Papi's Stuffed Sopapillas

As I was driving through Medford last week, I spotted a food truck headed in the opposite direction with the magical words "Stuffed Sopapillas" emblazoned on its side. My heart nearly stopped! Could it be true? Real sopapillas in Boston.

Today I Googled them and found Papi's Stuffed Sopapillas. It looks like they're just getting started, appearing around the Boston area in different locations every day. I started plotting how I'd make it to one of the locations - maybe I could take the kids for dinner in Malden Circle on a Monday?

Then I made the mistake of looking at the menu. Corned beef? Buffalo chicken? Bulgogi? Okay, I get that. Sopapillas are basically a substrate for putting yumminess in, rather like a pita but far more crispy and delicious. They should be eaten hot, and they are often served as the bread with meals and always, always with honey. I always thought they'd be the ideal fast food, easier to stuff than burritos, faster to make than burgers.

Honestly, I applaud the audacity of the menu. Everything on it sounds delicious, even the absurd Santa Fe Green Chile Mac sopapilla. But if you're going to serve stuffed sopapillas, wouldn't you offer at least one traditional stuffy? Where are the refried beans, chorizo, carnitas? Where's the red chile? The closest you can get to actual traditional sopapillas is the Original, and powdered sugar isn't actually traditional in New Mexico.

For comparison, Tomasita's in Santa Fe, my personal favorite New Mexican restaurant ever, has won the Best Stuffed Sopapilla competition for several years running. "Served with cheese, and your choice of red or green chile. Choose Roast beef, Ground beef, Combination (Ground beef & refries), Bean, Chicken or Vegetable." My family tends to order stuffed sopapillas in bulk from El Modelo in Albuquerque. Sadie's in Albuquerque offers pizza-sized stuffed sopapillas. My personal favorite sopapilla is stuffed with carne adovada, which absolutely must have red chile. I would pay serious money for some truly authentic carne adovada.

So I challenge you, Papi's. Keep making all your funky alternative sopapillas, but for New Mexicans longing for a taste of home, please offer the sort of sopapilla you'd actually find in Santa Fe.

Comida Mexican Taqueria in Salem

The most recent Edible Boston included a review of Comida Mexican Taqueria in Salem. Chef Renny Waldron spent four years working at Ole in Cambridge, which peaked my interest. While I found Ole overpriced and not all that good, its takeout business Olecito across the street was pretty good. So my husband and I decided to give it a try.

Comida is a tiny establishment less than a block from the Peabody Essex Museum. It has one slender bar with four chairs and a single couch, no table, for seating. The majority of other customers ordered their food to go or, having ordered by phone or online, picked up their bags and headed back out. Their menu features tacos, burritos, and tortas, the Mexican equivalent of paninis.

We arrived for lunch on a Tuesday, and on Tuesdays, tacos are $2.50 each. So we ordered one of each taco on the menu along with a side of guacamole and chips. The chips were clearly fresh and made in house. The guacamole had a good texture and lots of fresh onion and tomato but needed salt. All of the tacos were served on freshly heated double corn tortillas and made at the counter right in front of us, in a workflow similar to Anna's Taqueria.

The first, Taco de Hortalizas, is Comida's vegetarian offering, consisting of grilled vegetables, lettuce, guacamole, and pepper jack cheese. Our taco had zucchini, black beans, and corn. I found it completely boring. It was like a little mini taco salad with no dressing. My husband liked it rather more and ate the majority of it. Honestly, I think that if you treated it like a side salad and added a little picante sauce for flavor, it would be quite presentable, but this taco really can't stand on its own.

I rather liked the Taco de Pollo. The mango-corn salsa had a zesty flavor that complemented the adobo-marinated chicken. It was the opposite of the Taco de Hortalizas, so full of flavor it almost didn't need picante sauce. Almost. My husband disliked the sweetness of the mango and left me most of the taco. Isn't it lovely when that works out?

It wasn't so easy to divide up the Taco de Carne Asada. The adobo-marinated steak was moist, tender, and served in easy-to-bite cubes. The grilled onions and peppers were nicely balanced by the fresh guacamole. With some good red picante, it was downright yummy. With serious red chile sauce, it would have been delicious.

I gave up the Taco de Carne Asada to my husband only because I actually liked the Taco de Carnitas more. I'm a sucker for pork in Mexican food, and this braised pork was excellent, a nice variation on the stewed pork that is often used in Mexican cooking. The pork was so tender, it shredded in my mouth, and the salsa verde, despite the heavy presence of tomatillo, had a nice zing that refreshingly did not taste like jalapenos. I'm guessing serrano peppers were used. But I still found myself adding on picante sauce.

Comida Mexican Taqueria does a good job of replicating the fresh, yummy offerings at Olecito, but like its Cantabridgian forerunner, it falls short on the spiciness scale. Really, if you can afford fresh tomatillos, you can afford some serious chile. Even so, their prices are quite reasonable, and it's possible to get a good, filling lunch for under $8. The next time we go to the PEM, I'll likely drop by and try their tortas. I'm especially intrigued by their Mole Poblano. They also offer a kid's menu, to my knowledge unique among Boston-area Mexican restaurants, including a taco for which kids get to choose their meat and two toppings.

The Howling Wolf Misses the Mark

Having moved to the North Shore, I've warily begun trying out local Mexican restaurants. The Howling Wolf Taqueria in Salem looked like a decent bet. The owners, after all, had lived in Albuquerque for six years and ought to know what New Mexican cuisine should taste like.

Alas, no. The menu was full of tantalizing, misleading offerings. For example, the Green Chile Cheese Burger that my husband ordered did not actually include any green chile. Okay, sure, technically jalapenos are chiles that are green, but a New Mexican expects something totally different from jalapenos: a nice green pod of the Anaheim or Numex variety, sweet and hot without the characteristic bitterness of the jalapeno. Despite that disappointment, and after scraping off the offending green chile pretenders, my husband rather enjoyed his burger, and we both especially enjoyed  the refried beans, which were redolent with bacon, a rather pleasant surprise. However, I discovered a couple of days later when reheating them that the beans were actually spicy. This is a New Mexican no-no. Beans are meant to be a counterpoint to the heat of the chile. You eat them to cool your tongue a bit between bites of your enchilada. Ditto the spanish rice, which arrived sporting flecks of red chile.

I ordered the Enchiladas Chile Colorado, which the menu claimed were stuffed with pork stewed in red chile sauce. And the actual item made good on the claim. The pork was succulent and slightly spicy, reminiscent of carne adobada. Sadly, the chile was more like ranchero sauce. I could detect no mexican oregano in the sauce, and I strongly suspect that it was diluted with tomato sauce. Note to the wise: if you want a chile sauce to be spicy, don't add tomato sauce. The acidity of the tomato counteracts the alkalinity that contributes to a chile's hotness and flavor. When I peel roasted green chiles, I scrub my hands afterwards with tomato juice to remove the sting.

Finally, the salsa and chips that we ordered were a thorough disappointment. The salsa, heavy on the cilantro, had almost no spice to it at all. It reminded me of watery pico de gallo. And the chips were not fresh and clearly not made onsite.

That said, I'd probably go back there just for the refried beans, which really were wonderful. And I'd like to try the green chile sauce and see whether there's more than tomatillos and jalapenos in it. I'd also like to try the chile con queso. But I'll go again with my expectations firmly adjusted.

Brunch at Acitrón Mexican Bistro in Arlington Center

I first spotted Acitrón Mexican Bistro in Arlington Center about a month ago, where the Rio Brazilian BBQ used to be. Ever hopeful, I dragged my husband to their weekend brunch today in celebration of his birthday.

The brunch menu has a fun and eclectic selection including some Mexican twists on traditional brunch fare such as Huevos Benedictinos, which serves the poached eggs and Canadian bacon in corn tortilla shells along with refried beans, avocado, and chipotle hollandaise sauce, and Crepas de Fresas con Crema (crepes with strawberries topped with cream sauce). It also has a decent kids' menu, offering chocolate chip pancakes, grilled cheese sandwich, and kids' quesadillas.

Predictably, my four-year-old opted for the chocolate chip pancakes, while my seven-year-old ordered adult-sized french toast. My husband's curiosity was peaked by the Huevos con Nopales (cactus) y Chorizo, and I chose the Tortitas de Zucchini con Huevos.

The three chocolate chip pancakes, served with butter and syrup, also came with a small dipping bowl of chocolate sauce, which delighted my seven-year-old. She cheerfully traded all her blackberries and part of her watermelon to my four-year-old for the sauce, which she then poured all over her Texas-style french toast. The pancakes were thin but light, flavorful, and not overpowered by the chocolate chips. Similarly, the french toast (before the chocolate sauce) was light and tasty, not overly heavy with egg batter. Aside from the berries and watermelon, the french toast (also topped with syrup) was accompanied by a slice each of papaya and cantalope. My seven-year-old inhaled the entire dish, except the berries and papaya, which is quite a complement coming from someone with such a picky palate.

My husband's scrambled eggs with nopales and chorizo was quite good: firmly cooked with the right proportion of chorizo to present flavor without overpowering the eggs. Unfortunately, the flavor of the cactus was rather lost in the eggs and chorizo. If you fished out just a bite of nopales, the mild, slightly fruity flavor became more apparent. This dish, like the Tortitas de Zucchini, was served with homefries drizzled lightly with chipotle mayonnaise.

By far the best dish was the Tortitas. Rather like zucchini griddle cakes with kernels of corn, the tortitas were light, not at all greasy as such cakes often are, and quite delicious. The eggs were poached perfectly and topped with salsa verde, made primarily of pureed tomatillos but with a very pleasant kick. The combination of flavors was outstanding. I'd order this dish again in a hot minute and may have to try making those tortitas at home.

This brunch was good enough that I'm now seriously intrigued by their dinner menu. The Queso Fundido con Chorizo sounds wonderful, and I'm encouraged by their wide array of stuffed green chiles: traditional chiles rellenos using poblanos, Crepas de Rajas Poblanas, a nice reversal that stuffs crepes with chiles, and especially, Chiles en Nogada, "Fire roasted poblano peppers stuffed with seasoned ground beef and topped with a sweet white creamy sauce made of nuts, spices and cream cheese." 

That last dish sounds custom made for my husband. Personally, I think I have to try the Pechugas Poblana, "A legendary blend of spices, chilies, nuts and Mexican chocolate made into a rich and flavorful sauce, in the traditional Puebla style, served over chicken." I can't wait.

Olecito in Inman Square, Cambridge

By wonderful serendipity, my husband and I were in Inman Square last weekend in need of a quick bite to eat, and we stopped in at Olecito (http://olecito.net/, the fast food joint across the street from its parent restaurant, Olé Mexican Grill. To my considerable astonishment, the food there was superb and wonderfully authentic, so much so that I went back yesterday for more.

On Saturday, my husband and I each chose a taco: one Rajas and one Arrachera. What we actually received, we think, was one Rajas and one Carnitas (the pineapple kind of gave it away.) Both tacos were served in double corn tortillas, soft rather than hard. The Carnitas, consisting of braised pork with salsa verde, pineapple salsa, pickled cabbage, was good, but not outstanding. I'm not a big fan of sweet, fruity salsas. If you are, this is the taco for you. But the Rajas... oh, the Rajas was fabulous. With poblano peppers, black beans, Jack cheese, lettuce, and guacamole, the spicy peppers dominated the taco in an entirely wonderful way. Best taco I've had this side of the Mississippi. I suspect the Arrachera, with marinated steak, pinto bean spread, Jack cheese, lettuce, and avocado sauce, would also be quite good, but only if I can convince them to add the poblanos.

On Tuesday, eating solo, I ordered the Yucateca sandwich, made with cochinita (braised pork with guajillo chile) pickled onions, avocado sauce, queso fresco, pinto bean spread, lettuce, and chipotle sauce. And it was sublime. The pork was the closest I've come to finding true carne adobada in the Boston area. I was dubious about the pickled onions, but their tartness cut through the grease (oh, and glorious grease it was) of the pork and the cheese. I would order it again in a heartbeat... right after I try the Sonora, which combines marinated steak and rajas. Mmm, I can hardly wait.

Olecito is take-out only. It's incredibly tiny and had a line out the door on Saturday. They have several tables outside, generally empty now that fall has set in. I suspect the best way to get food from Olecito is to call in an order in advance, then swing by to pick it up.

Make sure you pick up plenty of napkins while you're there. All three entrees were incredibly drippy, messy, and gooey. Alternatively, eat over a plate from which you can sop up the last few drops with a nice flour tortilla.

Olecito gets my seal of approval and my heartfelt thanks for finally providing me with homestyle Mexican food. I'm dying to try Olé Mexican Grill (http://olegrill.com/, open only for dinner and Sunday brunch. When I do, I'll be sure to report back.

Zócalo Cocina Mexicana

At Arlington Town Day, as I was standing in line to buy my five-year-old General Gau's chicken, I spotted a stand for Zócalo Cocina Mexicana that displayed a very authentic-looking ristra. So I had my husband go back for open-face burritos. To my delight, the skinny squirt of red stuff turned out to be excellent chile sauce! Their online menu looks promising, too. They may make their tamales with mole and banana leaves instead of red chile and corn husks, but their pozole looks a lot like the posole I grew up with, and their chiles rellenos with "rojo sauce" has raised my hopes a good deal.

As soon as possible, I'm going to have to try these folks out.

Ixtapa Mexican Restaurant and Cantina in Woburn, MA: Ketchup Would Have Been Better

I haven't posted to this blog in ages, and that's because I rarely go to Mexican restaurants in New England. They consistently disappoint me, and I can generally make far better New Mexican cuisine at home. However, when my favorite lunch place near work closed (Adios, Au Bon Pain! How I miss your salads!), I found myself at loose ends last Wednesday and finally wandered in to Ixtapa Mexican Restaurant and Cantina in Woburn, MA.

I knew better than to try the enchiladas. No one in New England gets enchiladas right, with the possible exception of Jose's in North Cambridge. Instead, I got a combo lunch with two things that are pretty hard to mess up: a chile relleno and a tamale. I ordered it to go and took it back to work with me. To my surprise, they gave me a small bag of tortilla chips and a small tub of salsa along with my lunch combo.

Unsurprisingly, every aspect of the lunch was a disappointment. The tortilla chips were overcooked and inconsistently salted, so that one would be almost salt free, and the next coated to inedibility. The salsa was so watery, it could not be scooped up by the chips, and it had no spice to it, tasting more like watered-down tomato juice. The tamale was the best part of the dish, with good firm masa stuffed with nice, tender stewed beef. However, though I could see bits of red chile in the meat, I couldn't taste it at all. The chile relleno was not bad, either. They used a smallish ancho pepper, stuffed it with a miniscule amount of cheese (in NM, it's usually stuffed with a good-sized chunk), and its batter was tasty and held up well. The refried beans had the characteristic mushy texture that indicated that they had come from a can, and the spanish rice was nothing more than white rice with a little tomato sauce added, virtually tasteless. Worst of all, everything was smothered in ranchero sauce.

What the heck is ranchero sauce? Who invented this travesty of Mexican cooking? I will never forget the first time I went to a Taco Bell in Boston and ordered a bean burrito with green chile. They looked at me like I was insane and then offered me - you guessed it - ranchero sauce. As far as I can tell, ranchero sauce consists of a thin tomato-based gravy with some chile or chipotle powder and spices tossed in. This online recipe (which can't even spell poblano) confirms it: it's a Texan invention, which makes ranchero sauce Tex-Mex, not true Mexican. Bleh.

One of the quintessential aspects of New Mexican cuisine is chile. And when New Mexicans talk about chile, they generally mean, very specifically, the Hatch variety of the Anaheim pepper named for Hatch, NM, where the very best of these peppers grow. And when ordering a dish with chile, you generally have two options: green or red.

Green chile is made from the unripe chile pepper. This is almost always roasted to remove the outer skin of the pepper and to enhance the flavor. From July through September, the streets of Albuquerque are redolent with the scent of roasting green chile. New Mexicans put green chile on almost everything: hamburgers, pizza, casseroles, stews. It is also finely chopped and cooked with onions, garlic, salt, and spices such as mexican oregano, and served as a sauce on enchiladas, burritos, chimichangas, tacos, flautas, stuffed sopapillas, etc.

Red chile is made from the ripe red pepper. This is almost always dried in ristras, as pictured hanging from the vigas of adobe houses. Sometimes, it is powdered and used as a spice, but in general, either the whole pods or the powder is reconstituted in water and then made into a sauce using cooking oil, garlic, a little flour, salt, and spices such as mexican oregano. New Mexicans use this sauce on - you guessed it again - everything. My family traditionally serves "red gravy" with our Thanksgiving turkey. We use it in all the New Mexican dishes listed above plus soups like posole, and we marinate pork in it and then slow roast it until it falls apart, a dish called "carne adobada."

Chile is as essential to New Mexican cuisine as tomato sauce is to Italian, and substituting ranchero sauce for it is like putting ketchup on a pizza. In fact, I think ketchup might have been better on the chile relleno than the ranchero sauce; at least then, I'd have had no illusions that this was Mexican food.

I don't understand why Mexican restaurants in New England don't get this basic truth. Other ethnic foods in the area have the same spiciness as they do in their places of origin: Indian, Thai, Ethiopian. And in Chicago, where there's a large population of Mexican immigrants, there are plenty of quite decent Mexican restaurants. My husband and I used to love the chorizo flambado at Lindo Mexico in Evanston. While it's true that red chile does not keep well in New England (I had to throw out my ristras, which became infested with mold and now keep powdered red chile double-bagged in my freezer), the throughput at a restaurant should use up the chile before it goes bad. And supply is no excuse either: I found Hatch green chiles at Whole Foods this summer!

My guess is that Mexican restaurants in the area take advantage of the ignorance of their customers to make the cheapest possible dishes. I'd wager that the ranchero sauce used on my lunch came in a big can marked "Old El Paso." And this is what galls me the most: I paid $9 for this lunch. NINE DOLLARS. Mexican food is really inexpensive to make: beans, rice, corn meal for the masa, inexpensive cuts of meat. The biggest expense is the cheese, which was quite scanty in my dish. So unless they're paying their staff way, way, way too much, that was the most overpriced Mexican food I've ever eaten.

Now, it wasn't the worst Mexican food I've ever eaten (that dubious honor I reserve for Garcia's Restaurant of Idaho Falls, ID), and there's some glimmer of hope that I might get something halfway decent there: the menu mentions a carnitas dish with pork that sounds surprisingly like carne adobada. If I can ever bring myself to eat there again, I'll try that. But I won't get my hopes up.