Desert Dining: December 2008

If you’re fluent in Spanish and a reader of this site’s From the Stands sports blog, then you know that me and my boys went out to catch a game of professional baseball recently. It’s the dead of winter [a few moments for Jbrad and anyone else not from IV to finish laughing it up], so obviously the pro league we enjoyed was the Mexican Pacific League. For years, catching a game from Mexicali’s franchise, the Aguilas, never interested me, but things have changed. For one, American baseball teams are full of players from South of the border, so the pro leagues from this part of the world are no laughing matter -- the guys can play. On top of that, because Mexicali will be hosting the world’s most important baseball event outside of the World Series (and also the world’s only truly international baseball tournament now that baseball is no longer an Olympic event), La Serie del Caribe, the Aguilas’ stadium has been nicely renovated and offers everything you could want from a pro sports venue: Easy access, cheap parking (if you don’t have change they’re willing to let you park for free), excellent views from all seats, seating available that puts you right next to the field and players (ancient history for American baseball stadiums thanks to the frigid “state of the art” venues built in recent years), clean and spacious restroom facilities (thanks to the attendant that is present in every restroom) and reasonably comfortable seats with cup holders on every armrest.

But the Aguilas games offer something that you simply can’t get at any American pro baseball game: Mexican Ballpark Fare. And when it comes to food, Mexicali’s ballpark actually tops any pro sports venue in Southern California. That’s a big deal since food has always been a big part of the baseball spectator’s experience. I mean, it’s written right into baseball’s anthem, “Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks.”

I have to say, I’ve never eaten this much at a ballgame before -- partly because food and drink at US pro sports venues are infamously pricy, but also because a man can only eat so many hot dogs and nachos before getting bored. The Aguilas venue offered a spectacular variety of tasty bites to munch on as the game drifted along. Here’s what we had:

Right as we walked to the entrance there were vendors outside selling all kinds of candy, everything from jelly beans to the sweet/spicy/salty tamarind candies that are so loved by Mexicans, but this peanut shrine called to me. When it comes to catching a ballgame, there is nothing more satisfying to me than reaching into a paper bag, cracking open a peanut pod, popping the tasty peanuts in my mouth and then discarding the cracked shells on the floor. So simple. So fun.

Did you know that there is a law in Mexico mandating you eat tacos if you go to Mexicali? Me, I’m a law abiding guy.

Impressed? I sure was. This is great on so many levels, but what I really liked about the way beer is served here is that it’s out of a glass bottle. For starters, it eliminates the possibility of it being watered down, a common (if unfounded) complaint at most ballparks. More importantly, and this might simply be in the collective imagination of me and my boys, but doesn’t beer taste crisper and cleaner out of a bottle? It makes sense doesn’t it? If you put a tin can in a pot of soup and let it boil for four hours, wouldn’t that make the soup taste funny no matter how good the ingredients and seasonings are? So wouldn’t a beer’s flavor be altered by sitting in a can for weeks on end? I think it would.

Isn’t this something? We technically had a multi-course meal before we even bothered to find our seats, with this being the dessert course. For some reason, it’s hard to find a churro vendor in Mexicali who sells regular churros anymore. Everyone seems to sell them filled with vanilla cream, strawberry cream, chocolate sauce, or my favorite, cajeta (Mexican caramel, which has a toasty flavor, a nicely rustic texture and is not overly sweet). It is fun to watch them made though. Traditionally, churro makers will pipe their dough straight into hot oil using what I can best describe as a giant syringe that they use their whole body to operate (they have one end pressed up against their upper abdomen, where one’s thumb would be placed on a syringe; then the two handles, where one’s middle and index finger would be placed on a syringe, are pulled toward the body applying constant pressure until all the dough has been piped into the hot oil and has formed a kind of churro coil; and, finally, that coil is cut into even length sections to form individual churros), the churros are fried until golden brown and then rolled in a blend of sugar and cinnamon as soon as they have spent a few seconds shaking off the excess oil. After the churros have cooled and settled a bit, but are still quite hot, they pipe in the filling using a hand operated pump with a long metal nozzle. Sticking the nozzle through the length of the churro, they slide the churro out as they push down on the pump. The result is an evenly filled churro, crunchy on the outside and gooey on the inside.

While few foods are more American than potato chips, these were served with a few little fun differences. Potatoes are usually sliced crosswise resulting in little roundish chips, right? Well the potatoes were cut lengthwise here, which yielded gloriously long chips that were extra fun to munch on. I had mine spiced up a bit by having the vendor drizzle them with Salsa Amor brand hot sauce, Chamoy (an apricot based sweet and spicy sauce that I would say my wife puts on just about anything, but she specified, “Not anything. Any salty snack, any fruit or veggie snacks.” My mistake) and I squeezed lime over everything. So. Good.

I’ll bet these aren’t what you think they are. Buffalo wings? Guess again….

Still can’t figure it out? Riblets? You’re halfway there -- you’ve got the right animal at least. These are Colitas de Puerco -- fried pigtails! Now I know you think this is the most unappetizing thing imaginable, but let me tell you, when you’re sitting through a three hour sporting event you want a food that can go the distance -- and colitas certainly do just that. Biting the chewy meat off the bone (did you know pigtails have a bone running through them?) is pretty entertaining by itself, but bathed in hot sauce and lemon juice these are downright tasty. If baby back ribs and pork rinds got married, this would be their baby, and washing that down with an ice cold Tecate is good eating, friends. We’re just halfway through, people, don’t chicken out now. I told you I’d never eaten this much food before and I was not anywhere near playing around.

Now, that either turns you on or it doesn’t. Simple as that. Some people hate Coktel de Elote (“Corn Cocktail”), but I’m not one of them. I love corn. This dish is made from whatever corn is in season, although sweet corn is not generally used. It starts as kind of an ultra corn soup. Corn is cooked in seasoned water, creating a tasty corn broth. The kernels are cut from the cob and left to settle at the bottom of the pot to develop a tasty slow cooked flavor. When served, the loose kernels are ladled into a cup until it is roughly three quarters full and then covered with their steamy broth. Generous helpings of butter and grated Cotija cheese (a pungent, salty, dry cheese named for the region it comes from) are then stirred in. Finally, the cocktail is topped with a dollop of good mayonnaise (the Hellman’s brand is popular in Mexicali) and a swirl of hot sauce. You could also add a squeeze of lemon, if you were so inclined. On a cool breezy night, this really hit the spot.

That’s not gravy, don’t be gross, it’s Champurrado. This is a simple drink that is flavored with the rich, toasty and slightly spicy (a hint of cinnamon, I think) flavor of Mexican chocolate, and it has a unique texture since it is thickened with masa (the dough used for corn tortillas). The chocolate and masa are blended together with some water until smooth. Milk and sugar are then stirred in and the drink is reduced in a pot until it reaches the consistency of heavy cream. It’s a bit of an acquired taste, but I love this thick chocolaty drink.

At this point the game was barely in its fourth inning, but believe it or not we kept eating. Cheeseburgers; chili cheese fries; chili cheese bacon wrapped dogs, topped with seasoned onions and crumbled bacon; several rolls of sushi, served with a spicy citrus soy dipping sauce; Aguibolas (deep fried balls of sushi rice that were roughly three inches in diameter, coated in panko -- Japanese bread crumbs -- and stuffed with cream cheese, crab meat and shrimp), served with a spicy aioli; and probably the best stuffed potato of all time. The Soulman said he was craving one of the baked potatoes a vendor kept passing by with, but we were always eating something. When potato guy finally came by while there was a break in the eating, Soul was out of his seat! So I got him one and handed it to Miza saying, “Could you put this on Soul’s seat? He said he wanted one.” But Miza answered with sincere concern, “Oooh … this is covered in sour cream and green onion. I think Saul hates his baked potatoes this way.” So he started picking at it when suddenly he yelped, “This has meat!” He turned to my brother Humbert like he had just struck gold, “Taste this! It has meat!” After Humbert gave it a taste the consensus was clear: Screw Soul, he’s not here. But Soul made it back in time, and there was plenty of super potato to go around (I can’t believe the vendor didn’t use the meat as a selling point. “Baked potatoes! Get your baked potatoes here!” Um, no thanks. “They’re stuffed with carne asada.” Here’s my money. Leave the tray, my friend). I have to admit, I had heard of this before on calecia.com, but seeing with my own two eyes a “baked” potato (I’m pretty sure the potatoes were wrapped in foil and grilled -- this region of Mexico is infamous for grilling everything) stuffed with chopped carne asada, butter, sour cream and green onion changed my life.

Then we had an eating lull that lasted through the game’s final three innings or so. During this time we kind of just sipped our beer and actually tossed around the idea of leaving. We went the distance on that chilly night and stayed through to the game’s end, but while the game had ended the eating had not! Remarkably, we all dug deep and stopped at a taco stand on impulse. Miza actually seemed intent on driving us across town to Asadero Acatlán de Juarez, a grill house that offers an assortment of salsas, meats and drinks. This is Mexicali’s most popular taco shop, it’s busy whenever it’s open -- and it’s open 24/7. It was also where Soul3 requested we go to get his Quesadilla fix, but after a few blocks Humberto suggested, “Hey, how about Tacos Jorge?” None of us had ever eaten at or even seen this tiny place before, but Humberto shrewdly noticed that of the eight or nine tables hugging the grill station only one or two were free. There really is something special about eating at places like this in Mexicali. The sound of meat sizzling comes in one ear and the sound of cars wizzing by comes in the other. The smells and smoke wrap around you as the cooks chat you up in between customers. This place was good.

I know it looks gross, and I have to admit I’m not a fan of grilled tripe, but Miza, Humbert, and Soul said they were very good. See the pots in the background? Those carried a mix of chopped carne asada and tripe. They called the dish campechana, an oft used term that seems to mean, “The works.” Me, I had the tacos al pastor (fire roasted pork that is seasoned with … um, heaven’s dust -- I don’t know what they use, but it’s delicious, OK?!), which were especially good here because of the way they were served. Street vendors who sell tacos al pastor will have a station that on one end has a vertical porcelain coated burner that provides a strong open flame that roasts the pork -- which is cut into slices, marinated and then all the cuts are pushed firmly together onto a rotating pike. As the outer edge of this spinning hunk of meat becomes cooked, it is sliced directly onto a tortilla and served with chopped white onion and cilantro. But there’s more! Beneath the meat is a heavy cast iron pan that catches all the pork drippings, so when you place your order the vendor takes your tortilla, coats both sides of it with the drippings and puts it on a griddle that is right next to the drippings pan. There’s more! Not everyone does this anymore, so I jumped when I saw that sitting on top of the mound of roasting pork was a large piece of pineapple. I asked the cook to cut a few pieces of pineapple and toss them into my taco, which took everything to a whole other level.