El sabor de México
Community meets comida at these 18 outstanding Bay Area restaurants and mercados devoted to the authentic flavors of six Mexican states.
John Birdsall and Scott Hocker
A Latino neighborhood can be a de facto extension of a particular
pueblo, but Oakland’s Fruitvale district is a cosmopolitan mash-up of
origins: Mexico City, Michoacán, Hidalgo, and especially Jalisco,
the central Mexican state whose varied topography includes the beaches
of Puerto Vallarta and the plains surrounding the capital,
Guadalajara. The restaurants that line International Boulevard,
the main artery of Fruitvale, pay homage to the holy trinity of
Jalisciense staples: posole, souplike goat-meat birria, and the
universal hangover cure, menudo. The neighborhood’s well-loved fleet of
taco trucks has spawned a subculture of aficionados that stretches well
beyond the Bay Area, and a steady stream of new residents guarantees a
food scene that’s anything but static.
TORTAS AHOGADAS MI BARRIO
Biografía:
After assorted busts for selling bootleg tortas out of his house in
Fruitvale, Guadalajara native Javier Padilla went legit with Mi Barrio.
These days, his wife, Miriam, does most of the cooking.
Atmósfera: Ignore the bland, beige dining room and its persistent smell of disinfectant, and you can catch a whiff of a Guadalajaran lonchería.
Especialidades: Stick to the lonches, sandwiches of meaty fixin’s and warm salsa packed onto Guadalajara-style sourdough baguettes known as virotes salados. Pierna—boiled and marinated pork leg—comes drenched in thin marinara sauce that packs a black-pepper wallop, while lonche de tinga is a tasty mess of stewed pork and onions with smoky, lip-numbing chipotle sauce. Nibble on house-pickled delicacies such as cueritos,
waxy squares of vinegary pork skin, delicious dunked in salsa with the
weedy rattle of oregano. And nothing slakes thirst like a Michelada: a
blend of beer, Worcestershire sauce, and Clamato juice.
Postre: Just about everyone ends with the jiricalla, a sweetened Guadalajaran egg custard. It’s not exactly delicate, but it grows on you. 4749 International Blvd. (at 47th Ave.), Oakland, 510-434-9454
NIEVES CINCO DE MAYO
Biografía: In his pueblo 60 miles from Guadalajara, Luis Abundis learned the art of nieve de garafa: ice cream churned via elbow grease alone, by working a handheld paddle in a garafa
Atmósfera:
An open stall in the Fruitvale Public Market, a little-trafficked mall
off the brick plaza bridging the Transit Village and the bustle of
International Boulevard. It’s
near an outdoor patio where families and high school kids hang out over ice cream and churros.
Especialidades: Beautifully unctuous avocado, ricottalike queso, fresh corn with the sweetness of scraped cobs, and changos zamoranos, made with whey (and the odd curd) left over from cheesemaking. The off-menu Jalisco drink tejuino is a puckery brew of lime, coarse salt, and fermented corn masa with a limón sorbet float. In summer, ask for tepache, a fermented-pineapple cooler. 3340 E. 12th St., no. 2 (in the Fruitvale Public Market), Oakland, 510-533-6296
MARISCOS LA COSTA
Biografía:
Co-owner Eva Valdez says relatives of her husband, Octavio Avila, who
trace their heritage to Guadalajara, began this business as a catering
truck that roamed the old bracero areas of Brentwood and Oakley. Today,
the family owns brick-and-mortar restaurants in Tracy and San Jose, as
well as this one in Oakland.
Atmósfera: Once a burger stand, the open-air space feels like an urban approximation of a seafood cóctel
palapa on the Jalisco/Nayarit coast. Forget the crash of waves: Lunch
here is likely to be accompanied by the sound of subwoofer-jacked bass
tracks rattling license plates in the perpetually jammed parking lot.
Especialidades: Tostada de ceviche camarón y pulpo—a
rustic pile of shrimp and chewy octopus on a crisp fried tortilla—is
just as lively. Those purple tentacles are everywhere: in the
spiced-up, thinned-down tomato-juice cocktail (topped with avocado and
a raw oyster) called agua chile, and in a Campechana, the
slurpable cocktail with raw shrimp and a blast of lime and oregano.
Take a pass on anything containing crab. Like the bootleg DVDs hawked
by the guy bussing tables, it’s fake. 3625 International Blvd. (at 37th Ave.), Oakland, 510-533-9566
MI PUEBLO FOOD CENTER
Atmósfera:
You won’t get a more concentrated hit of Fruitvale anywhere than you
will among the sprawling aisles of this supermarket, a local chain.
Sunday is family day: young bucks in suffocating suits with stiff
fauxhawks, out-of-control kids snagging handfuls of free-sample
chicharrones, grannies in lacy headscarves and midcalf nylons, even the
odd Romeo in a lace-up pirate
shirt.
Especialidades: While
you’ll find ingredients to cater to diverse constituencies—Salvadoran
crema, quail for Michoacanos, and the quintessentially Oaxacan herb chepiche—cooked
foods at the Deli Mex counter skew Jalisciense. Don’t expect fine
cooking (everything’s calibrated for steam-table survival), but look
for Jalisciense faves like chicken in red mole and the Lenten specialty
tortitas de camarón (spongy shrimp cakes stewed with cactus), which are rich and saucy.
Postre: The in-store panadería’s capirotada (bread pudding) is fantastic. 1630 High St. (at E. 17th St.), Oakland, 510-532-2654
TAQUERÍA LA GRAN CHIQUITA
Biografía: Arturo
Olivares served a long apprenticeship at a butcher shop in Ciudad
Satélite, Mexico City’s upscale northwest suburb, where he learned the
finer points of buche and cabeza for discriminating housewives. His mom had a shop selling huaraches and other antojitos.
Atmósfera:
Sit where you can watch the taco maker charring onions and hacking meat
for succulent snack fixings in the glass-lined booth at the front of
the restaurant.
Especialidades: On weekends, crowds rush the
booths here for the Mexico City–style barbacoa. Other times, expect
tasty mash-ups of Jalisco’s corn masa snacks and succulent meat culled
from just about every corner of the abattoir. Cabeza (beef cheeks,
mostly) is the house specialty, and you won’t find more succulent pork
small intestines—here called tripita—than these. Pale,
squidlike rings with an almost creamy texture, they’re delicately crisp
where they touched the griddle. Get them spread on a huarache, the
oblong tortilla named for a sandal. Gorditas are burger-size pockets of
meat-filled tortilla dough. It’s the lush corn taste of these fat
beauties’ yellow masa that makes them so good—the gilded frame
enhancing, say, steamy chunks of carnitas glazed with salsa verde. Lose
your cholesterol worries and grab a wad of napkins. 3503 International Blvd. (at 35th Ave.), Oakland, 510-533-6484
TAQUERÍA CAMPOS
Biografía: Cook
and owner Ana Maria Campos grew up on a rancho called La Victoria
outside Autlán, Jalisco (the birthplace of Carlos Santana). Two years
ago, she took over Taquería Campos from her sister-in-law, cooking the
kind of homestyle soup-stews she raised her kids on.
Atmósfera: With
its paint-splotch polka-dot walls and gauzy, ruffled curtains, the
miniscule dining room feels like a backyard shed turned DIY cheery.
Especialidades:
Many Jalisciense-style restaurants in Fruitvale offer weekend birria;
Campos’s
version (available every day) blows them all away, thanks to a
quality you don’t expect in goat stew: delicacy. Credit the broth,
equally suave and husky, with a velvet consistency. Chock-full of plush
pork hunks and flinty-sweet hominy, Campos’s posole also puts others’
to shame. She has a flair for offal, too: There’s an entire roster of
specials devoted to tripa, aka chitlins, her menudo blanco is practically silken, and even the complimentary botana (snack) of warm bean dip and gnarled chicharrón tastes luscious. Call it Jalisciense home cooking with a touch of alchemy. 3659 Foothill Blvd. (at Bridge Ave.), Oakland, 510-261-4260
CARTED OFF
Fruitvale’s pushcart vendors used to make up a shadowy black market,
serving Ziploc bags of mango and pineapple while trying to skirt the
Alameda County Public Health Department. But in 1998, 25 roving snack
sellers (organized by community advocate Emilia Otero) were determined
to go legit. They formed the Asociación de Comerciantes Ambulantes de
Fruitvale, or ACAF, which negotiated business licenses and established
a commissary kitchen where members could prep under the scrutiny of
county inspectors. Today, 30 independent vendors work established
corners in Oakland, most in Fruitvale along International and Foothill
Boulevards—look for the ACAF acronym on their carts. For typical
offerings of mango, watermelon, or pineapple (above) seasoned with lime
juice, salt, and a blast of chili, check out Guadalajara Fruit or Frutas Rubalcava. And for corn—impaled on a stick, dipped in margarine,
yeasty-tasting parmesan, and a drift of chili, so it looks flocked—seek
out Chilango. Guadalajara Fruit: International Blvd. (at 39th
ave.); Frutas Rubalcava: International Blvd. (at 34th ave.); Chilango:
East 12th st. (at 34th ave.)
Despite mostly identical offerings—half a dozen meaty fillings, with
few surprises—each of Fruitvale’s taco trucks emanates a distinct vibe,
thanks to its clientele: Guatemalan day laborers on Foothill, gangstas
at International and 44th, North Oakland day trippers along the area’s
quieter western fringe. In the Goodwill parking lot on International at
29th, a mix of locals and taco turistas faces a dilemma: dueling
trucks, parked less than 100 feet apart, with the identical name Mi
Grullense (a nod to the Jalisco town of El Grullo).
One’s a spin-off of
Mi Grullense restaurant on Fruitvale, the other of El Grullo on
Foothill. Which truck rules? Both satisfy deep taco cravings, but
gravitate to the truck closer to 30th Avenue—the El Grullo one—for
cabeza (beef cheeks) of an almost livery richness, and extra-succulent
pork al pastor.
Mi Grullense: 2925 International Blvd. (at 30th Ave.) Related Articles:
El sabor de México: North Fair Oaks, Redwood City
El sabor de México: San Francisco
