Mexico: Corn Fungus and Cutting-Edge Design as Far as the Eye Can See

Chiles en nogada and mole poblano in Puebla
By Mollie Chen
By marvelous coincidence, the special Latino America-themed September issue of Gourmet arrived on my desk just hours before I was scheduled to fly to Mexico City. The charred tamales piled on a cheery azure plate seemed to promise four days of lively mariachi music and rustic and authentic food. I sped through the magazine on the plane, salivating over Robb Walsh's story of lesser known taco truck cities and flagging Junot Diaz's article about Dominican food in uptown Manhattan. By the time we touched down, I was primed for Mexican food and I wanted it right away, preferably prepared in front of me and subsequently gobbled while standing up.

In reality, my first Mexican meal was a packet of Primera Plus galletas (delightfully buttery, with a subtle sabor de naranja) on the bus. When we arrived in San Miguel de Allende three hours later, where we had come to attend the birthday party of an old family friend, my parents and I were grumpy with hunger and poised to attack the next unsuspecting tortilla maker. But because we were in San Miguel, which is charming and beautiful but dominated by expats, we met our friends in the lovely courtyard of the restaurant Bacco. In a setting reminiscent of a more modest Italian villa, we ate pizzas and drank copious amounts of red wine. For dessert: chocolate cake. I went to bed dreaming of poblano chiles.

On sale at the San Miguel market: tortillas, spices, herbs, dvds, backpacks, shawls, knick knacks, and cactus

When I travel, I exist in a heightened state of anxiety, obsessed that every bite, every meal must be the best the place has to offer-I am the same way hunting for jerk chicken in Antigua as I am tracking down croissants in Paris. Bumping down the cobblestoned streets of San Miguel, I ooh-ed over the cobalt- and saffron-colored doorways and lush hidden gardens - but it was only when we passed a woman selling fresh tortillas from a wicker basket, handing them through an open window to the buyer above, that I perked up.

You could easily live in San Miguel without using a word of Spanish and subsisting on a diet of Italian, French, or Continental fare. But on the edge of town, past the artisans market where every manner of hammered silver and woven good is on sale, there is a lively fruit and vegetable market where locals come to buy sweet and buttery textured apple bananas, flat cactus paddles, and ripe papaya. There are counters where you can get an agua fresca, a blended drink often made with fresh fruits, or a full meal of quesadillas or tacos; in the adjacent open-air area, women sell corn that has been grilled to the edge of charred on jerry-rigged hibachis and slathered with mayonnaise, cotija, and chile. Everywhere, there are vendors with endless plastic cups filled with crimson pomegranate seeds or blade-shaped chunks of mango and jicama.

I feel comfortable that the food I get from vendors and markets will be good and fresh - where I get my patent disregard for dangers like food poisoning and tainted water I don't know - but when it comes to restaurants it can be hard to amass an insider's knowledge when you have only been on the ground for a few hours. I have had terrible luck asking people for advice - while in Acapulco, a friend and I were directed by three different people (concierge, taxi driver, mango seller) to Senor Frogs before we gave up and wandered into the unassuming Las Canastas, where we had a seafood feast. I had the same problem in San Miguel and Puebla, even after I used my toddler-level Spanish to explain that I wanted "comida no Americana," "comida tan traditional y tipico." So in San Miguel, we had breakfast at the much-recommended Mama Mia, a very pleasant courtyard spot that was sort of a Mexican Denny's, where the highlight was a young girl industriously pressing golf balls of dough into tortillas and making quesadillas stuffed with zucchini blossoms, huitlacoche, or chorizo. (At breakfast we also learned that huitlacoche, also referred to as corn fungus, corn smut, and corn truffle, made everything taste better.) The highlight of the day came in the evening, when we relaxed in the glowy, candle-lit courtyard of La Capilla. The margaritas were pleasingly tart and perfectly balanced; as an added flourish, each came with its own mini blue glass pitcher refill.

In still relatively untouristy Puebla, near the El Parián trinket marketplace, we struck out on our own and wandered into one of the countless restaurants touting the local specialties, chiles en nogada and mole poblana. At Restaurante El Parián, families of locals lingrered over early Sunday suppers, the smiling abuela chef ducked in and out of the kitchen, and the food was tellingly slow in coming to the table. Chiles en nogada, we learned, was more of a historical lesson than a culinary tour de force, together, the green, white, and red of the ingredients represent the colors of the Mexican flag and celebrate the country's independence. The mole was sweet and smoky, and the chicken and avocado-topped tostadas fantastic with the spicy tomatillo salsa.

The next morning, we were about two hours two early for the Mercado del Carmen (the entire trip we seemed to be perpetually unfashionably early). Instead, we wandered into the tiny Tortas y Cemitas de Rocio, a sliver of a restaurant near the small but worthwhile Museo Amparo. There, we had a plate of ripe, buttery-textured papaya and rib-sticking tortas, which are sturdy white rolls cut in half, toasted, and filled with whatever you like - my chorizo, quesilla (white string-like cheese), and avocado torta was the breakfast of champions. Later, at the brand-new Ricardo Legorreta-designed La Purificadora hotel, housed in a former ice factory in a recently rehabbed stretch of town, we lingered over drinks on the bright purple couches grouped around waist-high fire pits in the striking open-air lobby. In the adjacent dining room, with long wooden tables made from the building's original beams and ceiling high glass walls, we had delicious and only slightly nouveau Mexican fare: quesadillas stuffed with earthy huitlacoche; zucchini blossom soup with chunks of queso blanco; and a traditional dessert of sweet beans and condensed milk. The already very good kitchen will only get better; there are plans to enlist superstar chefs to guest cook and host periodic gastronomic events. The hotel is definitely at the forefront of the city's current transformation into a travel and gastronomic hot spot.

And, on our last night, tired of buses and walking, we stumbled from another stunning design hotel, Mexico City's Condesa DF, to the recently opened Hip Kitchen in the same chic Condesa neighborhood. There, the highlight of the otherwise so-so meal was a creamy huitlacoche risotto. Back in New York, I haven't quite had my fill of Mexican food. I'm headed back to Molé, a miniscule spot that recently opened on Allen and Houston -- they have generous portions of straightforward and delicious food at very, very moderate prices. No bus ride required.

Comments

[Jarit]

You really missed some of the best restaurants that serve "comida no Americana" and you did not mention the areas favorite local dish "chiles en nogada". There are many very small out of the way places but also some very upscale true Mexican food restaurants. If you ever return drop me an email and I will send you a list. San Miguel is a magical place, the food, weather and people.

[MollieChen]

Thanks for the offer! San Miguel is a gorgeous place and this was my second time visiting so perhaps I'll be back. I loved all the unnamed storefronts near (what I believe was) the Plaza de Allende. I had deliciously greasy tortas al pastor at one of them and my dad was lusting after the chicken roasting on spits. Please send along your favorite spots in case anyone else is headed that way!

[lilita]

Major bummer. You hit the lows of SMA, because there are lots of major highs. You mentioned taco trucks, and the truck at the corner of Mesones and Pepe Llanos will make you a true believer. I write a column with these sorts of things in the local weekly expat rag, so send me word if you're interested in more recommendations.