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Monday, 30 April 2012

Burrimania. And the one in a million burrito.

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It was gambling that led me astray again.

And yes of course, there was a woman to blame. Don Day's Wife had been at charity bingo and had won lunch for two. Unfortunately, she was scheduled to spend lunchtime, that day, not in a dining chair but in a dentist's chair. Fortunately for me, I wasn't.

I thought of giving the other half of the lunch to someone who looked needy. Then I looked in the mirror and thought who looks more needy than me. So there I was with this coupon and a need to double up on the midday meal.

I was on my way to Casino, the great looking old bar on Calle Canal that everyone except pool players stopped going to a couple of decades ago. I was planning to do a little gambling myself. It was Wednesday, the day of the weekly nine-ball tournament. And the restaurant was right on the way.

The restaurant is called Burrimania and I'd always thought going there might be a gamble. You see Burrimania looks like a fast food place. And Don Day doesn't like food to happen fast. Don Day is an old retired guy with a lot of time on his hands and wants to spend a lot of that time eating. In fact, Don Day has always wanted one of those "Fast Women. Slow Food." t-shirts.

The strange thing is, Burrimania specializes in one of Don Day's favorite foods. And it's almost always a food that he eats at fast food joints (joint is a good word in Don Day lingo by the way).

As Don Day is a gambler and, therefore, likes playing games, next, a quiz. If I say the words San Francisco, what words do you say? Cable car? Gold rush? Willie Mays? Fisherman's Wharf? The Transamerica Building? Earthquake? North Beach? Tony Bennett? No, not Rice-a-Roni either but the word that comes to Don Day's mind is a food. It's burrito.

When you live in San Francisco, as Don Day once did, fast food doesn't necesarily mean a hamburger or hot dog; it doesn't necessarily mean a taco or a slice of pizza. It often means a burrito, a wonderful, spicy, juicy, incredibly delicious burrito.

The burrito wasn't born in San Francisco, but it certainly was raised there. Raised to a new height that has made it the ultimate in Cal-Mex food. In Mexico, it's been around since the 19th Century with the earliest mention that Don Day has found in the 1895 Diccionario de Mexicanismos. Interestingly the word is attributed to San Miguel's home state, Guanaj uato, and is described as a rolled tortilla with meat or other ingredients.

In the sixties, in the taquerias of San Francisco, the mission style burrito evolved. It was bigger, much bigger, and better, much better, than Mexican style and, in addition to meat, would often also contain rice, beans, guacamole, cheese and sour cream.

I walked into Burrimania, a place that looks very much like a typical fast food restaurant, sauntered up to the counter where you order your food and fumbled for a while. There were signs with what seemed like an endless list of ingredients. Plus the biggest steam and cold table I'd ever seen in a burrito joint. There were a lot of serious decisions to make. I needed some serious help.

Sat in the corner was an easy to notice guy who I'd bet had put back more than a few burritos in his time. He also looked like a guy that I'd guess would work in a restaurant that specialized in burritos. I was right on both counts. His name was Roberto Remak and he not only worked in the restaurant, he owned it.

I told him about my problem making decisions. I wanted to tell him that I ask for a time-out just to decide whether to call heads or tails to see who goes first in a pool game. I told him that I needed his help navigating through the enormous choice of potential ingredients for my two burritos. I told him I definitely wanted the giant size (called a burrote at Burrimania). I told him I wanted the regular flour not the whole wheat tortilla. I told him I traditionally ordered carne asada (steak) as my main ingredient and, then, I usually ask the server to decorate it as they see fit.

Burrimania has the longest list of main ingredients I've ever seen in a burrito joint. In addition to carne asada, there's pollo deshebrado (pulled chicken), pollo con mole (chicken with mole sauce), pollo de la plancha (grilled chicken), barbacoa de res (barbecued beef), al pastor (pork and pineapple), verduras asadas (grilled veggies) and rajas con quesos (poblano chiles with cheese).

Bob Remak is a lot better at making decisions than I am. He donned his apron, agreed with my choice of carne asada for burrito number one, emphatically said I should have pollo de la plancha for burrito number two and decorated them with the extras that he thought would make them the burritos he'd be most proud of. He wrapped them in that lined aluminum wrap that burritos are always wrapped in as I ordered a can of that wonder of Waco, Diet Dr. Pepper. As I walked over to a table, contemplating whether or not each burrito weighed more than a pound, I thought of the wise words of Miss Piggy, "Never eat more than you can lift."

As I sat and contemplated beef first and chicken second or chicken first then beef who should walk in but Noah Mendelson. I'd faced Noah in the final of the last nine ball tournament at Casino and knew where he was headed after his burrito. Noah, who can artfully arrange pool balls on a table almost as well as he can acrylics on canvas, rarely says anything except which pocket the nine ball is going in. He said two words to me this time. "Great place."

I was about to unwrap my burritos and find out if he was right. They were nicely packed with white rice and refried beans and, like all good burritos, the juice was soon running down my chin. A great burrito is about a combination of a lot of flavors all interacting and working together. I was soon in agreement with Noah. If great burritos equal a great place, this was a great place.

I invited Bob Rebak to join me and immediately checked his creds. To prepare great burritos you have to have spent time in my city by the sea. He had. His first restaurant job was a little further south in his hometown, Santa Barbara. His neighbor there was maitre d' at The Biltmore and, suddenly one summer, Bob discovered that he'd traded the beach for time in the hotel kitchen and dining room.

"When I moved to San Francisco it was because I wanted to get into the financial business" he told me.

"I was working at a restaurant called Standing Room Only in The Embarcadero Center when the earthquake hit. Two days later, when we reopened, I realized how good it felt to feed people. Maybe I didn't want those stockbroker and banker jobs that I envied."

Bob Rebak is a very big guy and I had to ask him a very big question. Does he eat his own fare. He does, but only desnudo, which is Bob's way of saying without the tortilla. He also told me that on his not quite exclusive burrito diet he was able to lose 100 pounds, a few of which have found their way back on his frame.

Bob came to San Miguel de Allende about two and half years ago to learn Spanish. He fell in love with his tutor, fell in love with the town, got married and, just over a year ago, opened Burrimania. I asked him, "Why burritos?"

"I was too old to run a traditional restaurant. It's just too much", he told me. "I wanted a life as well a business."

"When I started to think about the place, there were three words that kept going through my mind. Quick. Affordable, Healthy. I couldn't think of anything better than burritos to make that concept work."

"I also wanted everything to be organic but that wasn't quite possible. The lettuce, cilantro, spinach, nopales (cactus leaves) and beans are. Some things though I just couldn't get. Other things were two or three times the price and I knew if I used them I couldn't keep things affordable."

I asked Bob to list all of the possible sauces and extras you can order to go with that already extensive selection of main burrito ingredients and I began to write them down. I started listening to the way he was talking instead of what he was saying. Food writers have used terms like "cooking with love" or "putting his heart into the dish" way too often in the last few years but that's what I was thinking. He seemed to have a devotion to that endless list as though it was his children he was talking about. If I'd written down the entire list, I might have messed up the wrist action for the pool tournament; Bob agreed to email them to me. I still decided not to list them though as the typing...sorry, make that keystroking...necessary might have seriously affected my card shuffling skills that were necessary for that evening's gambling activities.

I downed almost but not quite all of the two burritos and went through three napkins doing it. After a good burrito (or two great burritos) one never needs dessert but, if it really is a great burrito, you should definitely need a shower. I needed a whirlpool bath.

I asked Bob Rebak if he'd ever put all of those choices he offers in a calculator and determined the number of possible different burritos that were available at Burrimania. Yes, of course, he had. He couldn't remember the exact number but he did remember it was over a million. I figure that's two down for Don Day, at least 999,998 to go.

I left Burrimania and walked up Calle Zacateros to participate in that day's exercise program, doing laps around the pool table and bending up and down to take my shots. Who should I meet in the finals of the nine ball tournament but Noah "great place" Mendelson again and, for the second tourney in a row who should win but Don Day. Now the previous time, I was just lucky but this time I might just have been the best stick man (yes that term is used in billiards as well) there on that particular day, for Noah is a far better player than I am. The only thing I can give credit to is the more solid footing from the extra two pounds I was carrying thanks to those burritos from Burrimania.

With my winnings from Casino, I had enough to stop in and get two more burritos for dinner, one this time for Don Day's Wife. It's no wonder I love gambling.

Burrimania is located at #2 Ancha de San Antonio in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. It's open every day from Noon to 8:00 pm.

Monday, 09 April 2012

Bistro Los Senderos. A city boy visits the country.

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"Who is not familiar with those joys of the countryside sung by poets of all centuries, often praised by philosophers, often wished for oneself?"

Christian Cajus Lorenz Hirschfeld, 1742-1792

Don Day is a city slicker. An urban cowboy. An indoorsman.

But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate the great outdoors. Especially the outdoors around San Miguel de Allende. Some people want verdant meadows, sweet smelling wildflowers, twittering birds, and babbling brooks. I crave the desert.

One of my favorite things to do is to borrow someone's hound and wander back beyond Mega, the town's supermarket. Through the dry canyon, past the not quite deserted hacienda, then up the fire brick red trails to the top. I like the agaves, the nopales, the mesquite trees, the crowns of thorns. I imagine returning in June and seeing the splendor of the prickly pears decorated like cars in fifties weddings with strawberry red blossoms.

There's a problem with those hikes though. They have no real destination. No finishing line. What if I could see those rolling blue sierras, those centuries old dry stone walls and those magueys with their five meter tall flower spikes, and then end up somewhere that serves fine European fare matched with well chosen wines in an elegant outdoor setting.

I've discovered that I can.

The place is called Los Senderos. Though it's less than 15 minutes from my San Miguel home, it took me a couple of years to get there. You see it's advertised as a "sensual experience embracing tolerance and diversity" and I'd always thought that might be something I'd probably enjoy more in a bedroom than the countryside. Los Senderos also has one of those graphic designer with way too much independence websites that takes way too long to load and, when you do get in, you get lines like "My altruistic calling is to inspire others to sing with their own voice while listening with the ears of the universe." Very tasty words but would the food at the restaurant be tasty?

The occasion that finally got me to Los Senderos was an important one. It was Don Day's last Mexican lunch this winter, with 21 of his favorite San Miguel people, before he remorsefully went home and attempted to cram all those new Hawaiian shirts he'd bought at the Tuesday market in his duffle bag. The lunch called for something a little different, it called for not just a restaurant but a destination. It called for a visit to the country.

I called Los Senderos and spoke to Anders Litzén, one of the three partners who now run the bistro there. He agreed to put together a set lunch with three courses and matching wines. Both Anders and Los Senderos chef Kajsa are Swedish. Anders told me to "not expect Swedish food but food with influences from throughout Europe".

Los Senderos has a shuttle service and the very hospitable Eduardo picked us up. Now, as much as I love being in the country, I hate the getting there. Don Day, in fact, may have originated the "Are we there yet?" line. So it was a nice surprise to discover that, from Don Day's house (which is at Cinco de Mayo and Prolongacion de Aldama) to Los Senderos, it took a total of 13 minutes. Muy rapido!

Los Senderos is located just a couple of miles northwest of the centre of San Miguel de Allende but when you arrive there you arrive in another world. The first thing you see are the remains of a 300-year-old hacienda and, then, a verdant 300 acre valley below you. The restaurant, Bistro Los Senderos is perched on the side of the north facing hill.

Second only to food and wine, Don Day loves gardens (maybe because he knows that's where his food and wine live before they grow up). One of the first things I spotted was a great looking organic garden. We quickly realized that Eduardo the driver was also Eddie the gardener and he was anxious to show off his green thumb.

As well as identifying the garlic, the artichokes, the rosemary, the onions, the lavender, the carrots, the potatoes, and the thyme, Don Day also identified a woman in a crisp white cotton blouse, with one extra undone button, cutting fennel fronds. It was our chef Kajsa. Don Day mentioned to one of the male guests that he thought she was even more appetizing than the vegetables.

We headed into the restaurant and were seated at one formally set table in what the restaurant appropriately calls the pavilion and Anders came out to tell us about the first course (and that Kajsa was his fiancée).

Anders is what women call buff. I'm not sure what that means (the closest Don Day has come is being called fluff) but I did know I didn't want to arm wrestle him for the bill.

The first course was very Swedish. Sweet shrimp, mayonnaise, dill, red onions with barbecued lime and that fennel that Kajsa (still with that extra button undone) was cutting as a delicate garnish on a toast similar to a French brioche. Don Day's friend Cheryl said it was, "a perfect execution of a Scandinavian open face sandwich".

Anders who doubles as Bistro Los Senderos' sommelier coupled it with a Montebuena Blanco. Don Day thought he couldn't have done much better; the non-oaked Rioja had a creamy, toffee taste with both lemon and apple fruit coming through that was a perfect accompaniment to the shrimp.

The second course was what Don Day thought was a bold move. Lamb chops. Don Day had recently done some research for a post on barbacoa and had discovered that residents of the United States (unless they're Muslim) rarely if ever eat lamb. So Bistro Los Senderos was serving something that was a little unusual to most and, not only that, was serving it without giving them the choice of how well they wanted it cooked. Good for Bistro Los Senderos I thought.

And, generally speaking, I was right (though some of the lamb was a little rare for some tastes). One of Don Day's friends (who he forgot to identify in his notes) said it was "the best barbecued lamb I've had in San Miguel". The lamb was accompanied by a ratatouille of peppers, eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, rosemary and garlic that Don Day's friend Ben said was "perfectly cooked". The only sour note were the almost rock hard potatoes. Don Day's crowd is a meat and potatoes crowd so when you see a lot of plates on their way home to the kitchen still with potatoes on them, you know they're not the best.

With the lamb, Anders again made a perfect choice of wine. Goats Do Roam is a South African take on French Rhone style wines and is one of Don Day's house wines in Canada. Goats Do Roam combines Syrah with Cinsault, Mourvedre, Grenache and Carignan grapes to rival the best of the reasonably-priced red wines from the Northern Rhone. Don Day doesn't think there's a better wine to accompany lamb than a Rhone style like Goats Do Roam.

Second to quality in desserts, Don Day likes quantity in desserts and Kajsa and Bistro Los Senderos delivered with a delightful selection. It was hard to pick a favorite from the trays but the sundae glasses filled with rhubarb, yogourt, key lime pie and blackberry coulis were like a mini trifle and were declared a tie with the raspberries in chocolate and coconut in Don Day's opinion. Don Day's Wife said, "She's a good dessert chef, Honey. A really good dessert chef." Don's friend Cactus Jack, never shy for an opinion, said, "Man those desserts were awesome. Anyone that didn't like them has a serious problem."

With the dessert, Anders served Quady Elysium Black Muscat, a sweet dessert wine that Don Day used to drink in his California days. It brought back memories of some very pleasant days (and nights).

As people finished their desserts and their Elysium, I strolled down the hill and looked back up at the restaurant, the bar and the gardens and I realized that, as good as the food and wine was, Bistro Los Senderos is as much about the setting as anything else. I thought of coming here for their Thursday afternoon barbecue. Then I thought of sitting in the restaurant having Sunday brunch and I really couldn't think of a better place anywhere in Mexico. Seattle Joe was also wandering around the grounds, looking over at the new homes that were being built on the other side of the valley. He said to me, "Have you ever seen a nicer outdoor spot in San Miguel?"

I hadn't. This was the countryside I wish for when I'm smack in the middle of Centro. This is the place for someone who wants to see trees that aren't just at the sides of roads, to hear orioles singing, to see lambs grazing and see nopales not on a plate but still on the cactus plants where they came from. This is a restaurant that's just a free shuttle or a 40 peso cab ride from the middle of town. Bistro Los Senderos might just be the perfect country escape.

Bistro Los Senderos is located at Avenida Central 101 in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. The restaurant is open from Thursday to Saturday, 1:00 pm to 9:00 pm; Sunday, 11:00 am to 7:00 pm. To make reservations and order the restaurant's shuttle service, telephone 415 155 9594.

Friday, 30 March 2012

The battle of the baguettes. The best bread in San Miguel de Allende.

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When it comes to bakeries, San Miguel is definitely a member of the upper crust. We have not one, not two, but four different bakeries catering to the ex-pat community. Not only that, all of them are almost always busy which means that they'll be around probably at least as long as Don Day will be around.

The four bakeries are Cumpanio, La Buena Vida, La Mesa Grande and El Maple. They all have their specialties and, in various ways, they're all very good. Much of the choice as to which bakery you favor in San Miguel involves that old real estate cliche: Location, location, location. Depending on where you live in this town probably has a strong bearing on which bakery you shop at. But what if location didn't matter, which one would you choose for your daily bread?

That was the question that I asked ten people who came to lunch for an afternoon picnic. These were ten people who, like Don Day, grew up on slices of cotton-batting Wonder Bread and some of them, like Don Day, might have even remembered when Wonder Bread changed from "building strong bodies eight ways" to "building strong bodies twelve ways". I admit that it took me longer than some to switch from bread in cello packages to old-fashioned, unwrapped, unsliced bread but, once I was converted to the faith, I knew that the baguette was my favorite form. So that's what I chose for the comparison. Including Don Day and Don Day's Wife there would be 12 judges, one less than a baker's dozen.

I had gone to each of the four San Miguel bakeries that morning and picked up a baguette at each. I served them (blind, so there'd be no preconceptions) to Don Day's guests along with a couple of charcuterie platters, a cheese plate, a pesto salad, a bean salad, and a caprese salad (prepared, of course, by Don Day's Wife) and asked them one simple question: Which baguette is best? Number one, two, three or four. Here are the results of the taste test:

I have probably eaten more baked goods from La Buena Vida than any bakery in San Miguel de Allende. On Saturdays, at San Miguel's organic market, I always have problems tearing myself away from their stand. All of the sweet delights that are there...bran muffins, honey-dipped donuts, brownies, empanadas, Danish pastries, pain au chocolat, croissants...generate line-ups by 11:00 am that can mean 15 minutes before they take your order. But it's worth it. La Buena Vida also produces what is almost definitely San Miguel's very best ciabatta. However, when it came to their French baguette, much to Don Day's disappointment, La Buena Vida finished last in the best bread in San Miguel contest.

La Buena Vida's French baguette is considerably different than a traditional baguette. Someone said, "It doesn't even look like a baguette." The crust is much softer. It has seeds on top and, though seeds are generally a welcome addition to the crust of most breads, seeds on a baguette just don't seem right. Not only was La Buena Vida's baguette last, it didn't really come close as not one person out of twelve picked it as their favorite.

In third place in the baguette battle came El Maple. With it's Canadian name, Don Day, also a Canadian and a guy who once, after consuming far too much alcohol, considered having a tattoo of a maple leaf permanently needled on his left cheek, was privately rooting for El Maple. But Don Day also knew it wouldn't do all that well because, if you're a Canadian, you'll also know anything with the word Maple in it hasn't won anything since 1964. In addition to its baguette, El Maple has a soft bun that's almost perfect if you want a soft bun for a hot dog or hamburger. El Maple also has one of the best key lime pies that will ever pass between your lips.

El Maple's baguette, though, just doesn't rise about the crowd, especially the crowd that was there for the picnic. It only got one vote as the best. The only real complaint I heard was that the crust just wasn't as thick and crunchy as it should be but, as I listened to more and more comments, I began to realize the importance of the crust. Everybody was talking about crusts but the praise wasn't for El Maple's or La Buena Vida's.

The competition between the other two baguettes was close. And I mean really close. A lot of people didn't even want to make the final decision. I got comments such as "I like numbers one and three" and "Three and one are my favorites." Finally, when forced, I got a few to commit.

In second place was the baguette from Cumpanio. If it was in France, Cumpanio would be called a boulangerie/patisserie because in addition to making great bread, they also make very fancy desserts, the kind you'd love to have with afternoon tea if your waist allowed you to add an additional meal to your diet. I should also tell you that Cumpanio's baguette costs $18 pesos (about $1.50 U.S. or Canadian), $2 pesos less than the rest.

I personally find the baguette from Cumpanio the hardest one to get home in one piece. The heel somehow always breaks off in my hand and finds its way into my mouth. In fact, if I ever get mugged on the way home, the Cumpanio loaf would make an excellent weapon. Part club, part sword, I think I'd aim right for the mugger's breadbasket. The crust on a Cumpanio loaf is definitely the crispiest and that was what almost everyone loved about it. But man cannot live on crust alone and there was still one loaf that topped it.

Though the baguette from La Mesa Grande was second in the crust count, it was an overwhelming first when what was inside was considered. For what's inside a La Mesa Grande loaf is considerably different from the rest. Though they do occasionally make a very traditional French baguette, La Mesa Grande's everyday baguette is a sourdough. I suspect that the Cumpanio baguette also has something other than the standard wheat flour, water, yeast and salt...maybe a little malt or soy flour. The La Mesa Grande baguette though begins with a starter like all sourdough loaves do. It gives the bread a slightly different texture, a little more welcome moisture and that distinct but still slight sour taste. A taste that helped La Mesa Grande's baguette rise above all the rest.

La Mesa Grande is also the one place in four where you don't have to take your baguette home to enjoy it. They're a restaurant as well as a bakery and their sandwiches are superb.

There's one other advantage to La Mesa Grande's baguette that the judges wouldn't be aware of. I know from experience that it's still good the next day when the others have already gone quite stale. In fact, La Mesa Grande's baguette may be just about the greatest thing since unsliced bread.

La Mesa Grande is located at Zacateros #49 in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. They are open from 8:00 am to 7:00 pm, Monday to Friday and 9:00 am to 7:00 pm on Saturdays.

Wednesday, 28 March 2012

The buzz comes to The Restaurant in San Miguel de Allende

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It was 2002 all over again last week.

In those days, we were living in San Francisco. And really living. Don Day's Wife was working in the dot-com biz and she was making more money than she'd ever dreamed of. Don Day was also busy. Trying to spend as much of that money as he could on food and drink.

On Saturday nights, we would go the hottest restaurants in our city by the sea. Boulevard, Farallon, Gary Danko, Colborne Lane, Jardiniere and, on one particular Saturday night, a new one called Azie. It wasn't easy getting in. Azie was the toughest ticket in town when it opened.

Don Day's Wife and I preferred to sit at the bar in Azie, in this hot new district called SoMa. We'd be the oldest couple there and, for a while, we'd try to talk over the deafening din. Then we'd give up and just eat. The food was called fusion, a brand new word in those days, that described the marriage of Asian and European dishes. We thought it was a marriage made in heaven.

Out front in Azie in those days was a young guy called Joe Hargrave. Out back, running the kitchen was another young guy called Donnie Masterton. I'm not sure, but I'd guess they were both still in their twenties then. Though we'd always preferred our food to be prepared by seasoned vets, Azie change our minds forever.

These days, Donnie Masterton runs The Restaurant in San Miguel de Allende and, last week, he invited Joe Hargrave to town to recreate some of those moments we...and, I think, they...cherished. Memories of some old dishes, plus some not so old dishes, and some probably invented just for the two nights that Joe Hargrave was here.

Joe Hargrave no longer works at Azie. In fact, Azie no longer exists. Joe runs two San Francisco restaurants under the Tacolicious banner and a tequila bar with the name Mosto. They're places that have expanded the borders for Mexican food in San Francisco and are almost as hot as Azie was in those days that Don Day's Wife and I remember so fondly. With him, Joe brought Telmo Faria, the chef in charge of the kitchens at Tacolicious.

Together, Joe, Telmo (the guy on the left) and Donnie Masterton (on the right) created a pop-up restaurant by reinventing The Restaurant at Sollano 16 into another version of Tacolicious. Quite the achievement when you consider it was for only two days.

Pop-ups have been the rage for three or four years now. They're basically instant restaurants that can use anything as a venue. It could be somebody's home, an American Legion Hall, an existing restaurant on the night they're usually closed, even a city park with a couple of barbecues.

Tacolicious San Miguel was ambitious. On Thursday night there were seven different small plates, a choice of six tacos, three sides, and five desserts. That's 21 dishes for that one night with a few being repeated on Friday. Some of the dishes were straight off Tacolicious' menu, some I recognized as variations from The Restaurant, some I'm guessing were brand new, and a couple, like the glazed pork riblets and skillet of roasted mussels I remember fondly from those cool San Francisco nights at Azie.

I could tell you about some of those dishes in detail as I usually do in a restaurant review but that would just tease you. Tacolicious SMA was for two nights only and probably will never be recreated again. Old news is worse than no news.

There was one more thing I remembered from those nights at Azie: The buzz. Like fusion, buzz was a new word that we used ten years ago...or probably overused...to describe a lot of things. It was talk, it was gossip, it was an aura, it was getting high, it was atmosphere, it was news, it was music. It was a throbbing that reverberated through the hot San Francisco restaurants. It was that deafening din at Azie. I'd never heard it before at The Restaurant, I don't think I'd quite heard it ever before in a San Miguel restaurant. But on Thursday night the buzz was there and I liked the memories.

As I was leaving The Restaurant, Donnie Masterton asked me, "So, how'd we do, Don? Or do I have to wait for the blog?".

"You nailed it, Donnie", I said. "You hit it right on the head. Tonight I was back on Folsom Street, in San Francisco again. And loved being there."

The Restaurant is located at Sollano 16 in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.

Monday, 26 March 2012

The very best barbacoa in San Miguel de Allende

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There are many very good Mexican dishes but there are only three great Mexican dishes according to the overly-opinionated Don Day: pozole, menudo and barbacoa. The first, pozole, is reasonably easy to find in San Miguel de Allende restaurants. The second, menudo, is also reasonably easy to find but only if you want to eat it on a Sunday and even then, because tripe is usually its main ingredient, you may have problems finding someone who'll eat it with you. The third, barbacoa, seems easy to find in San Miguel but only until you actually look for it.

If you're driving north to San Miguel de Allende from Mexico City, you'll see a place to the east of the highway, about an hour before the turn-off to San Miguel, where there are at least five barbacoa restaurants, one after the other, filled with tractor trailers. I remember the first time I passed them thinking if there's this many barbacoa spots out here, in the middle of nowhere, there's going to be twice as many when I get to San Miguel. Don Day was very wrong.

Finding barbacoa in San Miguel de Allende requires a tour guide and so, in today's post, Don Day has his Thomas Cook hat on. There are four places that I know that you can walk to for barbacoa. There are others that you can drive to but as others have deemed it important that, for the safety of others, Don Day should not be allowed behind the wheel of a car, those four are the only ones I consider.

Before I tell you about where to find barbacoa, I should make sure you know what barbacoa is. For, though it is one of Mexico's great contributions to world cuisine, there are quite a few people in San Miguel who rarely, if ever, eat it.

Barbacoa is, in San Miguel de Allende at least, a way of cooking lamb. But one of the shocking things, to Don Day at least, is that in the United States, the average consumption per capita of lamb is less than half a kilo (one pound) per year. I worked it out that if Don Day and his wife eat, on average, one pound per week, that's 51 people who go a whole year without ever savoring that wonderful taste. Such a shame.

There are a lot of sources given for the words barbecue and barbacoa, most of them giving credit for the word to the Arawak Indians in the Caribbean. As Don Day lives part-time in Mexico and not on an island in the West Indies, he chooses instead to give credit to the Mayans and the three words baal bak kab which translate as cover meat earth.

The word barbacoa (and barbecue) began as a term that referred to meat done in a pit with hot coals, not meat on a grill resting above hot coals, and that is what you should look for when you search for real barbacoa in Mexico.

A lot of the barbacoa sold in Mexico, unfortunately, is not done in a pit; it's lamb that's stewed or braised on top of a stove or inside an oven. There aren't many places that do it in the very basic, very traditional way with no marinade, no rubs, no extras except perhaps some basic aromatics such as onions or peppers, just young lamb covered by maguey leaves in a pit filled with hot coals. Maguey is the Mexican word for agave and, as you may know, blue agave is where tequila comes from which might explain the enthusiasm for the flavor it imparts to the lamb. If you're as food obsessed as Don Day is and want to see exactly how the best barbacoa is done, in Hidalgo style, you can check out this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gOqHTtCGKA

Unfortunately, a lot of the barbacoa in Mexico is not even made of lamb. In Mexico City, there are enormous restaurants and even more enormous markets that serve barbacoa made from grown up lambs, the very strong tasting (and smelling) mutton. In northern Mexico and up into Texas, barbacoa de cabeza, a cow's head slow-cooked in a similar way inside a pit, is what you'll usually get if you order barbacoa.

Now, everybody back on the tour bus for barbacoa in San Miguel de Allende.

The first barbacoa restaurant we'll stop at is almost across from Mega, San Miguel's biggest supermarket, as you head east up the hill. I'd call it about a city block. It's easy to miss but all I can say is watch hard for the signage. It's called Rodriguez Barbacoa; it's run by nice people; and if you want to have a nice place to sit while you eat your barbacoa, there's none nicer. It has pretty good barbacoa, but it is barbacoa that Don Day suspects uses lambs that are a little older than other places. The biggest problem with Rodriguez Barbacoa though is it closes as early as 1:00 pm, which is the first time in the day that Don Day thinks of consuming barbacoa, in fact, anything other than coffee. So Don Day passes on Rodriguez Barbacoa.

The second barbacoa restaurant on the tour is located reasonably close to Don Day's house on the west side of Salida a Celaya, about half way between Cinco de Mayo and the Glorieta. There's a car wash next door and the number on it is #83 Salida a Celaya. Not only is it the second barbacoa restaurant on the tour but it is Don Day's second best favorite barbacoa restaurant. It is called Barbacoa Don Cuco. Don Day likes stopping there for a quick barbacoa taco and Coke when he's walking up to Mega. Unfortunately, Don Day can only do that on Saturdays and Sundays when Don Cuco is open. And sometimes Don Day has an uncontrollable urge for barbacoa on other days.

The other two barbacoa restaurants in San Miguel are almost always open and are reasonably easy to find. Both are on Calzada de la Estacion (the continuation of Canal as you walk or drive west from the centre of town).

The one on the north side is called De Quen Chon (no, I have no idea what it means). It also probably uses slightly older lambs so Don Day gives it a pass too. It's also frustrating that it runs out of barbacoa as early as 1:00 pm.

And then, fourth and last, comes El Pato, Don Day's favorite and, currently, the only place where he eats barbacoa. Now why you would call a restaurant that specializes in lamb, El Pato (the duck), I'm not sure, but then again, why did someone build a restaurant in the shape of an enormous duck last year in Colonia Allende and never ever open it.

El Pato is located almost at the end of Calzada de la Estacion, about a block west of the bus station and just east of the big new overpass on the libriamiento. I know it's not a part of town that people go to looking for gourmet delights but get that out of your head immediately.

El Pato calls its barbacoa stila Hidalgo (Hidalgo style). I'm not sure what this exactly means except that Hidalgo style always seems to be cordero (lamb) and it's always done very simply with little or no extra flavors except salt and pepper and the flavor that comes out of the maguey leaves. It's served, again very simply, on grilled tortillas with a green sauce, a red sauce, onions, cilantro and lime. Don Day prefers to order two tacos, one with just a hint of salsa verde, the other with just a hint of salsa roja so that the taste of that moist, melt-in-your-mouth lamb really comes through.

El Pato is run by Pilar and Jose Luis Lopez, a charming couple who welcome you like you are long lost relatives and feed you like you're actually relatives they want to continue seeing. When I arrive at El Pato, Pilar gives me a hug; I like women who give me a hug. After she gives me a hug, Pilar starts to talk about how good her food is. I like women who talk about how good their food is.

The official definition of lamb is sheep that's less than one year old (though it can stretch to 14 months if the lamb is still milk fed). The average weight of a lamb at slaughter is 60 kilos (132 pounds). For El Pato, Jose Luis cooks lambs that are only about six months old and only weigh about 35 to 40 kilos (80 pounds). Throughout the world, in countries that consume a considerable amount of lamb, that would be considered the ideal age. The result is the ultimate in the only two things that really matter with barbacoa: taste and tenderness.

I'd been keeping El Pato a secret until this week when I decided to share it with some of the guys I hang out with.

El Pato specializes in three things: Barbacoa, mixiote and consome. We started with the consome.

Consome (it's spelled with one M in Spanish) is a lamb stock made from the drippings that come from the barbacoa. In most countries, consomme (two M's) is a perfectly clear soup but, at El Pato, garbanzo beans are added. As good as the barbacoa and mixiote are at El Pato, there are people who would rank their consome as their best dish. There certainly were some enthusiastic comments when the guys tasted it last week, many of them tasting Mexican consome for the first time.

"This is one delicious soup", said David. "To use my son's favorite expression, this would definitely get two thumbs up."

"That lamb flavor really comes through", said Joe. "This really stands out with me."

Jack, on the other hand, started listing all of the other dishes that could be improved with this consome as the stock.

Ron reached over so he wouldn't spill a drop. The Don other than yours truly actually picked his bowl up and drank it Asian style so he could savor every drop.

Next up at El Pato, Pilar and her delightful crew served us mixiote. If you need a tour guide to find barbacoa in San Miguel, you need an explorer to find mixiote. El Pato is only one of two restaurants in the entire town of 140,000 that I know that serves it.

As I find X one of the most difficult letters to pronounce in the Spanish language, I will tell you that Pilar at El Pato pronounces the X like sh so it comes out me-she-oatey. It starts like barbacoa, cooked in a pit, but after it is removed, juices are added, it is seasoned with pasilla and/or guajillo peppers plus small amounts of spices, wrapped in maguey leaves and, at El Pato, tin foil, and then served as a stew. One must be careful to avoid the bones but, otherwise, it is just lamb and juice and there is nothing I can say about mixiote other than scrumptious.

Hardly anyone at the table had ever had mixiote before. The question that was being asked was "Where have you been all my life?"

While we were still eating and drinking the mixiote, out came the tortillas and the much-waited-for barbacoa that we would stuff them with. There were three platters of barbacoa put on the table for eleven guys but they disappeared within seconds. The other Don was asking, "Who's bogarting the barbacoa?" (most of us never quite got out of the sixties) when Pilar brought out another big platter.

"I know you don't get it often," said Bob, "but this is the best lamb I've ever had in San Miguel. It's the first time I can ever remember being really excited about lamb here."

Ben, who's had the barbacoa on the road up from Mexico City, said, "This is so much better, much more moist and juicy."

Niels said, "I just love the green sauce on the barbacoa. Just the right amount of spice. Sure beats mint jelly."

With all three of El Pato's specialties, Pilar circled the table asking the guys, "Do you like it?" then beaming with pride as everyone enthusiastically nodded their heads. But she wasn't through yet. Pilar had a little surprise for us, a special treat for us. Note from Don Day's editor and wife: If you are a little squeamish about what you eat, you should probably skip the next two paragraphs.

Pilar was walking around the table with a plate of deep fried crispy shells holding what we thought she said were pig brains. Would you repeat what they are again please, we asked. Again it sounded like she was saying pig brains. Maybe we were missing something in translation but, no, Pilar was speaking English, these were really pig brains.

Not everyone leapt up in excitement, not everyone took one, but those that did, liked them. I thought there was a strong similarity to foie gras. You can't get much better a comparison than that.

About the only thing left to come was the check and at, El Pato, it's, perhaps, the tastiest part of the meal. Pilar gave it to me and I walked around the table getting each guy's contribution. The damages, per person, without the beer we drank, was $55 pesos each (a little over $4 U.S. or Canadian each). As I asked each guy for his share all I got was a look of disbelief.

If you want the prices broken down, a bowl of consome is $15 pesos, a barbacoa taco is $10 pesos, a bowl of mixiote (enough for two) $40 pesos. Though I've never done it, I've often thought of buying El Pato's barbacoa ($230 a kilo) and using it in an Indian curry, a shepherd's pie or a Greek moussaka. In fact, I just decided, I'm definitely going to do it this week.

I think El Pato is one of the best places to eat in San Miguel de Allende. It certainly ain't fancy but it certainly is clean. Pilar will tell you that everything is prepared with agua purificado. So, try to get over the fact that the place doesn't look like much more than a parking lot and the furniture is plastic and covered with Coca Cola logos. Try to only think that you're going to taste some very fine food. In fact, if you like lamb, I'm not sure you'll ever taste it any better than at El Pato.

El Pato is located at Calzada de la Estacion #112 in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. It's open every day but Tuesday from 8:00 am to 4:30 pm.