Luck of the Irish: Fonda Kelly

(Fonda Kelly has closed as of the end of 2012) Phil Kelly was a prolific Irish-born painter, who for 30 years made Mexico his home. (See David Lida's fine literary portrait)  He was no ‘ex-pat’, his life was truly here. He knew el D.F. inside and out and he loved it. So after he died, in 2010, his widow Ruth (Mexican, of course), and restaurateur/provocateur Marco Rascón of the restaurant Peces, decided that the best tribute to this amante of all things urban would be to create an eating and meeting place most typically Mexican: a fonda. Open barely a month, it’s not your run-of-the-mill artsy café–-and, for a change, not located in Roma or Condesa.  

Fonda Kelly is installed in a charmingly faded colonial building near Tepito--our ‘South Bronx’ to some, a treasure trove of antique architecture and old-time Mexican ambience to others. Ruth explains  that “this place, this neighborhood is just what Phil would have wanted. It’s called a ‘fonda’ but isn’t, at least not like the old- fashioned ones around here. We keep prices low so that it's accessible to everyone. But the food is different, more healthful than what's usually found nearby.”

Part of a neighborhood cultural center offering low-cost courses in the arts, the space is casual with a few simple tables, white walls sporting several of Kelly’s watercolors and an open kitchen stretching to the backyard. 

Ruth Murgía, widow of the artist 

Chef Mariana Mora’s simple but playful menu is Mexican and  eclectic, and loaded with seafood. She imbues her dishes with Spanish and North African touches while keeping her feet firmly planted on native turf. Tapas-style starters include an hojaldre Azteca, a Provençal- style tarte topped with frijoles charros. Little vegetarian empanadas are light, crispy/crunchy. Unusual tortas of arrenque (herring) and salmon with capers are offered. The bacalao-filled tamal sounded intriguing but they were out on a recent visit. A summery green salad featuring rose petals is, to quote W.C. Fields, “easy on the eyes” and a pleasure to eat.

Thursday is pozole Guerrerense day and this bright green pipian-like soup is lightened up--perfect as a first course. Even better is the caldo de oso, a superb seafood soup sporting several huge New Zealand mussels and fragrant white clams. Its heady, lightly picante broth recalls the best Manhattan clam chowder you never had. And it’s only 25 pesos--a true bargain.  

Rose petal salad

Several classic fonda meat dishes are on the menu, such as the ubiquitous arrachera, all done correctly. But it’s fish that the Fonda Kelly does best. A grilled pulpo (octopus) turns out to be the whole animal--all eight legs and the head!  It's anointed with olive oil, roasted until tender as a baby’s tukhus and served with a flurry of parsley. It's as fine as I’ve had in Galicia. Order it to share--it was too much, even for this boundless writer.

Caldo de Oso

While the menu stays simple during the week, Saturday is paella day and I am confident that the chef knows what she’s doing with the deceptively easy Spanish rice.

Desserts are basic – pays, cakes, and an unusual twist on the commonplace gelatina.  Here it's flavored with anis.  The coffee is superior.

The Fonda Kelly is a sure winner, well worth the detour – the old centro histórico is a better place for it. Caps off to the memory of Kelly and to good food in an increasingly attractive city center.

Fonda Kelly

Calle Nicaragua 15 (about 6 blocks north of the Zócalo)

Tel. 5545-0569

Open Monday - Saturday 10 AM - 5 PM, closed Sunday

Note: the area, though quiet, can be dicey. Unaccompanied women 
may feel uncomfortable walking here.

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An explanation from the author: I only write what I believe. All opinions here are educated but subjective.  For the most part, I only publish reviews about places I like, and I try to be forgiving of minor faults. Mexico City is not Paris and I am not Michelin.  If I don't like it, I  don't write about it except, in some cases where the hype or fame may merit the negative criticism. So take it all with a grain of salt. N.G

From Russia with love: borscht, Chekhov & all that

Dinner in Kapulia, illustration by Esther Gilman from I Have Considered My Days, 1963

My father, theatre critic Richard Gilman,  traveled to the Soviet Union in 1989 to research his seminal book on Chekhov’s plays. Harboring visions of Tolstoy, Gogol and the Cherry Orchard, he anticipated hearty, heavy meals of vodka, black bread and steaming meat and beet borscht. There were none. As in most Communist countries, conserving culinary tradition was at the bottom of the list. He reported going to bed on an empty stomach night after night. Boiled potatoes, cabbage and meat were as ‘gourmet’ as it got. If it got. Apparently things have changed and as in many renewed democracies, the new Russia has revived its cuisine.  Caviar and shashlik are now to be found. Vodka flows.

The Russian presence in Mexico, however, is small. Unlike New York, we have neither baths nor a Tea Room. An occasional “empanadas Rusas” stand pops up, nothing much 'old country' about it (there’s one at the corner of Insurgentes and Tlaxcala) but otherwise the Grand Tenochtitlán is a bleak blini-challenged, empty samovar.

Russian Roulette: Kolobok

So how or why a tow-headed Siberian family landed in El D.F. and opened Kolobok Restaurante Ruso is a mystery. It’s one of the few Russian restaurants in the city.  The popular spot on the corner of Santa Maria la Ribera’s Alameda offers such iron curtain classics as borscht and palmeni (like the Polish pyrogi, dumplings). Unfortunately the food tends to be bland, more an odd cultural experience than interesting ethnic eating. (see my article on Santa Maria la Ribera in the NewYork Times)

The lovely chilanga  Natasha, who offers classes in Russian language, has tried Kolobok. She reports, in her charming Russian-accented Spanish, that their food is “too simple, too few ingredients are used; I left dissatisfied.” Considering the probable ingredient options in Siberia, that doesn’t surprise me. So, for do-it-yourselfers, Natasha generously shares her own family recipe for beet borscht, nothing like the one-dimensional cold stuff you may know from NY’s Carnegie Deli. It's a heartwarming, complex one bowl dinner that Anna Karenina herself would have loved. Natasha's insistent that you use good, rich stock and grate the raw garlic on at the end "...to give it perfume."

The lovely Natasha

Borscht Natasha

2 Tb vegetable oil

Beets 750g (1.5 lb), peeled

Onion 250g (1/2 lb)

Cabbage 250g (1/2 lb)

Carrot 2 medium, 125g (1/4 lb)

Tomatoes 2 plum or 250g (1/2 lb)

6 cups good, rich meat stock, beef or pork, preferably homemade

2 or 3 Tb wine vinegar, or to taste

1 Tb tomato paste

½ ts dill seed

Salt and pepper to taste

1 large clove garlic

Sour cream or plain yogurt

Finely mince the onion. Grate the beets, carrots and cabbage using the fine side of a grater. Heat the oil in a sturdy soup pot. Sauté the onion for a few minutes; add the beets, then the carrot and cabbage. Stir with a wooden spoon until vegetables are softened, about 6 or 7 minutes. Add stock, tomato paste, dill . Grate in whole tomatoes. Bring to a simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally, and cook for 1 1/2 hours .

Add vinegar, salt and pepper. Grate in the garlic clove.

Serve with a dollop of cream. And some nice rye bread if you can find it. Maybe a shot of vodka or two.

Приятного аппетита!

Kolobok Restaurante Ruso

Salvador Díaz Mirón 87, Col. Santa María la Ribera

Open daily, 10AM to 8PM

An explanation from the author: I only write what I believe. All opinions here are educated but subjective.  For the most part, I only publish reviews about places I like, and I try to be forgiving of minor faults. Mexico City is not Paris and I am not Michelin.  If I don't like it I  don't write about it except, in some cases where the hype or fame may merit the negative criticism. So take it all with a grain of salt. N.G.

The Lady Vanishes : The mini chiles en nogada

It was Miss K who found them. “I know you don’t believe me” she lectured, “but it’s this ordinary looking puesto in front of the Social Security office. They’re tiny stuffed jalapeños in nogada, but they don’t burn your mouth out. I've never seen anything like them.”

They were the best kept secret of the Condesa until Jim Johnston  put them in the next edition of his book, “Mexico City: An Opinionated Guide for the Curious Traveler”. I mentioned them to Rick Bayless. He went.

Then it was B. who broke the news,  tweeted and texted all over town: “they’re gone; vanished without a trace…and no one knows where they went”.

Such is life in the post-modern 21^st century, where tradition, history and Peggy Lee don’t count. These cultural/gastronomic gems just up and disappear; so be it.

But the news is good. Turns out ‘Sra. Mari’ went to Morelos, but her son has revived the stand in a different location: at the north-east corner of Av. Insurgentes, just north of Calle Tlaxcala. Next to the Siberian ‘Empanadas Rusas’ stand (another story waiting to be written).

A mere 10 pesos buys you a miraculously low-fire roast chili stuffed with a particularly succulent picadillo, and cloaked in a perfect rosy cream/nut sauce. The requisite pomegranate seeds are even sprinkled on top. Have them in a taco (into which they want to spoon some superfluous rice – just say “no”) or on a plate, rice al lado.

And don’t miss other well-crafted guisados and/or the chile rellenos.

Some stories have a happy ending. Or is it a beginning.

Mini Chiles en Nogada

North-east corner of Av. Insurgentes (right-hand side as you face north), just north of Calle Tlaxcala, near the Chilpancingo metro/metrobus stop.

Open Monday through Friday morning until early afternoon – best to go early (before 2PM). When they run out, they close up and go home.

An explanation from the author: I only write what I believe. All opinions here are educated but subjective.  For the most part, I only publish reviews about places I like, and I try to be forgiving of minor faults. Mexico City is not Paris and I am not Michelin.  If I don't like it I  don't write about it except, in some cases where the hype or fame may merit the negative criticism. So take it all with a grain of salt. N.G.