MEXICO CITY RESTAURANT REVIEW: Pujol
Last year I traveled to Mexico City for the first time, taking in some great food and drink. But I missed out on a reservation at my top choice, perhaps the most iconic address in the entire country. I'm not gonna lie, I've been a bit nervous about writing this review since it's one of the most well-known and highly lauded spots that I've visited since starting this site with two Michelin Stars and ranking as high as #5 on The World's 50 Best Restaurants list in 2022, but I think that I've done a decent job in describing one of the best lunches I've ever had. Without further ado (because there is much ado below), let's get to it.
I'm prone to hyperbole, but this is no such thing... Pujol is the most breathtakingly designed restaurant I've ever seen. Located in the posh Polanco neighborhood, the architects repurposed an existing house into something to behold: multi-leveled spaces with skylights, wooden textures, and terrazzo floors create an intimate yet expansive atmosphere that flows seamlessly from outside in. I'm not an architecture critic (despite my contributions to HAIF), so I can't adequately capture the splendor, but take my word for it: there might not be a more stunning eatery anywhere in the world.
You've got two options here: the normal tasting menu, about 7 courses with some opportunity for customization, and the taco omakase, with just ten seats at a bar right in the center of the restaurant. I couldn't resist the draw of the latter, a unique concept centered around one of Mexico's (and the world's) iconic foods. Pretty much everything is meant to be eaten by hand, which imbues something of a childlike wonder to the experience, but these flavors are anything but elementary.
There were a couple of non-taco starters served together. The first was an avocado and ant roe "flauta" filled with kohlrabi and topped with tiny flowers that actually had a notable floral taste, rather than just being for decoration. Highly technique-driven, the thinly-sliced folds of aguacate were silky smooth (and gorgeous, just look at the first photo below!), and the escamoles added a great crunch. Paired with the fauxlauta (nailed it) was baby corn on the cob, which was so super tender that you could eat it husk and all. This was coated with coffee mayonnaise and chile costeño (one of many regional Mexican peppers used in the proceedings, which gave it a good kick), and a swarm of small insects such as chapulines (grasshoppers), ants, and worm larvae.
Before we go any further, we need to talk about eating bugs. It's definitely a big part of the culture/cuisine down here, and while it is certainly a mental hurdle to clear, if you can divorce the idea of consuming things you'd normally squish if they got into your house, they actuall provide a striking textural contrast. I wouldn't necessarily eat them straight up (some of my homies snacked on a bag of plain crickets last time we were here, but I didn't partake), as they don't really have much flavor to speak of, but as a part of a composed dish they are kind of fun, believe it or not.
Taking the invertebrate content to the next level was the first taco course, though this term was used rather loosely here: a bluefin tuna aguachile with avocado cubes (complete with edible skin!), habanero/soy sauce mayo, Chicatana ants, and edible flowers was served alongside an isthmus totopo, a large round nixtamalized crisp with Swiss-cheese like holes. I suppose you could make this into a sort of tostada situation if you wanted to load up the totopo, but it was easier to just break it up and dip it into the bowl of fish and friends. But the thing to focus on here was the antmaxxing: these giant Chicatanas (which I'm told are a delicacy that can only be harvested by hand when they emerge from their nests one or two days per years after a major torrential rain) were nearly an inch long, and provided a captivating chitinous crunch. Slightly disconcerting to look at, but it's ok, they're dead, you're not going to get bit.
My favorite dish of the day was the first true taco, featuring a chile de agua filled with quesillo (a Oaxacan stringy cheese), fish chorizo (!), and a smooth bean puree. Your boy has been dabbling in non-pork chorizos of late, and this one was absolutely bursting with flavor, as the red snapper had all the paprika, garlic, nut, and chili powder notes that you'd expect, but with a more oceanic undertone. The chile relleno-esque stuffed pepper came in differing heat levels that you had no way of knowing until you dug in (unfortunately our least spice-tolerant party member ended up with one of the hottest specimens), and built up more and more fire the further you got. Some pickled onions and cilantro on top were there to cool things down slightly. This was a world-class taco, easily one of, if not THE best I've ever had (and actually I ended up eating about 2.25 of these, as not everyone finished theirs and I refused to let them go to waste). God damn my mouth is watering just thinking about it!
The second in a trio of classic soft tacos was kampachi marinated in adobo with raw salsa verde and a shiso leaf. Perhaps the simplest dish of the meal, the amberjack was juicy, glistening red with plenty of smokiness to go around, and some herbaceous and fresh contributions from the greenery balanced everything out. No-frills, but quite well done. Since I don't have much more to say about this one, a word about the tortillas... these were, as one might expect, superlative corn variants: soft yet sturdy, gently nutty and starchy, and overall delicious. The bottom of the menu card featured the different maizes sourced from around Oaxaca, and while on some days there are red, black, and yellow corns on offer, on this occasion we only had white. While I would have liked to experience the subtle differences between them, I think blanco was the choice option if you had to pick only one. These were definitely the best I've had since the other-worldly 50/50 tortillas at Belly of the Beast last fall.
Rounding out the triumvirate was a soft shell crab taco with pico de gallo, plantain puree, and a side of piquant orange salsa. I've actually only had this particular crustacean once before, when an incorrectly-fulfilled delivery order resulted in a SSC po boy which I did not particularly care for, but here it was much more successful. Coated in a potato crust and lightly fried, the crackliness made it ever so tantalizing, and it contrasted beautifully with the smooth, sweet puree. There's something animalistic (selachian?) about tearing into an entire crab, claws and all.
The final protein course was a memela (a Oaxacan thick griddled masa cake) topped with tender, well-seasoned Wagyu beef strips, salsa verde made with cactus, a tusta chile sauce, and ranchero cheese. Similar to a huarache, the oval-shaped "boat" had a soft crumbly interior with a crispy outside that held up nicely to the substantial bounty of beef. The acidic sauces brightened up the dish, and the queso added a nice milky freshness. Nom nom.
Before the next dish, there was a venue change: we were escorted to the spectacular indoor/outdoor garden area, where another, slightly higher capacity bar was built incorporating a live tree, and numerous plants dotted the perimeter. Glass ceilings allowed in copious natural lighting (even if it was rather overcast), and a large opening in the wall led directly to the leafy back yard area.
This environ was host to one of the most interesting items of the afternoon: mole two ways, including a cumin and peanut mole that was superimposed on top of Pujol's signature mole madre, a concoction that has been evolving for "3999 days" in the vein of sourdough starter (I thought at first that this was just a rough estimate for ~11 years, but after searching online it seems like every review cites a different number coinciding with the time of publication, meaning we may have been just a day short of 4000, which has the fan of pleasing round numbers in me a bit miffed). They add ingredients like fruits, chocolates, chiles, and peanuts (among many others) once or twice a week, and reheat/rehydrate with water for serving. Both moles were deep with rich flavors, but the mole madre was absolutely transcendent, so complex with spice, nuttiness, sweet, and savory flavors that blended together perfectly. These were served with one of the most unique things I've ever seen: a corn tortilla with an attached hoja santa leaf, an aromatic herb that rendered one side a bright green and the other the usual yellow. Unfortunately it's a little hard to see in the photo below, but you can make out both colors in the basket. This added some anise notes, and if you used the hybridized tortilla to sop up the moles, it resulted in a highly rewarding bite.
Finally there was a corn nicuatole (a challenging-to-make Oaxacan dessert similar to a panna cotta but without gelatin) topped with a shaved ice that of course incorporated maize and I believe something called rosita de cacao as well as pataxte, though if we are in the trust tree I was not 100% focused by this point so I'm not entirely sure what those last two things are. This was a light end to the meal with pleasant textures, and a slice of dragonfruit on the side added a pop of color. Not quite Bahama Mama's on a hot Katy summer afternoon (IYKYK), but I'll take it.
There was also a digestif of fruit punch with apple, cinnamon, guava, plantain, and hibiscus, which was refreshing but I'm not going to spill much ink on it. I'd also comment on the wonderful cocktails, including a sort of mezcal martini, but we are out of time. They're very good, though. And there's also beer and wine made exclusively for Pujol. But like I said, we're out of time. Two thousand words is a lot.
I can't speak highly enough about how great this experience was, probably one of the top ten meals of my life. Admittedly it's hard to get much more up my alley than this unless there was a pizza omakase somewhere (there isn't... is there??), but between the food quality and the immaculate environment, I was in seventh heaven the entire time. One day I'd like to check out the normal tasting menu, but it'd be a hard sell to convince me to pass up another shot at the taco omakase. If you happen to be south of the border and are looking to splurge for a memorable night, you MUST try Pujol.
RANKING UPDATE: Needless to say this is absolutely going on my Beyond Houston page, as it's definitely the best restaurant I've eaten at in Mexico. I'm not sure if I'll have time to write about another one from this trip, so I'm going to drop my rankings below, but SPOILER ALERT in case I do manage to crank out a Masala y Maiz post...
Mexico City Restaurant Rankings:
NEXT UP: There are a staggering amount of exceptional cocktail bars in CDMX, so let's not limit ourselves to writing about just one...