2004-08-28: Chicago Eatathon, Part 6 -- A Tale of Two Pueblas
Posted by extramsg on Wednesday, December 01, 2004 @ 04:46:35 PST
Contributed by extramsg
"2658 North Milwaukee," I mutter to myself as I look down at the printed Metromix page and walk out of the underground blue line stop. But which direction am I facing? I look at the map and which way I came out of the train. I'm in a hurry. It's already past nine. I finally choose a direction and start walking. There aren't many storefronts with numbers and the street is dark here. I pass by a Mexican restaurant and dance club with pockets of young Latinos hanging out around their cars. I reach California and look at the map again. A stocky woman with half a tooth missing in the front, like Lloyd in Dumb and Dumber, asks me if I have any change. I have less than a buck which I hand over. Then she asks if I need help and I tell her I'm looking for Taqueria Puebla and explain that it's a Mexican restaurant that is supposed to be good, that I'm on a trip for food, etc.
"There's a Mexican restaurant across from the McDonald's that way," she says as she points the opposite direction I've been walking. "But I don't think it's called Puebla. There's a gas station over there," she continues as she points down Sacramento. I thank her and start walking to the gas station. Just as I start to walk off, she asks, "Are you looking for some fun?" It takes me a second before I realize what she's doing.
Photo Album
Humboldt Park
Pilsen
Little Village/La Villita
Alta Cocina Mexicana
Otros Antojitos
Maxwell Street Market
"No, no thank you," I say, somewhat embarrassed. It's the second time someone helping me find my way in a strange city has propositioned me. In Mexico City, I was lost outside the Zona Rosa and a well-dressed Mexican man who spoke perfect English helped me find my way back to the main strip. As he left me, he walked to the door of a bar and said, "This is a gay bar. I would like it if you joined me." I was embarrassed then as well and had to pass, though I think it was more flattering when I wasn't being asked to pay.
The gas station attendent isn't much help, but I am able to verify the address and so I head back to Milwaukee. Along the way, I visit Miko's for Italian ice, amazingly still open that late. It's a warm night and I've been walking a lot. I get to Milwaukee and start walking past all the familiar places until I reach the blue line stop and begin my way down the new section of Milwaukee. Ahead on the right I see the McDonald's and then on the left Restaurant and Taqueria Puebla. Only a block or so from the train stop. Ugh. At least they're open 24 hours.
I take a look at the menu and am immediately suspcious. There are fajitas and nachos. There are no cemitas. However, they do have mole poblano, a large selection of antojitos, along with combo platters, specialty dishes, and mariscos. The chips are okay and the salsa is better than anything I had on Maxwell Street. I explain to the waiter who is running the place that I'm on a food trip and would like to try a couple dishes. I ask if I can order half a platter of the mole poblano and half a platter of the lomo de res en chile de arbol. He eagerly agrees and heads off to the kitchen.
I go through a basket of chips and a while later he comes out carrying two full plates of food. I try to explain that I only wanted half a plate of each. He says it's okay, he wants me to have it, he'll only charge me for one. The food is actually decent. The mole is a little sweet, but he assures me it's made in-house. The res en chile de arbol is spicy and rich and the beef tender. The beans and rice are mediocre, but for $11 it's a mountain of food and surprisingly pleasant. I leave satisfied, but wondering what all the fuss is about. Are Chicago Chowhounds really so naive about Mexican food?
The next day I get my answer when Erik explains that the Taqueria Puebla is on North Ave., not Milwaukee. Great. After he gets done showing me the city, Erik drops me off at the other Taqueria Puebla, the one Chowhounders and LTHers like RST have been extolling for their cemitas and other hard to find authentic Pueblan dishes. The store serves as both a lavanderia and Mexican restaurant, a surprisingly typical combination I've seen in California and Mexico. The lavanderia is wall-papered in torn-out magazine pages of half-naked women and wrestling stars. Their take-out menu also resembles a Mexican CD of fiesta exitos with a bottled-blonde hottie on the front. The inside of the taqueria half is decorated with memorabilia, mostly sports cards and jerseys.
The menu goes far beyond the average taqueria. They have rarities such as tacos arabes -- tacos filled with chipotle salsa-drenched pork wrapped in a pita-like wheat tortilla -- and tacos orientales, the same filling with a standard corn tortilla. They also sell tacos de cecina, dried beef, along with standards like al pastor, asada, and pollo. Their platillos include milanesa, cecina, and enchiladas verdes or poblanas.
I order two tacos and an enchilada platter. The father doing the cooking and the son running the counter are both very kind and welcoming, answering many questions, and letting me make a special order of one enchilada poblana and one enchilada pipian verde. We talk food and I offer a couple suggestions (tinga poblana and chiles en nogada) which the son writes down.
Everything is excellent. The cecina in my taco has a strong beefy flavor and the chipotle salsa on the orientale has an intense smokiness balanced by a tanginess. The mole poblano has a grittiness that ensures it is housemade. The flavor is pleasantly complex and not overly sweet. The pipian verde has an earthy foundation from the pumpkin seeds, accented by a brighter element, probably tomatillos. Both enchiladas are covered in crumbly Mexican cheese. Even the beans are rich and well-seasoned, topped with a bit of quesillo.
Taqueria Puebla is also one of the few places in the US that I've been that makes cemitas, a type of Mexican sandwich from Puebla. I didn't try one, however, since I'm disinclined towards Mexican sandwiches in all their varieties. Other specialties include blood sausage, mixiotes, and the drink chileatole.
Without reservation, I can say this Taqueria Puebla was my favorite Mexican restaurant in Chicago. Apparently, Chicagoans do know what they're talking about. If it were in Portland, I would be there weekly. But the other Puebla wasn't bad either. For a neighborhood taqueria and combo platter place, the food was tasty. And at 3 am, it's surely a better option than Taco Bell. It shows the breadth of Chicago's Mexican food -- not just that there are two places with the name Taqueria Puebla (there are actually more, I would later find out), but that there are two decent places with the name, one of which is great.
HUMBOLDT PARK
The background music of Humboldt Park: Men in circles with drums between their legs banging out syncopated rhythms. Mmmpph-thump-thump, rrrrrrr, badump-bump. Chiquitos playing soccer. The bell -- ding-ding -- of a bicycle as a man selling helados zooms by. Pebbles plopping in a pond. One rock skips three times. Splash! A niña chases a duck into the water soaking her white stockings. The hum of a radio-controlled sailboat.
While Humboldt Park may not have the density of delights that some destination chow neighborhoods have, that's not to say that the neighborhood doesn't have many eateries worth exploration. The park itself has several meat wagons, such as La Esquina del Sabor, selling lechon (roasted suckling pig) as various pork parts by the pound, along with sausage. You can also get Caribbean fritters and jibaritos (a Puerto Rican sandwich) there. Some kids begging for change convinced me to order more food than I might have otherwise and give it to them. It gave me a chance to try several items, though, and all of it was tasty.
Walking the stretch of Division from Western to California, punctuated on each side by enormous metal Puerto Rican flags, is easy, but not as rewarding as I had hoped. The food options on the Paseo Boricua are either sparse or hidden in comparison to many of Chicago's other neighborhoods. Miami Flavors, an ice cream shop I was looking forward to, more than disappointed, as I explained in my previous report.
A true find, however, is Papa's Cache Sobroso. Their specialty is rotisserie chicken, highly seasoned and truly finger-licking good. The succulent meat nearly falls off the bone. It reminded me of the Peruvian chicken rotisseries of DC. You have a choice of sides and I picked the yucca, not one of my favorites normally, but I had heard they do it well, and they do.
I also tried a jibarito, a Chicago original with Puerto Rican influences. The sandwich, named for the working class country-folk of Puerto Rico, is made by smashing two plantains and cooking them until stiffened. Then meat and miscellaneous toppings, such as mayo, lettuce, and tomato, are stuffed between the layers of flattened fruit. A terrific invention on a par with deep dish pizza. I don't like plantains normally. But the starchiness works perfectly as a bread substitute while being both more interesting and more substantial.
The top edge of Humboldt Park itself is fronted by North Ave, an extremely busy street which extends the neighborhood west. Along the avenue is a mish mash of mostly Latin eateries -- all downscale restaurants that seem to feed the masses that ride the bus. About half a mile west of the park is Taqueria Puebla.
Just down the street, Asi Es Guerrero advertises itself as a pozoleria, selling the full Mexican flag of hominy soups: red, green, and white. At home in Portland, I have been on an unsuccessful search for pozole verde. Most Portland Mexicans seem to be from Jalisco or Michoacan where pozole rojo rules. (I have found a taco truck recently in The Dalles, however, where the proprieters are from Guerrero and occasionally make pozole verde as a special.) They also serve several other soups, antojitos, and standard dishes. The pozole itself was pleasant and brothy with several tender chunks of pork. It was served with the traditional garnishes of avocado, chicharron, and lime.
There are also a few Latin bakeries. I visited the San Jose Bakery, a colorful Puerto Rican pastry and sandwich shop. They sell a variety of sweet and savory pastries, from donuts to fritters, including alcapurria, a Caribbean banana bread.
I feel like Humboldt Park is on the edge of being a great food neighborhood. It has the quantity of choices, but they're a bit spread out to be walkable. Of course, statements like this are relative. Most food-lovers would envy a neighborhood like this for their town. But it's Chicago and great food neighborhoods are the norm.
PILSEN
"You speak English?" I ask. "Only a little," I confirm when he makes the international sign of "not much" -- the thumb and fore-finger pinched together. "Donde está el museo?" I ask. I'm looking for the Mexican Fine Arts Museum, recommended by everyone. He points straight ahead, then right on the main road, then continues his hand that direction. "Derecho, derecha, derecho?" I ask. A couple years of high school Spanish and the occasional trip to Mexico can get me by, but I can't even pretend fluency. He nods. "Cuantas cuadras?" He shrugs.
So off I go. At Ashland and 19th, I stop and slowly spin in place. Each direction are impressive murals celebrating Mexican culture, religion, and aspirations. On the corner, a family sells elotes, grilled ears of corn served smothered in mayo and chile, to people coming out of church. It's Sunday, always a fun day to be in a Mexican neighborhood -- fathers with shoes that shine, mothers who've spent time on their hair, sons itching to get out of their collared shirts, and daughters with billowing dresses and bows in their hair.
I don't believe my instructions, but I call my wife who looks up the address on the internet and I'm on the right track. I pass by Speedy's Taqueria y Pizzeria and finally arrive at the museum. The museum is free, has a very clean and comfortable public bathroom, terrific exhibits, and even a gift shop irresistibly browsable. Romero's paintings are vibrant and intriguing. The colors remind me of Mexican artists like Rivera, but the subjects are less political and the style less realistic. I'm also most impressed by Adolfo Mexiac's linocuts, political but the monochrome adds a certain gravity.
Finding my way back to the center of Pilsen where I can grab a bus to Little Village, I make a scheduled stop at Carnitas Uruapan. Michoacan style carnitas, essentially pork confit, luscious and tender, is one of my loves. Carnitas Uruapan does an excellent job, crispy on the outside, succulent on the inside. They also let you choose your parts, carnes only, or all the other bits, and they chop it up as you wait.
I also stop at the Panaderia and Tortilleria Nuevo Leon and grab a couple panes dulces. No churros, but I am able to find other crispy sugared pastries in their solid selection. It's amazing I can fit anything else in my gut, but I decide that I should try at least some mariscos and so get a ceviche tostada at Ostioneria Playa Azul. But it's mediocre.
On a previous trip, I visited Bombon, a fabulous pasteleria, Taqueria Cardonas for decent gorditas, and the Pilsen institution, Nuevo Leon for classic frontera food. Pilsen feels like the streets of Guadalajara or Mexico City.
LA VILLITA
A little known part of NAFTA is that every entrance to Mexico from the United States must involve an archway proclaiming: Bienvenidos a Mexico -- welcome to Mexico. Appropriately, they must have included Chicago's La Villita, Little Village, somewhere in the trade agreement. Just like when you enter Mexico, when you enter Little Village, you walk under an archway that greets you with "Bienvendios a Little Village."
But you don't need the sign to tell you that you're in another country. The crowded streets with dark-skinned families buying freshly cut fruit, seasoned nuts, shaved ice, and orange-colored crispy-fried wagon-wheels from push carts on every corner tell you. The signs on and above each storefront with "La" This and "El" That tell you. And the guy driving down the middle of the street with a 10 foot Mexican flag flying from the back of his convertible tells you. You're not in The United States. You're in Mexico -- a little enclave, a country within a city, like the Vatican.
It's a long walk from one end of 26th to the other, from the archway to where things start to thin out. But it seems faster by foot than by bus in the parade of cars that clog the avenue. There are too many places for one person to eat in a year let alone a week or an hour. But as the bus passed by Aguascalientes near the archway, I knew where I'd end up.
My first stop, however, was Restaurante y Taqueria Mexico. It was the first place I came across advertising squash blossoms and huitlacoche. (There were many on the street, but this was the first place that I walked past.) Squash blossoms, or flor de calabaza, are one of my favorite Mexican ingredients. They have a tangy vegetal quality that adds a unique flavor to salsas and soups and goes especially well with a bland cheese, like in a quesadilla. The one here was merely passable, but it would do.
Al pastor isn't one of my favorite taco fillings unless it's done really well. And I hadn't seen it in Pilsen or on Maxwell Street. So when I saw a place that had it turning on a spit, I thought I'd give it a try. Atotonilco's al pastor is mediocre at best. The large chunks of pork carry little of the marinade's flavor and don't have the surface area that thinner shavings have so they lack the crispiness I enjoy.
The birria at Birreria Ocotlan wasn't as fragrant or tasty as the Maxwell Street offering, but it was a positive direction after my first two mediocre Little Village bites. However, I was starting to fear that I might get full before I found something truly good to eat.
I was able to let my appetizers digest by taking sidetrips into markets. Little "supermercados" like La Estrella #3 carried a surprisingly large choice of meats. La Chiquita had chorizo hanging in the back and an overflowing produce section. Plus, their taqueria advertised daily specials. I wished it was Monday when I saw the pollo en pipian, though Thursday's bistek and papas en salsa verde might be quite good, too.
Delray Farms reminded me of the larger supermercados in California. Not as big as the monster grocery stores in San Jose, they still carried a good selection of quality, cheap produce, like chiles poblanos aching to be stuffed with picadillo, and ripe tropical fruits, such as papaya and mango. Their butcher was busy and the meats looked like they had good turnover. They also carried all the basics, a large selection of packaged Mexican cheeses and cremas, packaged chorizos, dried chiles, herbs, tortillas, and any Mexican ingredient that could be canned or boxed.
I was quite jealous when I came across La Guadalupana. They make their own masa and you can buy it by the pound. I've made my own fresh masa, but the texture never comes out right. The tortilleria here in Portland where I could buy freshly made blue corn masa on Saturdays has closed down. I don't know of any place that sells fresh masa around town now.
La Cremeria Santa Maria imports cheeses from Mexico, including three kinds of Oaxacan cheese, one of which had a wonderful dry, stringy texture and strong lime flavor. Besides cheeses, they also sell pickled pork parts, dried herbs, seasoning mixtures, and chiles. It's a clean and cute little store and the attractive girl behind the counter was very generous with the samples.
La Baguette carries a wonderful mix of French and Mexican pastries. They have an extensive selection of panes dulces, but also tarts and cakes. Everthing's beautiful and the large line ensures good turnover.
At night, when Mexican children fall asleep, they dream of Dulcelandia, Candyland, where instead of counting sheep, they count pollitos asados, little chicken suckers, jumping down their gullets. Dulcelandia has every Mexican candy I've ever seen overflowing bins and piled on shelves reaching to the piñatas overhead. Little kids coming in the door looked like rabid animals, frothing at the mouth and running around crazily, not knowing where to begin.
The first thing you see when you step into the taqueria section of Aguascalientes are the mujeres hand-patting out gorditas and tossing them on the griddle. There are dozens of the patties telling you exactly what to order. It's only a question what to fill them with. I chose rajas con queso and lomo de puerco en adobo. The gorditas have a light texture achieved by being hecho a mano. Both fillings were good. The taqueria is adjacent to decent tienda as well.
Walking the lengthy, dense stretch of 26th, you could be in any Mexican border town, except that it's cleaner and your chances of being kidnapped are much lower. Even the clothing stores have the manequins with J. Lo booties and jeans so tight they look painted on. If you could go into any pharmacy and buy Viagra over the counter, it would be a Mexican border town in the midwest. And honestly, the food is probably already better.
ALTA COCINA MEXICANA
A few years ago, Gourmet put out a list of the top 50 restaurants in the United States. Only two Mexican restaurants made the list: Topolobampo and Cafe Azul. Topolo, of course, is PBS celebrity chef and cookbook author Rick Bayless's restaurant. Its more casual sister restaurant, Frontera Grill, shares the same kitchen. Cafe Azul was a Portland regional Mexican, primarily Oaxacan, restaurant that sadly closed earlier this year. Claire Archibald, the co-owner and chef, trained with both Alice Waters and Diana Kennedy, who proclaimed that it was her favorite Mexican restaurant in the United States.
I had been to Cafe Azul several times by the time I ate at Topolobampo and Frontera Grill. Between Frontera Grill and Cafe Azul, there was no contest. Cafe Azul trounced Frontera. The flavors at Cafe Azul were better balanced and more consistent. The choice between Topolo and Azul was tougher. The haute and somewhat fusiony nature of Topolo adds a certain quality that makes a comparison to Cafe Azul's very traditional, though high quality, dishes difficult. Both Topolo and Frontera suffered from dishes that could be executed better and feel more cohesive. But I gave Topolo and Azul a toss-up. Stylistically and for value, I clearly preferred Cafe Azul, but between the two, I concluded that it came down to personal preference.
While to some degree I was disappointed in both Topolo and Frontera, they both represented a trend I hoped would catch on in other cities. Maybe if Bayless did enough Burger King commercials, chefs would see there was money in regional Mexican. Alas, when Cafe Azul closed, my sources for high quality interior Mexican became much more limited. I knew that on my trip to Chicago, I would need to try more haute regional Mexican.
Geno Bahena, former Frontera chef, owns two Mexican restaurants in Chicago that many Chowhounders and LTHers feel surpass Bayless's. Ixcapuzalco, named for the town of Bahena's birth, was his first. Chilpancingo aims to be a little more haute than Ixcapuzalco, though the difference seems less dramatic than that between Topolo and Frontera. Chilpancingo is clearly in a nicer part of town, River North. However, both are boldly decorated inside with Chilpancingo's furnishings appropriately nicer. The kitchen for Ixcapuzalco is fully open and there as soon as you walk through the doors. And if you go in at lunch, you can watch the women preparing mole pastes for that evening. I only tried one dish at Ixcalpuzalco, a sope sampler, but it did allow me tastes of several flavors: chicken in red mole, sweet plantain with sour cream, black beans with mushrooms, and guacamole. All were good. Nothing blew me away, but they were solid and fresh tasting. Later I realized I was there on manchamanteles day, my favorite mole, and wished I had given it a try.
My friend Scott, a Texan who has also eaten at Cafe Azul, Topolo, and Frontera, plus several upscale Mexican restaurants in Texas, would join me for dinner at Chilpancingo. Both restaurants offer a $49 5 course tasting menu. We asked if we both ordered the tasting menu if we would get different courses. They said we would, so we both ordered the chef's dinner.
COURSE 1: Marlin ceviche with tomatillo salsa for Scott and sopes surtidos for me. The marlin came as three chips topped with the ceviche which was heavy with tomatoes, looking almost like a pico de gallo with fish added. But it was tasty enough. The sopes were essentially the same as what I had at Ixcalpuzalco, minus the guacamole.
COURSE 2: Sopa azteca for Scott and sopa xochitl for me. Both soups were poured tableside. Sopa azteca is better known as tortilla soup, a chicken soup with strips of tortillas. It was a decent version, though both of us have had better ones. The pasillas added a darker chile flavor than some. My soup was a bit more interesting with smoked pheasant, squash blossoms, serranos, avocados, tomatoes, and rice in a garlicky broth.
COURSE 3: Tilapia en mole verde for Scott and camarones al mojo de ajo for me. The tilapia had a slightly off, almost freezer-burned flavor, that I'm senstive to. Scott didn't notice it. The mole verde itself was fine, though nothing special, I thought. Scott, however, thought it was excellent and probably his favorite flavor of the night. There were four large, tender shrimp for the mojo de ajo, or garlic sauce. An addition of pecans added a nice texture and nutty flavor.
COURSE 4: Rack of lamb with mole negro and chayote for Scott and carne asada en mole rojo for me. The lamb also came with a side of mashed Yukon gold potatoes. The strong, dark mole worked well with the lamb. The mashed potatoes were nice, but instead of chayote, a sweet side to balance the earthy, somewhat bitter, taste of the mole might have been better. The carne asada came with a side of black beans and guacamole. The red mole was tasty and lighter than the black mole, which matched better with the beef. The steak was well-crusted but still cooked medium rare.
COURSE 5: They brought out a duo of desserts for us to share (I think people always think we're a gay couple on these food trips), a rhubarb and mango tart and banana torte with chocolate-sour cream icing. The tart came with strawberry ice cream and a rhubarb sauce. The ice cream needed to be softened and the rhubarb was a bit overwhelming. I much preferred the torte which was served with a tuna (prickly pear) sauce that added a nice tartness. Scott didn't eat much of it because he dislikes banana.
OVERALL: I think the consistency is better here than at Bayless's restaurants, but even though the style is closer to Cafe Azul, I think Cafe Azul's flavors were more complex and interesting. Bayless probably hits higher highs, but also lower-lows. You could more easily go into one of Bayless's restaurants and have either a great or terrible meal.
Some upscale Mexican restaurants, such as Bahena's, seem to suffer because they over-refine their dishes. It may also be the case that the white, Midwestern palate that he primarily serves requires a certain mellowing of the flavors. Regardless, it's good food that earns its prices (which as a tasting menu is quite fair) and positive reviews.
Chicago clearly has one of the best haute/regional Mexican food scenes in the country. I know they can do better, but it's a legitimate trend. I prefer Chicago's lower-end Mexican food, but chefs like Bayless and Bahena are cooking dishes that would be recognizable to native Mexicans, but with gourmet ingredients. It's an admirable pursuit.
Cafe Azul is still the best upscale/regional Mexican I've had in the U.S. and the alternatives we have now in Portland don't live up to their predecessor. However, Scott assures me that there is a truly fantastic meal to be had at Lanny's Alta Cocina in Forth Worth that surpasses anything else he's had. I'll still long for something that can approach the best meals I've had in Mexico. Cafe Azul did that. Will it be reborn? I hope so.
Otros Antojitos
Believe it or not, I ate at several other Mexican and Latin eateries around the city:
La Oaxaqueña: This small little restaurant had not only the best tasting and diversity of table salsas on the trip, but also a solid mole. It's allegedly served over quail, but I suspect it's actually just a chicken.
La Unica: I think this cafe in the back of a tienda makes an effort to have a dish representing every possible Latin American country. There is everything from tacos to arepas to cuban sandwiches and oxtails -- plus, a dozen or more specials. They have a huge selection of Latin American colas, too, and licuados from all the standard tropical fruits, plus things like lulo. I ordered a set of appetizers: black beans, fried yucca in garlic sauce, tostones in garlic sauce, and a croquette. Everything was tasty and cheap.
Joe's Liquors: Another cafe connected to a store. I tasted a Columbian chorizo, split an arepa topped with a fiery chimichuri, and washed it down with a lulo licuado.
El Chorrito: This tiny dive has an expansive menu that includes both Tex-Mex and interesting, very traditional Mexican dishes. The day I was there, they were serving housemade tepache, or slightly fermented pineapple juice, and a cow hoof tostada. Neither were really my thing, since I don't like the taste of alcohol (though the tepache was very mild), and I have no specific need to demonstrate my machismo by eating awful offal. The hoof just didn't have anything tasty about it. It was just texture and an unpleasant one to my palate. But it's an interesting little place with interesting choices.
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