Hola to a feisty fiesta!

The best way to understand the depth and complexity of Mexican heritage is to start with the food as this country has immense culinary wealth stemming from Mayan, Aztec and Spanish roots, writes Ajit Saldanha

Red and green Pozole

Elote, or corn on the cob

Tacos with mixed vegetables and beans

I make no claims to knowing the whole enchilada, but I do know the difference between a taco and a torta. The former is a bite-sized tortilla (phulka) of wheat or corn, while a torta is a fluffy bun spread with butter, stuffed with avocado, refried beans plus a bunch of toppings beyond your wildest imagination. My first encounter with Mexican food wasn’t great: think Tacobell in Austin, Texas. I was visiting a former classmate who was a firm believer in the dictum, size matters, and honestly, we were on a budget, so we had jumbo helpings of gloopy mush to contend with. The Tex-Mex special, yeah right, consisted of soft tortillas, greyish brown rajma and unidentifiable scraggy bits of maybe chicken, maybe lamb. I felt a bit like the model in the Farex baby ad and silently swore off Mexican food for life. Man, was I wrong? Bigotry is born of ignorance and racists who refer to Mexicans as “beaners” probably do so because of the brain damage induced by Tex Mex.

Real Mexican food is one of the most varied in the world, conceived by the Aztecs, enriched by Moorish influences and emboldened by a cavalier, take-no-prisoners
approach. The first thing a Mexican chef does is throw out the rule book. How else can one explain mole, the sauce made with chocolate, thyme and chilli? And don’t
get me started on tequila and mezcal. At the entry-level, you have the basic tequila, the plato, white or silver, generally un-aged and best drunk quickly, preceded by a
lick of salt and lime. After that there is reposado, “rested” for 2 months to 1 year, añejo 1-3 years, and extra añejo, aged for more than 3 years. As in single malt, the
older the tequila, the better and smoother it tastes.

Reposado and añejo should be sipped slowly, with a glass of chilled water on the side and maybe a wedge of lime dipped in salt to nibble on between sips. Mezcal is similar to tequila but is made from maguey, also from the agave family but a slightly different species. Sweaty, moustachioed, bare-chested locals sneer at the gringo doing tequila shots while they sip a glass of their local mezcal. As for the touristy worm, it is never found in tequila, only mezcal, and even then it is only a marketing tactic to hustle ignorant gringos into spending mucho dinero.

Food for me symbolises the essence of a country, which is why I’ve always wanted to travel to Mexico after watching the Taco Chronicles. Ideally one should get a
knowledgeable local to expose unfamiliar facets of the cuisine and move out of one’s comfort zone, so to speak. On a trip to La Jolla with a guy I’ll call Miguel, I
quickly learned to rethink what I thought was Mexican food. Forget about margaritas and fajitas, think raw fish. Ceviche is Mexican sushi, si senor, and one
bite of this beautifully arrayed selection of freshly cut shrimp, squid and monkfish in a lime, onion and chilli dressing, surrounded by salsa and slices of avocado had me swooning in delight.

Tacos near the Tijuana border are phenomenally good especially the shawarma style pineapple-topped tacos el pastor probably introduced by Lebanese immigrants made with spit-roasted tender cuts of lamb: this is not just something you eat for fuel or nutrition but to get closer to divinity. Traditional Mexican food has a vibrant history and is the core of their culture with recipes passed on by abuelas (grandma) to their children and grandchildren. Indeed, the best way to understand the depth and complexity of Mexican heritage is to start with the food. This is a poor country with immense culinary wealth. Many of the tastes and flavours of authentic Mexican food stem from Mayan, Aztec and Spanish roots. Thus corn, beans and roasted meats from the Mayan hunter-gatherers, while the Aztecs provided the grinding and milling solutions and the Spaniards brought in the paprika, garlic and the subtle use of herbs. Corn has been a staple in traditional Mexican food for centuries and is found in some form at almost every meal whether in corn tortilla, tamales or the nourishing pozole. If you like makka jola, try elote, made with grilled corn on the cob, chilli flakes, cheese and a bunch of other seasonings. Like our rajma roti, one common dish featuring both corn and beans is fresh, homemade corn tortillas served with frijoles, a rich bean stew, enlivened with spicy sausage, fennel and garlic. The similarities with desi khana persist; probably the most patriotic Mexican dish is chile en nogada, served at room temperature. This consists of poblano chillis stuffed with picadillo, an inspired melange of shredded meat, dried fruits and spices, topped with nogada a walnut-based cream sauce, and pomegranate, giving it the look of the Mexican flag: green from the chilli, white from the nut sauce and red from the pomegranate. No prizes for guessing this is an Independence Day staple. Pozole is a stew dating back to the Aztec period which has ritual significance given its association with human sacrifice; I’m not kidding, well, maybe just a little. It’s made from hominy kernels (dried corn), cooked with meat, usually pork, with a savoury topping of pickled cabbage, chilli peppers, onion, garlic, radishes, avocado and a healthy dollop of salsa, finished off with a generous squeeze of lime. Chilaquiles are corn tortillas that are fried, topped with green or red salsa, and sprinkled with cheese. You can have them for breakfast with a fried egg or for brunch topped with chicken, beef or guacamole: unsurprisingly they were grandma’s thrifty method of using up any tortillas that were going stale. One other street vendor special is a calorie bomb which brings to mind a vada pao: pambazo, white bread rolls filled with potato and chorizo, then dipped in a red chilli pepper sauce, giving the bread its famous colouring and fried until crispy. In 2010 Mexican cuisine finally received the recognition it richly deserved when UNESCO gave it pride of place on the list of “intangible cultural heritage.”

(The author is an old Bengalurean and impresario of comedy and musical shows who considers himself fortunate to have turned his passions — writing and theatre — into a profession.)