Francisco fenomenal

Francisco Goldman hardly needs me to promote his book, Say Her Name, which was featured on the front page of the New York Times Book review earlier this month. But I will because he has been a dear friend for over a decade and the genesis of this book was particularly heart-wrenching. It is a novelized version of his life with chilanga Aura Estrada, to whom he was married for a couple of short years until her untimely death at the age of 30 in an accident at the beach in Oaxaca in 2007.

It is a romantic story of love and death, whose two protagonists are writers. As such it reminded me of some of Roberto Bolaño's work -- the kind of book that might inspire younger readers to want to become writers. It also reminded me of Bolaño in the sense of alchemy. When a book doesn’t work it is often easy to understand where and how the writer screwed up. But when a book works, it is a lot harder to determine the chemical compounds or list of ingredients that brought it to the finish line. In the end, there is something undefinable – something magical – about a classic.

For the record, Goldman is to blame for giving me the idea to write First Stop in the New World. For a long time, he and Aura were among the few people who even knew I was working on it, and they always made me feel like I was the only one in the world who could accomplish it. (For this and many other reasons, I dedicated it to him and to her memory.)

Say Her Name is getting great reviews all over the place. If you are in the U.S., Francisco is also probably appearing at a bookstore near you in the near future. Here is a link to his publisher's web site, where you can find his touring schedule.

Glorious Gama

Federico Gama is a pal and my favorite photographer in Mexico City. We have worked together on many projects. Apart from the photos in this entry, you can see more of his work on the "about" page of this web site.

This is his season. If you are in el D.F., you have many opportunities to see his stuff.

His show ¿Qué veinte años no es nada?, which features portraits of youths in the city, is at the gallery of the university Claustro de Sor Juana (San Jerónimo 24, Centro Histórico) until May 31. His other show, photographs of people from rural Mexico who have migrated to Mexico City's Colonia Tacubaya (Federico's home turf), is at the Centro Cultural de España (Calle Guatemala 18, Centro Histórico) until April 10. He is also in a group show at the Patricia Conde Gallery (Calle Lafontaine, 73, Polanco) until the end of this month.Felicidades, Fede, lo mereces.

Delirious Daniel

I met Daniel Hernandez a few years ago when he passing through Mexico City doing research for an article. At the time, he had just quit his job as a reporter for the L.A. Times, but continued to contribute frequently there and to the L.A. Weekly. Not long afterwards, he'd moved here, with a contract from Scribner's to do a book. I could tell from miles away that Daniel was bright and ambitious. Still, he was under thirty and, although his parents are Mexican, he had never lived here. I don't think many writers like to admit it, but we tend to be territorial about what we perceive as "our" subject matter. I wondered what Daniel thought he had to contribute to the discourse about el D.F.

The book, Down and Delirious in Mexico City, just came out and it's terrific. No one I know has gone as far and as deep into this labyrinthine, confusing and misunderstood city as quickly as Daniel. The emphasis of Down and Delirious is on youth culture, and it is the only book I know that paints such a complete portrait of the exhilaration and exasperation of being young here. The book is a mixture of passionate feeling and shrewd journalistic instinct, and in his research Daniel was willing to hang out in some of the darker corners of the city that many people who live their whole lives here never visit. It's an important addition to the library of anyone interested in contemporary Mexico City.

New Yorkers: This coming Thursday, April 14th, at 7 pm, at 420 Hamilton Hall at Columbia University, 1130 Amsterdam Avenue, Daniel will speak about the book along with various academics. There will be an after party at Cantina Royal at 58 North 3rd Street in Brooklyn. If you get there, give him un abrazo de mi parte.

Abbondanza

When I got to Mexico City in 1990, you couldn't find a good pizza for love or money. The dough was mushy, the sauce tasted conspicuously like catsup, and the cheese like soap. Things have changed. I cannot keep up with all the excellent pizzas in the D.F. today. The ones depicted here are all within a stone's throw of my apartment (depending how good your arm is, and how heavy a stone).

That luscious thin crust pizza above was made with arugula, mushrooms and onion in the brick oven at Zazá, on Calle Pachuca between Avenida Veracruz and Agustín Melgar in the Condesa.

This is a mushroom pizza from El Guachito, on Calle Sinaloa between Acapulco and Sonora in Roma Norte. It's an Argentine style pizza, with a thicker crust. The cheese was sublimely crunchy on the edges.

It's a tiny spot, with a few sidewalk tables, perfect for a sunny afternoon.

An arugula and proscuitto pizza at the Osteria 8, on Calle Sinaloa between Calles Veracruz and Tampico, Roma Norte. Also of the thin crust version.

Osteria 8 also has a few outdoor tables, and offers a variety of salads, pastas and main courses. It's a lovely place, an under-the-radar neighborhood gem. I'll write more about it at a later date.

I suppose the closest thing to the authentic, Neapolitan thin crust pizza you can find in Mexico City is at Il Vecchio Forno, on calle Veracruz between Sinaloa and Durango in Roma Norte. This is their pizza Ortolano, with a variety of vegetables.

The owner is an authentic Neapolitan named Luigi, whose restaurant La Casa di Italia (a block away, on Calle Agustín Melgar in the Condesa) has been popular since the early 1990s. That's him standing outside Il Vecchio Forno, talking with his hands to one of the patrons.

When I first conceived of this post, I wanted to call it something like "Pizza Wars," and comparatively pit these places against each other. But there is no war going on. Apparently, cooks in Mexico City discovered a gaping maw in its culinary offerings and is answering to a great need, of excellent (and reasonably priced) pizza. I am delighted there is such an abundance of it.

Around the world in Mexico

This photo was taken at a kiddie fair in Guanajuato.

So was this.

It had been years since I'd last been to Cuernavaca, but I went last month to attend the wedding of a couple of friends. It didn't even occur to me that in a climate famous for being "eternally spring," there would be a Viennese restaurant.

The bratwurst was about as good as bratwurst gets.

In keeping with the Austrian theme, I noticed this bakery named after Salzburg's most famous composer.

However, the cakes on display looked about as authentic to their origins as those kiddie rides.