Panqueques

I've been encouraged to expand my food posts to those articles which can be prepared and consumed by the humble student with little money and no time to trek across the city for delicious food. So here I am, ready to share my most secret and delicious of personal grad-school recipes with you. I'll start off with a glorious Ecuadorian delicacy, a recipe I learned while living with a family in Bahia de Caraquez, a coastal city. These are panqueques, quite literally "pancakes." In contrast to the U.S. style, Ecuadorian panqueques are savory and can be eaten at any time of day. They are also perfect for fulfilling cravings for fried foods, and they can be transported, reheated and many other useful verbs that make them, overall, quite a wonderful thing. You make them just like regular pancakes: flour, sugar, salt, egg, dash of oil, a bit of milk, and water to texture. If you're feeling especially lazy or out of ingredients, you can actually just use boxed pancake mix. There's no shame. Then you add the cheese. In Ecuador, they have a special Farmer's cheese that is super salty and comes in little chunks sold in bags. While there are many queso granjeros through which to sort at my neighborhood groceria, I have found that often the easiest and safest cheese route is through the land of feta. Any kind will do. I've been buying the cheap "domestic feta" at about $6 a pound. So then you crumble in the cheese, oh delicious cheese. Throw some vegetable oil in the pan and commence frying! The rest should be easy. I recommend a dash of salt on top, although the possibilities really are endless. Speaking of which....I left a couple of panqueques in the pan and I'm thinking of heading back into the kitchen. Or as the Rangers would say (no..don't boo! not those Rangers!), "leave no man behind." And....break.

Mission Mania #5 - Kiji (22nd and Guerrero)

Coming in at sweet number five is this most delicious of delicates located on the lone island block of 22nd and Guerrero next to a few other mildly interesting restaurants (and the NOT interesting Tuba) and a couple of bars. Lord knows, I love me some sushi. In fact, it might be my most favorite of food genres. And Kiji exemplifies all of the flavor-based reasons one might idolize this type of cuisine. We are talking the freshest of fish with unique combinations and constantly evolving daily specials. But, I might have a sweet spot for this beauty since Kiji introduced me to the glories of the living sea butter, otherwise known as sea urchin. Ah uni, you are like the secret to transcendence and peace on earth all at once. And for an extra buck or too, you can get belly pieces of your favorite fishes, a choice I highly recommend. The salmon belly will melt in your mouth in ways that almost seem R-rated. They also offer unique creations that will delight and inspire. For 5$ you can get a melt-in-your-mouth shot that includes an oyster, uni, raw quail egg and salmon roe, a decision that will satisfy many of your rawness cravings at quite a reasonable price. True to San Francisco form, the restaurant is a little pricey (it's okay - when dealing with raw - quality is worth the price), so expect to spend about $25 per person. Also, you must be prepared to deal with some mild electro music and ridiculous mood lighting. It's almost as if Virgin's red-headed twin has expanded its tentacles into the most tasty of professions and you're stuck dealing with the music as compensation for the empty seat next to you.

Final judgment: "Oh, it's so worth it. Suck down the bounty of the sea - with fresh options of abalone and geoduck, along with toro, uni and sake favorites, you are guaranteed a graciously delicious dinner of the Pacific Ocean's finest."

INTERMISSION: 3 Weeks in Northern Argentina

That's right folks, I just returned from a generous stint abroad in none other than Northern Argentina. Now, apparently, and for no good reason as far as I can tell, Americans don't really go to Argentina. In fact, we probably only ran into a baker's dozen worth of Americans in our three weeks wandering around. Not to say that there weren't a bunch of awkward tourists. It's just that most of them came from France, with a spattering of Dutch and English, some Spanish and of course, many Porteños. Porteños refer specifically to inhabitants of Buenos Aires, the capital of the country and a giant mass of city, weighing in at just over 14 million when you count the suburbs (ie slums). Indeed, it is a country of extreme disparities, with tourists from the cities easily spending $80 USD on a hotel while the people outside are lucky to have electricity and running water. But this isn't some sort of hippy-dippy, help the world, anthropological analysis blog or anything. This blog is about food. And food, we ate much of. After some heavy (alright...after-dinner plump) thinking about the subject, I have decided to divide the food of Argentina into three, Ven Diagram-esque, categories of the food life, cleverly entitled: A.M., P.M. and Everything Else. Let's begin, shall we?

A.M. Ah, the morning. Such a glorious, leisurely time in Argentina. Whether we spent the morning lazing around, watching the sun come out and the heat come up, or we huddled behind a warm cup and beefed up on bread products to prepare ourselves for the chilly jaunt around the city, the morning was always a satisfying experience. This is in no small part due to the omnipresent spectacle of the cafe con leche (latte) and medialuna (croissant) combination that graced so many of the numbered-combo menus around the country. Oh, did I forget to mention?: the European conquest of Argentina, while for better or for worse, has been a major factor in many aspects of life, including the daily ritual known as breakfast. This ritual, when done properly, should last for at least an hour and take place in a cafe: with or without WiFi is your own concern. Medialunas come in a variety of forms, but the only guaranteed presence will be the dulces. As with all of their food, Argentinians prefer things sweet, and medialunas are no exception. On our trip, we only stumbled across salty medialunas one time, and while they were delicious, they were an entirely different pastry all together, lacking the plump air balloon quality of the classics and instead presenting a harder, denser, more sailor-made bread product that gave one a feeling much further from the warm ovens of the cozy cafe. A good cafe will most likely accompany any ordered combination with a shot or two of additional beverages including the nefarious agua con gas (sparkling water, a new obsession of mine) and potentially a fresh juice or a creamy fruit product. As a long-standing fan of the King's Banquet style of dining, I strongly support the multiple beverage approach and heartily condone the completely-covered table as an important item in the morning partake. Other A.M. items might include a hard-boiled egg, a variety of obscenely sweet pastries and cookies, teas, toast and marmalade, and even the occasional fry-bread or sweet potato loaf. You can see why lingering is encouraged. And this is totally making my slightly stale bowl of Cheerio's breakfast jealous...

P.M. So, ultimately I have divided the food stylings as such because there is virtually no distinguishable difference between lunch and dinner, at least as a tourist, in Argentina. Every afternoon, the choice has to be made: how many meals do I want to have meat in them today? For the vegetarians in the audience, this clearly is an easy decision, and they are instantly resigned to alternating between cheesy pizza and cheesy pasta, with a few (possibly cheesy) potato options thrown into the mix. No vegans, I am afraid this is not the land for you. In fact, this is probably the only arena I've ever been to (excluding Wisconsin) where a block of cheese is considered a well-rounded meal. It's a damn shame that I don't like the stuff.....NOT!!! Cheese is like one of my favorite food groups! But I would be lying if I didn't say that I'm happy to be back in a land of cheese-less Ethiopian and Thai foods. Ah, sauces. There is no such thing as a strong sauce in Argentina. They were the Kings and Queens of Suave; the Mavens of Mild. If you have a dainty palate, prepare to be amazed with the diverse differentiations of delicacy that can be served up out of corn, sweet potato, pastas, more corn, and cheese. But back to the meals. So does meat sound good for dinner? Okay, sure. That means I'll take a pizza for lunch. They do know their way around a fine pizza. But like hamburgers in the United States, choose wisely, because a wide range of product can be returned. The worst had huge puffy crusts and little toppings, more like a focaccia toast with not enough spread. While the best included fresh cheeses and pickled vegetables, thick and chunky tomato sauce, and the requisite array of unpitted green olives to top the pie. There were many options, especially in the city, and some were too bizarre for even me to dare. EG that ridiculous smoked salmon and brie concoction in the outer Once area of Buenos Aires. Yikes.

Meat for dinner comes with a variety of tasty decisions. Steak is the most known meat of Argentina, and it comes in forms that span from thin steak sandwich to thick steak sandwich to just a thick steak. Milanesa, or fried thin steak, was also quite popular. In the Western side of N Argentina, right around the base of the Andes, llama is one of the meattastic attractions, eaten by locals and visitors alike. I also had the pleasure of munching a goat leg, which I'm always surprised isn't served in the United States. The fat of the goat is so rich, it's definitely almost illegal. It's the one bite and you remember it for days sort of food that could soar up the ranks in fancy one-bite foodie restaurants. But I also think the same about goose-necked barnacles, and no one I know has captured that flag and made a run for it, so....we'll see. Oh, and there's also some pork running around. And if you're daring, which we only were one time, thank goodness, you can order the full parilla for two. This is like a mobile charcoal-bed slaughter house carrying at least 3 different animals. You get some pork chops, steak, chicken, blood sausage, regular sausage, kidney, liver and intestine. And by the end, you never want to see the insides of another animal. But don't worry: this will pass.

For me, Argentina was not about the search for the perfect steak. No, no, it was about the search for the perfect choripan, a chorizo (spicy sausage) sandwich topped with a variety of tangy vegetable options. But some gifts come for a price: my long quest eventually revealed to me that it was not the chorizo that made this sandwich so heartwarmingly desirable. No my friends: it was the toppings. And only the toppings at Chorimovil, located behind Dique 1 in Puerto Madero, Buenos Aires, are enough to move mountains. Tomato, lettuce and mmk (mustard, mayonnaise, ketchup) are doable. Basil oil and chili paste make me come back for more. But it is the vinegar-based pickling of red and white cabbage, carrots and onions that really send it soaring to the heavens. And that's why our last day was spent down on the marshlands, in the midst of millions of different parillas (grilling stands), munching down on a pork chop sandwich outside of Chorimovil, no Choripan in sight...The feeling of betrayal will pass, I'm sure.

To go along with the meats, potatoes are quite common. As in, everywhere. Whether they are pureed, fried, baked, boiled or gratined, they are definitely available. Rice also happens. And quinoa is a big thing near the Andes. Don't expect to eat any vegetables of any kind. I'm not sure how they do it, but my current hypothesis includes a combination of cigarettes, early deaths and coffee to keep most of the Porteños reasonably thin. Because healthy foods are pretty much nonexistent.

Appetizers, on the other hand, definitely do take place on a regular basis. Sideshowing as side-of-the-road snacks, empanadas, tamales and humitas can be found all over the northern chunk of the country, although the latter foods are definitely more of a mountain-range type of cuisine. Tamales are essentially the same in Argentina = filled with meat and corn, and trussed up in a corn shuck. Humitas, quite deliciously, are essentially the same thing but SIN CARNE, or meat-free, a delicacy that can sometimes be too hard to come by. They make up the mix with more corn and goat cheese, although not like the kind we think of in the States. In NW Argentina, goat cheese is the epic farmer's cheese, ie the you-find-it-everywhere, default, cheddar of the south. It has a hard texture complexity with the slight resemblance to mild feta that makes it an inhalin' good substitute when in withdrawals and dreaming of cheese. Empanadas, however, make a grandiose appearance in Northern Argentina and are frequently the only thing being served (other than pizza) at the late night music shows that are a bi/tri-weekly must-do in every city. The standard flavors come in chicken, beef, and ham and cheese, although occasionally you stumble across a vegetarian option. Like most things (screw you Passport Health!), the most delicious empanadas were to be found in the (gasp) street-food alley, sold out of a warm basket by an abuelita with husband in tow. Being recently fried, having fresh meat and a fabulous crust made this the best empanada of the trip, and we were sad to see that she had moseyed off in search of other customers by the time we wandered back that way for seconds.

EVERYTHING ELSE Wait, you might be thinking. So what does one stuff into an 'other' section after all that other nonsense? Desserts? Why, yes, there were desserts. Obscenely sweet is how they like things down there. Sugar cane honey can make anyone reach for the water glass. And five flavors of flan can only go down for so many meals. And, with all the medialunas, who was really thinking about pastries? Not a lot to report back on desserts. Alcohol is also an other. The 1 liter glass bottle of bad beer is the standard unit of yeast measurement. So, there's that. And all the wine is pretty dang good, each bottle usually ringing in at a lowly $10 USD. Not bad at all. Nothing negative to report back on wines. But no, this section is for coffee. And tea. But you already mentioned coffee! you proudly bite back with. Tis true, tis true. But I would be remiss not to mention it again. There are two things in which every person in Argentina imbibes more than any other. Actually, they usually pick one and stick to it. It's a familiar jingle actually. That's right: coffee or tea. By coffee, they actually mean lattes. And that's just delicious. I'm a coffee girl myself. And it's amazing when even the smallest cafe with plastic chairs has an espresso machine sitting in the back. Ah, lattes. It gets a little overwhelming at first with the coffee everywhere. By the end, I was limiting myself to ~3 cups per day: the breakfast requisite, the siesta-time chaser and the late-night reviver. Of course, they have like zero caffeine in those little mugs, so with the warm milk, it's not the most effective system. But it is delicious. And that's the important part. And, who can go to Argentina and have a foodie blog without taking about Mate? It's impossible! So, it's like a personal tea maker, with a straining spoon that you keep filled with tea leaves. All you need is a personal thermos or a friendly vendor. Seriously, this might be the only place where you're as likely to find boiling water as you are a cold bottle of the stuff on the side of the street. There are a million different kinds of teas, and kids cups, and basically everyone you see is carrying this teapot around with them. Inside museums, in secured bathrooms, in hostels, in restaurants. Mate, mate, mate. And, of course, Spencer had a long-running joke that I'm sure he's proud to take credit for, the: "That's not your te, it's Mate!" zinger. Good times.

Anyway, so there are like tons of things I could talk about. Or at least three or four more I could think of. But I'm jealous of my past-self, and this post has already taken me several days and is way too long. So, enjoy. And keep eating!






(more photos pending...)

Mission Mania: Anchor Oyster Bar - Runner Up #1

Okay. It's true. I am yet again filled with lies. This restaurant (gasp) is not even in the Mission. It's technically, okay...pretty obviously, located in the Castro, with it's small yet prime real estate location at Castro Street and 19th. But, to be fair, San Francisco neighborhoods roll over you like a windy set of waves if you walk more than 2 or 3 blocks anywhere in the central city. I mean, I've lived here for 3 years, and I could probably only name half the SF neighborhoods, let alone orient them on a map. So Anchor. You're within walking distance, a mere 12 minutes from my Dolores Park abode, and you are tastefully delicious. Hence your place at Runner Up #1 on my maniacal Mission mania list. Being the lady that I am (ie. someone from the PNW), for me, this here dinner menu represents what some may call Soul Food. And everybody needs Soul Food from time to time. That's right: buttery mashed potatoes and fatty fish fillets, crab cakes, caesar salad, cioppino and pasta - these are the foods that I was raised on, and these are the foods that I run to in times of homesickness, sadness or a desire to put on a couple of pounds. And it is glorious. The oh-so-necessary oysters are clearly the piece of resistance as they say: the veritable cherry on top. In my humble opinion, you can tell a lot about the quality of a restaurant based on their oysters. For example, some places have fresh tasty oysters but can't be bothered to sever them from the shell and you're stuck there trying to saw through the muscle with a tiny fork or pull it from it's home with your teeth or maybe just leave it dangling from your lips like a sad, sad piece of spaghetti (cough...Woodhouse...), and that is not a good thing my friend. Or other places sever the oyster but then rinse it in tap water so many times that it is completely flavorless by the time it hits your table and then begins to live up to the horribly hurtful "loogie" stereotype propagated by non-believers (choke....Fog City....). That is also not a good thing. I mean, don't they realize that the oyster juice is half the flavor-battle? Idjits. Okay, okay. I digress. Needless to say, the oysters at Anchor are like a precious pearl recovered from the depths of the ocean only to be gently placed on my tongue and burst like a gusher of salty-brine goodness. Usually, I'm a west-coast only kind of girl. I love the fresh, almost carbonated, tingling flavor of a good, briny Pacific oyster. Last time though, I dabbled in some Canadian Atlantic's and I was not disappointed. It was completely different, but the thick smokey taste of those puppies swirled in my throat and left a rich, brie/stinky cheese wall of flavor that opened my eyes to the wonders of that other ocean-world. Ahh, oysters. Whew. I might be drooling a little. Okay, so Anchor. A one-man creation of Delicious, Satisfying, Cozy and so on. The space is pretty tight, but you don't notice it much once you actually get inside. That's right folks, waiting takes place on the sidewalk. So, in these San Francisco summers, be sure to bring your ear-muffs. If you want oysters, be prepared to throw down $40 per person, a reasonable exchange for fresh and well-prepared cuisine in this fair city. Oddly enough, for a highly-habitated area surrounded by water, I tend to find myself disappointed in the seafood. Thankfully, I know that I can always drown my sorrows in a giant piece of fresh halibut at my local Castro Oyster Bar. Amen.

Final Judgment: "Best tourist-free, sit-down oysters in the city. And then some."

Mission Mania: Crepes a Go Go - Runner Up #2

In an effort to sound like slightly less of a bitch, I am rounding up a list of my top 5 favorite places to eat in the Mission District of San Francisco. This list is based on 3 years of residence and a lot of eating out with the singular criteria of crave-power. Repeat experience only; the kind of places you look forward to servicing after a couple of weeks out of town - these are the restaurants that I could eat at multiple times per week, ideally without excessive binge consequences of never-again syndrome. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't condense my choices to a mere 5, so I've included 2 runner-ups on the list. Neither of these competitors are technically in the Mission, but a short hop, skip or maybe a drive-by (cough cough Crepes-a-go-go) means that I am once again imbibing in their delicate and delectable flavors. As many may know, the Mission is a vibrant neighborhood that is traditionally Latino and has now been inundated with all the trendiest hipsters, bike messengers and yuppy middle class. But none of that white-person stuff means that you can't also find amazing food of the grittiest and most authentic nature. Run-down taco shops and back-alley eateries abound on the Mission's central strip, aptly named "Mission Street." In another vein, the collision of cultures also means a series of diverse foods that can satisfy any testy tastebud while simultaneously letting me forget how horribly small my kitchen is since I never have to use it. Ay carumba is right. And Buen Provecho.

Runner Up #2 - CREPES A GO GO (SOMA)
Located at 11th and Harrison, this blessed haven of the crepe is a site for sore eyes, gleaming out of the depths of a side-street as only a trailer under the shine of late-night streetlights can do. That's right, Crepes A Go Go is the original street-food. Delicious, made on the spot in a space that makes my own kitchen seem spacious and served out of a mobile vehicle that probably hasn't been mobile in way too long, A Go Go serves both sweet and savory crepes with fresh ingredients and an extensive menu for the choosy. My personal favorite is a classic and comes on recommendation of the chef/boy behind the counter = fresh strawberries, nutella and whipped cream. And sometimes I'll even throw in some kiwi if I'm feeling exotic. Man oh man, I probably shouldn't write these when I'm hungry. Other people scream for the breakfast style crepes with avocado, or the lunch style crepes with turkey and cranberries. Me? I'm a dessert kind of girl. But nothing beats options. The majority of the clientele appear to be nearby party-hardiers, but then again, I've only frequented this location after concerts or late-night journeys myself. However, I hear it's open all afternoon/evening. In fact, one of the only negative comments I read about A Go Go is someone complaining that the place wasn't open when they wandered by at 3:45am. That's right folks - you read it here first - Crepes A Go Go does actually close. So make sure to get your drunk ass here before such an obscene hour. I hate to break it to you, but San Francisco is no New York. In other news, there are several other locations sprinkled around the city that I can't vouch for. For example, one reviewer of the Polk St. stand clearly wins the best complaint award:

"Mystery: When we were done and about to leave, an employee asked if they could get some crystal from me. When I said "uh, no", they said they could pay for it. Welllll ... should've said so in the first place! Minus one star for making me wonder what I said or was wearing wrong exactly."

Ah the Tenderloin, land of mystery indeed.
In summary: Crepes A Go Go makes runner-up #2 because a) it's not technically in the Mission b) I have to drive there and c) let's face it - if I wasn't too lazy, I could make crepes for myself.

Final Judgment: "Don't ever sit down for crepes again. Eat a Go Go."

And on a final note, A Go Go music from South East Asia is really rockin'.

Tuba (22nd and Guerrero)

Well, now that we've all enjoyed that highly positive commentary on the highlights of SW road-trip eating, I thought I'd head back to foggy San Francisco to resume some gloomy rant&rave about restaurants in the city. If it was a cloud, I would look for a silver lining my friends. But no - we are talking about the endless fog with no boundaries that rolls in to consume most of the joy and at least 50% of the gayness that comes with rejoicing in rainbow flags. So, here I go again to berate another local establishment....hopefully, well deserved beratement....This misplaced Berkeley dining experience lies on the randomly hip corner at 22nd and Guerrero over in the Mission. A mere hill away from my residence, I have often coasted through the neighborhood, most frequently to dine at the deliciously decadent and depressingly expensive sushi restaurant "Kiji" which sits next door. Tuba opened recently and I immediately noticed the packed interior and upbeat atmosphere, a stark contrast from the always vacant French restaurant a couple of doors down with its fancy waiters, deal menu and awkwardly outnumbered diners. I also noticed Tuba's super ugly, red and blue, translucent s&p shakers. Well, when friends and I were searching for sustenance late one weekday night, Tuba was open and gripes about primary color schemes were not enough to deter. So we wandered over to this Turkish restaurant for a spin on a meat-log. I didn't like it. The wine came in little tiny bottles with plastic tops and almost every single thing on the menu was red meat. Or eggplant, the most hated of the vegetable family. Our appetizer sampler consisted of 10 different fried patties of random things. Some had cheese, some had zucchini, some were falafel. But it was really difficult to tell which was which, a travesty I would expect more from Applebees than a quasi-nice restaurant in the city. I don't understand this in-between thing that so many awful restaurants seem to get away with! Why can't it be either street food or fancy food? Why do I need something expensive that I have to sit down for when it would have tasted better marinating in its own fats on a cart somewhere (cough cough Ti Couz)? There is no need for this Tuba! Their idea of making the meal fancy was taking the stick out of the shishkabob thereby creating some sort of Frankenstein meatlog that was not really doing it for me. Number 1 rule of a great meal = make sure the food doesn't look the same going in as it does going out! Ennnhhh - Fail! In fact, I spent most of my meal trying to figure out whether my entree looked more like a Caribbean phallus on vacation in San Francisco or the most likely curse to befall me after eating that fried appetizer platter. Yikes! I think my best bet from now on will be hole-in-the-wall Turkish places out by Cesar Chavez or something. This place was all about the wrong kind of sketch......But, to be completely fair, the event was not a failure. This leads me to my conclusion about eating in general....

I deem it: "Proof that the first and most important ingredient in a satisfying dinner meal is good company!"

Note - The meat-log above is actually from Turkey and not from Tuba (and therefore more delicious). But you get the idea! If only this were more like a Turkish restaurant and less like an faux-fancy, semi-exotic place meant to cater to middle class city goers with limited traveling time and a sad palate....

A Taste of the Southwest

I recently embarked on a rather excellent road trip through the Southwest to see geo- and archaeological wonders galore. The scenery was incredible, the culture was one-of-a-kind and, all together, it resulted in a very satisfying appreciation of the Ol' West and the beauty of this here wonderful country. Not to be overlooked were the many interesting and somewhat painful meals (Holiday Inn, I'm looking at you) that come with eating out 3x a day in an unknown land. Some of them, however, were quite delicious and truly representative of that local flavor. So I thought I would invite you to the table with this summary of our Southwest Road Trip's greatest meals.

1) Quite early on the journey, while traveling through a mountain pass on our way to Death Valley, land of awesomeness and sodium, we wandered past this epic diner of dehydrated meats and fruits. When we first got there, there was actually some Quicksilver tour bus headed the opposite direction with a bunch of hot, endorsed-out surfer types sporting shaggy sun-bleached hair and sandals in the 40 degree weather. So that was sweet. This picture of a damaged portapotty also sets the scene. The business was actually quite tasteful with all sorts of jivin' jams, canned goods and dried deliciousness. Our meats of choice were buffalo, elk and venison, all spiced and only barely distinguishable. Elk was my favorite though - really a texture thing more than anything else. When craving snacks in the mountains, there's nothing like cured flesh to make you ponder back on the days of covered wagons, gold-panning and forest living. Ah the Southwest, still a land of unconquered wonder.....and jerky!

2) We wandered into Sedona unknowing and naive. Everything in the area is wild and desolate, but this is a gem of upper-class high-life in the middle of some of the most beautiful red mountains and glacier forest streams I have ever seen. The presence of a private airport means most of the people waiting to be seated were from completely different states (eg. IL, NY) altogether. And I do mean waiting. Apparently the list of high-class restaurants has yet to meet up with the mid-week demand, because every place in town had an hour minimum wait, and the WASPs were out in force. Definitely the fanciest meal of the week, dinner at Cafe Elote, thankfully, did not disappoint. With a wait like that, I was ready to be angry, but the food melted away my fury in a bath of deliciousness. Oh, that and the blood orange margarita in the foyer certainly didn't hurt. But the star of the night, no doubt about it, was the tamale. I have never had a tamale that delicious, and I doubt I will anytime soon....at least in this country. The exact description is: "Michoacan style fresh corn tamales, salsa verde and crema," but somewhere between the homemade green pepper salsa and the whole kernels of perfectly steamed sweet corn hiding amongst the depths of the warm tamale, it became so much more. (For a complete rundown on tamale types, check out this site) Because a trip to the Southwest without Mexican food is like a trip to Outerspace with the blinds drawn....

3) And now we come to my absolute favorite meal of the trip. This is the kind of meal you fondle in your memory and drool over in your spare time. Mmmm. Simplistic, quaint and yet oh so ground-moving. We stumbled across this family owned business at a corner to nowhere that was actually some highway turnoff large enough to support a small town and maybe even a McDonalds. A town like that can only mean at least one decent local restaurant with the touch for tastebuds of the tried and true. And Amigo's is certainly that. The first act of genius was the fact that chimichanga that I ordered (traditionally tortilla wrapped meat that is deep fried), replaced the Mexican standard with the Native equivalent to produce an astonishingly awesome creation called a frybread chimichanga. O...M...G... And then, they had to go an make it even more amazing by making their own sour cream. That's right! They made their own sour cream. Salsa you can expect. But sour cream?=Genius! That means no sloppy, liquid texture and off-beat taste, but instead, pure, clean and solid creamy goodness. I'm salivating just thinking about it. I....want....more....


4) And last, but not least, (mostly because these are temporal order and not tastiness order) our full-on, old-school Native meal of mutton at Monument Valley, makes the list. When you're on a reservation, surrounded by geological wonders engulfed in sand and snow due to 40 mph winds, what better place to be than in a Native-run restaurant with a table by the window? And, as they say....When on the Rez, eat like the Natives. Hence our choice of the house-recommended, traditional mutton stew. With a side of frybread of course. And a frosty Mexican coke? Now we're talking. The stew was deep and hearty, and it matched with our sugary frybread in a way that only the Southwest can explain. Mmm, mmm good. It was a little sad seeing all the blond Europeans around us eating dino-nuggets and fries, but at least I know that I kept it real. I'm just disappointed that we weren't hungry enough to try their other house specialty - green chile chilli. Recommended by Esquire! I guess when they did their piece on sweet movies filmed in the Southwest, they had to mention the only restaurant in 100 miles. When you're way out there, it's easy to be taken advantage of in the act of dining. Either your mouth or wallet will suffer. Luckily, this Monument Valley Cafe was kind enough to offer goodness and greatness, at a reasonable price! At least, if you ordered local cuisine and not the grilled cheese....