This is why I like cantinas

La 7 puerta

If you know my work, you're probably aware that I have written frequently about cantinas. There is a whole chapter about them in my book First Stop in the New World, and on the journalism page of this website there is an article about them. However, I don't go to them as often as I did in the bloom of youth -- or even five years ago. They are mostly an afternoon affair, and the older I get the harder it is to get through the night after an afternoon of drinking. If I drink too much too early I feel hungover by eight in the evening, and that's pathetic.

La 7 8 salsas

Still, once in a while I can't resist them. My friend J.M. Servín recently told me about a cantina in the centro histórico called La Número Siete, on Calle Ayuntamiento #21, between López and Dolores. It has recently undergone a renovation, and I had a great afternoon there.

Most cantinas in Mexico City serve botanas -- free food that accompanies the drinks that you pay for. At La Número Siete they are abundant and delicious. The day I went there they included, among other things, tostadas with shredded beef, meatballs in chipotle sauce and liver and onions.

La 7 pastor

You can also order from an a la carte menu, and if that isn't enough, La Número Siete is next door to El Huequito, a hole in the wall that has what many think are the best tacos al pastor in the city. (They have a lot of competition.) You can order them from El Huequito and the waiters from La Número Siete will run and get them for you.

La 7 jefa

Unlike many cantinas there are women personnel at La Número Siete, including this subject, who referred to herself as la jefa (the boss).

La 7 mesera

Or this one, who waited on our table.

Because of the botana, I've always thought that cantinas in Mexico City are more civilized than bars in the United States and most of Europe, where you can count yourself lucky if there is so much as a bowl of peanuts to accompany your drink. Drinking always goes down better if good food accompanies it.

Alameda facelift

For nearly all of 2012, the Alameda Central was closed for renovation. I was worried about what might happen to Mexico City's oldest park, which goes back about 400 years. Things don't tend to get better when they are supposedly "fixed" by governments.

It took me a few months to get there -- it was reopened at the end of last year. But I think they did a terrific job. The passageways were repaved with white marble.

The fountains and the statuary were all given a shine and a polish, and there is more greenery than ever, including these lavender bushes, which I understand are easy to maintain.

I went on a Sunday. Before the renovation, las muchachas -- young women who work as housemaids, most of whom come to the city from the provinces -- would dress up and congregate en masse at the Alameda on Sundays, their day off. They would be courted by their male counterparts -- construction workers, shoe shine boys, grease monkeys -- similarly spiffed up for the day.

None of these people were there on the Sunday I visited. It was all middle class families. Ever since I have been haunted by the question: What happened to the muchachas?

Upper crust comida corrida

It is more expensive than the typical comida corrida, but it is also more elegant, healthier and has fresher ingredients. At the corner of Sinaloa and Medellín, a restaurant called Artisans et Boulangers is a great place for a quiet lunch in the colonia Roma Norte. The chef is Japanese, and much of the food, although Western, is at least inflected by her home. They start you off with fresh bread, subtly flavored water (it was chamomile that day) and a homemade olive spread.First course the other day: salmon tartare. Followed by poached extraviado (a fish similar to grouper), served with mashed potatoes and grilled vegetables.

And what they call "angel cake," with homemade whipped cream. All of this, with coffee, cost 179 pesos.

A freebie

Photo by Keith Dannemiller

Keith Dannemiller is a photographer from Ohio who has lived in Mexico City since 1987. We have been friends for about 15 years. Today, he is more chilango than anything else -- he has a Mexican wife, the esteemed journalist Viétnika Batres, and their son Diego is now at university.

So many photographers have come to Mexico from other countries that their work, if not precisely clichéd, has become predictable. It is hard to come up with arresting images that the viewer hasn't seen before. I most admire Keith's work because it's original. He captures the immediacy, the contradictions and the mystery of the city. I've been here forever, but when I look at his photographs, I see my home with fresh eyes.

The Fideicomiso Centro Histórico de la Ciudad de México has begun to publish a series of booklets of photos of the centro, and the photographer they chose for their first book is Keith. For a limited time, the booklet, Callegrafías, is available, free of charge, at the Antigua Librería Madero, on calle Isabel la Católica 97 (near the corner of San Jerónimo) in the centro. Pick up your copy -- more than a memento, I think it will become a collector's item.

A humid institution

If you find yourself stressed by the pressures of navigating one of the most populous cities on earth, you can do what a lot of chilangos do: take a steam bath. There are many bathhouses in the city, but my favorite is Baños Señorial in the centro histórico, on Isabel la Católica #92, between Izazaga and Mesones. If  your thing is a communal steam room, they have those, but I go for the private ones. Their most deluxe version -- the turco privado -- costs about 135 pesos per person (couples tend to come here to, um, unwind together).

This is the changing room where you get undressed and can chill out if the steam gets too hot. Note the TV above the dresser, for those who can't do without it.

This is the shower room, where you can rinse off your perspiration and lie down on that table. I tried to take a picture of the actual steam room, but of course the steam clogged up the lens on my camera.

You've got to love their logo.