A Night at La Opera
For the first time in six years, I found myself without a Valentine. I was in Mexico City, alone, without a date. It would have been very easy to stay inside, drink a bottle of mezcal, and feel sorry for myself. I seriously considered it. Who could blame me? Having a broken heart on Valentine’s Day sucks.
Fuck that.
In 2020 my now-absent lover and I shared a wonderful dinner with friends Rich and Stephanie at a wonderful restaurant, La Opera. Located near the digital clock tower in Centro, La Opera is a throwback to a more elegant time. With an old school wooden bar running the length and golden ceilings, you will be taken care of by liveried wait staff in white coats.
This seemed like a good time to revisit an old friend.
I showered up and gave the beard a trim. It might seem strange that as a full-time traveler, when space and weight is at a premium, that I would bring along two sport coats. In the travel culture where the attire is overwhelmingly bohemian, adventure wear, hippy, hiker trash, I suppose I do stand out a bit. I’ve decided to travel with a bit more style. For now.
Only a 20 minute walk from my hostel, I arrived about 1930 and was seated at a table for one. The clientele is an interesting mix of locals who are all dressed nicely for a night out, and gringo tourists who are decidedly not. Shorts, Teva sandals, tee shirts, and baseball caps abound.
I started with a glass of the house red and admired my surroundings. Over there is the table we sat at three years ago. Such a great night. So much time between then and now and yet it was yesterday. The mariachi band is going from table to table playing for the lovers while I poach for free.
Mexico has a culture of slow eating. Nothing happens fast. Not the service, not the cooking, not the eating. You are expected to enjoy the experience. Restaurants here are not simply trying to turn tables in order to increase profits. The check will not be thrust in your face after you’ve spent 10 minutes vacuuming up your food. In fact, the check will be presented to you only after you have requested it, “La cuenta por favor.”
I moved on with the beef carpaccio as an appetizer. How do they slice the meat so thinly? I have no idea. I literally had to scrape the carpaccio off the plate with the edge of my fork, it is so thin and tender. Greens and some sort of spicy mayo add a bit of bite. Heaven.
Eventually the main course and a second glass of red make it to my table. The entree is Lengua Gusta, sliced beef tongue. Are you really in Mexico if you aren’t eating lengua? Most folks probably assume, as I did, that lengua is a garbage cut of meat. That it’s tough and rubbery and basically inedible. Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s wonderfully succulent, fatty, and tender. Price beef tongue in your local U.S. market. That alone should prove to you that it’s a delicacy.
I finished off with my favorite of all Mexican desserts, flan; and a cafe con crema. Flan takes me back to my childhood in San Diego, eating at restaurants like La Pinata in Old Town. For me flan - an eggy custard with a burnt bottom covered with a brown sugar syrup - is comfort food. I will almost never turn down an opportunity for flan.
Nearly two hours later and well satisfied I pay the check, a whopping $53 USD and take a leisurely stroll along mostly empty streets back to my hostel.
Don’t worry, I made sure to “stay safe” the entire time :)
