It was bittersweet missing the first day of sort-of-snow in New York, as we arrived to a sunny, yet arid Mexico City. Although the elevation took its toll on my head, the tortilla soup and queso fundido I had upon arrival at our hotel made up for it. After making ourselves at home, the helpful, intriguingly raspy-voiced hospitality woman recommended a restaurant offering ungringo'd Mexican food called La Guadalupana. Here we had a molcajete (a traditional bowl made of volcanic rock) with steak, chorizo, queso fresco, a delicious salsa and roasted peppers, preceeded by an order of albondigas (meatballs) al chipotle and followed by a plate of mole enchiladas. We took it easy that night, making friends with a true mench of a guy named Miguel Angel, who drove us around for the rest of the weekend.
Once you check out the following posts covering day two and three, you will understand why all I had for dinner just now was a bowl of chicken noodle soup, which I didn't even finish, and brussel sprouts.