Rick's Mexico Travel Journal: About Rick Bayless - Rick Bayless

I have just returned from the most adventurous quest of my life, an experience that was nothing less than exhilarating, intense, moving, mind-opening, and, at times, down-right hilarious. In thirteen jam-packed days I filmed a hundred-plus scenes in four regions for the third season of my Public Television series, “Rick’s Mexico—One Plate at a Time.” Here are some highlights, so you can follow the trail.

DAY ONE: Pure luxury in downtown Mexico City’s Camino Real—a Mexican architectural gem built by Legorreto in the 60s. Huge planes of color, amazing detail, a thrill at every turn, including the super-hip Blue Bar with its transparent floor floating over an azure pond. Settle in with a Reserva de la Familia añejo tequila after dinner. What a place to start filming.

DAY TWO: Rough and ready, ripe and earthy, lavish and breathtaking. Merced market. Because it’s rainy season, there are three-foot mounds of wild mushrooms—morels, chanterelles, cepes. And succulent lamb tacos. I want those tacos for my last meal.

DAY THREE: Great tamales at Flor de Lis in the Condesa section of town. Chicken with tomatillo salsa is classic, but try the funky sweet chocolate one. But for a great meal—some of the best modern Mexican food—don’t miss Patricia Quintana’s new Izote in Polanco. Cool stuff. Real, exciting Mexican flavor coaxed into some pretty amazing presentations. My only regret: we were filming and didn’t have time to taste everything on the menu.

DAY FOUR: Frida-mania overtakes us. Frida Kahlo’s home and museum in Coyoacan puts everything in perspective—the dining room, the kitchen, the bedroom, the studio. Don’t go for the artwork. Go for Frida. (But don’t miss the wacky, grotesque paper mache “Judas” dolls—in the courtyard below the studio—that get blown up with fireworks during holy week each year.)

DAY FIVE: Restaurante Arroyo is as much a Sunday family fiesta as it was 25 years ago when I first started going there. Still seats 1000 people. Still has great barbacoa (pit-cooked lamb), succulent pork carnitas, fresh-made tortillas and tlacoyos, roaming bands for hire and a 3 p.m. floor show. Film can barely catch half of what’s going on. I can’t leave without having one of the crispy pink meringues that are still gooey with pulque inside.

DAY SIX: Charco de las Ranas may just be the best taquería in the world, especially at 2:30 a.m. Great tacos al pastor (spit-roasted pork with pineapple), chorizo with oozy cheese, grilled knob onions, and their wildly popular invention: chicharrón de queso, an almost wafer-thin roll of crispy cheese. My favorite is the original location in Mixcoac.

DAY SEVEN: Heading out of Mexico City through the cloud-covered mountain pass toward Toluca, there is a surreal collection (maybe 50? 60?) of alpine bedecked little one-room “restaurants” serving game (rabbit, young goat, mountain trout) in simple preparations. Stop for the quesadillas and tacos, though. They have herb-green chorizo sausage (available almost nowhere outside this region) and huitlacoche, mushrooms, brains, squash blossoms and fresh ricotta—all folded into earthy blue-corn tortillas.

DAY EIGHT: We made it around Toluca, then on to get the weekly tianguis market in Tenancingo on film, arriving in Taxco last night at 10:30, starving and with few resources. I’m glad it’s Thursday because that means Tia Calla’s pozole shop on the main square will have steaming cauldrons of this region’s green pumpkin seed-thickened pork-and-hominy soup. It’s been years since I’ve had it here, but it seems like nothing has changed. The famous silver shops have evolved, though. Don’t miss Emilia Castillo’s silver-encrusted porcelain.

DAY NINE: Vans 1, 2 and 3 stayed together down through jungle-y, mountain roads through Iguala, toward Acapulco. But where’s the equipment truck? We’ve got a long list of scenes to shoot along a river, in a chile field, with corn farmers. And we’re just sitting alongside the road.

DAY TEN: I can’t believe I’m staying in the oh-so-50s-Hollywood Villa Vera for a couple of nights. Where Elizabeth Taylor married Mike Todd. Where they installed the first swim-up bar. Where they invented the banana daiquiri. How’s this for a scene: I swim up to the bar, order the daiquiri, and…enjoy it. I mean, how else are we going to learn how they really make that delicious drink?

DAY ELEVEN: From the sublime Villa Vera to the gritty reality of Acapulco’s sweltering food market. The shrimp, crayfish and lagoon fish from last-night’s catch look amazing, though, as do the massive piles of local herbs (pipisa, cilantro, epazote, squash blossoms) some women are selling nearby. I’ll never forget the plate of camarones a la diabla (sweet fresh shrimp with tangy, super-spicy guajillo chile sauce) I had at one of the little prepared food stalls.

DAY TWELVE: Acapulco wasn’t always thought of as sun and beach. From the 16th to the 18th centuries it was one of the most important ports in the world. The mind-boggling stories of Acapulco’s east-west cultural fusion via the Manila Galleons come alive when we explore the Fort of San Diego, the heart of the old port’s life. Modern-day fusion hits home at El Jovito, my favorite Acapulco fish taquería, where tasty (sometimes wacky) seafood preparations in little earthenware cazuelas get scooped into tortillas for great soft tacos.

DAY THIRTEEN: Back to the sublime. Las Brisas Hotel—and I’ve got my own private swimming pool this time and a wet bar that could practically function as a kitchen. Which is exactly my idea. I’ve invited a bunch of people for a party, I’m putting together some impromptu preparations with all that food I bought at the market, and we’re going to get it all on film. RB