Eat In Mexico
So it sort of makes sense that when I told the front desk clerk “Yo tengo hambre,” he said that the nearest
acceptable eatery was a cab ride away. I thought, “Poppycock and balderdash!” and proceeded to explore the
environs. Thus I discovered Xilomen, a small restaurant right behind the hotel (“Xilonen” is the Nahuatl goddess of
corn – how could you go wrong? That’s like discovering a bar called “Bacchus”). I sat down and asked the proprietor
for his recommendations. Like the proudest maître d' of a multi-starred restaurant, he presented one dish after
another with a brief description. For MXN$65 (about USD$4.75) I was served a starter (light cream of artichoke
soup), an entrée (poppy/sesame/mustard seed coleslaw), a glass of homemade horchata, a main (a very good
chicken enchilada) and a dessert (strawberry gelatin with pomegranate).
A couple of dandy local passers-by saw me relishing my food and actually asked me in English, “Is it good?” I
answered in the affirmative. They sat down and ate.
This was a great start to my culinary descent into Mexico.
#2 – The Huaraches stand on the corner of
República de Brasil and Calle República de Cuba. After
my official work duties concluded, I checked out of my
hotel and moved to a hostel near the Zócalo/Centro
Histórico.
Pro-tip: Taking a cab off the street could make you the
target of an ATM kidnapping, subject you to heavy traffic
and/or just simply be taken on a long haul fare. Instead I
recommend using the subway to get around this
megalopolis. It’s inexpensive, clean, safe, efficient – and
most importantly so easy to navigate because the planners
wisely use simple color-coded icons to identify each stop.
This helps the functionally Spanish-illiterate (like yours
truly) see that to get off at the Zócalo, one basically hops
off at the station with the blue icon with an eagle eating a
snake. The same symbol system is used by public busses.
A day of hardcore sightseeing left me as ravenous as the
Quetzalcoatl the feathered serpent and devourer of worlds.
Fortunately, a few blocks from my hostel, I spotted a small
crowd gathered at a nook across from the Plaza de Santo
Domingo. The air was thick with the aroma of something
deliciously greasy and savory. I approached cautiously and
saw people eating various huaraches – flatbreads (named
after the sandals) made of masa and topped with meat,
cheese and various chopped up produce and herbs. A guy
who worked there approached me and asked, “¿Qué
quieres ordenar?” to which I answered “Si.” After sizing me
up, he mercifully went ahead and ordered for me. From
what I gathered the protein was pork and it was delectable.
You don’t have to take my word for it. Just Google Map that
corner and you’ll see the nook and the satisfied regulars
gathered under the red awning on the regular. Keeping it
real, I don’t remember how much it cost, but it wasn’t very much since I actually had to break a bill at a nearby 7-11
because they couldn’t make change for me with the currency I had. I think it was about USD$5.
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THE CONE - ISSUE #3 - AUTUMN 2014