Sobras de la Mesa (Table Scraps)-The NYTimes

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September 1, 2011

Sobras de la Mesa (Table Scraps)

By PETER CATAPANO


In a previous post I wrote about food and eating in Oaxaca, Mexico. Here are a few final thoughts from the perspective of an American visitor.

A Belly Full of Mole

Adam PearsonA vendor in a Oaxacan market.

The devotion to moles in Oaxaca — and the pride in them — borders on the religious. At a food stall at the Mercado 20 de Noviembre near the town’s main plaza (zócalo), I was practically forced to order the pollo con mole negro (chicken in black mole sauce) by a stout woman in an apron who told me in detail in Spanish how she made it in the kitchen of her very own house, though she knew I could barely understand her. (She was right, it was excellent, and I left fortified.) There are said to be seven basic types — negro, colorado, coloradito, amarillo, verde, chíchilo negro and mancha manteles — but I’ve been assured that variations on these themes are endless. (I tasted versions of all of them as part of a meal at Los Pacos, where each table is given a sampler.) For a definitive, and visually gorgeous, exploration of moles and other Oaxacan foods and dishes, lose yourself in “Oaxaca al Gusto,” by the distinguished and revered food writer Diana Kennedy, who has spent decades in the region.

They Eat Bugs, Don’t They?

Adam PearsonChinicuiles, or worms, a regional delicacy.

Yes, grasshoppers (chapulines) and worms (chinicuiles) are everyday foods in many parts of Mexico. The former, dried and chile-flavored, are sold as snacks in large baskets on streets and in markets in Oaxaca (yes, I did. And, no, they do not taste like chicken). They are also found in many sauces and recipes. The worms are, too; they’re not just found in mezcal bottles. Dana Goodyear’s article in The New Yorker earlier this month exploring the culture of insect eating and its possible role in feeding the world’s population sustainably discusses Oaxacan food. (If you’ve read the piece, please note that the magazine’s photo is an artistic exaggeration: chapulines in Oaxaca are tiny critters.)

Your Mezcal Moment

The varieties of both commercial and artisanal mezcals made in Oaxaca State are available everywhere, and often consumed with meals. Made from the maguey plant, a form of agave, it differs from tequila in its basic ingredients and method of production. If you do any drinking, you will probably have one — a mezcal moment, that is. The mezcal moment consists of the realization the correct time to say “no mas” has already passed. My implication here — that three mezcals are any sneakier or more potent than three scotches — is not based on scientific evidence, only empirical. Still, proceed with caution.

Yes, Honey, This Is Where Food Comes From

On a side trip to the coastal town of Puerto Escondido, my wife, daughter and I got a visceral lesson on “local” food. The Pacific waters of the Oaxacan coast are a gorgeous green expanse teeming with aquatic life — sea turtles, dolphins and an array of fish.

Peter Catapano

My very ambitious, animal loving 8-year old daughter wanted to go fishing. I tried to explain to her that fishing involved a killing and eating part. She’d imagined something like reeling in a trout and throwing it back in. As a compromise, we took a dolphin and turtle-watching trip. Residents learned years ago that protecting these animals was more profitable, and ethical, than killing them. But our two boatmen tied up a fishing rod in case they could hook something else for dinner. It turned out to be a four-foot sailfish.

Peter Catapano

What followed was half-Hemingway, half Scorsese. We all watched in awe as it jumped and they expertly reeled it in. But my daughter turned away as they pinned it to the side of the boat and clubbed it to death before hauling it in. Still, she said, “I could hear them scooping the blood out of the boat.”

We had nothing to say about whether it should have been released. We were foreign visitors — sea-sick ones at that. It was obviously going to be sold and eaten. It was food.

We all had pizza that night.

It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over

My family ate and drank carefully in Mexico, choosing clean establishments and following the common sense warnings about raw fruits and vegetables, clean water and properly cooked meats — and thoroughly enjoyed it all illness-free. On the way home, though, hungry and tired, we let our guard down and one of us, who wishes to remain nameless, was apparently felled by contaminated food or drink at the Mexico City International Airport, and had a very long flight home.

Still, after all, we’d go back for seconds in a second.