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The newest Mexican generation
[Times photo: Dirk Shadd]
Martin Rivas, owner of El Maguey, shows off dishes of sopes, left, and chicken gorditas at his restaurant at 4327 66th St. N in St. Petersburg. |
By CHRIS SHERMAN, Times Staff Writer
© St. Petersburg Times
published May 2, 2002
At a genuine taqueria, the menu lists at least a half-dozen taco fillings plus intriguing drinks. And a wedge of lime comes with almost everything.
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The arguments about which restaurant has real Mexican food are over. The complaints that you can't get it here gone. Basta.
You may still say nobody here cooks Mexican food like you used to get in Texas, California or Arizona. I can assure you plenty of taquerias now cook the good stuff you remember if the state where you grew up was Hidalgo, Jalisco or Guerrero.
In this category, fast food, chains and Disney-fied theme restaurants aren't even in the race. And while previous immigrants created Mexican restaurants treating us to various degrees of authenticity, the latest generation caters as much to their fellow countrymen.
They serve them at tables and booths squeezed next to the aisles of canned goods in busy tiendas and in sit-down restaurants as rustic as a roadside cantina or as modern as a shopping center deli, decked out with Budweiser Cinco de Mayo promos.
[Times photo: Dirk Shadd]
Have a taste for tacos? Try the lamb and pork versions offered by Martin Rivas of El Maguey in St. Petersburg.
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New tiendas and taquerias pop up regularly, and older ones expand. Many now have meat counters and stock fresh seafood, produce and Mexican cheeses. They also sell music and phone cards and wire money to Mexico. Bakers from Wauchula and Immokalee to Clearwater have set up tortillerias and panaderias for a steady supply of tortillas and sweet rolls.
Several things distinguish the newest Mexican restaurants beside the fact that there's a lot of Spanish on both sides of the counter and the juke boxes jump with norteno guitars and mariachi brass. Their hours can start as early as their customers, who grab tacos for breakfast as readily as huevos rancheros, and lunch can be eaten without embarrassment at any hour of the afternoon. Come the weekend, when more people can shop and eat, menus grow with fin de semana specials.
Tacos themselves almost always come with a wedge of lime (using lime on meats and soups is one of the best tricks of the Mexican kitchen for Anglos to copy), and they are usually served on soft corn tortillas, sometimes two to hold the goodies.
That's where we come to the most delicious distinction: True tacos come in a dazzling diversity that goes far beyond "Beef or chicken?" And if you think of real Mexican tacos as a crude street food, look and taste again. The tortilla in a taco is the humblest, most primal of all the magic Mexican cooks have done with corn meal, but the fillings display the rich sophistication of a cuisine that knows how to use and season every part of an animal without waste.
A good taqueria menu lists at least a half-dozen meat fillings, sometimes twice that. Several kinds of pork are prominent, including the best of all tacos, tacos al pastor, marinated pork both spicy and a little sweet (and sometimes cooked with pineapple). Then there are carnitas, fried pork a bit like North Carolina barbecue without the vinegar, and chorizo sausage.
The braver may want to try chicharonnes (cracklings), buche (stomach) and cueritas (skin). If you -- and your cardiologist -- like pork rinds, you'll find those in tacos wet and disappointing; they are better fried and dried, bought by the pound as most tiendas sell them.
Mexican cooks get as much mileage out of beef, which shows up as bistec or carne asada (skirt steak), picadillo (ground beef with spices), lengua (tongue), cabeza (head) and suadero (beef shoulder). Don't fear the tongue; it's nothing like deli tongue, not even recognizable. Biggest beef treat may be tacos al carbon with beef cooked over charcoal, but they are rare.
However, taquerias commonly have lamb, usually called barbacoa (sometimes also used to describe roast beef), and it is one of my favorites. Less often you'll find chivo (kid or goat), and both are tender and a great change of pace. While Baja's fish tacos are rare, you can find seafood on tostadas and in ceviche, soups and cocktails.
With tacos, you'll always get a homemade salsa, but most of the meat is already moist and well-seasoned. Don't expect American-style lettuce, tomato and shredded cheese. The best garnish is chopped onion, cilantro leaves and a squeeze of that lime, but you may also find a bowl of radish slices, pickled peppers or that luscious Mexican sour crema.
If you want more than tacos, look for gorditas, handmade cornmeal patties stuffed with some of the above fillings, or entrees of steaks, eggs or pork chops that come with AyF (arroz y frijoles, or rice and beans). The best alternative to tacos, however, are meal-in-a-bowl caldos of seafood or meat. If menudo, the famous tripe stew, intimidates you, try the pozole of pork and hominy corn, or birria, lamb or sometimes goat stewed with peppers and cumin and cinnamon that could be one of chili's great ancestors.
Pass on the Mexican beers, including my favorite dark and chocolatey Negro Modelo; there's usually more intriguing stuff to drink. You might find homemade melon punch or horchata, a foamy rice confection, or a cooler stocked with a rainbow of Jumex juices, Boing and Jarritos (go for tamarind).
If service lags, and it sometimes does, pretend you really are in Mexico.
Better yet, if you're in a tienda, get shopping. There are chilis aplenty, fresh, dried and canned; bottled salsas and moles; pinatas and all manner of sweets, including the makings of hot chocolate, another of our neighbor's culinary gifts to the world.
Or you could buy some tortillas to take home and make your own tacos.
They won't come close.
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