Too many Americans are aware only of the Tex-Mex trinity.
That’s burritos, enchiladas and tacos, if you hadn’t guessed, with the combination plate completing a culinary foursome.
For those who at least skimmed the surface of Mexico’s diverse culinary regions, however, the menu at La Parrilla in Middletown is enough to cause elation … and perhaps a bit of confusion, as well.
You see, Mexican cooking not only varies from birria in Guadalajara to the coloradito mole of Oaxaca or gorgeous red snapper from Veracruz, it includes influences from the French, Spanish, native peoples and even from north of the border.
In the Yucatan, cochinita pibil is a favorite for its tender, densely flavored pork. The preparation involves cooking the heavily seasoned meat for hours. The pibil served at La Parrilla transports you as it falls apart, revealing layers of rustic spice woven so deftly the impression of each flits just beyond comprehension — cumin, perhaps; maybe cloves; some achiote, citrus, a dozen other elements — yet so purposeful the savor of it envelopes your palate.
Travel more toward the center of Mexico and you encounter mixiotes, a dish named not for the meat — it may involve rabbit, chicken, pork or whatever a person prefers — but for the parchment it is cooked in, again slowly and again with an emphasis on the marinade.
La Parrilla lists mixiotes under the heading of pibil dishes. And it’s possible to sever a few synapses trying to conjure the difference between the two from the depths of your memory.
But any exercise in mental archaeology distracts you from something wonderful.
The kitchen staff at La Parrilla top the pibil mixiotes with red onion and strips of cactus paddle. The first counted that beautiful pork with a sharp, bittersweet bite while the second yanks your palate back toward the earth.
There are herbal inclinations and a modicum of heat and a sauce on the side which, sampled on its own, seems too unsociable to work with other items. Drizzled over the top, however, the vinegar zing finds common ground with the onions before a battery of more grounded spice burrows in, building on the pibil’s complex flavors. And as it adds depth, the sauce also kicks in with some chile heat, a warm, prickling sensation that loiters.
Forget any confusion over terminology, this is a brilliantly executed dish.
“It’s all fresh — we make it from scratch,” said La Parrilla’s Jonathan De La Torre. “It’s a lot of work, but it pays off.”
Indeed, each bite is a travelogue, a passing landscape of herbs, spices, husky meat and distant vistas. You want to linger with the plate. You lose your sense of place.
The kitchen staff start with an acerbic adobo, preparing it slowly and adding herbs and spices the nature of which De La Torre would not divulge. This eases into the meat as it cooks and permeates each bite. Yet each element of the dish is crafted with such dexterity, no single flavor dominates.
It is something to appreciate. And it is far removed from pedestrian fare passing for Mexican.
“Some people are surprised,” De La Torre admitted. “But that’s the thing — it’s a lot of love.”
Dave Faries can be reached at 900-2016
