The Food, the Bad, and the Ugly

Eating here in Mexico City has turned out to be a joyous culinary adventure. We currently live within walking distance of a commercial center with its trendy restaurants. Having no car, we have availed ourselves of said yummy locales. Theoretically, we are also within a healthy jog of Rainforest Café and other mall staples, but we have avoided them like the swine flu. Our first true evening here, the girls and I insisted on eating out, having eaten nothing but peanut butter sandwiches and water all day. We trekked down to Giancarlo’s, a sweet little Italian place that you access through their bakery. The girls ate pizza, Raul had something, and I began my love affair with squash flowers when they were stuffed into ravioli. Squash flowers are a quintessential Mexican ingredient that you can find stuffed into chiles, tacos, soups, and here in pasta. Hmmm, Mexican ingredients in Italian food. Too early for a trend. Our next restaurant was a Middle Eastern place called “Hookah.” It has all of these wonderful little booths from which you can look out over the city, watch the summer storms roll in, and partake in the hubbly-bubbly. We ordered pita and hummus (Zorra’s favourite food) and had an interesting observation – “pita” in Mexico City looks a lot like flour tortilla. The food was divine, but once again, fairly Mexican with a thin Middle Eastern veneer. Indian food was Mexican food made with lamb (not a typical Mexican meat) and curry seasonings.

Mexican food that’s trying to be Mexican food is divine. Raul makes a point of eating at least once a week at his favourite taco place – Garage Tacos. It is probably not really called that. It’s a taco stand built into the side of the entry ramp to a city parking garage. There are little plastic chairs and tables for your convenience if you’re not too concerned with being run over by some Mexican driver. I enjoy going to visit the Embassy as Raul then takes me to lunch at one of the many little hole-in-the-wall eateries. Our last place was a Oaxacan place. Raul pointed out on the menu that they sold chapulines, and once it was agreed that the other people at the table would help after I took the first bite, we ordered a plate of the delicacies.

Everyone but Zorra suffered through at least one bite, even Nevara. I ate a number of the little crispy, pan-fried and salted bugs. I was prepared to throw-up into a pitcher of horchata (which would have pained me greatly) if they were in anyway squishy, but they were not buggy at all. (I should note here that I’m not at all certain what “buggy” should taste like.) In fact, they were much tastier than, say, shrimp crackers, and if they weren’t grasshoppers, I think that I could have easily and happily snacked on them until I guiltily realized that I had eaten every last one.

I mentioned the horchata, a sort of sweet rice milk. From the street vendors, you can get horchata served right out of a bucket, but so far I haven’t been lucky enough to have the delicious drink anywhere but for actual sit-down places (where they are very well scooping it out of a bucket). Another beautiful drink here is the jamaica (ha-MY-ca) made from steeped hibiscus flowers. When we had it in Egypt, it was often more tangy and more “herbal infusion” in flavor. Here it is almost syrupy in its sweetness, and in the evening becomes the base for a red margarita. Raul and I have perfected ordering it sin alcohol, which always baffles the waiter.

The one thing we never order here is water. If water must be ordered, we only drink it if it comes in a bottle that we open. The water in the pipes is not potable. It starts off treated, but the city is sinking, causing the pipes to crack between the water treatment plant and the tap, allowing sewage, etc to leach into the water. Yes, that is the water we have to bathe in.

In other news, I have discovered the name of the artificically-colored communion wafers - obleas (and found a picture for you if you click the link).

There is so much more about the food here, but this is enough for today.