By Jude Waterston

My carefree days and evenings of eating out a few times a week are long gone. First, I seem to have   had a great deal more money when I was young, though one would think that as time passed, I’d have gone up in the world, as opposed to the opposite. It appears that everything has risen with the exception of my income. Then too, I’m simply not impressed with restaurant food as I was in the past. My culinary skills have grown mightily with time; I dabble in cooking the foods of many countries, and I’m rarely bowled over by anything I encounter on a night out.

That’s why it came as such a lovely surprise when I celebrated my birthday in late February at a just-opened restaurant and found myself returning again and again to experience exceptional, innovative food in a thought-out, comfortable, yet dynamic, setting.

I admit the first of these excursions was filled with the tiniest bit of trepidation, based on the general rule that when a new place has opened its doors, it needs time to find its legs. With so many dining establishments coming and going in rapid succession, I want to wait until the initial snags have been worked out. Yet when I heard the buzz about a new upscale Mexican joint in the East Village and a margarita-loving friend, and my sister, Janet, were up for throwing caution to the wind, we headed over to Fonda (40 Avenue B, between 3^rd and 4^th Streets, 212-677-4069).

Half a dozen years ago, celebrating yet another birthday, this one a milestone, Janet and I flew to Oaxaca, Mexico, predominantly because of what I’d heard about the cuisine. After taking a daylong cooking course in which we learned how to make one variety of the complex renowned sauce, mole, we wandered the stalls of the bustling local market. There we ogled dozens of varieties of burgundy, rust, and persimmon-colored fresh and dried chilies; stacks of tortillas; and barrels of multi-hued spices and herbs. We sampled the mild cheese called queso fresco and boldly ate fried grasshoppers and smoky-tasting dried worms. That is when I fell in love with true Mexican food, and why Fonda, which celebrates comida Mexicana, won my heart.

As it turned out, Fonda’s owner, Roberto Santibanez, already has a three-year-old hangout in Park Slope, Brooklyn, and this is only the tip of the iceberg in his culinary career. Though trained in classic French cooking at the famed Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, his passion is clearly the cuisine of his native country. To that end, he did a stint as executive chef at Fonda San Miguel in Austin, Texas; became the culinary director for Rosa Mexicano restaurants in 2002; and also managed to open up several outstanding eateries in Mexico City in the more than twenty years he has been cooking from the heart.

On my first night at Fonda, my entourage was led past a long, active bar to a table in a small, cozy alcove hidden by a striking and enormous exotic potted plant. The walls of Fonda are painted a warm, sexy, soft shade of red. A bold move that could’ve been overwhelming but isn’t. It was immediately evident that the young staff, comprised of earnest young Hispanic men, are well-trained. They are clearly (and convincingly) eager to please, attentive and sweet. There is no pretense, a welcome change.

Janet and I ordered classic margaritas, straight up and rimmed with salt, and our pal had the “pina,” which was made with chipotle infused tequila, pineapple puree, lime juice and orange liquor with a salted rim spiked with ground guajillo chiles. It was delicious and complex. The list of margaritas and cocktails was extensive and innovative and over a dozen tequilas were on offer.

The ubiquitous guacamole was immediately offered and I hesitated, momentarily feeling pushed to have the “expected” appetizer, but my companions wanted to try it when they read from the menu that it was made to order and served with hand-pressed mini tortillas, chips, and pasilla de Oaxaca salsa. It could be ordered mild, medium, or spicy. It arrived in a traditional three-legged Mexican mortar and pestle known as a molcajete and hand-carved of natural volcanic stone. The guacamole was chunky and studded with tomatoes and cilantro. It was topped with a smattering of crumbled queso fresco and, for me, the warm baby tortillas were the perfect wrapper, as they soaked up a bit of the accompanying salsa.

Always one to prefer sampling a bunch of appetizers rather than focusing on one lone entrée, I suggested we share a lot of little plates. My only complaint is that they arrived simultaneously and the hot dishes were soon cool as we juggled to try everything at once. When we later mentioned this to our waiter, he couldn’t have been more apologetic for any “mishaps or miscommunications,” and I simply vowed to myself to remember to ask to have my food brought in stages the next time I visited.

Taquitos, soft corn tortillas filled with grilled marinated skirt (carne asada) with onions, cilantro, and chile de arbol salsa were meaty and full of flavor. Grilled chorizo sausage in a cast iron skillet arrived embedded in melted Oaxacan and Chihuahua cheeses. Impossibly addictive! We stuffed the gooey cheese and chunks of meat into soft corn tortillas and dunked the packets into fresh tomatillo-serrano salsa. A side order of perfectly cooked sweet platanos fritos (plantains) was huge and topped with cream and queso fresco and was a perfect foil for the fish salpicon, which was a ceviche-like pile of chopped white fish mixed with lime juice, onions, Serrano chiles, and cilantro. A little dish of salsa verde was my favorite salsa of the evening.

I had mentioned to our server that I write about food, and to my surprise, Roberto came over to introduce himself at the conclusion of the meal, cradling a bottle of mescal “made by a friend,” and poured us each a shot after explaining how mescal is produced (smoked) and how the various types differ. When I commented on the attention to details in the restaurant, particularly the fact that we were able to talk and hear each other, which is often not the case in most Mexican places where loud music blares, Roberto thanked me and offered that he had thought carefully about the acoustics. The bar area was louder, while the rest of the restaurant allowed for conversation. The choice of music veered away from the usual driving rhythms. After giving me his business card, Roberto left us to contemplate the very reasonable bill, which came to $115, with drinks, before tip.

A few days later my sister brought a couple she dines with once a month or so to Fonda. They split a few appetizers (the guacamole and melted cheese with chorizo, which she couldn’t resist introducing them to) and then each had an entrée. She reported back that a special of pan seared Yucatan style fish fillet and enchiladas in a black Oaxacan mole greatly impressed her friends and the vegetarian enchiladas filled with diced potatoes, roasted eggplant, zucchinis and chayote, topped with a tomatillo Serrano sauce, chopped cauliflower, cilantro, queso fresco and creama that she chose were “out of this world.” Additionally, they’d noticed some great looking crispy sweet potato fries at a nearby table and though they were not on the menu that night, they were able to procure them.

Subsequently, Janet and I lured our childhood friend Lisa to Fonda where we again shared an all appetizer dinner. The duck zarape, soft corn tortillas filled with braised duck cloaked in a roasted tomato-habanero cream sauce looked striking and tasted delicious, though we all  felt the shredded, stewed meat could’ve been pork or chicken. I’m a rare duck breast with crackling skin-loving person, which is why I rarely order duck any other way, but wanted to try the dish nonetheless. The salad of cool watermelon chunks, diced cucumbers, cubed queso fresco dressed with lime juice, extra-virgin olive oil, pumpkin seeds and chives was bursting with bright flavors and was (and remains) one of my favorite Fonda dishes. The contrasting textures of the crunchy cucumbers, mildly salty soft cheese, and flavor-packed watermelon are a winning combo.

Subsequently, I brought a small bunch of women friends to the restaurant and felt compelled to bring another gal there the following night. The wildly inventive  drinks appealed to everyone, and we moved from margaritas to red sangria garnished with berries. We enjoyed the black bean masa “boats” with spring pea spread, sautéed mushrooms, salsa verde, salsa chipotle, queso fresco and crema, another exploration of multiple textures and flavors. The jicama botana was interestingly presented, though not really a salad. It consisted of sticks of crisp cucumber, carrots, and jicama, along with orange segments and a little pile of ground chile de arbol for dipping. I would’ve liked more jicama and a little less of a simplistic execution. A dish of slightly spicy prickly pear cactus, nopalitos, was unusual and unlike anything I’d ever had. The mound of cactus pads appeared to have been cooked, sliced and pickled. A special of Yucatan-style jumbo shrimp served over creamy green rice and a black bean “velvet” sauce had everyone swooning. Both evenings there were repeat favorites of guacamole, sweet plantains and the chorizo in oozing cheese.

So, as you can see, Fonda has become my go-to place for modern, innovative, real Mexican food in a comfortable, yet impressive setting. Craving those spices and flavors more and more lately, it has also pushed me to cook more Mexican food at home. This past weekend I made a Mexican feast for friends, beginning with margaritas rimmed with pink Himalayan salt and both red and white sangrias. Appetizers were black bean dip and another “dip” of picadillo (a spicy/sweet ground meat mixture cooked in a tomato-based sauce and flavored with multiple spices, capers, and raisins), as well as chunky guacamole and a duo of salsas. Dinner featured chicken enchiladas, saffron rice, and that fantastic watermelon, cucumber, and queso freso salad. Thank you Roberto Santibanez for making your passion mine.

Watermelon, Cucumber, and Queso Fresco Salad

Serves 6

 

This is my interpretation of the refreshing, inventive salad served at Roberto Santibanez’s Fonda restaurant. Qeuso fresco is a mild, slightly salty cheese found in Hispanic markets and used extensively in Mexican cooking. If you cannot find it, Italian ricotta salata or even a mild feta may be substituted.

4 cups seeded watermelon, cut into ¾” x ¾” cubes

2 cups seeded and peeled English (hothouse) cucumber, cut into cubes the size of dice

1 – ½ cups queso fresco cut into cubes the size of dice

1/3 cup fresh mint leaves (stacked and sliced very thinly)

1 teaspoon honey

1 tablespoon champagne (or white wine) vinegar

3 tablespoons fresh lime juice

1 tablespoon fresh orange juice

3 tablespoons olive oil (not extra-virgin)

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

An hour before serving, place the watermelon, cucumber and queso fresco cheese cubes in a large bowl. Scatter the mint leaves evenly over the salad. In a small bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients until well combined. Pour the dressing over the salad and toss gently but thoroughly. Chill in the refrigerator until ready to serve.

Guacamole con Pina Y Pepino (Guacamole with Pineapple and Cucumber)

Serves 4 – 6

This recipe for a chunky guacamole with surprise ingredients was adapted from one Roberto Santibanez graciously sent me. The contrast in textures and flavors is what makes this unusual guacamole stupendous.

¾ English hothouse cucumber (about 1 cup), peeled, seeded and diced in cubes a generous ¼-inch in size

¼ minced red onion, or more to taste

1 – 2 fresh Serrano or jalapeno chiles, (about ¼ cup) seeded and minced, or more to taste

3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice

1 teaspoon kosher or sea salt

2 medium ripe Mexican Hass avocadoes, halved and pitted

1/3 pineapple, (about 1 ½ cups), peeled, cored, and cut into cubes a generous ¼-inch in size

½ cup fresh cilantro, divided

In a large bowl, stir together the cucumber, onion, chiles, lime juice and salt. Score the flesh of the avocado halves in a cross-hatch pattern (not through the skin) with a knife and then carefully scoop out the flesh with a spoon and add to bowl. Stir gently together (do not mash). Stir in half the cilantro and the pineapple last so the fresh acidity is distinct from the avocado. Season to taste with additional chile, lime juice, or salt. Gently scrape the guacamole into a wide shallow dish and sprinkle the remaining cilantro on top. Because of the acid in the pineapple, this salsa will not discolor as quickly as other guacamoles. Store it in the refrigerator for up to 2 hours with a piece of plastic wrap pressed against the surface. Let it come to room temperature before serving it.

Sangria Blanca

Serves 6

This recipe is adapted from 1,000 Mexican Recipes by Marge Poore. I cut down on the amount of sugar by quite a lot and think this version has perfect balance. There are lots of other fruit options. Try small cubes of melon or fresh berries.

1 bottle (750ml) dry white wine, preferably a little fruity

½ cup orange-flavored liqueur, such as Cointreau or Triple Sec

½ cup fresh orange juice

1 tablespoon superfine sugar (or simple syrup)

1 orange, thinly sliced, then sliced in half width-wise

1/2 small lemon, thinly sliced

1/2 lime, thinly sliced

1 cup seedless red or green grapes, sliced in half diagonally (optional)

1 ½ cups club soda

Pour the wine, orange-flavored liqueur, orange juice, and sugar into a large pitcher and stir well. Add the fruit. Chill in the refrigerator for an hour to two so flavors meld. Just before serving, add the club soda and stir again. Put about three ice cubes in each of 6 stemmed glasses and pour the sangria over the ice. If you like, you can garnish the drinks with a sprig of fresh mint.

Sangria Rojo

Makes about 8 glasses of sangria

 

I adapted this recipe for fruity red sangria from The New Spanish Table by Anya von Bremzen. The original recipe was developed by Alex Urena.

 

1 bottle (750ml) dry Spanish wine

½ cup orange-flavored liqueur such as triple sec or Cointreau

¼ cup brandy (I used Courvoisier)

1 ¼ cup fresh orange juice

1 tablespoon superfine sugar (or simple syrup)

About 1 ½ cups mixture of fruits such as blueberries, blackberries, sliced oranges, and skinned and cubed plums

1 ½ cups club soda

Ice cubes

Mix together the wine, orange-flavored liqueur, orange juice, brandy and sugar in a large pitcher. Add the fruit and stir gently. Refrigerate for at least one hour and up to 4. When ready to serve, add the club soda and stir to combine. Pour the sangria over wine glasses filled with a few ice cubes.