Muertitos

On the cusp of the Day of the Dead, it's a propitious moment to plug a store called Miniaturas Felguérez, located at Hamburgo 85 in the Zona Rosa. For decades they have sold miniature toys -- dolls, soldiers, and the like -- but their specialty has been these tiny boxes, a few inches wide, tall and deep, that depict calaveras (skeletons) in comic situations.

They may be, as in this diorama, engaged in playing the Hallelujah Chorus.

Or there may be an explicit political message, as in this one, which says, "Mexicans, welcome to California."

Or in this, which depicts Mexican politicians as rats (rata is synonymous with thief in Mexican slang).

My favorite calavera here is a rendering of Marilyn Monroe. Actually I picked her up in Cuernavaca, but there is a whole host of celebrity skeletons at Felguérez.

Anthony Bourdain in Mexico City

A few weeks ago I got a call from a production company in New York. Called Zero Point Zero, they make Anthony Bourdain’s show No Reservations. They were wondering if I might be able to help them out while preparing to shoot a program in Mexico City.

They didn’t have to ask twice. I admire Bourdain and, having spent a couple of years of my youth working in restaurants, believe his book Kitchen Confidential is essential, one that had to be written. He is also one of the few people in the world I envy: Who wouldn’t like to be paid to travel around the world and eat?

In any case, I not only recommended some of my favorite restaurants, cantinas and stalls for eating street food, I was also able to spend some time with the crew while they were in town shooting. Bourdain – who everyone calls “Tony” – did not disappoint. Indeed, he fulfilled all expectations. The Lenny Bruce of cookery, he frequently spoke in uninterrupted monologues full of jokes of a scatological or sexual nature (sometimes both), jokes that would probably result in a lawsuit if I were to repeat them here.

The show is set to air early next year. Tony is pictured above sampling what is known as a taco sudado – a “sweaty taco,” so-called because after being fried in the morning they spend the next hours steaming in a basket until they sell out. They are the cheapest tacos in Mexico City and, in my opinion, sublime. There will be another post at a future date about Juan Monsalvo, the sweaty taco salesman under the umbrella.

Nothing to hide

Last time I checked there were 80,000 police to protect the eight million residents of the Federal District. (El D.F. is only the central part of greater Mexico City, with its population of 20 million.) There may be more cops today; before he was elected mayor two years ago, one of Marcelo Ebrard’s campaign promises was to increase their number to 100,000.

This is an off-the-charts per-capita ratio compared to other big cities. According to a New York Times report in September of 2006, nine thousand police officers were enough to protect the four million residents of Los Angeles, and New York made do with 37,000 for eight million citizens.

Mexico City cops come in a dizzying variety: preventive police, investigative police, transit police, tourist police, mounted police, auxiliary police, bank police, diplomatic police, industrial police and customs police, among others, each corps with its own uniform.

In the last decade or two, the police department stepped up efforts to hire more women. Mexico City law enforcement is legendarily corrupt, and apparently, the logic was that females are less prone to bribery and other commonplace forms of malfeasance (a notion that tends to be laughed at by Mexican males).

One thing is certain – policewomen are given uniforms with pants so tight that, regardless of whatever infractions of which they might be guilty, they would never be able to get away with smuggling.

Any questions?

A streetcorner in the Colonia Escandón.

Chicken King, part one

The Colonia Condesa is the most resolutely trendy neighborhood in Mexico City, with its boutiques for twenty-somethings who have the slender bodies that can support jeans imported from Argentina, myriad restaurants with “fusion” cuisine, three Starbucks, wine bars and so forth. However, in this neighborhood you will also find the resolutely old-fashioned restaurant Tio Luis, which has been in continuous service since 1939 on the quiet corner of Cuautla and Montes de Oca.

For about 60 years, the proprietor of Tio Luis was Pedro Yllana, who had been a bullfighter in his youth, and as such the restaurant is decorated with posters and photos of la fiesta brava. (Unfortunately, Yllana passed away a few years ago. He was well into his 90s and now his heirs run the place.)

The menu at Tio Luis is eclectic, from enchiladas to paella to milanesa Holstein (a breaded cutlet with a fried egg and an anchovy on top). However, the place's nickname is el rey del pollo – the chicken king. Of the varied chicken dishes on the menu, the standout is Pollo Tio Luis (pictured above). It is the closest approximation to authentic Southern fried chicken that you can find in Mexico City.