21 THINGS CRAIG LABAN ATE IN MEXICO

And these are just some of the highlights.

It’s always a thrill to eat in Mexico. No matter how much Philly’s Mexican dining scene has matured over the years, there’s an extra revelation to tasting a complex mole made with all the right chiles, or a cup of hot chocolate blended from freshly roasted Oaxacan cocoa beans warmed in a pitcher over the smoky coals, or fresh tortillas ground from heirloom corn grown in a family’s backyard. Eating in Mexico also offers a vivid reminder of that country’s stunning regional diversity and the variety of dining options we don’t see often enough in the States. The fact that I didn’t eat a taco at a taqueria until more than a week into my recent trip is a testament to the broad range of restaurants, home kitchens, markets, and cantinas we spent our time feasting in during our travels through Michoacán, Jalisco, Oaxaca, and Puebla as I followed Philadelphia restaurateurs Dionicio Jiménez and David Suro to their respective hometowns.

One theme remained a constant: Mexico’s food scene is at an exciting crossroads as a generation of young chefs explores new ways to celebrate, preserve, and update pre-Hispanic foodways for modern diners. Tradition and evolution working in tandem, it seems, was always the secret spice to our favorite meals. These are just some of the highlights.

Gaspacho and elotes on Calle de Hidalgo in Morelia

Yes, it’s spelled with an “s” and, unlike vegetable-based Spanish gazpacho, it’s made with tropical fruits and crunchy jicama diced into tiny bits — tap! tap! tap! — as workers feverishly chop huge berms of mango, watermelon, pineapple, and cantaloupe behind the counter to be mounded into cups splashed with lime juice, cotija cheese, and hot sauce to go. We loved our fruit cup from La Cerrada (Est. 1970).

A ‘black gold’ timbale and garlic soup at La Conspiración de 1809

Allende 209, Colonia Centro, 58000 Morelia, Mich., +52 443 158 0443; laconspiracionde1809.com

This beautiful restaurant is the province of chef Cynthia Martínez, who balances innovation and tradition in her interpretations of classic Morelia dishes, and is where I had my first experience with the perfect pairing of salty aged cotija cheese and mezcal. But I’m still dreaming of that “black gold” of huitlacoche, an inky bounty of fresh corn smut wrapped inside a timbale made of zucchini ribbons drizzled tableside with chipotle cream. Martínez’s other signature was also magnetic, an ethereal garlic cream soup poured over crispy blades of serrano ham and papery tomato skin that, in texture, flavor profiles, and dramatic presentation, defied any preconceived notions I might have brought to my first day of eating in Mexico.

The feast of Doña Delia at Don Mateo de la Sierra

Hunger hit me when the smell of crackling wood fires wafted over from the comals in Doña Delia Vargas Vieyra’s terraced outdoor kitchen; the matriarch of this distilling family was preparing a memorable feast. The tortillas alone — the masa ground in the moment, effortlessly scooped into a ball with the side of a palm, flattened and cooked on the wood-fired griddle — would have been a sufficient meal. But there was also adobado chicken with salsas to devour, an irresistible wheel of queso oreado, and especially the enchiladas placeras.

Lunch with Hilda and Santos Juárez

At Santos Juárez’s ranch on the edge of the Tuxcacuesco River in Southern Jalisco, we sat in a shady grove beneath some mango and guanabana trees and sipped umpteen bottles of various unmarked mezcals while lunch – cooked by Santos’ wife, Hilda – unfolded. Most memorable was a guajillo chile-stewed pot filled with torta de camarones, a sort of meatball made with pounded dried shrimp, egg, and beans.

Breakfast at Café palReal

C. Lope de Vega 113, Arcos Vallarta, 44130 Guadalajara, Jal.

The chilaquiles and omelets with hoja santa and Chihuaha cheese were striking. But the lonche de pancita, a crusty, hollowed-out roll smeared with black beans and stuffed with meltingly tender confit pork and salsa verde, was the sandwich that prompted me to say to David Suro on the way out that I wished Philly had one of these charming all day cafes. He could only smile: The team behind palReal was already consulting with Suro on a similar project to be part of his rebuild of Tequilas following a fire.

La Nueva Cocina Tapatía at Restaurante Alcalde

Av. México 2903, Vallarta Nte., 44690 Guadalajara, Jal., alcalde.com.mx

Among the highlights from chef Francisco “Paco” Ruano’s tasting menu were a deeply smoked suckling pig, crispy sheets of dried cecina beef as sheer as crackers, and a crispy mini-tlayuda topped with tuna, chapulines, salsa macha, and a flower shop’s worth of edible blooms. A chocolate tamale was perfectly paired with a stiff pour of Fortaleza Blanco and a glass of peachy Riesling from the restaurant’s intriguing collection of Mexican wine.

The tasting room experience at Mezonte

Calle Argentina 299, Col. Americana, 44160 Guadalajara, Jal., Mexico, mezonte.com

There are great mezcalerias all across Mexico, but few deliver the combination of intimacy, rarity, and education as the Mezonte tasting room in Guadalajara. This tiny and austere suite of wood-clad rooms is not a cantina so much as a classroom to experience Mezonte’s portfolio of mezcals and other rare agave spirits sourced from artisans primarily in Central and Western Mexico. Each had a powerfully unique story to tell, from multigenerational raicillas to three bottles of Tepe, an agave spirit sourced from the reclusive Tepehuano community located at the border of Jalisco, Nayarit, and Durango.

Xokol

C. Ignacio Herrera y Cairo 1375, Santa Teresita, 44600 Guadalajara, Jal., +52 33 2759 6318; on Instagram

Pre-Hispanic corn is at the heart of Xokol (which means “maiz pinto”), started by chef-owners Xrysw Ruelas and Oscar Segundo in 2018, with a quest to modernize ancient Indigenous flavors, from the multicolored masa pressed into bullseye-patterned quesadillas with fresh huitlacoche over the live fire comals in the open kitchen, to the sende beverage of fermented corn with pasilla peppers that launched my tasting menu. Among the most memorable bites was a coarse-grained tostada raspada topped with grasshopper-pasilla chintextle paste covered by sheer layers of kampachi sashimi from Baja and symmetric plumes of avocado. It was among several inventive courses that, from an oyster roasted tableside with sea bean kimchi to an octopus cooked inside an agave parchment bundle served with pink beet mole, amounted to one of the most thrilling meals of our trip.

Lunch in the courtyard at Criollo

Francisco I. Madero 129, Santa María del Marquesado, Centro, 68000 Oaxaca de Juárez, Oax.; criollo.mx/restaurante

Our first lunch in Oaxaca was a grand one, a tasting menu in the gracious courtyard of a colonial mansion outside downtown where chef Luis Arellano, in partnership with Enrique Olvera of Pujol, delivered modern updates to traditional Oaxaqueño flavors. From the tiny snack plate of street foods, like the mini-tetela stuffed with huitlacoche, to a ripe sweet plantain glossed in mole negro and a tamarind-cured king fish tostada with chintextle mayo, the meal struck Philly chef Dionicio Jiménez as a novel and skillful approach to “foods I grew up with ... something I could be proud of.”

La Atolería at Tierra del Sol

Reforma 411, RUTA INDEPENDENCIA, Centro, 68000 Oaxaca de Juárez, Oax.

At the bakery Masea, Trigo, and Maîz, we ate fluffy corn breads and competed with a swarm of bees for the honey-drizzled pastries. And then we wandered across the hall into the cafe-like space called La Atolería, chef Olga Cabrera’s celebration of the comforting hot masa beverage made from heirloom Criollo corn and Oaxacan cocoa. Earthenware pots warming on the burners held eight different variations of atole, a variety in one place that’s unique in Mexico, so we tasted them all. From the classic champurrado mixed with four different cocoas, to blue corn with walnuts, white corn with apple, guava with yellow corn, red corn with cocoa blossoms, and an unusual atole infused with tortillas and piloncillo raw sugar that was a surprise favorite despite its forest green hue, I drank every last one.

Breakfast at Tierra del Sol

Reforma 411, RUTA INDEPENDENCIA, Centro, 68000 Oaxaca de Juárez, Oax.

We loved the atoles so much we returned for breakfast on the building’s terrace, where Cabrera, who makes 30 different moles, serves updates to classic Oaxaqueño cooking with a breezy rooftop view of the city. We feasted on multicolored tetela masa triangles stuffed with meats, enmoladas Mixtecas, and chilaquiles con mole amarillo. But my most vivid memory remains the pitcher of hot chocolate blended from multiple local cacao beans roasted in-house, warming beside us over a charcoal grill before a server whipped it tableside with a wooden molinillo into a froth.

Los Amantes Mezcaleria

C. de Ignacio Allende 107, Centro Histórico de la Cdad. de México, Centro, 68005 Oaxaca de Juárez, Oax.; on Facebook

After a festive evening in downtown Oaxaca, where we watched whirling dancers, stilt walkers, and costumed performers from various Oaxacan villages entertain the onlookers, we slipped off into a tiny mezcaleria called Los Amantes. Created by artist Guillermo Olguín, whose lovers are painted in nude portraits on the wall, and whose mini-bronze sculptures double as stoppers for Los Amantes’ line of mezcals. We sipped through nearly all of the dozen solid house mezcals, with bold tepextate being my favorite. But the real magic was in the music that filled the room as the house balladeer, Don Zenòn, strummed his guitar with boundless enthusiasm for classic Mexican folk tunes as guests sent him a stream of mezcal shots, and the entire room rousingly sang along.

Pozole at Taqueria El Compadre Jr.

The pozole brewed by owners Eduardo Espizos and Sante Raquel-Villavincencio was simply one of the best we had, its cuminy and bay-scented guajillo broth smoky and sweet, and brimming with fresh corn, rather than classic hominy. A delicate tostada on the side topped with moist roast pork and bright salsa verde proved to be equally magnetic, completing a midnight meal I’ll be craving for some time.

Frothy chocolate-atole at Capuchino Zapoteca

Pronounced as one word “chocolatole,” this cool drink is distinct from the hot chocolate atole beverage called champurrado. It is made from multiple kinds of cocoa, including a seed called pataxte, or Theobroma cacao, that’s fermented and sun-dried until it’s white. The pataxte lends an extra richness that foams up when it’s hand-whipped with a molinillo and blended with sweet atole. The final product looks like a chocolate cloud floating in a jicarita cup, and you spoon it with a wooden paddle as the intensity of real Oaxacan chocolate evaporates into an ethereal cacao mist with every bite.

Pulque tasting at A&V La Casa de Pulque in Santiago Matatlan

This tiny pulqueria in Santiago Matatlan was another memorable stop on Mario Rubén Ramírez López’s tour of Oaxacan villages. Fifth-generation pulque master Reina Cortés Cortés showcased multiple versions of the ancient beverage fermented from aguamiel, the sap extracted from the heart of a maguey agave. We sipped a lightly tangy day-old pulque and a 15-day-old, barrel-aged pulque that was as sour as a brisk kombucha, and as alcoholic as a sturdy beer. We especially loved it blended into a smoothie of pineapple and celery, which accented its sweet and vegetal notes.

Breakfast at Chabelita Comedor

In the Mercado 20 de Noviembre, Oaxaca

The famed central market of Oaxaca is a wonderland of flavors, from fresh-pulled quesillo cheese to thin-skinned avocados and myriad chiles that are almost impossible to find north of the border. There’s a separate food hall with a collection of casual restaurants that serve mostly classics such as an Oaxacan tamale, whose banana leaf wrapper (as opposed to the corn husks common elsewhere) kept its masa heart laced with chicken and mole negro exceptionally moist. A tlayuda, another Oaxaca must-eat, came built on a crispy, waferlike tortilla as big as a Frisbee, its bottom spread with pureed black beans then loaded with thin-sliced tasajo beef, shredded quesillo, and crumbled chorizo glossed with smoked asiento pork fat that Jiménez said was notable for its creamy freshness.

A rainbow of moles at El Anafre Rojo

Calle 4 Nte 602, Centro histórico de Puebla, 72000 Puebla, Pue., +52 222 246 1001; elanafrerojo.com

This elegant restaurant in beautiful downtown Puebla is dedicated to preserving the region’s traditional dishes. An array of cemitas, tlacoyos, and thick masa chalupa rounds fried with salsa set the tone, along with crunchy chicharrones piled high over queso fresco, steamy bundles of mixiote, and crocks of tender short rib barbacoa. The highlight was El Anafre’s colorful moles. The rich brown mole Poblano and green pipián brought me back to some of my favorite South Philly Mexican favorites. It was also my first experience with mole rosa, a silky pink mole typical of Guerrero made with pink pine nuts, pistachios, beet juice, and rose petals. I was thrilled to hear that Jiménez planned to recreate it soon at his restaurant in Kensington.

Tacos at La Original Taqueria Viviana

Av. 8 Ote. 402C, Centro histórico de Puebla, 72000 Puebla, Pue., +52 221 298 3113; on Facebook

Dionicio Jiménez rubbed his hands in hungry anticipation as we sat down to eat 15 Puebla-style tacos dusted with onions and cilantro beside a caddy of five vivid salsas, including two shades of habanero. The tacos al pastor and flour tortilla-wrapped Árabes were outstanding, their well-seasoned meats crisped from the spinning trompo spit. But the sneaky hit here were the tripas, small beef intestines chopped into rings crisped on the plancha to a surprising crunch snap (”Wow, so clean!” Dionicio gushed). This cozy taqueria also specializes in cow head tacos de cabeza, and my favorite, a “maciza” taco with lean beef that’s cured and then steamed, flaked across my soft tortilla in a crimson fan of tender threads that reminded me of a good, thick cut hunk of pastrami.

Tamales and champurrado on the street in El Barrio del Artista

Many street corners are occupied with mobile tamale stands like the one operated by Israel Zuñiga in El Barrio del Artista. Tall steamer pots are strapped onto the back of his bicycle over a small charcoal-fired grill to keep his food warm all morning, and he sells 300 tamales a day, Zuñiga says as he hands us styrofoam cups of steaming hot champurrado. It’s no wonder. These are some of the fluffiest, most flavorful tamales I’ve had, marbled with salsa verde, mole Poblano, or zingy salsa roja. Then Zuñiga slipped one of his moist Oaxacan tamales from its banana leaf wrapper into a crusty roll for a guajolota tamale sandwich.

The wonders of Mercado Central de Cholula

One of Puebla state’s best markets is a showcase for regional specialties that Dionicio, who grew up nearby, was especially eager to revisit. But no food held the anticipation of return quite like the signature sandwiches at Cemitas Mary, where the crusty, dome-shaped cemita rolls were stuffed with fistfuls of shredded quesillo cheese, creamy avocado, ripe tomatoes, citrusy pápalo leaves, smoky chipotles en adobo, and an array of tasty meats. I loved the crispy cutlets of chicken Milanesa and thin-sliced pork marinated in enchilada spice. But Dionicio’s nostalgic craving was for pata de res, a salad of pickled cow’s feet whose translucent, jellied chunks were infused with the tangy spice of a zesty marinade: “The taste of my childhood!” he said.

Chicken mixiote and blue tortillas in Celia Sandoval Del Rosario’s kitchen

Nothing tastes as good as mama’s cooking, even for a pro nominated by the James Beard Foundation as one of the best chefs in the Mid-Atlantic. It’s easy to see why Dionicio Jiménez still believes this, too. His mother Celia Sandoval Del Rosario’s fresh tortillas are velvety soft, pliant, and deeply fragrant. Each bite we wrapped inside them was the living legacy of family hospitality.