MON SAN PASCUAL, executive director of the Philippine Legislators' Committee on Population and Development, was our intrepid guide to gastronomy in Mexico City--or at least the environs of our hotel.
On the day of our arrival, as we were departing for the Guadalupe Shrine after a morning's rest, Mon reported that he had spotted a "taqueria" or taco stand just a short walk away from the Hotel Maria Cristina. His tour in search of nearby dining places was prompted by our early lunch at the hotel's coffee shop, which served barely palatable food. But it wasn't until the next day's dinner that I was able to pay a visit to the taqueria, after Mon directed me there when we spotted each other at Oxxo, a Mexican version of 7-Eleven, where I had intended to just buy a sandwich to eat in my room.
Instead I found myself and some other participants in the taco stand, literally a hole in the wall with some stools positioned in front of a counter where the cook presided. The cook, whose name was Ramon, stood guard over a griller, frying various meats customers ordered for their soft tacos, burritos or quesadillas. One had a choice of beef, chicken or chorizo, all happily simmering away in a cauldron of fat. Once a customer told Ramon his or her choice of stuffing, he would scoop out a bit, chop it finely, then rapidly grill the meat. He would then slap some tortillas on a plate and top it with the stuffing. On the counter were bowls of fresh salsa, chilis and guacamole to season the entire concoction. When he saw me struggling with my taco's construction, Ramon offered to help me and promptly, with his bare hands, separated the tortilla discs then scooped up my chopped beef and salsa and folded them into the tacos. I was taken aback, but no one else seemed to mind and, in fairness, the tacos were delicious!
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WE Filipino visitors shared Ramon's teeny taqueria with other customers, most of them dressed in office wear as the hotel was located in a business district. Male office-goers simply tossed their ties to one side and gamely sat in the heat and steam of the place, wolfing down their pre-dinner snacks.
Another specialty of the taqueria was pollo con arroz, a more watery version of our arroz caldo, with bits of chicken floating in a broth of boiled rice. It was filling and tasty, and great for warming one's body on a chilly morning.
On another day, we made our way to a nearby cafe for a more filling breakfast, where we had a choice of huevos or eggs cooked many different ways. One item we found intriguing was "huevos divorciados," which are not "divorced eggs" but two fried eggs with different toppings --a red salsa and green guacamole, both of them deadly on the taste buds.
Most of the set breakfasts came with free "cafe Americano," which we discovered was severely watered-down coffee. Most of us ended up ordering another cup of espresso, and we speculated that the weak cafe Americano must have been a ploy to get customers to order an additional cup of stronger, more bracing brew.
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ON OUR way between two appointments, our interpreters suggested we have lunch at a nearby restaurant. Called El Bajio, in the trendy district of Polanco, filled with high-rises and hotels, the restaurant offers "Mexican nouvelle" cooking, the creation of Carmen "Titita" Ramirez, described in one guidebook as a "rock star among chefs," famous for her efforts to preserve and upgrade Mexican cuisine.
The restaurant was bright, sprawling and swanky, filled with artifacts of Mexican folk art which Ramirez likewise champions. The cuisine was similar to the food we imbibed in the taqueria, but refined and presented much more attractively. A favorite of mine was "empanada de platano rellenos de frijol"--fried tortillas filled with plantains (our own saging na saba) and fried beans--the sweetness of the bananas contrasting quite favorably with the spiciness of the bean paste.
Meeting with another group for dinner, we gathered at a restaurant serving Mexican-Continental cuisine. I ordered an appetizer of cubes of fried Brie in a cranberry sauce, a familiar dish but still with a "kick" of chili. Other members of the group ordered shots of tequila, which came in small trays with two shot glasses, one filled with tequila and the other with tomato juice, some lime and salt. One could either dip the lime in salt and bite into it, take a shot of tequila and chase it down with the juice, or else combine them in a bigger glass. We were all certainly friendlier after some shots!
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SPEAKING of tequila, we dropped by a center on the way to the famous "pyramides" of Teotihuacan which develops the cultivation of cacti and handicrafts using Mexico's rich mineral resources.
An enthusiastic guide lectured on the many uses of cacti and agave, including using the outer layer of the leaves for fine writing paper, and the sharp tips as needles, with "threads" made from strands of the leaves attached. But we were most interested in the extraction of a juice from agave that is fermented and aged into tequila. Later, inside the store, the same guide led us into a spirited "tour" through various types of tequila, which after a few shots, turned into a noisy celebration. The guide taught us a new toast: "Para salud, dinero y amor!" or "For health, money and love!"
That is a sentiment I still feel for Mexico, even after just a brief visit. Everyone we met--from Ramon the short-order cook to Fray Julian the progressive Dominican friar, from the young champions of reproductive health to the deputadas or assemblywomen of the state legislature--was warm and giving, generous with their views and opinions. To them all, we say: here's to Mexico, "para salud, dinero y amor!"
