about town/abq: Taqueria Mexico.

With all of the fantastic New Mexican food available in Albuquerque, it can be strangely easy not to go the trouble of seeking out any actual Mexican food. Thankfully, my attention was caught by the regular lines that formed outside of Taqueria Mexico, a tiny white shop tattooed with vibrant murals. It's location on Lomas, a street always pulsing with traffic in and out of dowtown, might not give it much atmosphere, but at least it makes it an easy stop for lunch.

We were lucky enough to arrive just as a table was being cleared. As soon as we sat down, more diners arrived, and were forced to wait standing between the formica tables and the lunch counter. The place was so small that our table was not that far from the kitchen-- the smell of which led me to order three tacos: 1 chicken, 1 carne asada, and 1 carne adovada. They arrived spilling out of their soft corn tortillas, with wedges of lime and a fiery dish of salsa on the side. The chicken was ok-- what was I thinking ordering a chicken taco?-- but the carne asada and adovada were delicious. The asada was perfectly grilled, and still juicy; the pork in the adovado was nicely coated in rich chile sauce. It was really too much food-- I ate it all, of course-- but next time I think two tacos would be a well sized order (especially with a glass of cinnamony horchata on the side).

There are a few New Mexican items on the menu, but keep it simple, stick to the tacos, and you'll have a fantastic meal.

A brief confession.

Before I conclude my coverage of Puerto Vallarta, I really should clear one thing up. I may have given the impression that all of my dining was done at sidewalk stands, or informal lunch counters. But that's not exactly the case. Now, it isn't completely untrue, either...

Our first lunch was, after all, picked up from a stand right on a cobblestone lane. We followed the smell of roasting carne asada, and bought a bag of tacos to take home. The grilled meat was so delicious that it needed little else added to it in the corn tortillas-- though a little onion and cilantro added a nice bite.

And there was the grilled fish on the beach, one of our best meals. We followed a rule learned in Thailand, to see where the local tourists go to eat, rather than the foriegn. We squeezed around a small table, and enjoyed grilled marlin, dusted with coarse salt and flavored with a squeeze from a slice of lime.

And of course the empanada, which we picked up on the way home, when we were too full from lunch, but still couldn't pass up. The flaky pastry exterior was frosted with sugar, and the milky custard inside was still warm when we divided it up at home.

But the best food we had-- by far, absolutely the best-- was at Villa Rosa, the house we rented for our visit. Though the place had funky kitsch decor, and a pool with a great view of the city, its best asset was Carlos, the chef. He managed to make every dish perfectly, from the lime tang of his guacamole, to shrimp simmered in coconut milk, to perfect flan, to french toast laced with orange zest and coated in cinnamon. But somehow, me writing about late breakfasts in my pajamas doesn't exactly fit with this blog...

Big chili.

Puerto Vallarta is a touristy town-- there's not much way around that fact. But it is, importantly, a town. This isn't a flock of resorts clustered on the beach just for the service of American tourists-- it's a real community with a history and a life of its own. This has its benefits. Instead of being at the mercy of resort buffets or toned-down taco bars, we were able to sample the flavors of the city. There were informal lunch counters, open-air asada grills, and sidewalk empanada sellers all tempting us. And when I saw this taco stand, it's wooden counters crowded with lunch-time diners, I knew I had to try it.

We arrived just at the right time, and squeezed up to the crowded counter as some satisfied customers left. Glancing over the hand written menu dangling above the stewed meats, we placed our order. While waiting for our food, we eyed the clutter of condiments that decorated the counter. As we lifted the ladel out of a plastic bin filled with a deep black-red salsa, the chef caught my eye. 'Careful,' she urged me gently in spanish, 'take just a little. It's spicy.' Oh, that's ok! I assured here-- I love spicy food. She shrugged a polite smile, and reached under the counter, producing a two-inch roasted jalapeno that she rested on my plate with a devious wink. The joke was more visual than anything else, of course-- the biggest chillies aren't generally the spiciest. But to play along, I thanked her and bit in. The skin of the chili was blackened slightly, soft and crinkled as crepe. It left a deep smokey flavor on my tongue with the first bite, which slowly gave way to a green spicy bite. Not too hot, but delicious-- it was a first course that left me with high expectations.

Thankfully, the food itself was just as flavorful. My flimsy paper plate arrived in front of me crowded with food, two corn tortillas browned on the grill and piled with chopped meat, onions, beans, and cilantro. I bit into the taco de birria first, the tender stewed mutton immediately bleeding a savory flavor of roasted peppers. Next I tried the tripas, which I had been curious to try since I landed in Mexico. Upon ordering it, our chef had spread it onto the grill, where it popped and sizzled for a few minutes before she scooped it into the palm of the tortilla. It gave the meat a slightly crunchy exterior that suprised me, and a rich griddled flavor that surprised me even more. I was lucky to have ordered it when I did-- as we sat there munching contentedly, several hopeful diners stopped by to order the tripas, and were informed that I had gotten the last order. Yup, just in time.