Paella Festival

Croqueta Cuadrada de Jamón con Fideos Crujientes - Iberian Ham Croquettes with Crispy Rice Noodles

After last weekend's okay attempt at paella, Gigi's email about the paella festival going on at Taberna del Alabardero in DC both scared and excited me. Excited about the possibilities, I was also a bit apprehensive to be shown where we made our critical mistakes.

But, since I was going to be in DC anyway, we decided to meet up and give the paella a try. So many variations available that it's really difficult, if not impossible, to try them all. After some debate, we settled on the squid ink paella and the one with the lechon (being the simple, Filipino creatures that we truly are).


Patatas Alli-Olli con Caviar de Arenque y Gelatina Rota de Perejil - Fried Golden Potatoes with Lightly Garlic Maionessa, Mackerel Caviar and Parsley Gelatin

Being from Spain, our server presented me with one of the few times I get to use my busted Spanish in America. Luckily for me, she could speak English and Camilo speaks better Spanish, so whatever I missed or whatever I got wrong, we could easily set correct.

Take, for example, eggs. One does not ask: "tienes huevos" - even though that would be perfectly acceptable in English. In Spanish, it's rude to ask someone if they have balls. I had to get clarification from Camilo as to why one would use "hay" instead of "tienes" - I'm still not sure if it makes sense and has stuck in my brain.

Meanwhile, Tengo Huevos....


Gazpacho Andaluz con su Pan Crujiente - Tomato and Vegetable Soup with Crispy Bread

There is a 2 person minimum per paella, meaning that with our table of four, we could order two paella. And it would take 15 minutes. For CapitolSwell, that was a problem that needed a ready solution: tapas.

To be honest, fifteen minutes isn't that long to wait for the paella. I presumed they were going to be big and that a little while of hunger would easily be supplanted by the paella. However, my resolve was not strong enough to combat jamon iberico croquetas and stuffed piquillo peppers. The real battle was not ordering more tapas.


Pimientos del Piquillo Rellenos de Rabo de Toro - Piquillo Peppers Stuffed with Braised Oxtail

Finally, the two hot paellas emerged and were carefully spooned out onto individual plates and served formally.

Our group is a down home lot. We grew up together so there's very little formality between us. It would have been perfectly acceptable (and preferable) for them to slap down both paellas on the table, give us a few spoons and keep the drinks flowing.


Paella de Cochinillo - Suckling pig, artichokes, and fresh vegetable rice

The paellas were good. The cochinillo had nice flavor but my favorite was the squid ink, reminding me of my mom's Tinta, a Filipino dish of squid in ink sauce. A familiar flavor that touches on my youth.

One thing that we noticed was the lack of socarrat, that layer of slightly burnt and crispy rice at the bottom of the paella pan. I don't know why it wasn't there but it sure was missed.


Arroz Negro de Calamar, Majillon y Gambas - Squid Ink Rice with Mussels and Shrimp



Sopa Helada de Espárragos a la Plancha con Limón y Aceite Caramelizado - Grilled Asparagus Sorbet with Lemon juice and Caramelized Olive Oil



Arroz con Leche Caramelizado con Sorbete de Naranja - Caramelized Home Made Rice Pudding topped with Orange Sorbet



A little chocolate mousse to send us on our way.

Strada-ling DC

Scott and The Boys latest album cover art.

I'm in DC for the day to hang with friends and take the La Marzocco Strada EP espresso machine technicians course, ostensibly one of the final hurdles before La Marzocco will allow me to have one of the new machines for Spro Hampden.

For as advanced and high-tech as the Strada EP really is, it's actually quite simple, and seemingly easy, to service. Pump rebuilds, firmware updates, potentiometer replacements all seem so much simpler than the Linea or GB5 series of machines. It's also vastly different than its sister MP version, with the MP being closer to a GB5 than the EP.


Inside the Strada EP paddle.

After an afternoon with Chris and the rest of the guys jockeying for a new Strada EP, I headed over with Rashid to check out his place, Filter. I had heard quite a lot about Filter from other baristas and chef Mark Furstenburg. Actually, it was really Mark's recommendation that made Filter the first on my list of coffee shops to visit in Washington DC and it just so happened that Rashid was taking the tech class as well.

Breaking away from the typical coffee supplier of the area, Rashid has decided to go with Annapolis' Pronto Coffee, who just so happens to buy some coffees from the same source I buy coffees - meaning they've got great coffees and I was interested to see their interpretation of the Ardi Ethiopia. Fruity, round and lovely. Paired that with a Hawthorne Bakery blueberry muffin and it was indeed a treat.


A little Ethiopian Ardi at Filter.

Filter itself is a smaller shop with seating for about 13 on the inside and a few more chairs (and lots of stoops) outside. At 4pm on a Wednesday, the place was full and humming along - one of the better reasons to investigate opening a shop in DC. Filled with colors of orange and brown, the space gives off a warm feeling and everyone seemed happily running along drinking coffee, eating pastries and surfing the internet on the free wi-fi.

For drink making, there's a La Marzocco GB5, a row of pourover brewers, a large hot water tower and a bunch of french presses for making coffee during the "busy morning rush".


Frisee Salad and Frites at Bistrot du Coin.

After departing Filter and not having eaten since my breakfast at Chick-Fil-A many hours before, I headed over to Bistrot du Coin for a little mid-afternoon meal. I've been to du Coin before and found it to be decent, in spite of some of my friends constantly raving about it.

I had the frisee salad and a side of frites. The salad was good but was a bit light on the acidity which would have popped it and really make it stand out. The frites were decent enough but slightly limp and didn't have that crisp that I really enjoy in a well-made frite. Numerous menu offerings such as blanquette du veau, curry mussels, steak tartare and the onglet made me wish for a phalanx of friends to order en masse for a sampling, which just means I will have to return at a later date.


It's Julie's last week as a District resident.

From there it was back to the La Marzocco event, this time it was for anyone interested in learning more about the Strada EP. I got to hang a bit with Samuel Demisse and see Julie Housh before she left DC and moves to the West Coast. Otherwise, I only hung out for less than an hour before heading off to dinner.

Making Craft

Several weeks ago, or was it a few months now? Some people had been haranguing me to put up the various certifications and certificates on the wall of Spro to show our guests just how much we've been recognized. Put up the newspaper and magazine articles too, I was told. They'll like it. Give them something to read.

In my mind, all I could really think was: "poppycock."

Don't get me wrong, being noticed by CNN, The Washington Post, La Prensa and the rest is truly an honor. Those Certificates of Appreciation from the various nations thanking us for working with their baristas and judging their competitions is a humbling honor, but do I really feel the burning need to put them up on our wall for the world to see? Not really. In fact, it's slightly embarrassing.

Truth is, I really don't care. Those certifications and articles are recognitions for what we've done in the past. We've already done it and, hopefully, are moving on to the next thing. While I'm very happy that the last review was a good one (or not), I'm concerned and focused on the guest that's coming in today for a visit. What can we do to ensure that today's guest will have an equally wonderful time as the reviewer? Or will that guests drink today be as good as they remember from yesterday (or last week)?

Shuna's recent post says it all: Reliability. Accountability. Cleanliness. Humility. Manners. Efficiency

What we've done in the past is nice, but how much does it really matter? What matters is what we do today and how we approach what we do today. And today I hope were making craft.

Zealous Idolatry

I am by no means a left-wing liberal. Nor am I some sort of right wing kook. I'm more of an American than a democrat or republican. I tend to be fiscally conservative, socially progressive, an advocate of freedoms (such as personal, speech and choice) and generally skeptical of government and the people who run it for us.

While we're not in total agreement, my circle of friends, treasured acquaintances and guests tends to be congenial and not-too-polarized-by-politics. That is, it seems, until recently when a newcomer decided that he must underscore his presence with very strong tones of his being a republican and an avid follower of Rush Limbaugh.

But we're not talking about conversation and advocacy for a particular position but rather that stereotypical "Ugly American" "right wing nutjob" kind of behavior. Escalating volumes and then bizarre, insistent pronouncements that those who disagreed were "idiots", "dumb" and generally stupid. I started to wonder if this guy was going to blame the fall of Western Civilization to the invasion of minorities, the spread of same sex marriage and Muslims.

I didn't pay too close attention to the argument happening three feet in front of me because it was just silly, and this person with the high moral ground was also an adulterer. Kind of difficult to take someone seriously and respect that persons supposed moral fiber when it's that loose. That and it's just a waste of time to argue with someone doing the adult equivalent of covering your ears and saying "I know you are but what am I?"

The comic part of the exchange started to occur when this person started insisting that the person he was arguing with didn't know what he was talking about and questioned where he received his information. Comic because our friend is a reporter for The Washington Post.

This person also decried the size of Big Government, ignoring the fact that he is employed by said government. How one rallies against the very hand that feeds him seems curious, at best, to me. Don't like Big Government? Quit and make it that much smaller.

Watching from across the bar was just rather strange. Strange to see that our little group had been invaded by this adulterous republican. He seemed consumed by his conservative brainwashing and anger. Was he going to resort to fisticuffs? I wondered when he would start calling for the extermination, er, expulsion of non-whites.

This kind of blind mentality reminded me of the guy my cousin married, another white ultra-conservative religious type. The kind of person that immediately makes me uneasy because they seem to be just a bedsheet away from a new wardrobe. That guy is a total prick and an adulterer too to think of it.

It also reminded me of the kind of white guys I used to see in Ermita, Manila parading around with their "exotic" girlfriends cum wives. Guys who seem more seduced by the ideal of having a submissive, exotic, Asian wife to do their bidding and then treat them like second-class whores in reality.

So curious that such zealous, right-wing, conservatives types seem to have a proclivity to adultery. Rally for "family values" and rail against homosexuality but cheat on your wife. Weird. I just don't "get it."

He really got another riled up when he started insulting President Obama with the typical stuff you hear from the right. Spending, war and more came up as Obama's failures with the belief that somehow it was only Obama that's the cause of these problems. Never mind the fact that much of what we face today was started by his republican predecessor.

It's that typical "blame everyone else but accept no responsibility" line of thinking - as though this person didn't live in a pre-2009 America and we don't have a divided government that's hell-bent on fighting each other over party lines instead of working forward to benefit America.

In the end, this guy really turned everyone off. Beyond the simple politics of position but more because of the belligerence and blind zealotry displayed. That kind of blind intolerance is scary and uncalled for in modern society. It's the kind of blindness that leads to hate and persecution. There is no reasoning with this kind of thinking.

And that's a shame.

200 Yards

Losing my noodle at Diamond Ridge.

I must have been crazy saying yes to round of golf during the hottest week of the year. Pushing 104F on the course, I was lucky to have my trusty styrofoam Chick-Fil-A cup for ice and water. Brutal really is the only way to describe conditions today.

I've taken to using a new driver, one of those monster-sized concoctions with a very obnoxious "tink" sound when hitting the ball. At first, I was skeptical of these monster drivers but when I started seeing the results, I was astounded. 200 yard drives seemed almost effortless, then give a little more oomph and I'm thinking I'm driving 250 yards.

Years ago, I used to slice the ball. Now, I'm hooking it off to the left. To assuage this problem, I've taken to either targeting slightly to the right of my target or drastically to the right of my target. This works rather well until the time that I stroke it true and straight, sending the ball careening off to the right (or drastic right).

It's been two summers since I've played a proper round of golf so my short game has gone incredibly soft. Where once I could readily gauge the distance and stroke power, now I'm overshooting the green. Add this to the blistering heat and stifling humidity and I'm simply suffering on the course.

While I didn't shoot a very tight round of golf, losing four balls in the process, I did manage to cap off the day with a perfect par 5 on the 18th hole. Nice!

Welcome to The Vallarggio

The party gets underway.

The baptism of Ethan Kai brings everyone together for a night at Vallarggio. If you're familiar with Las Vegas parties, think Hard Rock Hotel's Sunday Rehab - East Coast Style. Lounge couches, tiki torches, open bar, large buffet and music: non-stop.


Making Lechon Liempo Ribs.



Scott and BrowserMetrics at the bar.



An attempt to make pseudo lechon Volcan.



The Lechon "Volcan"



Nacho and The Bob going deep.


The 3am Roll Call...


5:45am post party fire.

Soup's Off

Ciao Soups On!

It's been coming for the past two weeks. I heard about it first through twitter. Soup's On, that venerable Hampden soup joint across from Spro, was closing.

Known for using fresh, local ingredients, Cynthia and her team have been making great soups, salads and sandwiches for several years now and would be one of the few places that I would buy lunch from on a regular basis because it's difficult to find really great quality food in the world.


Our Spro Send Off Kit: Iced Lattes and a bottle of Cava.

But now all of that is over and we spend the final few hours at the Soup's On Closing Down Party - where Spike noted that it's the only restaurant closing party he's ever been invited. Wine, beer, agua frescas, chips, dip, guacamole and their signature tuna fish sandwiches, along with a healthy stack of Courtney's cookies, were all on offer and many stayed into the night and way past the 7pm official closing time.

Hopefully someone will soon open another nice eatery nearby where I can have lunch!


Cynthia, Mary, Courtney and Justino - The Soups On Crew.



A stack of their famous tuna sandwiches. I ate as much as I could. For the last time.






Memo's crew pulls down the signage.



A crowd gathers.



Facing Future.

Para El Metrico del Mirador (For BrowserMetrics)

Anime characters, Mexican Style.

Getting It On In Spanish

My keyboard is nothing like this!

A few years ago while I was in Tokyo, I thought how cool it would be to own a MacBook with the Japanese characters on the keyboard. I never did get around to buying a laptop there and I never thought about workflow using an unfamiliar keyboard.

Fast forward to 2011 and I'm using a friends MacBook to write posts to this blog - with a Spanish language keyboard. At first, you don't notice the difference. A roman character keyboard is a roman character keyboard. Until you start typing.


All My English Belongs To Spanish.

That's when it goes to hell. Suddenly, you're faced with lots of unfamiliar keys, keys out of place and your typing speed plummets. However, if you like to write Spanish words the macrons and tildas that are missing from an American QWERTY keyboard are all there. It's like magic.

Then there's the spell check. The blog is written in English. The MacBook is Spanish and 98% of the words that I write are marked for spell checking. Weird.

I think in an ideal world, I would have two MacBook Pros. One English and one Spanish, just because.

Martha At The Market

Hombre del Cobre at La Ciudadela.

I had never been to La Ciudadela until today while we were on the hunt for a metate, that traditional Mexican volcanic stone grinder that´s ideal for grinding the ingredients for mole. It´s the famous artisanal market filled with things touristy and things useful for the Mexican local. One great thing to remember is that the prices here are muy barato (very cheap).

Like the handmade tin wall mirrors with talavera tiles for 100 pesos (less than 10 dollars). Or the talavera style sugar holder for 150 pesos (less than $15). The prices can be truly astounding. Take for instance the Copper Pot Guy. In his little shop, he´s got all sorts of copper pieces, cookware and the like for crazy prices. A double handled hand-hammered copper pot for 250 pesos?? Insane!

After finding just the right metate, that weighs at least 40 pounds, (and guess who had to carry that thing) we returned to the Copper Pot Guy to make final decisions - because I couldn´t turn down that pot which would cost nearly ten times that at William-Sonoma.

As we´re standing there, two women and a man enter the shop. Normally, I wouldn´t have noticed much about them but they stood out. Two very white and American looking women, very nicely dressed and accompanied by some Mexican guy with dark sunglasses and a cheap suit: bodyguard or driver.

Most American tourists I see in Mexico City dress pretty casually and all kind of blend in to the typical tourist look. Not these two women. The curly redhead seemed a bit uptight, the taller blonde I really didn´t notice other than the fact that she was looking at copper pieces and I thought about recommending one of the pieces just because I liked them. But something about them irritated at me.

They just seemed out of place. They looked out of place. It´s the bodyguard that gave them away. Had it not been for him, I would have probably thought they were just another couple of rich women from Polanco.

That´s right when Morgana said to the blonde: "Martha Stewart."

Hmmm, Martha Stewart. My puzzled look probably turned to perplexed because Martha said to me: "You look like you were trying to figure that out." To which I replied: "Actually, it was your bodyguard that attracted my attention."

You've probably heard the stories about her. A tyrant. A horrible person to work for. A total bitch. A convict. Well, Ana never heard of her and I don´t think most of the merchants and people in the market knew who "Martha Stewart" is and the fact that she runs some mega-company called Martha Stewart Omnimedia - which you probably have to be all those things to achieve that level of success. Of course, I'm sure those rich, cosmopolitan types know Martha.

As for me, she wasn't the right "Martha". Running into Martha Stewart for me is notable, but running into Martha Higareda might actually cause me to stammer and stall.

Despite being outed by Morgana (even though it was only the three of us, the Copper Guy and their bodyguard), Martha was very gracious and pleasant. She looked over some small copper plates, asked The Copper Guy for the price (40 pesos) and then quietly departed. It didn´t seem like anyone, other than Morgana, recognized Martha Stewart in the market.

As she departed, I waited to hear the throngs pushing on this very famous woman in America. Nothing. No one batted an eye. The bodyguard, in this part of Mexico City, was probably overkill. She probably arrived in a Mercedes. Appropriate for Polanco, but probably a bit overkill for this part of town. Here, if she dressed down a bit - maybe jeans and a comfy shirt instead of the tailored trousers and silk blouse, she would blend in and no one would be the wiser.

I thought of Martha after awhile as i was humping this forty pound metate and I felt bit sorry for her. No doubt she will be treated to "the best" of Mexico. She could hang out with Diana Kennedy and probably will have dinner with Presidente Felipe Calderón tonight, but she´ll always be "Martha Stewart" and unable to simply blend in and mingle with regular folk and eat regular food - which, I think, is where the true beauty of Mexico (or any other place in the world, for that matter) lies.

So Martha, if ever you want to break away from the confines of your world, come and hang with us. Wear jeans (Levis are okay with us), wear a t-shirt, wear flip-flops and we´ll arrange a fun meal amongst friends. And you can tell your bodyguard that it´s okay to wear a Mexico futbol jersey (black if he really wants to remain incognito).

Mole at El Bajio

Las Salsas y Limon.

Ever since my very first visit to El Bajio nearly four years ago, I've been kind of obsessed. I was so moved by her cuisine that when Carmen Titita Ramirez came to Washington, D.C., I had to go and listen to her speak.

The woman is a tour de force of Mexican cuisine. According the interviews I've read, she looks upon nouvelle cuisine as rubbish, preferring to honor and perpetuate tradition rather than fanciful efforts to make simple items like tacos "elevated" - as though something so delicious and sublime needs elevation. The next year, I would trap my friends into going. And then it would seem that no trip to Mexico City would be complete without a visit.


Enchiladas de Pollo con Mole hecho en casa.

Usually, I have something like the chilaquiles or the carnitas. This time I was in the mood for something different: mole. But I didn't want a large piece of chicken so the enchilada would have to do.

El Bajio has several locations around Mexico City and one might think that with scale comes some level of blandness, not so with El Bajio and its obsessive chef/owner. The mole, quite simply, was a revelation. Near perfection. With some moles, I'm inclined to add salt to boost the flavor. Not so here. The flavors pronounced yet smooth. A complete harmony and symphony. Nothing too high, nothing diminished. It was one of the very few times in life that a dish actually spoke to me.


That totopo and frijoles are lurking about.

When it comes to cuisine like this, you want to hoard it hungrily, greedily, selfishly. You want to covet it like The Lord of the Rings. It is sublime. It is the incarnation of why Carmen Ramirez scoffs at the new cuisine. When tradition is carried forward in this manner, you don't need anything else.

Considering my dining companions, I fight the urge to scarf this mole down at high speed. I want to chew and slurp and dabble and mop up the sauce. I want to cry at its beauty. Instead, I savor in silence. I remain calm and stoic lest Senora think that I'm just a crazy fool.


Can't get enough.

As our meal ends and I'm traveling along the darkened streets of the big city, I feel content in the world. But just for a moment.

Los Cunados

Up close and personal with the Pastor.

My whole obsession with tacos al pastor must be reaching new heights. While walking down the block today, I noticed a trompero setting up his trompo with a stack of raw marinated pork. I had never seen the trompo up close at the start of the day and it was fascinating to see it live.

Turns out that today is the first day of operations for the new Los Cunados taqueria. After some debate at the shop about if it really is their first day, I decided that a new pastor stand deserves a little investigation and so off Eliu and I went. Me to order and Eliu to sort out the Spanish that I was sure to bungle.

Of course, Eliu doesn't speak much English so his role was mainly to field questions and answer them on my behalf otherwise I'd have a shopful of taqueros looking at me like I was Brother From Another Planet. Gracias, Eliu.

The rescue started almost immediately. As we walked up to the trompero, I asked him to make us diez (ten) tacos para llevar (to go). That's when the flurry of questions started coming and Eliu stepped in to cover me.

How many tacos would you like on the plate? Two? Three? Answer: five.
Do you want salsas and limes? Answer: Si.
How about something to drink? Answer: Diet Coke.

If it had been me all by myself, it would have taken me double to time to slowly, excruciatingly translate what the trompero was asking, mis-interpret a number of words, nod mindlessly "yes" to try to smooth the situation and finally, maybe, actually get it correctly. Meanwhile, the cadre of trompero, cooks and customers would have been looking at me like I was some crazy gringo asking for ten tacos that couldn't speak Spanish.

Finally, with a bagful of tacos al pastor, some condiments and a couple of Diet Cokes, we made our way back to the cafe to share in the bounty. At 12 pesos per taco, they're a bit more expensive than other places but they are larger sized tortillas and tacos which means more value for the money. With ten tacos, we had two each and I found myself feeling kinda full after the first taco.

The big question is always: How does it rate against El Rey del Tacos al Pastor - El Vilsito? They're okay and very different. First, the spice marinade is different. The trompero slices the meat thicker than Vilsito making it more chunky (comparatively). After slicing the meat, the trompero drops it onto a very well oiled plancha meaning that everyone noted that the tacos were greasy.

The green salsa was very mild, the red salsa was just right with a slight touch of heat but the true star of the tacos were the tortillas themselves. Golden yellow in color with a light flakiness and solid corn flavor. Very nice. Me gusta.

All in all, Los Cunados offers some decent tacos al pastor. Can't say they're worth rushing across town through heavy traffic (like Vilsito) but they're decent enough. Bear in mind that today was their first day of business and things are likely to change and improve. It's important to note that because it takes a little while for a new shop and staff to really get into the groove and the trompero looked a bit harried because he was trying to pump out ten tacos for me and a couple more for some other guests.

In addition to pastor, Los Cunados offers a selection of tortas, sincronizadas, alambres, aguas y jugos and gringas.


Los Cunados
Jose de Emperan 9
Colonia Tabacalera
Delegacion Cuauhtemoc
06030 Mexico D.F.
5535 9326
5592 3449

Hanging At The Tianguis

Entering the Tianguis de Obrero Mundial.

In America, we have our Farmer's Markets. In Mexico, they have Tianguis. Weekly markets that move from place to place daily. Live in any neighborhood (colonia) in the capital and you're bound to have a weekly market that sets up on your street selling just about anything the hungry chilango could want. Fruits, vegetables, meats, kitchen utensils, meals, starches, mole - it's all here for the taking.

And really, what is Mexico more than a place to try wonderful ingredients. Times like this really make me wish that I had my kitchen here in Mexico to go absolutely ballistic. While this may sound disparaging to our American farmers markets, I find Mexican tianguis to have an amazing selection of produce and the quality is very high.


Fresh tripe.

Much of this has to do with latitude. Fresh bananas, pineapples, limes and papayas - all truly "local" because Mexico has the right climes to grow this produce year-round. Then come the meats. I notice that the chickens are quite yellow and I'm thinking that this is due to the fact that they must be pastured. Senora Garcia assures us that they paint the chickens. Maybe but the remnant feathers on the birds look white to me - would they too be yellow if they were painted?

Looking around, the assortment is just massive. I see stuff I only read about from Diana Kennedy. I'm fascinated by the huitlacoche (corn fungus). I stare and I stare, and the vendor must think I'm nuts. Piles of ground mole tempt me. Could I have a taste? And then maybe ten kilos? Can you vacuum seal that in plastic to avoid problems with the US government??


These guys offer mixed veggies ready to make soups.

Clothes, jewelry, bedsheets and those typical Mexican coveralls that make you look like you're raiding the Wild West, all fight for your attention. One stall has a wide selection of motion pictures on DVD. I want to search for Transformers 3, just because.

It's Sunday and everywhere I turn, I see people in green or black futbol jerseys. They look so cool and I want one. Do they make them in my size? I imagine myself as Pablo Berrera working the ball and being loved by the masses.


Cecina Adobada Taco.

Finally, we make our way into the food area of the tianguis. Seemingly limitless stalls of food vendors selling what amounts to a moving, roving Cocina Mexicana Heaven. So many delectable treats to try. Barrels of agua frescas, battle shields of chicharron, piles of varied porks, stacks of corn tortillas, you just can't try them all.

I opt to try just a few items. One of each only, please. I want to sample the flavors. Most places in America that serve carnitas just serve "carnitas" - here, they break them down into the various parts of the pig. In Mexico, it's not enough to simply tell them you want a carnitas taco, you need to specify that you want the calf or the lower leg or other variations that I still don't understand.


Michoacan Style Carnitas Taco.

After sampling some of the local tacos, I spy on the agua frescas people. The last time I was here in April, I noticed the aguas guy at the Anzures Tianguis had an amazingly red watermelon agua fresca that was clear with no bits of pulp. It looked unnatural. I've been making watermelon agua fresca since last summer and I've never achieved results like that.

Which made me wonder if some of the aguas being sold were of the Klass brand powdered mix variety. Of course, most of the aguas look like they're handmade. They've got seeds or bits of this and that floating in them but that stunningly clear and red watermelon got me thinking.


Chicharron con Queso Quesadilla.

What also got me thinking were the horchatas. I only recently started making horchata on the weekends at Spro, grinding rice and canela then mixing it with water and sugar. It's quite simple and features a slight grittiness due to the ground rice. The only times I've tried it without the grit is when it was made from a mix.

Maybe it's the romantic idealist in me but I would like to believe that everything in Mexico is made from scratch, in the traditional way. But, as long as it tastes good, I guess it's all good. I guess I'm going to have to do more investigating. Poor me.


Chicken Flauta.

It's not even noon and already Senora is thinking about dinner. I like that about Mexico. Food is important. It's not some sort of hashed up meal made from microwaved frozen chicken tenders. Even when Mexicans don't want to cook, there's a plethora of vendors to choose from who are only happy to sell you anything and everything you need to eat at home - already cooked.

The Mixote Guys prepare us a bag for dinner. Inside is a half pound of Mixote, a stack of corn tortillas, limes, red and green salsas and picked red onions. No one will go hungry tonight.


Consome with garbanzo beans and rice.

Some of the vendors offer seating and on a Sunday morning, the place is packed. We grab three seats and begin to order. Since I've already eaten two tacos, I keep it on the low drive: a chicharron y cheese quesadilla, a consome and half a flauta. The consome is new, a simple pork broth with a little garbanzo beans and rice. It's savory and slightly sour, reminding me of Filipino Sinigang. I like it.

After a nice meal, we wander the stalls and find our way to the nieve guy. He's got a surprisingly wide selection of sorbets - considering he carted them all here. I choose a combination of rice and cheese, just to see how my own queso ice cream compares. The queso is smooth with chunks of cheese, I like it and feel reassured that my own version isn't too far off from what's here in El De Efe.


Mixote Meal in a Bag.



Woah, fresh huitlacoche!



Fresh Mamey.



The Man With Mole.



The Nieve Man.



Mamey y Cajeta nieve and Arroz y Queso nieve.