Emily and I hadn’t taken a trip where we just walk around a city and eat and drink and just do whatever since before Covid. Since things seem safer—for now— we decided to go to Mexico City. I’ve been a few times and Emily has not. I love this place. I’d say it’s one of my favorite places on the planet since it’s walkable, the food is outrageous, and in a lot of ways, it’s familiar to me. I’ve told a few people it reminds me of Berlin in the late-1990s and early aughts. Something about the energy that I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s really fun, and the colors, smells and sounds all around you make it really easy to just do very little and experience a ton, but I always notice just how cool people here are. And I don’t mean like cool because they’re chill or cool because they dress a certain way (they are and do); it’s a lot like New York or New Orleans where people are just going about their day and you want to know every single person’s story as they walk past you.
I mentioned the food because that’s obviously a huge sell. As our driver Pepe told us, you get “Lots of Vitamin T”: Tacos, tortas, tamales, tlacoyo, tortillas, tequila, etc. So when you go, friends who have been will tell you go to Pujo or go to Contramar—and yes, do that. But the real heads will tell you there’s this one taco guy or one torta stand in this one spot you need to seek out. Nobody can really go wrong with Mexico City food suggestions, I’ve found. So last night, since I wanted to bring Emily somewhere cool, with a menu and vibe that might be somewhat familiar, but also like nothing she’s had since I was trying to let her get adapted to a new city, we tried Ticuchi. It’s one of those places you see on lots of “Best in Mexico City” and even “Best in the world” lists because Enrique Olvera opened it, and Olvera is the guy behind Pujo. Pujo is wonderful. Big fan. But I wasn’t sure we wanted A Meal, the type you had to think a lot about. I was more going for drinks first, food second. And from what I had been told, Ticuchi was exactly what I was looking for. And I’m happy to report that, yes, it was. 110 percent what I wanted. We crushed some corn tamales and carrots in a mole that made me weep and, of course, guacamole that puts any American guac in the corner and makes it wear a dunce cap. It was all perfect, but what I especially loved was that it was dark. Like really dark. The only lights I saw were around the bathroom, around the bar for the bartenders, and then dozens of candles burning, one on each table. I know the vibes are said to be shifting, and I’d like to make a request that if that’s truly the case, we shift the vibe of bars back to dark. Because there is nothing as cool as a dark bar. Just look at this bathroom. Not optimal in many ways, but whatever. Hold it until you get home.
I don’t mind a bar with good lighting. In fact, sometimes I really enjoy it. But it felt like in the years leading up to 2020 that most bars were opening with the intention of not just having good light, but good Instagram lighting. And, let’s be honest, that’s annoying. I know people want to take pictures, I do it all the time. But the Instagram trap (remember that phrase?) just made the experience for us that aren’t sub-influencers less fun. It robbed places of intimacy, it made them feel like they didn’t want you there, that they only wanted you to Instagram it and be an advertisement for the place. I’m withholding names because I don’t think the hospitality industry needs anybody or anything else messing with it after the last few years, but I just think we’re all going to want that feeling of intimacy after being six-feet apart from people for so long. I know this tends to be the norm when it comes to shot and beer bars (see: a place like Sharlene’s in Brooklyn for an example of a beloved dark bar), but I think if the whole fancy cocktail thing is going to keep going that places should embrace the darkness more. I don’t know how they do that. I wouldn’t suggest the candle thing because I feel like in America, the way people act, it would be a recipe for disaster. We are a country that just can’t have nice things, like candle-lit bars. But I’m sure there’s a way to get the same feel. And if you do, please let me know so I can haunt your establishment.
Other little bits:
This came out almost two weeks ago, but I left the tab open and forgot to read Alana Levinson on the redemption of the bimbo. I’ve been thinking a lot how I’m at that age now where the time when I was a late-teen/early-20-something who thought they knew everything, is having its reevaluation and that is weird. But it’s also no different than me in 1999 being like “Hey, Boomer, you were wrong about bubblegum pop or this movie or that book.” I think all culture has its reason, but sometimes it takes a decade or two for it to make sense to some of us. It has to age. And Levinson makes a case for Holly Madison and other “bimbos” of the aughts in a really interesting way.
I keep getting older and Dan Bejar keeps getting weirder.
In a fun twist, my friends at D.S. & Durga felt inspired by my Bistro Vibes article from last year, so they just debuted a new fragrance called Bistroy Waters.
Did you make it to Hanky Panky cocktail bar? It’s frequently on those ‘20 best bars in the world’ lists, & it’s a whole lot of fun!