Words and photos by Matt Dursum
A year ago, my girlfriend and I packed away a week’s worth of clothing, our computers, some electronics and gear, and jumped on a plane to Mexico. Our goal was simple. We were going to work remotely while living in Latin America. We are proud to say it’s been working.
One year in and all we can talk about is food. The cuisine we ate in Mexico and South America has been life-changing. When we ate, we ate well. Beyond satiety, beyond the point of no return. Included in the list below are the regions, city’s, and towns that, according to our palates, did it best.
Mexico
When you go to Mexico, you may decide to venture into the colorful streets running through commercial districts or near bus stations and stand in line in front of a small food cart. This is a very good idea.
According to UNESCO, Mexican cuisine is an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. This means you can’t mess with it. It is perfect in every way shape or form. From ancient food-related rituals to techniques like nixtamalization—cooking corn kernels in an alkaline solution of lime and water, Mexican cuisine is as praised, storied, and rich as any other cuisine on earth.
Mexico City
Mexico’s capital is a foodie’s heaven. Everyone from bon vivants to working-class people can eat amazingly well. Arguably, at the center of this cuisine is the taco. With two or three sideways bites, the ephemeral goodness of meat juices, onions, cilantro, burning salsa, and corn tortilla combine in your mouth to create a food experience like none-other.
In Ciudad de México, you can find anything, but two types of tacos compete for dominance: al pastor and suadero. The latter is made from smooth and fatty midsection beef, braised and then fried in lard. Taqueria’s like Los Cocuyos in the central district and Tacos Tony in the Narvarte Oriente District pump out some of the best suadero tacos in the city.
Al pastor—translated as shepherd’s style—is another staple in Mexico City. With the influence of Lebanese immigrants, people began taking marinated meat and cooking it on a vertical spit, a-la kebab. Pork shoulder eventually replaced chicken and lamb as the go-to meat of choice. The marinade evolved into a spicy blend of red chilies, garlic, achiote, pineapple, and other ingredients depending on the local clientele’s preference.
At Taqueria Selene, a taquero cuts perfect slices of al pastor, letting it fall into place into the tortilla in hand. He then throws a dab of onions, cilantro, and salsa. He finishes the taco with a slice of sweet BBQ’d pineapple. This entire process takes a few seconds.
Puebla
Food is at the heart of Puebla. An evolution of deeply rich Pre-Hispanic culinary traditions and European comfort foods continues to play a big part in the region’s gastronomy. The chefs and cooks who call Puebla home and move away to work in foreign kitchens bring their influential skills and ways with flavors with them, creating better restaurants for us all to experience.
Immediately after entering the city’s narrow cobblestone alleyways and surrounding neighborhoods, you’re confronted with a huge variety of fragrances. Everything from pungent chilies to sweet pastries. The city is really a foodie’s wet dream.
Worth mentioning first are the ingredients. Fresh and dried native staples like tomatoes, chilis, corn, squash, nopal cactus, and beans are used in abundance. Being one of the first seats of power for the Spanish after their brutal colonization, many European, African, and Asian ingredients blended into the local palate. Mole Poblano, often said to be Mexico’s national dish, was invented here and incorporates these into one massive infusion of flavors.
As with any great food city, Puebla relies heavily on its dependable street food, collectively and affectionately known as antojitos. Stuffed, grilled, fried, whatever, Puebla’s antojitos come in an almost never ending variety.
Chalupas—fried masa dough with a variety of toppings. These bad boys are everywhere. For me, it was the blue corn chalupas with chapulines (grasshoppers) from Maiz Criollo that won me over.
And then there are cemitas, Puebla’s answer to the torta. A thin fried milanesa sandwiched in a sesame seed bun on a bed of salsa, pápalo, avocado, and onions. Simply incredible.
Oaxaca
There are few places on earth as entrancing as Oaxaca. The Mexican state in southwest Mexico is home to the Zapotec, Mixtec, Mixe, and 13 more indigenous communities. Their influence on the food and culture of the region is unmistakable.
Representing this strong majority is their cuisine. For me, Oaxacan food exists on a pedestal, high above anything else. At the core of its greatness are its ingredients, many of which grow only here in Oaxaca, and its cooking techniques which employ a laborious use of smoke, fire, and charring.
Within Oaxaca’s infinite regional specialities are its famous moles. All seven of them, from smoky black mole to the salubrious green curries made with wild greens, have their place at festivals and events around the state.
Mole is tedious to make from scratch. We had the quintessential opportunity to learn how to cook it with Mimi Lopez in her home kitchen. Mrs. Lopez is a popular and award-winning steward of traditional cooking. We prepared sopa de guías calabaza, chicken and Oaxacan cheese tamales, and finally her famous black mole, which we were too slow to finish.
Within the city and the small towns we visited, we tried everything we could get our hands on. Fried grasshopper and cheese tlayudas, which are similar to a pizza, had us swooning. Enfrijoladas topped with pleasantly floral hoja santa, and an almost endless amount of fine artisanal mezcal. If Oaxacan food isn’t the last thing I think about when I die, I’d be shocked.
Chiapas and the Yucatan
Mexico’s southern states of Yucatán, Chiapas, and Campeche are home to Mayan culture and cuisine. This is the land of slow roasted meats like poc-chuc, tropical fruits and mountain vegetables, and the homeland of the habanero.
In the city of Merida and the surrounding villages, one dish stands proudly in our minds, conchinita pibil. This is pork at its juiciest. When the Mayans invented the dish, the meat was wild game. Then, like now, meat wrapped in banana leaves is buried in an earthen oven filled with embers and coals and then covered with soil. From this comes pure juicy finger-fulls of pure bliss.
In the end, what stands out to me most are zatz. These edible caterpillar larva tasted, dare I say it, better than steak. In the mountain jungles of Chiapas, these huge grubs resemble something out of the Lion King. Huge meaty squirming flavor bombs that once fried become something unfeignedly delicious. After tasting these and many other insects in Mexico, I got off my Euro-centric high horse of what’s food and what’s not, and fell in love.