Mexican Food

MESQUITE, nopal, maguey, wild maize: These were some of the foods eaten in Mexico 9,000 years ago by nomadic people. Then came squash, chiles, avocados, guava, cultivated maize and beans, the foods of sedentary people. The Aztecs made tlaxcalli (the Nahuatl name for what is now called tortillas). The Aztecs, Mayans and Incas ate salsa. The foods of the nomads gave way to pozole and masa and tamales. The Spaniards brought wheat and rice, cattle, pigs, sheep and sugar cane.

When Jaime Martin del Campo and Ramiro Arvizu opened their Bell restaurant 15 years ago, some customers wondered if they knew how to cook. Accustomed to Mexican food laden with sour cream, melted cheddar cheese and mild salsa that has long been served up in the Los Angeles area, patrons balked at eating La Casita Mexicana's enchiladas covered in pumpkin seed mole, cotija cheese and red onions. Many of the doubters, to the restaurateurs' surprise, were Mexican American. Regional Mexican cooking isn't a tough sell anymore.

Long before Rick Bayless, the Too Hot Tamales and even Diana Kennedy, there was another teacher and cookbook writer who introduced authentic Mexican food to a wider American audience. Though she is all but unknown today, at the turn of the 20th century a remarkable woman named Bertha Haffner-Ginger not only learned how to cook Mexican favorites but also packed lecture halls nationwide and published a cookbook sharing her knowledge, whetting the country's appetite for a cuisine that wouldn't travel outside of the borderlands in earnest until the 1950s.

Despite a diverse range of topics -- Mexican food, the coca plant, the world's most complicated watch and the federal duck stamp art program -- the authors participating in Saturday's Festival of Books panel discussion "A Singular Passion" all described similar experiences when it came to writing an entire book on a single, seemingly niche topic. Among them were the "a ha" moments when it first became apparent that the topic they were researching, writing or talking about deserved a deeper treatment.

My Mexican grandfather used to say that salads were for rabbits. My Mexican father thinks a good steak cures any stomach ailment. And a Mexican friend used to joke that a pet pig that lived near my old Westside neighborhood would last approximately two seconds in his Eastside neighborhood before being kidnapped, placed on a spit and barbecued over an outdoor pit. Indeed, Mexicans love their meat, and the cuisine is renowned for its carnitas ...

Re "The Whole Enchilada: It's Too Fat for You, Study Says," July 19: Now it's Mexican food that is a target for the "socicobrally correct"! We are seeing more and more needless criticism and talempering with the way we live, with the constant reminder that living carelessly is dangerous. As if we didn't know. Let's make it "three strikes and you're out" (smoking, hot dogs and now tacos) for these extremists before they turn their attention to banning the automobile, which is admittedly the biggest killer of all. In short, let us tell these fanatics to "get a life"--and let us lead ours.

It was a humble Cal-Mex combo plate that first brought enlightenment to Gustavo Arellano. At the time, Arellano, now editor of the OC Weekly, author of the syndicated ¡Ask a Mexican! column and five-star cultural provocateur, was an Anaheim high school student. His Irish American girlfriend craved Mexican food and steered the couple to a landmark Orange County restaurant. But when the meal arrived, Arellano was taken aback. Instead of the beloved cactus leaves, goat stew and "stinky cheese" he'd been served since childhood by his Zacatecas-immigrant parents, he was confronted with a plate of dry rice and a glop of refried beans, laced with toxic-yellow queso and smothered in a sour-cream avalanche.

After a busy day in the heat and bustle of downtown Acapulco, the drive into the hills at sunset was a welcome respite. At a small restaurant called Tlaquepaque we entered a cool patio hung with lush plants and draped by flowering vines. As we sat down a small, quiet-spoken man with gentle eyes and a face creased by many smiles came to our table and offered us a platter of orange slices, spears of sweet pineapple and pieces of jicama.

Southland Corp., hoping to bolster its business with Mexican-American customers, has begun offering more than 40 types of authentic Mexican food products at about 80 of its 7-Eleven convenience stores in San Diego County. The imported food products are clustered in a specially marked part of the store called "Rincon Mexicano," or "Mexican Corner."

Beware the burrito! Consider the cheese oozing from the chile relleno! Last week, the Center for Science in the Public Interest warned Americans away from Mexican food. Devouring that chile relleno is "the equivalent of eating a full stick of butter." That peasant food can be fattening, that Mexican food is highly caloric, should not surprise us.

Adrian Gonzalez fell a warning track short of producing his second magical moment in as many days with the Dodgers. With the bases loaded and the Dodgers down by two runs in the eighth inning, Gonzalez hit a towering fly ball that went back, back, back . . . and was caught at the edge of the outfield grass by right fielder Giancarlo Stanton. "It would have been great, absolutely," Gonzalez said. The Dodgers lost to the Miami Marlins on Sunday, 6-2, but Gonzalez looked back at his first two games at Dodger Stadium as a home player with warm feelings.

Long before Rick Bayless, the Too Hot Tamales and even Diana Kennedy, there was another teacher and cookbook writer who introduced authentic Mexican food to a wider American audience. Though she is all but unknown today, at the turn of the 20th century a remarkable woman named Bertha Haffner-Ginger not only learned how to cook Mexican favorites but also packed lecture halls nationwide and published a cookbook sharing her knowledge, whetting the country's appetite for a cuisine that wouldn't travel outside of the borderlands in earnest until the 1950s.

1903: "The Landmarks Club Cook Book. " A collection of recipes edited by the sage of the Southwest, Charles Fletcher Lummis, that included more than 40 Mexican recipes, this first-of-its-kind effort was sold to help repair Southern California's crumbling missions. 1923: "Mexican Cookery for American Homes. " This uncredited pamphlet published by theGebhardt'sChili Powder Co. would be published in new editions for decades afterward and was the first widely released manual for American households.

It was a humble Cal-Mex combo plate that first brought enlightenment to Gustavo Arellano. At the time, Arellano, now editor of the OC Weekly, author of the syndicated ¡Ask a Mexican! column and five-star cultural provocateur, was an Anaheim high school student. His Irish American girlfriend craved Mexican food and steered the couple to a landmark Orange County restaurant. But when the meal arrived, Arellano was taken aback. Instead of the beloved cactus leaves, goat stew and "stinky cheese" he'd been served since childhood by his Zacatecas-immigrant parents, he was confronted with a plate of dry rice and a glop of refried beans, laced with toxic-yellow queso and smothered in a sour-cream avalanche.

Call it the accidental road trip. Looking for a less monotonous route home from Northern California last summer, my family and I took California 99 south from Sacramento to Bakersfield and picked up Interstate 5 from there. It took a little longer, but the four-lane road's calming landscape and quirky attractions left us pleasantly surprised and prolonged our vacation buzz. California 99 is easy to overlook as a route to San Francisco and points north. It's not as scenic as the coastal highway or as fast as Interstate 5, and it has more than its share of cows and dirt pastures.

Mexican food and beer. That's what retired Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor suggests might pull this fractured nation back together again. Those were the tools she used to reach consensus in the 1970s when she was a leader in the Arizona Legislature. "I'll tell you what I did," she said last week at a conference in Washington, D.C., sponsored by Arizona State University's Center for Social Cohesion . "It was pretty simple: I'd get everybody together and cook Mexican food, and we'd sit around outside and eat Mexican food, and drink beer, and make friends with each other.

There's a line in a current radio commercial that claims "and Agoura really isn't that far," especially if people are looking for a bargain. The advertisement is for mattresses, but the same could be said for Mexican food, thanks to the Latigo Kid, a restaurant tucked away in Whizin's Shopping Mall. For those living in the west San Fernando Valley or anyone else who doesn't try to drive west on the Ventura Freeway during the evening rush hours, Agoura isn't very far.

There's no sangria at Topolobampo, Rick Bayless' splendid upscale Mexican restaurant in Chicago. Wine choices run more to boutique Syrahs and Zinfandels. Those are unusual recommendations for a menu heavy on spicy food. The knee-jerk reaction would be sweetish Rieslings or Gewurtztraminers. But they're choices chef-owner Bayless has considered carefully. "There's nothing wrong with beer or sparkling wine or even sweet wines," says Bayless, who also owns the adjacent, more casual Frontera Grill.

A feud between Los Angeles officials and business owners on downtown's historic Olvera Street appears headed for a resolution after the City Council moved unanimously Tuesday to approve a negotiated rent increase. The deal calls for rents on Olvera Street — a city-controlled venue highlighting Mexican American food and culture — to rise in steps, edging toward market level in five years. It also ensures that Olvera Street businesses, most of which have been operating on month-to-month leases since the mid-1990s, can continue operating for as long as 40 years.

My Mexican grandfather used to say that salads were for rabbits. My Mexican father thinks a good steak cures any stomach ailment. And a Mexican friend used to joke that a pet pig that lived near my old Westside neighborhood would last approximately two seconds in his Eastside neighborhood before being kidnapped, placed on a spit and barbecued over an outdoor pit. Indeed, Mexicans love their meat, and the cuisine is renowned for its carnitas ...