So far the extent of my trip has been somewhat limited to consumption. I have been grubbing nonstop and chasing it with delicious Cerveza Indio. Hedonism at its finest. Yesterday I ate one of the most delicious things I've ever tried, it was called "huitlacoche." Huitlacoche is roughly translates into "corn shit" in the native Nuahtl language that some indigenous tribes in Mexico spoke before the Spanish came through a-raping, pillaging and enslaving. It is basically just a slimy black fungus that grows on corn and destroys the crop. However, like many seemingly disgusting things, it is considered a delicacy and is often difficult to find. It is typically cooked with some onion, pepper and whatever other secret ingredients the little old ladies at taco stands use to make it irresistable. Yesterday, I had it prepared in a quesodilla, but not the flaccid tex-mex style where a tortilla is stuffed with ingredients and grilled, I had it prepared Mexican street food style, aka deep fried. It has been well noted that deep frying food is the most delicious way of cooking ever, especially after a little bit of alcohol...
We were in Coyoacan, which is a beautiful, quiet neighborhood in the southern half of the city. Coyoacan is definitely upper-middle class, the streets are lined with ancient trees that have been there for centuries, the houses are enormous and surrounded by 8 ft fences, the shops and restaurants are very posh and expensive...in other words it smashes the preconceived notions of a poor and dirty Mexico shared by many of my fellow patriots. Just off the main square of the neighborhood there was a little food market that is widely considered one of the best places to eat in Mexico (at least according to Lonely Planet). James was off buying the most expensive haircut in Mexico (300 pesos!!) so Carlos and I walked to the market to get a quick snack. A stall advertising quesodillas caught our attention, so we sat down. Carlos quickly noticed they had huitlacoche on the menu and ordered one for me. Our little old chef took some fresh masa (corn mash that tortillas are made from), flattened it out, stuffed it full of Oaxoahan cheese and rotten corn, and dropped it in the deep fryer. After about 3 minutes I had a crispy, steaming quesodilla sitting in front of me, begging to be devoured (in spanish of course). I garnished it with a little salsa verde and sour cream and attacked. The flavor was incredible, it was like eating a crispy truffle stuffed with corn chowder and the tastiest mozzerella ever. (Does that even make sense?!) Add the rich flavor of sour cream, and the spice from the salsa verde, and you have the perfect food. I proceeded to eat three more even though they were enormous and 25 ($2) a piece.
After the feast, we returned to downtown to pick up the jacket that James left at the hostel. The place was empty, but the bartender was there so we sat down for a drink. Incredibly, the bartender recognized me instantly, even though I hadn't had a drink at his bar for two years. If you are really bored, and reading this, then you can go look at the pictures i took from the last trip I took to Mexico City and see a picture of the bartender wearing a luchador mask and making drinks. Really nice guy. So we stopped and had a few drinks then walked around Zocolo to see all the lights that had been strung up around the square. It was a really surreal experience, as thousands of families were walking around with their children reveling in the holiday festivities. Flashing lights illuminated the sky and I almost felt as though I were hallucinating, without taking anything.
The plan was to go to a badass club downtown, so we went back to Carlos' to get ready. We ended up sitting down and talking with his dad, an eccentric englishman who travelled to Mexico when he was 22, fell in love and has lived here ever since. His man-cave was filled with books, tequila, rocks and a number of other interesting things. He reminds me a lot of my dad, with a big bushy beard and witty, dirty jokes, I bet that my dad and Carlos' dad would get along very well. David (his dad) was an avid poker player, so while waiting for the club to fill up, we started playing poker and killing liters of Indio and taking shots of tequila......seven hours later, we were still playing poker. The club was forgotten and I watched the sun come up, still drunk. Damn.
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