Standing on the “El” platform at Wells and Washington Sts. early afternoon today I watched as a train approached and said to myself, “Which shall it be?” “The Pink Line train to
Los Corrales, or the Orange Line train to
Zaragoza Restaurant.” Decisions, decisions, decisions. It was a Pink Line train that pulled into the station and when the doors opened I stepped in, then out – and I waited for the Orange Line train to arrive. Los Corrales would have to wait its turn . . . because my desire to visit to see the Zaragoza family was stronger.
Walking through the front door of Zaragoza Restaurant was like making a return visit to the home of relatives or best friends. What a wonderful, loving family this is. All but wife Norma (who celebrates a birthday tomorrow) and son Tony were working today (Tony was hanging Christmas lights on the house, taking advantage of some excellent weather today).
Quesadilla de Chivo
During my prior visit Jonathan asked if I wanted to try a quesadilla and I responded “No, because I can have a (cheese) quesadilla in just about any Mexican restaurant. I’ve come for the birria.” It was I who asked about the quesadilla today – in a question to Juan’s daughter (whose name I’m shamefully forgetting at the moment) – and I was surprised when she asked if I wanted the quesadilla with cheese or
the meat. What meat? The restaurant is now serving the goat meat from the birria with cheese (and the freshly pressed and griddled corn tortilla) to make a quesadilla that presents an
out of this world taste. What a bargain for $2.
Birria Tatemada
I’d ordered the large platter of birria and while Juan carefully constructed the meat on the plattter Jonathan asked me what I’d ordered (his sister had taken my order) and I replied, “The large platter, with whatever your father wants to put on it.” He responded most people eating the birria (there) order
surtido – which often includes tongue, nose, etc. – and though I really didn’t want to know what was being put on the plate because it all looked so good (and because I can be a bit squeemish when it comes to certain animal body parts) – I’m assuming it included, also,
maciza (“ordinary meat”) . I trust(ed) Juan wouldn’t serve me something I wouldn’t enjoy.
Eric and Jonathan took great care to arrange the dried red pepper, container of salsa, the onions and other condiments in front of me. Jonathan sort of apologized for the fussing, explaining “The details are important to me.” “And to me, too,” I replied. He then walked into the back kitchen and returned with a small bowl of
salsa mojacete with its smoky flavor – because no platter of birria tatemada at the Zaragoza’s is complete without it. The tortillas weren’t thin, nor thick today – just the right thickness for the meat , and my liking.
A testament to my opinion about what I was served: only the bones remained when I was finished. It was, once again, excellent. My beverage of choice: two bottles of
Jarritos Piña (pineapple soda)
Flan de Crema (cream cheese flan)
The Zaragoza’s haven’t been serving desserts but a woman who has a small business making
flanes stopped in and Jonathan took a liking to her and has stocked two varieties of her flan as a test to see how customers respond. I’m a sucker for flan and when Jonathan asked if I’d like to try one I obliged – selecting the
flan de crema, a flan made with cream cheese (and one I've not sampled before now - in Chicago or Mexico) . Flan is typically served a certain way, loosening it in its container and turning it upside down on a plate so the syrup runs down the sides. That wasn’t the way it was served by the Zaragoza’s and I thought it a bit awkward eating it out of a small aluminum tart-like container and having to dig down for the watery syrup. I viewed the presentation as a taste testing of a possible menu addition so the taste was most important to me and not the prettiness and presentation. I didn’t much like the flavor and when Juan asked what I thought I said, “It’s better than no flan at all,” to which he and a friend of his sitting in front of him near me at the counter burst into laughter. They understood what I was saying.
Mas o menos. So Jonathan – undeterred – collected a serving of the vanilla flavored flan, the other one the woman had made, and sat himself down next to me at the counter, he handed me a spoon and we tasted the vanilla flan together – as family members would at the kitchen table. I thought the vanilla flan and its fragrant syrup was superior to the
crema variety – and the gesture of the shared tasting is indicative of how the family interacts with its customers – its
guests.
His exuberance still not deterred, Jonathan next stepped around the counter to retrieve a small plastic bag containing 4 or 5
gorditas de nata (sweet gorditas) – smallish, sweet griddled flour discs (pancake-like) served with coffee in parts of Mexico after dinner or in the evening (maybe more often in the central and north sections of the country). He’d met a man who makes the sweet gorditas and thinks they may be a nice addition to what the Zaragoza’s offer in the restaurant. Jonathan – who will return to culinary school after the start of the new year – has a great imagination – or is inquisitive – for things which might attract more people to the family’s restaurant. Juan, the dad, is a patient man.
I spent more than an hour and a half at the counter with the family and the discussion of their birria, of Mexico and Mexican food here and there (in Mexico) was non-stop and laced with hearty laughter. Juan didn’t
miss a beat as he participated while preparing platters of birria and tacos for customers who came and went - nor did he neglect those other customers, because he (and his (and Norma's) children) carried-on a continual banter back-and-forth with everyone in the room. What a great time I had.
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