Authentically Vallarta

"Hey amigo with the pink purse." 

"You wanna buy some good junk?"

"Hey rich guy."

"Andale! Andale!"

Visiting "Vallarta" is like going on vacation with hecklers...  

We're in Phuket now, which is sort of the Asian equivalent of Puerto Vallarta: gorgeous tropical setting touristed to the hilt.  But the vibe on the street is radically different.  First off, I don't think Thais would ever openly ridicule visitors.  Publicly causing someone to lose face is not a casual sport here.  

But also, the tourists on the street (in Kata Beach, particularly) are not Americans.  They're Russians and Swedes.  I don't have much experience with these characters, but a few days' exposure gives me the impression that they're much cooler cats that we Americans are.

What is up with Americans?

Ten days in Puerto Vallarta and I have to say...have we no shame?

We arrive in Puerto Vallarta in big heaving planeloads, our obese backsides spandexed over with "comfy" pants.  All throughout the flight, there has been upping and downing and standing in the aisles and special requests and complaints and lots of talk, talk, talking about Where-are-you-from?  And Me-too!

Why do we Americans get our hair corn-rowed on vacation?

Why do we buy Frida Kahlo beach blankets?

 

And why do we patronize "Gourmet Fests" that...

...kick off with a papier mache cow? 

...and a wall-mounted TV playing football?

The whole time we were in Puerto Vallarta, I was in a state of cultural embarrassment.  Just moments like this...

They have these sculptures along the malecon that are dumbed-down to the consciousness of people who basically don't like to look at art.  Something that takes effort and causes you to see the world in a different way?  Nooo...  We prefer things that are blatantly obvious and evoke clichés!  

Which brings me back to the Gourmet Fest.  Ever-hopeful of finding a place in the sun with fabulous food, we decided to visit PV during its so-called "XVII International Gourmet" Festival.  Never having been to PV before, and being (both of us) very literal-minded, we didn't realize we were supposed to take that "Gourmet" and "International" with a grain of salt.

Gourmet, in this case, is whatever "gourmet" means to your average tourist who got the $249 direct flight from Minneapolis.  You think I'm being a ridiculous snob?  What if I am?  This so-called Gourmet Fest kicked off with a progressive dinner, one course of which was some sort of poached rabbit terrine with zucchini and rosemary...

However, out of respect for our delicate American (there are lots of Canadians too, by the way) consciousness, the organizers refused to tell us what this dish was until we had eaten it.  Why?  Because they were afraid we wouldn't eat it!

At a "gourmet" fest.

Aaaaa....

E, incidentally, was the only one of 30+ diners (including yours truly) who knew we were eating rabbit before they told us.  He left the event shortly thereafter.

I ate on and was rewarded for my intrepid spirit by...

...deep-fried alfalfa sprouts (no really, you shouldn't have) and...

...peach bubbles that I later learned had been created with an aquarium pump! 

Perhaps you're thinking, Alright smartypants, how come you're not eating Mexican food in Mexico if you're so gourmet?  Well, I was very excited to go to El Arrayán, the celebrated retro-traditional Mexican joint in town in the spirit of Diana Kennedy.  I know, I know, Diana Kennedy is from the UK, so how can a Mexican restaurant be authentic if it's in the spirit of an English woman's celebration of traditional Mexican cooking?  Whatever.  The point is, retro-traditional Mexican cuisine, complete with oilcloth table covers.

Well, I'll give them this: the handmade tortillas rocked!

However, the duck mole that is supposedly their pride and joy?  A big 'ol brick of dried-out duck meat in a pool of mole.  Sure, it was helpful to have the mole to smear on the mouthful of dry muscle fibre, but the two components were totally un-integrated.   

A far cry from the fabulous duck mole we had at Izote in Mexico City.

I ran into a French expat, a long-time PV resident whose identity I'll protect, but...we couldn't resist dishing El Arrayan's duck together!  His brother, a chef in Paris, came to town and they ate in all the "top" PV restaurants: Cafe des Artistes, Trio, etc.  Nothing doing.  Trio was ok, but overpriced (we concur).  So, what's good?  I asked.  He gave me a worried look, seemed frustrated, and finally said, "Oh...just go to Paris."  Ahem.

Pressed further, he said you can generally get decent fresh food at Jo Jack's Fish (again, we concur) and at local taco stands.  Look for where the food is fresh.  Look in the dining room...it's fancy decor, but no one is there.  What's going to be in the back, in the refrigerator?  It's not fresh.  Exactly!

So there you have it, the best food we had in PV was at popular upscale-casual gringo joints with silly names like Jo Jack's Fish, No Way, José!, and Daiquiri Dick's.  We also had a couple of decent lunches at the spot to the right of over-rated La Palapa if you're facing away from the ocean. 

Above: salad at Jo Jack's Fish

Above: tuna poke at Jo Jack's Fish (fish tacos rocked too)

  

 

Above: mussels with chorizo at Daiquiri Dick's

Above: flank steak (looks odd, but was delish) at No Way Jose!

Above: tuna sandwich at the place next to La Palapa

So that's it.  What's good in Vallarta is what's authentic.  And what's authentic in Vallarta isn't traditional Mexican.  It's this kind of old-school expat culture -- everyone in town has been coming here for 20 years.  The nice thing about that is it's laid back.

One of my favorite events of the Gourmet Fest was actually the cooking demonstration, which featured four chefs and was actually very nicely produced.  It was kind of a slapstick routine in English-Spanish translation.  Almost everyone was bilingual and nobody could remember what language they were speaking...so the audience frequently got English-to-English and Spanish-to-Spanish.  

Happily, I understand Spanish pretty well, so I didn't miss moments like when the visiting chef from Casa del Conde de la Valenciana in Guanajuato said something in Spanish like, "Maybe you think that Mexican cuisine is limited.  But it's your idea of Mexican cuisine that's limited.  If you open your mind, you'll have an amazing experience," -- and this was translated as, "Mexican food is very good.  You should enjoy it." 

Nonetheless, one of the chefs who participates in the Fest is Gerard Dupont, who is president of Académie Culinaire de France worldwide, an organization focused on the evolution and modern practice of French Cuisine.  I expected someone very serious, but he was in fact, the funniest act on the stage!  Speaking heavily French-accented Spanish the whole time, he told us to gratinee our vegetables until they were the color of his hair...or the color his hair used to be (he is blond gone snowy white).  He also did a bit of virtuoso knife work, julienning without a glance while he chatted people up all over the room.

That's when I realized that part of cooking (or being a chef) anyway is probably a lot like being a musician: you have that muscle memory in your fingers...

In the end, being laid back about everything (including authenticity) was the best way to enjoy Vallarta.

I laughed at the story of the expat couple who were broken into five (!) times by the same guy.  They physically caught and held him 'til the police took him away.  He quickly got out of jail, came back, and robbed them again.  Meanwhile other robbers sit outside Costco and watch who takes home the flat-screen TVs...

And I got used to the cops shlepping up and down the beach with machine guns.

And I had a fabulous time going up, up, up into the air on a parachute!