snacks and drinks. “I think I’m drunk,” I whisper as we stand in the central apse of ’s Metropolitan Cathedral. “I didn’t know I was such a lightweight.” My friend and host looks concerned. We’ve only had a each at — those friendly whispers of capped with grapefruit and soda. Then MexicoModern Mexican is a blend of her brow clears. “No, it’s not you, it’s the cathedral. It’s sinking.” I look around, befuddled. The cathedral, a feverish, tropical ba- in the country’s mestizo, or mixed, cultural heritage, long subsumed roque dream in blood-red and gold, is definitely tilting to one side. under a preference for all things European, has led to a fad for pre- Mayan, Aztec, and European ingredients s (shop), Apparently, the Spanish who plundered the medieval Hispanic delicacies: winged , armadillo , and , the Templo Mayor for building materials failed to notice the canals of the drink made from the viscous, fermented sap of the maguey plant. marshy Aztec city surrounding it. The stone they stole was too heavy I’ve wanted to visit Mexico for years now. Tex-Mex food is ubiq- and techniques. It’s delicious. for the squelchy soil of Mexico City, and now the cathedral is slowly uitous now, of . But I’m convinced there must be more to it dipping, the south wing more than a metre lower than the north. than DIY kits and clammy bottled , two things that would s (sign board) By Naintara Maya Oberoi The Spanish must really have been hitting the tequila to have prompt the to contemplate another human sacrifice or two. a Photo i no di a U IG/D tock/ built a colonial capital on top of marshland, in an earthquake zone Every Mexican I’ve ever met (and I confess that I actively seek them surrounded by volcanoes. But it turns out tequila hadn’t even been out, in the hope that they’ll invite me home for ) is obsessed invented then. The conquistadors were simply determined to bury with their country’s cuisine, and they all insist that it can’t be repli- the old Templo Mayor under their new capital, and cow the corn- cated outside Mexico. The meat, the , the chillies, they say,

(skull), Ads (skull), ges worshipping, blood-swilling pagans into submission once and for all. looking wistful. It’s not the same anywhere else.

But you shouldn’t underestimate the staying power of a culture Having been consumed by envy for many years, when my old Photo ig l/D i no di a Str g mont that celebrates both human sacrifice and hot . Aztec Mexico friend Nandini moved to Mexico City last summer, I bought a plane tty Ima e tty /G may have surrendered to the Spanish, adopted the Catholic religion, ticket and set off with a list of specialities I had to eat. ges

and accepted the total destruction of its capital city, but it wasn’t As we leave the cathedral, Nandini tells me that a hurricane warn- E (man), ges going to let go of its food. As a result, is a centuries- ing has been issued for the entire duration of my stay. “I hope it doesn’t

(chillies) ges old hybrid: Its Mayan and Aztec roots have been enriched by colonial turn up,” she says kindly. But as we head to another alarmingly tall tty Ima e tty /G Spanish and French influences to make it the country’s most beloved edifice, this one a little better shored-up, the sky above is a forbidding, s t Ima Plan e t on e ly export. In fact, it’s so inarguably good that UNESCO has put it on its untropical grey. Still, the view from the Torre Latinoamericana is stag- Intangible Cultural Heritage list. gering. When it was built in the 1950s, the tower was Latin America’s As the ground under the city centre bucks and heaves, throwing tallest building at 45 storeys. Even now, up at the Mirador, the Torre’s tty Ima e tty ann e ll/G gie Pol i tz e r/ L EStuart A ntrobu EStuart g C up stone and the occasional Aztec serpent goddess, Mexico City’s cul- observation deck and at the lounge bar, you can’t help but stare down M ar Dou ture is undergoing some dramatic upheavals too. A renewed interest at the vast sea that is Mexico City, spilling across the undulating hills

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Last year, the public transport Any country where gordo or gorda— licenses of Mexico City’s iconic green taxis “officially” expired. chubby—is a term of endearment is Few of the two-door Volkswagen obviously a place where food is the fo- —locally called “Vochos” still remain on city’s streets cal point of national life. but they are slowly being replaced by modern cabs. around, in wave after wave of small, squat houses and neigh- bourhoods. It’s an urban sprawl that has no horizon. We conquer our vertigo with some of the bar’s top-shelf reposado (“rested”) and añejo (“aged”) : mellow, golden, ripe. Each comes with a shot of , or spiced juice, and one of juice, a patriotic trio that mimics the colours of the Mexi- can flag, each sip drawing out the citrusy and spicy notes of the blue plant, from which tequila is made. Down at street level, people are leaving work for the day. For such a huge city, the Distrito Federal (“Dé Fé” for short), as its inhabitants call it, is surprisingly relaxed. The chilangos, as the residents refer to themselves, look purposeful, but there’s no get-out-of-my-way hustle in their gait. I invariably find myself doing an awkward sidestep in order to avoid slamming into the person in front of me. Even the traffic crawls. Ironically, as we inch through the rush-hour gridlock in our Volkswagen taxi, our cabbie tells us how tired he is of the hustle of Mexico City, and how everyone’s so rushed all the time. “I look forward to getting back to my village,” he says. “Everyone is so calm there.” But even he agrees that there’s always time in DF for an antojito, or a “little craving”, as street food is known here. Any country where gordo or gorda—chubby—is a term of endearment is obviously a place where food is the focal point of national life. Certainly, it’s the focal point of any street in DF. All the metro stations are flanked by stalls selling , large folded in half and stuffed with and various fillings. Squash flowers, marinated , and stuffed chillies are ladled out of plastic buckets, before the tortil- las are quickly toasted. There’s also sautéed corn with cheese, chilli powder, and lime juice; grilled (small, flattened blue corn pockets stuffed with cheese or ); and chicharronesor—crack- ling, golden-fried sheets of pig skin piled high on carts. The salsas, the hot spicy and dips, are impossible to resist. No Mexican is complete without an array of fresh-made salsas. Each dish has its traditional sidekicks, but you’re free to mix and match. My own favourite is , made by mashing ripe avo- cadoes in a mortar, with salt, lime, tomatoes, and chillies. In other parts of the world, guacamole can be hit-or-miss, depend- ing on the avocados. Here, the mysterious hard-skinned green won- ders are invariably perfect, and so is the guacamole: fresh, rich, and spiked with serrano chillies. After a couple of days of constant eating, I’m feeling rather gorda myself. But I am determined to sample as much as I can, and it’s

hard to choose between the generous wallop of smoky, charred salsa s roja; the bright green bite of the in ; the rich smoothness of Yucatán pumpkin- salsa; or the classic salsa , a relish of chopped tomato, , coriander, chilli, and lime. a Photo /D i no di a ssi

The colours on my plate, lush and eye-popping, are mirrored in the o surroundings, which gleam even under a rainy sky. At the venerable Café Tacuba, the walls are lined with blue azulejo tile-work and dark, overwrought oil paintings of nuns elaborate feasts. In the R A lb e rto

17th century, Café Tacuba was a convent. It’s now a much-frequented id o Gu

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classic restaurant. The waitresses wear nurses’ outfits, with elaborate in the early 20th century. I’m sold at first bite. The small, soft taco is a bows and hairnets. On some nights, a costumed musicians’ troupe huge improvement on , packing and sweetness and a makes the rounds, springing up from behind the ponderous wooden herby from all the salsas (I try all four options, of course). chairs without warning. The next morning, we are at El Cardenal, a world away from Nothing can detract from the food, though. At dinner, we’re ab- plastic spoons and metal plates. This is one of Mexico City’s most sorbed by the lushness of pescado à la Veracruzana. The red snapper revered institutions, where DF’s power brokers . I take my fillets are baked with tomatoes, , green , and their brine, cue from the elegant woman next to me and order a dish of revueltos fusing salt and sour and spice. Behind us, a loud family is celebrating a la cazuela, scrambled eggs cooked in a clay casserole, slathered in a a birthday: the 15-year-old guest of honour wears yellow taffeta and tomato salsa with long pieces of queso fresco, that braces, and smiles all evening. ubiquitous bland white cheese. We end with sweet shaped One night, under a darkening, rumbling sky, we go out in search of like seashells, and a cup of hot, rich, near-solid chocolate. , DF’s signature offering. We perch on plastic stools at All week long, the clouds skulk overhead, and on Monday morn- El Tizoncito in the chic Condesa area, and begin with , the ing at 7 a.m., they burst just as we board a bus for , in south- -water drink. I dislike its thin, watery consistency and western Mexico. Our bus rattles along unhurriedly as the storm the woody sweetness of the cinnamon instantly, so I’m relieved when sluices down. Inside, passengers pick from plastic cups full of roasted we swap the horchata for and tacos. chilli-spiked corn, mesmerised by the Spanish-dubbed Twilight Inside Condesa’s hip bars and cocktail dens, the sleek, blonde- blaring at full volume on the bus’s single screen. When we arrive, the highlighted people look like they could be anywhere: New York, Ber- sun is coming out again, just in time to show off the clean reds and lin, Singapore. But at 1 a.m., as everyone pours out of the bars, what teals of the streets. they want is a real chilango taco al pastor, spicy and meaty, from their Mexico is a collection of diverse climates and the cuisine a own favourite tin-plate taqueria (food stall). Tizoncito is a popular glorious hybrid of European and Mesoamerican techniques. It’s one; we only just manage to hold our spot by ordering three more a tightrope act between depth of flavour derived from chocolate, plates of tacos al pastor: made from slivers of marinated or lamb, , and methods of marinating and slow-cooking, and a freshness which turns on a shawarma spit on an open flame. The idea was bor- from , , and . Oaxaca is the birthplace of many Among the most popular sites in Mexico, Museo Frida Kahlo (right) is designed to look lived-in. There are pots and pans in the , rowed from the Middle Eastern immigrants who came to Mexico City of the classics of Mexican cuisine: chocolate, molé, . Frida’s shoes by the door, and a half-painted canvas on an easel; Occasionally, hotels in downtown Mexico City put out quirky installations to attract the attention of potential customers (left).

Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera are perhaps Mexico’s most famous couple. Both provocative artists, Rivera was known for his stunning Out in the mercado (market) the next day, under tarpaulin sheets, , two hours southeast of the capital stoutly maintain that it was murals at the Palacio Nacional de Mexico, which depicted Aztec life and Mexican history. there are rickety stalls selling beer, fresh juice, (the invented in their city, and that Oaxaca merely elaborated on the idea. ) angry red dried-and-fried ), and chiles rellenos—fried The thick chilli-laden is said to have been created in the 17th

chilli peppers stuffed with cheese and accompanied by salsa, There century by the nuns at the Santa Rosa Convent in Puebla. According a i nt n g are huge -shaped lollipops and fantastic swirls of striped to legend, an unexpected visit from the archbishop threw them into

, and grainy hot chocolate stands. In the produce sections, a flurry when they realised that they had nothing to feed him. The IS ( p CORB women sit with carts and baskets of vegetables, tortillas, sweet eggy panicked nuns threw together whatever they had on hand: chillies, little , and chillies, more chillies than you can imagine: fresh, chocolate, spices, meat. Thus was born a molé, sour and sweet, thick- i on/ ct

dried, roasted, crushed, red and orange and green and black, mild ened with nuts and stale , and enriched with chillies. oll e or tear-inducing. Mexico, after all, introduced chillies to the rest But molé is also the perfect expression of the intermingling of t ei n C s

of the world, and can still give any other country a complex by European and pre-Hispanic Mexican cultures. Like the Metropoli- ur its sheer number of varieties: serrano, jalapeño, ancho, cascabel, tan Cathedral, it conceals a Meso-American past: its name derives , guajillo. from molli, the word for sauce. The spices and nuts came Walking to find lunch, we watch a wedding party go by, the bride with the conquering Spanish, but its chillies and tomatoes are native.

encased in purple satin ruffles, her bridesmaids giggling delightedly The next morning, we trail around a distillery outside town that B (museum), ges as they follow in short, blue frilled cocktail dresses, with baskets of makes mezcal, the liquor distilled from the fermented sap of the purple-dyed flowers. The suit-and-tails band of solemn musicians agave (or maguey) plant. A languid horse drags a wheel round

are struggling to maintain formation, and as we watch, they give up a groove to mash agave, before they’re roasted in a stone pit, and Ima e tty y/G l e and then just putter along with their guitars, stopping to adjust their distilled. The demo might be kitschy, but the mezcal is authentically s red printed kerchiefs. smoky and rich. Following this parade, we find ourselves serendipitously in front of Tequila and mezcal are both made from the cooked heart of the Casa Crespo, a cooking school with an attached restaurant. A sleepy agave, but mezcal is smoked. In fact, tequila is technically a variety of waiter appears with bright, sour juice and the day’s menu. We unsmoked mezcal, manufactured in a specific region of Mexico, from eat in a beautiful, cool room painted goldenrod and white, with blue the blue agave plant. Smoky, peaty mezcal can be just as potent as its doors opening onto a leafy courtyard. Guacamole comes topped with notorious party-hard cousin, though. little cubes of , and fat flores rellenas, squat green squash blos- A benign plaster baby Jesus peers out from behind his ermine cape soms stuffed with tomato salsa and melting queso fresco cheese. We as the woman at the counter pours us shots out of various bottles, all finish with (“little tacos”) bursting with marinated duck de with the signature worm nestled in the bottom. As you move from , and pork-and- in thick, luxuriant Colo- fresh to aged, mezcal gets smokier, denser and warmer, we find. We i n/Dorl n g Ki de r Frankl Paul , (hotel) ges radito molé, flavoured with guajillo and ancho chillies, and tomatoes. try flavours like almond (medicinal), orange (sweetish) and Oaxaca is the home of molé, with bragging rights to more than 200 (surprisingly lovely), chasing them with orange wedges, and a plate of varieties of the dish. Each long-simmered molé is different, though what looks like chilli powder. My friend refuses to tell me what it is, so outside Mexico, the red Coloradito is most common, with its charac- I lap it up, and then turn to her.

teristic chocolate sheen and dark chilli-tomato undertones. Natives of “Worm salt,” she says. Ima e tty i r/G Ga Dan

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The colours on my plate, lush and eye-popping, are mirrored in the surroundings, which gleam even under a rainy sky.

I stop licking my lips. The woman behind the counter giggles, and confirms this. “We dry them, and crush them,” she explains. Truthfully, the salt mostly of chilli, and the invertebrate is a mere hint, if anything. By the evening, I’m so nonchalant about creepy-crawlies that I order a cocktail laced with crushed worm, and dip wedges of jicama (a local root ) into more worm salt. The clouds part just as we finish dinner. Walking home in the drizzle, we find a trio of undampened fire-dancers in the town’s main square, valiantly plying their art in front of Oaxaca’s squat stone cathedral. Families out for the night 1 2 3 buy icecream and reel in their children to go home. 4 5 6 Back in Mexico City, we take a taxi out to bohemian Coyoacan, the erstwhile home of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera (and where Trot- sky was killed by a Stalinist supporter wielding an ice pick). Here, facing the plaza where bronze coyotes frolic in the fountain, I am emboldened to order huitlacoche. That’s “” to you and me. Huitlacoche is a grey fungus that grows inside corn , and it looks like boils growing on corn. Usually paired with the Mexican epazote , onion and chilli, it turns to a tarry, nutty mush when cooked. Mine comes as the stuffing for cheese-and-corn-slathered , chicken; it’s a strikingly weird flavour, gummy and earthy, like mush- ges room spores on speed. Light, silvery palomas round off my final evening in Mexico City. tty Ima e tty u i z/G It’s ten days and a million calories later, and I’m full to the gills e tty i brary/G /Photol u is R

with phenomenal food, but I realise I’ve encountered only a sliver ig C ra

of the dazzling universe of Mexican cuisine. No wonder s é L surrounded by this mestizo culinary heritage, with its amazing wealth of ingredients, flavours and cooking styles, look aghast when , Jo , s (sauce)

they encounter a bottle of industrial salsa. ( seller) ges

It starts to rain as we head home, so we duck into the neighbour- A l e x , (tin plate) ges hood cantina to fulfil one last “little craving”: a round of guacamole

and midnight tacos. The guacamole comes patted into a round cake, Ima e tty /G 7 8 topped by neon cacti-shaped wafers arranged like a diorama. Each Ima e tty /G small taco, carrying the zing of lime wedges and coriander, pork, on- Photo D i no di a ge b . ions and tomatoes, is exuberant, messy and perfect, like tapping a vein straight into the heart of Mexico. n

Naintara Maya Oberoi is a freelance writer who lives in Paris and d o Re mb is e Par o Enr i qu Delhi. She writes about food and culture. d d Sun H aral s (restaurant), Ad ol f 1 Fruit sellers are everywhere, in the markets, and on cycles, of- fering plates of , berries, and mangoes. 2 Mariachis are

Mexico’s buskers. They play for tips at Mexico City’s many cafes. Photo /D i no di a s

3 In addition to tomatoes, salsa is made from pineapple, , , s (shwarma)

and green tomato. 4 Taco al pastor is like a shawarma. It is a taco c i llo stuffed with meat cooked on a spit, topped with salsa. 5 Most street all e V

food delivers thrills of the spicy kind, but some vendors up the ante s with offerings like fried grasshoppers. 6 The prickly pear is eaten uca as a side dish, brined and turned into pickles, or pulped to make isi on/ i ma e t-v Gourm e () , oo d n Dr i nk/n di aP ctur , homemade shampoo. 7 Quesadillas are a quick, fuss-free snack for tourists on the move. 8 Many Mexican dishes, like the , have been adopted by chefs looking to give regional favourites a () ges posh twist. , L , () Ima a Photo ie r/D i no di a id R Fraz Dav

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Oaxaca Hotspots

Eating in Mexico’s culinary capital. BY LEE ANNE WONG

Known as “the land of seven molés” for its diverse, complex cuisine, Oaxaca has become Mexico’s foremost culinary destination. This re- gion in southwestern Mexico also brims with history, art, and culture. Head to these four top dining spots to capture the spirit and unique charm of Oaxaca. MERCADO 20 DE NOVIEMBRE You can find any number of in this busy market that takes up an entire city block. It houses numer- ous comedores (food stalls) offering Oaxaqueño eats for a few pe- sos. Arrive early for the freshest food of the day. Purchase meat and by the kilo at the meat stalls, select your choice of veggies and chilies, and then have it all grilled for you while you squeeze into a small booth nearby and sip a cold beer. LA TECA The kitchen for this tiny restaurant located in the quiet Re- forma neighborhood is actually in the home of /owner Deyanira Aquino. The restaurant space is small and cheerful, but if the weather is good you can sit in the garden out back—the perfect atmosphere to feast on Señora Aquino’s garnachas (small fried cakes tra- ditionally topped with a combination of meat, beans, cheese, salsa, and cabbage), sweet corn , and saucy served with warm, handmade tortillas. CASA OAXACA RESTAURANTE Chef Alejandro Ruiz creates some of the best modern cuisine in town. The restaurant is an open-air, bi-level space shared with an art gallery next door. Popular dishes include the sampler plate (botana oaxaqueña), jicama and grasshop- per tacos, the traditional sopa de guías ( and corn ), snapper with tomato marmalade, and tamales with the fra- grant hoja santa leaf. During the warmer months, dine on the rooftop with its view of the historic Santo Domingo Church across the street and the busy plaza below. TLAMANALLI About 30 minutes from central Oaxaca, the small town of Teotitlán del Valle is well-known for its traditional Mexican weavings. In a Spanish colonial–style building along the main road toward the center of town, the Mendoza sisters cook classic Zapotec cuisine. The ornately tiled open kitchen is a sight to behold with the sisters dressed in multi-hued Zapotec clothing. Order the sopa de fl or de alabaza (squash blossom soup), the mole negro, and the daily Mexican markets are filled with comedores, or food stalls cazuela (a one-pot stew or soup). selling grilled meat and other Oaxaqueno delights.

UNITED MEZCAL FESTIVAL STATES OF Every year the Feria del Mez- AMERICA cal (Mescal Festival) offers

Gulf of California visitors an opportunity to taste this heady local liquor. Distill- ers from around the country Gulf of Mexico showcase the varieties of mez- cal in Oaxaca city’s El Llano Park. There are also informa- tive lectures and, this year, a mockup functioning distillery. Mexico City The festival is part of the larger Oaxaca Guelaguetza festival an annual event of indigenous folk music mexico and dance.