Meet me at the mercado
Why can't all markets be like the new Mercado González, Stripmall Serenity gets weird this week, and taking inspiration from meals past
I saw the future, and it is beautiful. It is colorful, it is rich, it is bountiful. Its cup overfloweth with aguas frescas, champurrado, and consomé. It is the Mercado González Northgate Market in Costa Mesa, California.
For a few weeks I’ve been hearing murmurs, vague whispers of a place, a new Northgate Market. The Southern California chain of Mexican supermarkets had opened its latest outpost in Costa Mesa and for some reason people were talking about it. I don’t mean to diminish the opening, the institution’s markets serve as important community outposts across the Southland, but I had never heard about a new one opening before. Well, now I know why this place is the talk of the town, or maybe the entire state.
The Mercado González is magnificent. Upon entering, you’re met immediately by the market’s tortilleria churning out endless fresh tortillas alongside massive vats of corn undergoing the nixtamalization process. Shortly after walking in I was pulled, like a moth to the flame, to the majestic, massive cazos de cobre, copper pots, churning with hunks of pork in lard — traditional Michaocán-style carnitas alongside chicharrón. It’s at this point that time started to slow down; looking with wide, manic eyes at the three people I had brought in tow (my parents and Sofia), all I manage to utter is “Where the fuck are we?” The Mercado González, that’s where.
I compose myself and we walk around, I keep my head on a swivel. Prickly pears, fresh moles available in bulk, enormous blocks of Oaxacan cheese, tacos al pastor off the trompo, ceviches y cocteles, corn husk and banana leaf-wrapped tamales, a stunning array of pan dulces, mountains of dried beans, an abundant dried chile selection. My eyes dart around the immense space wildly. We make a few difficult decisions about what to have for dinner but eventually opt for a strong assortment of tacos including birria de res and birria de chivo, suadero, al pastor, and carnitas. We finally sit down to take a breath, and felicity and overeating ensue.
So much about Mercado González stuck out to me. For one thing, a lot of what is being made, sold, and served is fully visible and on display. The tortillas on a conveyor belt, the carnitas simmering, the tamales being formed by hand, it’s all there for visual degustation. While picking out your pan dulce you can watch the bakers working on the next batch of conchas, at the butcher’s counter you’ll see whole and half pigs hanging in the walk-in waiting to be broken down. It is clear that the good people at Northgate put a lot of thought into the design of this place—bright colors everywhere, diverse produce options in neat but not sterile-looking piles, appealing mounds of dried goods, prepared food options interspersed with fresh international ingredients, even the lighting feels less harsh than that of your typical grocery store.
Growing up in Orange County, my parents did much of their shopping at international “ethnic” markets. For them, finding Egyptian/Middle Eastern ingredients always meant going to a local Persian supermarket; the OG was Mission Ranch in Lake Forest, later superseded by the massive Crown Valley Market in Mission Viejo (I now tip my hat to Wholesome Choice in Irvine as the best of the best). As a child, visiting these markets with my parents provided a stark contrast to the fill-in-the-blank supermarkets that we also had to go to from time to time (Ralph’s, Safeway, Albertson’s, Vons, Trader Joe’s, etc.). Everything about the Persian markets felt so much more alive. The diversity of the people and of the food. These places had an ambiance, a feeling, a little bit of chaos and disorder that let you know real people shop, eat, and work here. Ralph’s had waxy, unnatural-looking red delicious apples and russet potatoes, while Mission Ranch had fresh green almonds, the Persian cucumbers we ate whole with our school lunches, and those GOATed Loacker quadratini wafer cookies.
It seems clear to me that these international markets serve as cultural lifelines for a number of immigrant communities here. They also present us with an alternative to the depressing status quo that more “traditional” American supermarkets offer. I am hard-pressed to find any Vons lookalike I don’t find disconcerting and saddening. Wilting greens, homogeneous produce, sterile aisles with the illusion of choice, and a much lower standard of quality. And that includes you, Trader Joe. Whole Foods, too, since the Bezos buyout has been getting worse and worse. There are outliers across the country, of course, the one’s I’ve visited are mainly independently or cooperatively owned enterprises though. On one end you have the Berkeley Bowl, Park Slope food co-op, natural food stores, etc and on the other you have highly-curated and highly-priced gourmet grocers. They’re options, but they aren’t accessible to most.
The Mercado González is simple: it offers affordable, delicious, and authentic food in a beautiful space you want to spend time in. It’s design is rooted in centuries-old market traditions of Latin America and the Old World, traditions that the U.S. has been sorely lacking. More than that, it’s a joyful place to be and to eat; during my visit patrons and employees alike seemed happy to be there. I’m hoping that the Mercado is a trailblazer and that these spaces will spread far and wide. I’m tired of looking for the least shitty version of the ingredient I need. Give us some choice, give us some life, make the market inspired and inspiring.
Stripmall Serenity
A recurring section on the refuge found streetside in the megalopolis
Old World Village 7561 Center Avenue, Huntington Beach, CA 92647
I found myself in a fever dream-like, upside-down version of small-town Europe this week. Located directly across from a Costco in Huntington Beach, the Old World Village is a (strip)mall modeled after a quaint German town that was built by a group of European immigrants in the 1970’s. It’s now home to a few coffee shops, a kava bar, a biergarten, various gift shops, and a hookah lounge. It felt eerie in the Village on a Monday morning, quiet and mostly closed down. While walking through we wondered aloud if people lived there, and sure enough someone walking their dog informed us that they in fact lived in this bizarro little world. They said they liked it, that it’s a bit noisy because of the freeway, but for the most part amusing.
We stopped into The Coffee Tale for a quick cup. The menu and interior had a Turkish lilt, so we ordered Turkish coffees. Despite passing visual inspection (look for the foamy crema on top), they were a little watery. However, I so appreciated the maximalist styling of the place that I didn’t mind the weak coffee.
The juxtaposition of this mall(?) with its surroundings was jarring in the best way. Stepping off the big, busy streets of suburbia into the cloistered Old World Village was fun. And it was good to know that in Orange County, where reinvention and constant change is the name of the game, there is somewhere weird that has withstood the flattening forces of OC capitalism.
Not a recipe, just an idea
It’s been a while since I’ve been there, but the Four Horsemen in Brooklyn has (had?) a salad on the menu that I think of often. It’s got celery, walnuts, dates, cheese, and a vinaigrette. Wowie so simple, so fresh and fun. And you can improvise. Maybe change it up in ways you see fit. I love celery, but I don’t really buy it all that much. If you’ve got a head you need to use up, this is just dandy for you. My version lacked dates because I didn’t have them, but they really make a difference in this dish so please don’t do as I do, but do as I say.
I’ve been buying a lot of snap peas, lately. It’s springtime and I see them everywhere, so I buy them. I decided to make the Four Horsemen salad with the peas along with the celery. First, throw the walnuts (pistachio, hazelnut, almond would all be great) into a 350 degree oven on a sheet tray to toast up. You don’t want to burn them, and they’ll burn fast if you’re not careful. Set a timer for 10 minutes then check every 2 minutes after until lightly golden on the inside.
Next, the snap peas will need to be destrung. To do so use either your fingers or a small paring knife and take the top end off gently and pull the string off down the length of the pea. You’ve done it. Here’s the trick, though. You have to do this same thing on the bottom end, too. Sneaky, sneaky. Destring your snap peas, then cut them on a bias (at an angle so you can see the peas laid out before you inside their pod).
Now, take your stalk of celery and also slice on a bias thinly, so you get nice long pieces of crunchy celery. If you want to make certain everything is extra crunchy, throw the snap peas and celery into ice water for a few minutes before dressing, but make sure to dry as best as you can afterwards. For the dates, you’ll want to use medjools as they’re not too firm and not too soft, and you’ll want to pit and chop them roughly.
It’s time to assemble. Throw the celery, snap peas, and half the nuts into a bowl, and begin the dressing process. In all likelihood, the good people at the Four Horsemen make a delicious vinaigrette with shallots, good vinegar and oil, maybe mustard. I couldn’t be bothered, honestly, so I just drizzled in some EVOO, squeezed a lemon into it, and sprinkled in some salt. Toss the salad, then it’s time to plate (read: pile).
Grab your favorite salad plate, take hold of the dressed vegetables with both hands, and pile as expertly and as mountainously as you can. Now time to finish it off. More nuts on top, first, then you’re going to add the cheese. I had parmigiano on hand, so that’s what i used. Four Horsemen uses piave vecchio cheese, I believe, but I think a lot of hard/semi-hard cheeses would go great here, I’m thinking pecorino sardo would be especially good. It’s key here that you get the right type of cheese grate/shave. Yes, you could use a microplane, but it won’t be as good. You want pieces you can bite into. There is a specialized tool for this, but if you don’t have it use a cheese slicer, peeler, or something similar. You can do it. After the cheese is on, hit it with some coarse-ish black pepper and garnish with a few celery leaves, parsley leaves, mint leaves, whatever. It’s your world, I’m just living in it. Munch!
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