Saturday, July 21, 2012
Crysta
On our way back from Chichen Itza, we realized we were
famished from a long day in the hot July sun, and asked our cab driver to stop
for food. He brought us to Piste, a tiny village near the ruins, and stopped in
front of an open-air cafe filled with Mexican families enjoying an evening
meal.
In large part, that meal was the first time we felt as though we had been in Mexico. Far from the hotel zone, we ordered from laminated menu cards featuring photos of each dish, with prices that were pennies on the dollar compared to what we had been seeing in Cancun.
We were introduced to this beautiful drink called horchata, made from rice milk and cinnamon. Light and delicious, the sweet horchata sliced straight through the heat of the day. It was easy to imagine an afternoon spent on that patio, people watching and sipping away. Creamy and white, it came to our table it in a plastic pitcher with a stack of plastic cups, which we filled and refilled gleefully.
Dinner itself was a variety of
tastes and textures that can only come from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant where
the locals eat. We shared three dishes, including a lovely light soup,
sopas, and delicious pork tacos. Everything was warm and flavorful, with just
the right balance of spicy kick.
While we ate, we had the pleasure of looking at more beautiful ruins – a church across the street intrigued us so much we had to go take a look.
The stop was a beautiful cherry on top of our day, and we were so glad we had decided not to wait and eat at the hotel.
In large part, that meal was the first time we felt as though we had been in Mexico. Far from the hotel zone, we ordered from laminated menu cards featuring photos of each dish, with prices that were pennies on the dollar compared to what we had been seeing in Cancun.
We were introduced to this beautiful drink called horchata, made from rice milk and cinnamon. Light and delicious, the sweet horchata sliced straight through the heat of the day. It was easy to imagine an afternoon spent on that patio, people watching and sipping away. Creamy and white, it came to our table it in a plastic pitcher with a stack of plastic cups, which we filled and refilled gleefully.
Dinner itself was a variety of
tastes and textures that can only come from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant where
the locals eat. We shared three dishes, including a lovely light soup,
sopas, and delicious pork tacos. Everything was warm and flavorful, with just
the right balance of spicy kick.While we ate, we had the pleasure of looking at more beautiful ruins – a church across the street intrigued us so much we had to go take a look.
The stop was a beautiful cherry on top of our day, and we were so glad we had decided not to wait and eat at the hotel.
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