This week I find myself struggling with several dilemmas, all related to food. First, there is the most basic dilemma—how to be a functional, productive human being when all I really want to do is eat all day? Luckily, my Catholic upbringing helps me to transcend these gluttonous urges and practice some self- restraint (although apparently not enough to get my upcoming anthropology course syllabus finished).
A more complicated dilemma, then, is how to pace the eating in which I do indulge. As you may know, in Mexico meals are spaced and shaped differently to create a whole different eating rhythm throughout the day. The eating day starts early with coffee and maybe just a sweetbread or yogurt and granola. But how could that ever hold someone over until the normal 2:00 main meal of the day? Since it can't, there is a lovely 10:00 or 10:30 inter-meal (my term) that usually has none of the virtue of the early morning bite, but instead packs a punch. This is where you start to see tamales, chilaquiles, or empanadas or other starchy, fat-enriched, spicy fare. I frame this meal as a challenge because I have to confront it daily as I walk through the park from our house to my work.
“Ahh, the smell of freshly made tortillas, spread with a bit of refried black beans and cheese and chile, doubled over and then cooked fresh on an outdoor comal.”
If that sensorial cue didn't get you, try this one.
“Ahh, the smell of cinnamon wafting from the large pot of atol (a corn or other grain-based hot drink) plied alongside savory tamales by a vendor rolling his cart up and down the street.” To die for.
Actually, there's really nothing that sinful about this mid-morning extravaganza because, as I mentioned, your lunch is a big meal but it doesn't come until 2:00 or 2:30. Unfortunately for us, getting home in time to put together a big meal at that hour is nearly impossible. So, we end up having piddly little “lunch” stuff around this time as we all transition from morning work/school to afternoon work/homework. Efficient, yes, but wholly unsatisfying.
That is why at about 5:00, when we might usually begin dinner back in the States, I am wracked by this horrible urge to have a massive, indulgent Oaxacan feast at an hour when most Mexicans are just coming out of their mid-day food coma and returning to work. Due to our schedule, we usually end up postponing that dinner until a bit later, but all too often, it too is wholly unsatisfying. The small kitchen, my lack of spices and cooking implements, and the huge array of seductive food choices outside our window beckon nightly. Therefore, it's usually about this time of the evening that I have to log onto my bank account website to remind myself that we still have four months ahead of us! (Pacing, pacing.) To resolve this dilemma, we've settled for lackluster, very basic dinners most nights at home, but then splurge a few times a week. What's more, I invested in my own tortilla press and now make my own tortillas at home. Fresh tortillas, black beans, freshly-made salsa and cheese--okay, now that just might suffice. Even still, the gastronomic urge remains unsatiated, so we wander....
The other night, for example, we tried this unsuspecting place called Mexitla, which is touted as the place where “Mexico meets Italy.” We thought it would just be a cute little cafe built on a bad concept, but it turned out to be the roost of an aging couple from Napoli who knows nothing better than to seduce Americans with their freshly-made pasta, wood-oven fired pizzas, homemade mozzarella, stunning ricotta pear pie, and the coup de grace, a quick shot of homemade limoncello. Ahh. Sweet cosmopolitanism.
And then there's always the sirens of the park—the Friday habit that I've so often raved about--sizzling carnita tacos. Just to validate my ravings, I should note that you actually have to wait in line 20-30 minutes to sample these marvelous concoctions due to the many fans it draws. And this vendor's popularity doesn't stop at tacos. As you can see in the photos, they also do a swift business in tortas (a sandwich that usually includes a smear of beans, along with some kind of meat, cheese and veggies), the local favorite being the Hawaiian, which includes carnitas al pastor, grilled beef, ham, two kinds of cheese and a pineapple wedge. The Hawaiian is well beyond my capabilities, but some of the other simpler tortas do look devastating. The saving grace so far is that they don't serve these things with any beer, mezcal or other alcohol; otherwise, one might be inclined to make a whole Friday afternoon of them!
So, as you can see, food can be a challenge here, if nothing else for its scintillating qualities, abundance, and timing. But, then again, who am I to complain?
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