Fritanguita

Fritanguita is Puebla standing on a corner of Roma Norte. Calle Puebla 236 — the street's name was already a sign. I opened it with Santiago Muñoz Moctezuma of Maizajo, and it is the fast: the craving served standing up, hot, no tablecloth, no apology.

Fritanga is the street poetry of where I come from: what gets fried and eaten right there, watching the city go by. We don't reinvent it. We treat it with the seriousness it always deserved — corn nixtamalized the way it should be, salsas made that day, recipes with a last name.

When I come down to the city, that's where I am. It's my way of not letting go of Puebla's hand.