El Chingón is the heart of Philly’s Mexican sandwich scene

Philly’s vibrant Mexican scene has blossomed over the past few decades as immigration from Puebla surged and parts of South Philadelphia became destinations for rich brown moles, steamy weekend tamales, and taquerias of varying styles and specialties. And all them, of course, rely on tortillas.

But Carlos Aparicio, 44, whose career began in baking, wants to showcase another underrepresented aspect of Mexican cuisine at El Chingón, his sweet new all-day cafe near East Passyunk: “There was a need for a good Mexican sandwich.”

And not just any sandwich. Aparicio’s obsession is the cemita, a swirl-topped round roll speckled with sesame from his native state of Puebla piled high with all manner of meaty stuffings. El Chingón’s clásica, however, is already a towering masterpiece of contrasts on a bun: freshly breaded chicken milanesa layered atop creamy green wedges of avocado, citrusy pápalo leaves (and pápalo aioli), topped with spice bursts of smoky whole chipotles, and a fistful of cool, shredded quesillo that cascades over those warm cutlets in milky white threads of tangy cheese.

Aparicio’s family used to bring these round rolls — smaller than telera bread for tortas — whenever they visited rom Mexico, because stateside versions always seemed too dry and brittle. But at the outset of the pandemic, when travel was curtailed and his extended family in Philadelphia lost their restaurant jobs, they began to bake their own. The recipe, which Aparicio purchased from an artisan in Puebla, is light enough to embrace an impressive payload (he also scoops the center, Philly-style), yet elastic enough to contain it all without bursting.

The cemita project resonated, as they began to sell 100 rolls each Saturday and Sunday to South Philly’s Mexican community from the kitchen door of the rowhouse Aparicio had purchased and was renovating at South 10th and Cross Streets. He’d initially planned a pasta bar for the space, to capitalize on his 10 years at the helm of Tredici and Zavino. But after a recent trip to Mexico to clear his mind, and reimmerse himself in the food he left as a teen, he realized: “I want to build a cemiteria.”

It’s the first time in his three-decade career that Aparicio has cooked Mexican food professionally, resurrecting the adobos and salsas of his abuelas with the help of his sisters, Margarita, the pozole master, and Berenice, the kitchen’s cemita queen: “The food at El Chingón represents the memories my sisters and I have from growing up 35 years ago.”

That includes the tostadas at El Chingón topped with slow-stewed rabbit tinga, but that also flank the guacamole streaked with charred salsa tatemada, as well as the vegan aguachile. The masa is blended from different varieties for flavor and toasted on the comal, which lends a leathery snap, spotted with the char and burnt edges of the totopos Aparicio grew up with.

That vegan aguachile, an incredibly refreshing blend of hearts of palm, avocados, cucumbers, and jicama in a tangy brew of lime juice and herbs, is a nod to the chef’s long career in Philly, and its growing demand for plant-based options. A deeply steeped pozole of mushrooms (replacing the usual pork) was another satisfying meat-free option.

Aparicio is among the generation of Mexicans who immigrated to Philadelphia in the late ‘90s, worked their way up through non-Mexican kitchens, and have finally become entrepreneurs with the freedom to cook their own stories. The experience has been an eye-opener to the intense labor and patience required for Mexican cooking: “You’ve got to roast this, boil that, peel this, and then wait for the right temperatures to blend your salsa — or two hours later it will be broken,” Aparicio said. “It’s all about techniques, and I learn from my sisters every day.”

Aparicio’s project is distinctive for its emphasis on baked goods, from cemitas to conchas for dessert, no surprise given his experience. He ran a bakery specializing in wedding cakes in Brooklyn at age 16 not long after he left Mexico alone for New York. After moving to Philadelphia in 1999 to be near family, he worked as a pastry chef at Buddakan, then dumpling prep at Pod, before he became the opening baker at Parc, perfecting its legendary bread basket of baguettes, sourdough boules, and cranberry walnut breads.

Aparicio even brings an extra baker’s flex to the fresh flour tortillas for the Árabes tacos, infusing those rounds with a cold-fermented hint of sourdough I’ve never encountered. The filling for those tacos, though, is what most caught my attention: the spit-roasted pork marinated in herbs and vinegar as an homage to the shawarma of Mexico’s Lebanese immigrants. (There’s a vegan oyster mushroom rendition of Árabes, too.)

There are other standout meats roasted on the vertical trompo spit available as either tacos or cemitas: a puya-spiced al pastor inspired by his cousin’s restaurant in Cozumel, Míster Taco; and especially the skirt steak arrachera marinated in Yucatán-style recado negro of charred chiles. Splash it liberally with earthy salsa macha oil infused with chiles, peanuts, and sesame, and that mound of smoky meat became the cemita of my beefy dreams.

Aparicio’s experience in running big restaurants shows in the polish of the intimate 30-seat experience at El Chingón. The bilingual service staff is warm, knowledgeable, and outgoing. And, with its diner-like counter, colorful decor, and corner location flanked by sidewalks that could soon host 40 more seats al fresco, the neighborhood cafe vibe is strong.

You feel it alongside the weekend crowd sipping hot cups of champurrado with their chilaquiles, the late-night partyers seeking morning revival over honeycomb tripe bowls of spicy menudo stew. Some teenagers are crushing a choripapas mountain of french fries and fresh green chorizo glossed in a puddle of melted queso for a midday snack.

At night at this BYOB, diners bring tequilas and beers for margarita and michelada mixers. In the evenings I also gravitate toward some of the menu’s slow-cooked classics, like the quesabirria tacos stuffed with silken shreds of juicy meat. Or the steamy parchment paper mixiote bundles filled with guajillo-spiced lamb meatballs, or tender cochinita pibil pork ribs.

The desserts are also not to be missed. A buñuelo special of crisp pastry rosettes sandwiching a panna cotta of chocolatey champurrado was memorably delicate.. But the freshly baked concha rolls are true panadería treasures. These airy brioche buns come encrusted with an array of colorful crunchy toppings that change often with the moment — tinted vivid red with hibiscus for Valentine’s Day, Eagle green with matcha, or, as on my last visit, the sky blue hue of pinole corn from Aparicio’s hometown, San Mateo Ozolco.

Sliced open and stuffed with Nutella pastry cream and strawberries, one of these conchas offers a fistful of crackle, puff, cream, and fruit. It’s as multidimensional as a food can get — the taste of one chef’s past, present, and future all in one sweet bite.

1524 S. 10th St., 267-239-2131; elchingonphilly.com

Lunch-brunch served Sunday-Thursday, 10 a.m.-2 p.m. Dinner Sunday-Thursday, 2-9 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, until 10 p.m.

The restaurant’s entrance is not wheelchair accessible.

BYOB.

There are gluten-free options, but caution must be taken because baking is done on site.