Breakfast in Oaxaca

Say it like "WaaaHAka". There's nothing to prepare you for this place. Not years of having a hunch that it's the place to go in Mexico. Not reading about it, thinking about it, looking at pictures of it. Nothing prepares you for Oaxaca. And nothing about Oaxaca delighted me more than this cup of coffee. The cup more than the coffee. How lovely is this blue speckled enamel? I bought myself a blue speckled enamel serving spoon as a souvenir. Next time I'm buying a whole set of pots, cups, and jugs.

I went to Oaxaca recently with my uncle Jim. Jim is no ordinary uncle. He's the one who sent me airline tickets at Christmas time when I was too poor to buy my own. He was the one who came with me to New Zealand when my mother was dying. He was the one who walked the streets of Calcutta with me early in the morning, wowing at the marigold weavers, the goats slaughtered in the street. When I asked "Do you want to come to Oaxaca for a few days?", he replied "What the hell." And we went.

We did many things in Oaxaca. Far too many things in four and a half days. On top of all the walking, brass bands, ruins, and markets, weddings, and fireworks, we had four amazing breakfasts -- which I hope will be just the beginning of a series of blog posts about Oaxaca.

The charming blue cup of Oaxacan coffee came with this charming plate of huevos revueltos with refritos, salsa and grilled cactus leaf, which I think is called nopal. The sticky-up tostada was a nice touch. We ate this at La Olla, a restaurant geared toward travellers, but with all the authentic touches just a stumbled Spanish request away.

The salsa in the rustic ceramic pig was sublime. A perfect blend of tiny cubes of onion, tomato, green chilies and lime.

This cactus was a tiny bit slimy like okra, but has a limy salty taste and a crisp green bite that goes so well with scrambled eggs, salsa, and soft warm tortillas.

We had Oaxacan hot chocolate (sweet, grainy) and coffee (a hint of cinnamon, sugar and lemon) in these bowls the two times we had breakfast at Itanoni -- a simple neighbourhood joint that uses indigenous Oaxacan corn varieties for its tortillas, tostadas, tetelas, memelas... all variations on the theme of clay baked corn cakes, stuffed or drizzled with tasty toppings and fillings. They're all different colours, and they all taste and smell subtly different, which I suppose is the whole point.

The kitchen is front and centre in the restaurant, so you can sit and watch the cooking happen. Big clumps of corn dough appear from the kitchen and wait on stone rolling plates (like granite mortar and pestle, but flat). The cook pinches a lump off, rolls it flat, sometimes presses it in a tortilla press, and slaps it on the clay cooktop.

The cooktop doubles as an egg cooker, and it probably cooks many other things.

One by one, the different breads and fillings fill up the table.

This was a particularly gorgeous plate of tostadas, which I didn't taste, but couldn't resist photographing.

We had to sign photo release forms before we took photos at Itanoni, which I assume agreed that we would not use the photos to make money. In that spirit, these photos belong to Itanoni, and I thoroughly enjoyed eating there, and would go back in a flash.

One day, when the excitement was all too much for us, we had a breakfast of pineapple, papaya, avocado, fresh cheese and white bread. An absolutely perfectly calming breakfast.
 
Our guidebook was called Viva Oaxaca. That says it all.