Nov 11th, 2023 Saturday Sunny
It was a given to dine in Mexican restaurants on a trip to New Mexico. As the name suggests, this state boasts of a closer connection to its southern neighbor than any other states in the country. Naturally, the food scene should reflect that.
I can’t say I am a Mexican food connoisseur, partly because my experience with this cuisine had been limited to the simplified, Americanized versions that you may find in any city, partly because my tolerance for spiciness, particularly spiciness from a variety of chili peppers (e.g. jalapeno, habanero), is not that commendable ?
My husband, on the other hand, is very excited about the prospect of tasting delicious Mexican food, as much as possible. He enjoys any kind of spicy challenges, and never shuns away from the opportunity to savor something hot. On our penultimate day, he decided on this Oaxacan restaurant with glowing reviews online. While the neighborhood looked unfamiliar, we took a chance.
The moment we walked in, I had an illusion that we just crossed the border into Mexico. Everyone in the restaurant, from customers to the waiter, was speaking Spanish. The décor was simple but home-like, with colorful paper cuttings hanging from the ceiling. A speaker was playing salsa music and other Spanish pop songs, creating a leisurely ambience.
We picked a table and sat down. The waiter brought the menu. A glance at the menu immediately boosted my confidence in the authenticity of the restaurant, but also posed the unexpected challenge – the menu had NO English. ALL in Spanish.
Realizing we were the only non-Spanish speakers present, we took the task of choosing our dishes seriously. To be fair, the satisfied looks on the faces of all the other customers provided the assurance that any food served here was probably decent. Still, I am not the kind that would shovel food into my mouth without even knowing what it is.
My husband has been learning Spanish, but apparently food vocabulary is deemed less important in the curriculum than greetings, so the only food words he could decipher were water (agua) and milk (leche). Water was already served, and I was not interested in drinking milk for dinner ?
After much deliberation, I ordered what looked like a platter, with different types of meat, tortillas, and mole. I figured that there must be something I like in that assortment. My husband ordered chicken en mole.
We did not wait long before our food was ready. One bite into his mole, my husband exclaimed, “wow, so good!” Then gulped a big mouthful of water right away.
I cautiously dipped my fork into the mole and sampled a few drops. The flavor was rich and deep, a multitude of ingredients contributing to the profile and each showing its unique character. The heat caught on quickly – it did not wipe out the complexity of other tastes, though I felt a shiver in my body protesting against it “this is too much!”. I left my husband to devour the rest of his meal, while I happily tried each part of my “plato mistec”. Everything was delightful and super filling, and I had to enlist my husband’s help to finish since packing the food home was sadly not an option.
Despite the language barrier, we were both deeply touched by the hospitality and impressed by the quality of food. Now I am motivated to learn enough Spanish, so that someday, we could actually visit Mexico 😉