Knee deep in love
11 Mart 2020, Meksika ⋅ ☁️ 22 °C
A blistering start to food on the mainland.
Despite the tangible impact of over 300 sand fly bites between Jen and I, acquired in our last days of Baja- think something like the Scottish midge, but a few times more itchy - we're still managing to enjoy our time, especially on the food front.
Crossing the Sea of Cortez has resulted in a real shift in climate to much more humid conditions and a few extra degrees on the thermometer. Deserts are gone, replaced with lush countryside. Immediately, the palate of ingredients has changed, most notable is likely the jackfruit- more to follow on that shortly.
The food on the ferry wasn't up to much as was expected, but it was free and, more importantly, it was an opportunity to sit with some truckers, say hello and exchange the customary 'buen provecho', followed by a comforting and respectful silence as we all ate. I'm proud that we take these moments more than we once would have. This is where the substance of eating is. Watching people, their relationship with food and trying to think about their lives interests me greatly.
Earlier, whilst waiting on boarding, a Mexican biker guy came up asking if we had some food that we could give him for his wife, so we offered what we had and refused his proposal to give us money. The next morning, as we neared our destination of Mazatlàn, we spoke with him and his family some more, exchanging details in the process, so now we are invited to stay with Jessie and his biker family near Guadalajara when we get there. My heart exploded even more when he said that he would show us how to cook their food. Surely, this is meant to be my first real opportubity to interview someone for a deeper insight into food through the lives of the people whose families have handed down tradition through them. I can't wait. I was buzzing for hours after that. It's enough of a privilege just to exchange conversation with people, but to be welcomed into their home after what, in some other countries, would have just been a casual exchange, fills me with so much love that I can't really find words. This is what travel can do and, combined with food, it is a vehicle for connection in a simple but powerful form which is really the thing that matters most to us about a journey like this.
After arriving in Mazatlàn, we pushed South pretty quickly as we had some ground to cover. We stopped in a small town on our way to try to find water, but that mission soon got dropped in favour of trying one of the numerous local food joints, landing the first Pollo Asado of the trip. Order (thankfully) restored. I have just one photo. I was so immersed in the experience of watching the guys do their thing that I forgot to take any action shots. I also had a little kid, José, who I'd befriended in the car park, serving as a heartwarming distraction. Thinking about him and his twelve siblings certainly made me think about the real value of such a simple meal that we had ordered.
The chicken? Oh, the chicken. Cooked with years of skill and love. Somehow, perfectly cooked throughout each part, and seasoned right on the button. Served up with a little salad and some red sauce for a smidge over $5 for one- and that was the Gringo price- it was a welcomed treat. Although, eating this piping hot lunch in 30°c in the supermarket car park was not so pleasant. There was enough left to form some tasty little tacos with my chipotle mayo and green sauce for dinner. Tremendous.
So the trip has thankfully been saved thanks to finally indulging in Polls Asado for the first time in Mexico.
This morning, we awoke in our camp spot - the car park of a petrol station, as is the way when on a highway push - and got ready for the road down towards Puerto Vallarta. Whilst refilling on fuel, a lady in the forecourt offered us some (still warm) cornbread. They like to eat it with milk, she said. We had one sniff at it and ordered another slab. At a buck a pop, it was a steal. It barely lasted the journey, saved only by the distraction of the return of roadside vendors. After passing a few, it became too much to say no any more. This is a fundamental point of this second phase of our trip- to stop driving past opportunities to connect and to eat proper, local things.
The tropical conditions are yielding fruit on a totally different level to Baja. We stopped to visit a stall where the old ladies welcomed us with hugs and an introduction to their finest produce. We bought a huge tub of insanely good honey ($1.50???!!!), fresh jackfruit pods ($0.50), and these coconut cake things, for which I forget the name now- basically fresh coconut shreds cooked in condensed milk, and solidified back into a sort of cake- this shit will blow your fucking mind, it's so good. Four of those cost about $0.50 also. Patrick and Susie bought some banana bread, also. What a wonderful stop filling our bellies and our hearts. The coco treats didn't last the next segment of the journey. The honey, well...that'll just be getting lathered on everything- I wonder maybe with some good fresh cheese, or just in yoghurt. And tea. Hmmm. And the jackfruit? Well, that stuff is going to be turned into some veggie tacos on another level. As many veggie folks will know, jackfruit turns into a texture similar to pulled pork. I'm going to try a few different variants with this, but first stop is to use up some leftover BBQ sauce from last week - it keeps well - to make some BBQ pulled jackfruit, with which I hope to make a pastor sauce, pineapple salsa and some pickles. I'm salivating as I write this.
Moving on down the road, floating on a coconut cloud, and mind racing with all that is going to be food-wise in this climate, we found ourselves in a small town to meet a friend of a friend of a friend. We stopped for some lunch first- our friend, Beto, showed us to a place where we could get into some proper local and homely grub. Unfortunately, from my selfish perspective, the consensus was for more familiar dishes, I.e. tacos, so we moved on. Before leaving, I didn't manage to understand much of what the three lunch dishes on offer really were, other than a beef caldo- like boiled meat in a broth with chunky veg. I just wanted to try something of the place, but it'll have to wait.
Across the street, we found a taco joint. BBQ grill out front, and then a big pot with the meat- from pork leg, through to offal, and skin and the like, all sitting on the pork fat in which it's cooked slowly. We all played a little safe, going for Carnitas which omit the likes of Buche (stomach) and Surtido (Carnitas with offal, skin and various other bits). We all had tacos, except Susie, who opted for a quesadilla with carnitas ans cheese.This wasn't a tourist town, so it was the real deal. The trimmings were the standard assembly- tomato salsa, red and green salsas, onions etc. What a treat to be served up honest food by these warm people, including the little rockstar kiddo, in such a perfectly simple setting.
Sometimes when you watch a food documentary, it's maybe difficult to appreciate fully the essence of something. The food can seem a bit simple or rough. But, when you're in it; in the place where it belongs, and with the people whose lives are immersed in it one way or another, whether it's making it, supplying it, or eating it, we are given an opportunity to look directly into the soul of a place, because food remains such an important part in everyday life. Without exaggeration, food is family, and so it receives all of that love which is passed on to people like us who are so privileged to be able to be here. We get to experience not just that food, but all the love that went into it and all the warmth that surrounds the whole experience. For some fleeting moments, we too are part of that family. I hope I never take for granted how lucky we are.Okumaya devam et
