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Traveler's Favorite: Casa Oaxaca

We were planning a trip to Oaxaca, and I promised I’d let you know about restaurants we especially liked.

The favorite was Casa Oaxaca. We ate there twice so I could re-experience camarones al guajillo con alcaparras, setas, flores de calabaza y ajo (prawns with guajillo chiles, capers, oyster mushrooms, zucchini flowers and garlic). The dish was served on a pureed plantain base—delicious.

Both the bar and restaurant are beautifully designed, with a gallery entrance that sets the mood.--K.W., Paso Robles

Casa Oaxaca is located at Garcia Vigil 407, Oaxaca, Oax., Mexico. Tel: 52 (01) 951-514-4173.

A Great Dish--Chiles en Nogada

Rush to La Casita Mexicana while pomegranates are in season in order to taste the restaurant’s glorious chiles en nogada (stuffed chiles in nut sauce).

This historic dish from Puebla, Mexico, was created to celebrate Mexico’s independence from Spain. The green chile, white nut sauce and sprinkle of red pomegranate seeds on top represent the three colors of the Mexican flag.

I’ve never had a better version than that at La Casita. There, fat poblano chiles are stuffed with ground pork, chopped pecans, biznaga, (candied cactus), raisins, plantains and fresh and dried pears and apples.

The creamy sauce combines thick Mexican crema, queso fresco (fresh cheese), pecans and enough sugar to make it delicately sweet. The restaurant freezes pomegranate seeds in order to serve the dish all year, but it is at its best with the fresh seeds. In California, the pomegranate season runs from September through January.

Chiles en nogada are $11.95 for one or $15.95 for two, accompanied by soup and rice, at La Casita Mexicana, 4030 E. Gage Ave., Bell, CA 90201. Tel: (323) 773-1898.

Fast Fish from Veracruz

The other day, I was bored with cooking (yes, it happens, even to the most dedicated of us), but starvation wasn’t an option. It was too hot to walk to the market, and I didn’t feel like driving to a restaurant.  So I poked around in the refrigerator to see what could be assembled into something reasonably edible. 

Ah, fish  Veracruz--that was it. An easy, forgiving dish.  In Veracruz each restaurant adds its own touch, which gives license to vary the sauce as you please. Mine included tomatoes, green onions, garlic, jalapeno chile, green olives from Baja and capers.

The Asian markets where I shop carry sticks of flash frozen fish, and I had a couple of these in the freezer. I didn’t even bother to thaw the fish, just sprinkled it with lemon juice and salt and placed it in the sauce to simmer until done.

To go with this, I made rice. Plain white rice would have been fine, but I like to get a little fancy as long as it doesn’t take work, so I put in a dash of a powdered condiment for rice that I had bought in Buenos Aires. This colored the rice yellow. And I speckled it with black Indian kalonji seeds. Meanwhile, I steamed some broccoli.

And there it was, a fine dinner produced by a bored cook in less than half an hour.

FAST FISH VERACRUZ

1 tablespoon olive oil
2 green onions, chopped
1 small clove garlic, minced
3 roma tomatoes (about ¾ pound), peeled and chopped
3 slices jalapeno chile
Salt
Dash freshly ground black pepper
5 or 6 small green olives
½ teaspoon capers
1 (6-  to 7-ounce) frozen fish fillet
Lemon juice
Italian parsley sprigs

Heat the oil in a nonstick skillet. Add the onions and garlic and cook until tender. Add the tomatoes and chile slices and cook 5 minutes. Season to taste with salt, and grind in the pepper. Add the olives and capers and set aside.

Remove the fish from the freezer. Allow to thaw or cook frozen.  Wash, pat dry and sprinkle with lemon juice and salt.  Reheat the sauce. Lay the fish in the sauce and cook until tender, 5 to 12 minutes, depending upon whether the fish is frozen, thawed or fresh. Garnish with parsley.

Makes 1 serving.
. 

She Purrs for Palmeritas

Just before leaving Buenos Aires, I rushed to Louis XV, a pastry shop near my hotel, to buy cookies--not for me, but for my cat. Miss Lily adores palmeritas, the flaky twists that are known as palmiers in European bakeries and orejas in Mexican panaderias.

The night I brought her home, she snatched a Mexican sugar cookie from my hand. I knew then that I had to keep her, because she appreciated good food as much as I do. 

Miss Lily had been dumped in downtown Los Angeles. Sensing that we had something in common, she had shrieked at me from the plants where she was hiding.

Her tastes are eclectic—broccoli, asparagus tips, fresh corn kernels and other things yet to be revealed. But her passion is cookies. Crisp cookies. Nothing soft or cake-like.

Argentine palmeritas are her favorites, because they’re so small.  Those at Louis XV are barely an inch  across—just her size.

Palmeras are larger, suitable for humans. Especially the chocolate-dipped palmeras at Del Pilar, across the street from Louis XV, where I often eat breakfast. But I couldn’t take those home. There was space for only one small box in my carry-on, and I couldn’t disappoint Miss Lily. She is nice enough to share, though. I get one bite before she grabs the rest, dashing away with her prize while I clean up the crumbs. 

Palmeritas are 4 pesos for 100 grams ($1.30 for about ¼ pound) at Louis XV Bomboneria and Pasteleria, Avenida Las Heras 2068, Recoleta, Buenos Aires. Tel: 4809-0011.

Breakfast in Oaxaca

Breakfast in Oaxaca is as dazzling as the brightly colored handwoven tops the local women wear. Who could possibly want toast, scrambled eggs or oatmeal instead of this vibrant food?

Certainly not me.

Early each morning, before the sun drove the chill from the quiet streets, I would walk  down García Vigil and  cross busy Independencia to the  two zócalos, lush with trees. Passing the cathedral and the sidewalk cafes, largely empty at that hour, I would come to the Mercado Benito Juárez, crammed with indigenous clothing, herbs, fruits, vegetables, cheeses, mole pastes and much more.

A little farther, and I was in the cavernous, cheerful  Mercado 20 de Noviembre,  where cooks would tempt me with black mole tamales, empanadas stuffed with earthy Oaxacan cheese, entomatadas (rolled tortillas coated with tomato sauce)  and other  treats.

At the Comedor Chabelita, where I usually ate,  I might order salsa de queso—cheese in a  bowl of spicy tomato sauce, accompanied by fragrant corn tortillas. A tall glass of foamy, just-squeezed orange juice would come from a nearby stall.  Sometimes I would have coffee, and sometimes chocolate de leche, sweet spiced Oaxacan chocolate dissolved in hot milk and served with an airy bun called pan de yema.

Roving vendors would urge me to buy wooden spatulas, molinillos for beating hot chocolate, handcarved cocktail picks and  bookmarks crowned with animals. An aged beggar woman often came by for a peso or two and any leftover tortillas.

Shift to Los Angeles and the scene is quite different, but the breakfast is the same. Through the window, I can see cars passing on Pico Boulevard, but in front of me is a sumptuous plate of salsa de queso, seasoned with epazote like the salsa in Oaxaca.  On the side are beans blacker than night and a  coarse, chewy handmade corn tortilla as large as a dinner plate. I have chocolate de leche, brewed with chocolate from Juquila, Oaxaca. And there is pan de yema, if I want it.

This breakfast is served in the new dining room of  Tortillería y Antojitos Expresión Oaxaquena, a shop
that sells freshly made tortillas,   Oaxacan cheese, mole pastes, chiles de agua and other essentials,  along with excellent Oaxacan dishes. The food was mostly for takeout, because the shop lacked adequate seating.

Now there is plenty of room at tables set with bright checked Oaxacan cloths and colorful napkin holders shaped like fruits and vegetables. A green chapulín (grasshopper) is embedded in the floor at the entrance, a tribute to the tiny insects that Oaxacans like to eat.

The restaurant is open all day, but I usually go for breakfast. One day's $4.99 special included two empanadas— handmade corn tortilla turnovers--filled with quesillo, which is a long strip of  Oaxacan cheese formed into a ball; squash flowers and epazote. This came with guacamole so fresh it contained chunks of just-cut avocado; very good nopales (cactus) salad and a tiny container of black beans seasoned with anise-scented Oaxacan avocado leaf.

A memela is a long oval tortilla spread lightly with asiento, the savory remnants from frying pork fat;  black beans and melted Oaxacan cheese. Containers of avocado salsa and a fiery roasted red chile salsa come on the side.

Another option is salsa de huevo—eggs instead of cheese in tomato salsa. When you order these dishes, you also get a platter of chips drizzled with mole sauce and sprinkled with shredded cheese.
That's a lot of food for a very small price.

Breakfast drinks include chocolate de agua, made with water, as well as the richer milky hot chocolate. And the tortillería serves wonderful, cinnamon-scented coffee in a giant mug for only a dollar.

If you prefer to go later in the day, there's a full range of Oaxacan food, such as the pizza-like clayudas,  chicken with black mole and tacos and burritos filled with Oaxacan meats

The dining room isn't staffed, so you may have to go to the shop, which has a separate entrance next door, to pick up a menu and alert someone that you want to eat. . Then a waitress will come into the dining room to take your order and bring the food.  I usually pay my bill in the shop, which gives me a chance to see what Oaxacan goodies are on hand and to take home a bag of chips, which are as good as any I've found in Los Angeles.

Tortillería y Antojitos Expresión Oaxaquena is located at 2201 W. Pico Blvd., Los Angeles. Tel: (323) 766-0575. Hours are 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. Sunday through Thursday, to midnight on Friday and 3 a.m. Saturday night.