Comida casera en la frontera doméstica
Si están buscando una experiencia auténtica latina, es posible sentirse mexicano y permanecer en Estados Unidos a la vez. Solamente hay que atravesar la frontera hacia Roebuck.
Fui almorzar solo esta vez.
¿No soy bastante simpático? Ni Barbie ni La Conejita ni Escarlata ni La Campesina misma no me acompañarían en la zona que no conocen tanto. No sé la motiva. Para mí es más divertido salir de los barrios acustumbrados de hoy en día.
En Primera Avenida al Norte / Autopista Once—son iguales—se ubica un restaurante frecuentado por muchos hispanoparlantes. Claro que se habla español en El Girasol aunque sea posible pedir en inglés igualmente.
La programación de televisión es otra cosa. Comer solo, no problema, porque pueden siempre viendo las novelas por satélite. Entonces no hay escasez de novias. Los ricos también lloran hoy? Revisen mañana en la misma cadena a la misma hora.
Basta la demografía sin pies ni cabeza. Seguimos a la comida. Probé varios platos y antojitos como explorador en mundo nuevo.
Al principio tuve que probar el guacamole, la mezcla de aguacate que existía en la cultura azteca antes el dominio de España. Es la veleta que sirve como el indicar decisivo de la calidad de cualquiera comida sureña.
A ver. Sabor subtil de limón.
Ya.
Asimismo una sospecha de cebolla. Igual a lo que espero.
Ádemas, hojas casi entera de cilantro, lo que muestra que el guacamole se hace casero. Podría ser propicio me dije.
Lo más importante, la mezcla tiene textura soave de fruta madura pero con grandes trozos de aguacate fresco en forma pura y sólida. ¡Exito! Pasamos en seguida a platos principales aunque yo pueda hacer una cena de guacamole solamente.
La bistec a la tampiqueña es compuesta de carne con cebollas y pimientos verdes, servido en cazuela caliente crepitando y humeante, plato sencillo y saboroso. No tiene nada que ver con la ciudad de Tampico. Lo siento.
En cuanto a la carne asada en estilo hundureño, pareció menos impresionando en los ojos, pero las finas rodajas de carne condimentadas en comino, a lo que gusté, había un sabor más exótico. Sobre todo con catas tropicales de plátanos maduros fritos, soave adentro y casi crujiente al exterior. Perfecto. Al Diablo con los guapos.
A beber, tomé agua tamarindo típico del mundo latinoamericano. Tuve miedo porque probé había una vez un tal refresco frutado popular en Cuba que era tan dulce, decimos demasiado por diez. No pude terminarlo en la isla linda por la cortesía misma. Pero el tamarindo al Girasol era menos azucarado—era agradable y en mismo tiempo poco común en el barrio desde vine. Igualmente el agua mango. El guabanera es mas dulce, acercando mis límites.
Una cosa más que cuento, y no se lo digan a La Coneja. He probado el conejo en clandestino ya que ella no estaba conmigo. Puede ser una barrera de amor, peor que amor sin maquillaje. Es una carne casi blanca con sabor distinto. No olea la riqueza de manteca como plato francés y no sabe el pollo tampoco. Amar la carne tan rica es mi pecado. Cuidado con los huesos pequeños y agudos. Cuidado con el conejo girasol cubierto en salsa roja espesa y muy picante. En México el conejo mismo se encuentra caliente. Les encantan chiles. Similar a La Conejita candela que brilla. Conejo no es el unico plato raro al Girasol sin embargo.
Se sirve tacos de barbacoa, chicharron, chorizo, lengua, y nopales. Se encuentra tripa y güilotas. No se trata solamente de burritos y quesadillas como lo demás. Tengo que regresar.
Alguna vez tendremos alas para saltar todas fronteras-que le inviten a aventuras y no sirven más como barreras. Anteriormente un viaje al extranjero era necesario para disfrutar los bienes latinos. Ahora es interno excepto tendremos que cruzar a Roebuck. Lo hice y no tuve ningún problema con respecto a mi estatus migratorio.
ANONYMOUS TRANSLATION:
Once again our publisher went looking for Mexican food that is not a Tex-Mex adulteration and didn’t come out of a microwave (not just another gratuitous jab at the country girl, since use of this unpreferred cooking method is not uncommon). And he was looking for an authentic environment, where Spanish is spoken by recent immigrants who really eat the food in the place. Worthy goals, but even he admits his commentary on Hispanic demographics and culture in Birmingham is a little silly.
No wonder he couldn’t get anyone to go with him to Roebuck. It may be because none of the girls like him, but I have to confess that we compete as restaurant reviewers and also for some of the same female companionship, so I am not unbiased. But I am a little more trustworthy than the former co-owners who committed every kind of theft and fraud imaginable and told everyone to watch out for him while they might as well have been printing Confederate money.
I am sorry and resentful, also, that he beat me to El Girasol, just like I truly lament that I did not write about the authentic soul food at the Quick & Split in Avondale before it went out of business. I will never let that happen again.
In any case, the publisher’s litmus test for a good Mexican restaurant is the guacamole. You will remember that was my favorite, too, at Taco Mama recently. It was so fresh and chunky as the publisher describes the guac at Girasol with an added home-made touch of almost-whole cilantro leaves and little bits of chopped onion visible in the mixture. But I also have to admit a trip to Crestline is not so adventurous, unless maybe you grew up in Roebuck. Then it will seem like an alien environment where ten year old girls sport diamond tennis bracelets. But now I am intruding on Scarlet’s territory.
And though even the Country
Gal would not go with the publisher even as far as Roebuck, he could amuse himself by watching the telenovelas while eating by himself. Plenty of intrigue nonetheless. He could also try some dishes that Bunny might not have appreciated if she were around, like the rabbit. He remembered how rich rabbit was when cooked French style, basically like eating a stick of butter, in Martinique. The Mexican style rabbit is cooked in a thick red sauce that is hot hot hot with the chiles Mexicans love so much, even on this light but savory meat. And there he goes, flirting again in print, talking about how it is a hot little number like Bunny herself. Are you bored yet?
He also tried the Steak Tampico.
And he tried to copy my historical tours through the realms of cuisine, but unfortunately for him the dish has nothing to do with the Mexican city by the same name. The dish was created in Mexico City, allegedly, though it is not rocket science to sautée onions and green peppers with beef. However, jalapeños would be more likely in Mexico, and so there is a lot of confusion between the Tampico and a dish called Mexican steak that does in fact use the hotter pepper of the same color. The publisher was impressed by the fact that his dish at El Girasol came to the table smoking and steaming in profusion in an iron skillet. Showing off as usual. The country girl would be fuming.
The grilled beef Honduran style
was plainer looking but more exotic tasting. The publisher thought he tasted the flavor of cumin among other spices, and the ripe fried plantains, soft on the inside and slightly crispy on the outside, imparted a tropical flavor.
He also tried the typical Latin American fruit “waters” that substitute for our usual soft drinks, and Scarlet will not go anywhere until she is assured that Diet Coke is available. Some of those drinks in Central America are sweet enough to send you into immediate diabetic shock, but the tamarind and mango flavors that he tried were lighter on the sugar, pleasant and palatable even for a finicky publisher, a wine snob with an Ivy League education no less.
The publisher wants to go back to Roebuck, not to try all the normal dishes like the burritos and tacos, but the rarer dishes they serve at El Girasol like quail, pork rinds, tripe, cactus tacos, and the chorizo- -which is normally made in a different style in Mexico than in Spain. I wish I had been there so I could explain.
And while we are on the subject, he just could not help alluding to the fact that to many locals,
Crestline residents for example, going out to Roebuck seems an adventure out of the ordinary in itself. He sarcastically
deadpans even in Spanish that our readers need not carry their passports to cross the border or to avoid detention under the Alabama immigration law. And he is pushing it as usual since that is probably no laughing matter to some customers of El Girasol. I certainly hope no one is offended because there is no accounting for our publisher’s taste sometimes.
One more thing. Almost every other word out of our publisher’s mouth in this attempt at a restaurant review is a pun on the titles of the Mexican soaps. Sí, el editor es listo. If you can decipher the allusions to these Spanishlanguage TV dramas in a letter to the editor you can probably get yourself invited to the Editor’s Choice party with music, food, art, spoken word performance, and a fashion show on July 22 at Avondale Bricks Gallery. Suerte.
--A.