Stop Telling Me What ISN’T Mexican Food: Part Two

In recent months, I’ve been told, or I’ve read, or I‘ve overheard this refrain over and over again: “That’s not real Mexican food.” I know this is not a new phenomenon, but the odd thing is not the argument, but rather the source of these corrections. Those pointing out what “isn’t real Mexican food” are coming from all different angles, backgrounds, and levels of expertise. It’s a pedantic free-for-all, that everyone feels they have the right take on. It’s always “And I know Mexican food, because I’m from _____.” But the fill-in-the-blank might surprise you. Allow me to share with you a few examples…

Part Two: The Interioristas

TRUE STORY: Last year, I did a tasting for a major tequila brand at a Dia De Muertos event. After the daytime festivities, the event space turned into a dinner space hosted by a popular Mexico City restaurant. As everyone had enjoyed my salsas throughout the day, the event production team asked if I would be able to provide more of my salsas and additional chips, to serve before the evening’s dinner. Upon hearing about their request, the chef was appalled and offended. He remarked that chips and salsa are not Mexican and would not be part of any dinner of his.

Now, I am not about to try to convince you that “chips and salsa” are a traditional staple in the every Mexican’s diet. It’s definitely not. But salsa, in myriad forms and styles, IS a Mexican staple. And totopos, nachos, tortilla chips, whatever you call them, are definitely a Mexican creation. (See my previous story for the Mexican origin of “nachos”)

So why would this Mexico City chef find this so offensive? I blame a loaded sense of regionalism that has actually transcended it’s own boundaries to become a snobbery of the “educated.” I call them The Interioristas.

Interestingly, this group is mostly made up of folks from three very different backgrounds. The first group is people who reside in, were born in, or claim some ancestral connection to Central and Southern areas of Mexico, be it Mexico City, or Puebla or other states in the region. The second is the tribe of learned expat/pilgrims who have dedicated their lives to study the history of the land, the people and most importantly, the gastronomical past of Mexico (think Diana Kennedy or Rick Bayless). The third is a newer group with this same line of thought: the well-heeled and well-read (and well-eaten) American gourmands.

For the first group, Mexico City is by default the home of all things authentically Mexican. This is the fount from which all Mexican-ness emanates, and they will forever be the judges and jury as to what is real and what is not. If you are at all familiar with the stereotypical Chilango attitude, you know what I mean. While I take no issue with the basic idea of the historical center of the culture being Tenochtitlan, there’s an underlying vein of judgement within this idea. Much like the battle between the “coastal elites” vs. the “flyover states” of the USA, this regionalism is pejorative. The idea of food being the most authentic in central Mexico is often used to disown most of what comes from El Norte, La Frontera, etc. Imagine someone telling you that the only true American food is that which originated in New England. Texas BBQ, Southern meat & 3s, NYC pizza, Chicago dogs, … No. Within this originalist philosophy, those just aren’t original, and therefore, not “authentic.” If you think food from DF is the only place Mexican food comes from, Guadalajara, Monterrey and San Luis Potosí would like a word.

For the second group, it’s all about time. For the food archeologists, their definition has more to do with a temporal version of Mexico. The foodways that fit their description of “real Mexican food” are usually pre-Colombian or at least pre-Colombian in origin. These foods most likely come from Oaxaca, Puebla, and again the historical center of Mexico. They disavow wheat flour, cumin, and any items made popular in the last 150 years. If one chooses this as the rubric for what is authentic, fair play; but please realize what this means. “Corn only, no wheat flour” means not only no flour tortillas but also no tortas ahogadas and no pan dulce. “No beef, no pork” means no Oaxaca cheese, no chorizo, and no carnitas. The Lebanese brought tacos arabes and tacos al pastor, so those are out, too. But beyond the loss of a litany of favorites, this line in the sand is arbitrary, at best, and pointless, at worst. Why define things at this point? Why not at the establishment of the republic? Or at the height of Mexico’s population and land domination? Any of these options seem just as arbitrary and just as pointless. Defining authenticity by longevity misses out on the evolution and growth of the Mexican palate. It denies the ingenuity and the invention of the different regions and landscapes. It’s not as though food culture is trapped in amber to be viewed only in a museum. More than most other parts of tradition, food is always shifting. To deny Mexican food this fluidity is unfair and detrimental to all.

The last group of Interioristas are simply a logical conclusion to the first two groups. They have read Diana Kennedy’s books, chock full of anti-Norteño and Tex Mex ire. They have seen Rick Bayless dismiss the heavy use of cumin and beef, and flour tortillas as “less than” the true flavors of Mexico from Puebla and Oaxaca. In NYC, over the last ~20 years, these same folks have been exposed to food made by a steady wave of immigrants from Puebla. They have experienced the fine dining of Cosme, and they have brunched at Atla. Thus, they now feel educated enough to declare that they know that the food of Puebla/Oaxaca/Mexico City is truest manifestation of Mexican food.

Now, don’t think for a second that I am looking to disrespect Cosme or Atla, or Kennedy or Bayless. Their educated and researched decades of expertise are peerless. But for most of this last group, few of them have the background to make such a bold call. They are parroting those who have done the work, the travel and the research, while most of these folks may have traveled to Cancun, or perhaps Tulum, but they have most likely not been to Guerrero, or Jalisco, or Durango, or Veracruz. But they’ve been to Corona Queens or the Red Hook ball fields. Their experience is the tiniest percentage of the history of the food legacy of an entire country. I’m not saying they cannot have an opinion, I’m simply saying they probably don’t know enough to decide what qualifies as “real Mexican food.”

At the heart of things, the Interiorista philosophy isn’t helpful; it’s myopic and limited. It’s biased and prejudiced. But the worst part of this point of view is that it restricts the spectrum from which one can view the entirety of the richness of Mexican food and allows people to stop looking for and eating foods from across the country and the culture. And anything that does this, does everyone a disservice.

Coming up next… Part Three: The Defenders of the Culture