I’d lost touch with Maria. I’m not sure who was the most to blame. Maria for moving so often. Or me for not hunting her down. She’d always been one of my favorite San Miguel chefs. And, when it came to putting value on a plate, there may have never been anyone better in this town.
My love affair with her food began at Las Cazuelas where she served a buffet with a staggering 32 different dishes. It continued with a menu del dia at Sabores y Salsas, first at a little hostel on Calzada de la Luz, then at a bigger and better location (and menu) on Salida a Celaya. Next came a stint running the kitchen at the family-owned hotel, El Mirador. And then, poof, the hotel had an “En Venta” sign on it and Maria had flown.
I’d heard that my chef, full name Maria Auxilio Trujillo Rodriguez, was at a hotel on the road to Dolores Hidalgo. As much as I appreciated her 99 peso lunches, the cab there and back killed the value equation. Not to mention about an hour of my time. We lost touch.
Then, last week, Don Day’s Wife saw something on Facebook. She and Maria are friends and Maria had a new post. Maria was making her bacalao, her Christmas bacalao, the first Bacalao a la Mexicana I had ever eaten in my life.
It took us about 15 seconds to decide that Maria’s bacalao would be the appie at our December 25 dinner. It took about 90 seconds longer to order a litre.
Bacalao. What to say about bacalao? First, I should make sure you know what it is. Perhaps with a little history lesson.
When Jacques Cartier arrived at the mouth of the St. Lawrence and claimed Canada for the French, he reported that there were a thousand Basque boats fishing for cod (why the Basques didn’t land, claim Canada for themselves, and get their own chapter in my Grade 8 history book I can’t explain). With it taking about three, maybe four weeks to get that fish back across the ocean and without the inventions of boxes wearing nametags like Maytag, Amana and Frigidaire on them, the holds of those ships could start to smell like my laundry basket after three or four days of some serious workouts. So bacalao, a word that another explorer, John Cabot, said originated with native Newfoundlanders, was created.
With the help of a chemical that had recently become readily available that bore the names sal, sale, sel, solt or salt, the fishers of the sea placed the beheaded and eviscerated (a so much more exciting word than cleaned) fish on the decks, hanging them from trellises to dry and thus was born bacalao.
Many years ago, Maria Auxilio Trujillo told me, “I’m a person who’s loved to experiment with the colors and tastes of Mexican dishes ever since I was a little girl. Still every day I like to invent something new. I enjoy creating rare and exotic tastes in my kitchen, combining the influences from my French and Moorish roots with the basic Mexican flavors.”
The influence on Maria’s Christmas bacalao was obviously the Basque dish, Bacalao a la Vizcaina. But Maria takes the salt cod to new heights. Vizcaina (the Basque word for the Bay of Biscay is Vizcaya) sauce almost always includes sweet red peppers, garlic and onions. Maria adds potatoes, green olives and, most important of all, toasted almonds. After 15 years of my holiday habit, I still think Maria Auxilio’s bacalao is the best I’ve eaten and, at our Christmas dinner, it will be the featured appetizer, topping thin slices of a Panio baguette.
Chef Maria’s bacalao is priced at $860 a litre. To order, What’s App (or phone) your request to 415 112 6304. To check out her daily lunches (these days priced at $125), follow her on Facebook. And yes, delivery is available.
Thank you for reminding me that it’s time to start making the bacalao vizcaína for New Year’s. It freezes well, and the olive and potatoes can be added later.
In times gone past, you just knew the season really had arrived by the odor of sides of bacalao, making the uninitiated wonder what had died at the supermarket display table. Now, most of the genuine Norwegian salt cod is tidily and hygienically packaged. What’s with that? I asked a small group of similarly-situated Mexicans. One man says “It’s the economy,” to which his wife replies “Bacalao is too much trouble to prepare.” And the rest chime in “It’s because no one likes bacalao anymore.”
Well, I still love it.
That sounds awesome! Can’t wait to try it!