23 June 29th–July 5th, 2023 phoenixnewtimes.com phoenix new Times | cONTeNTs | feeDBacK | OPiNiON | NeWs | feaTuRe | NighT+Day | culTuRe | film | cafe | music | Pushing Boundaries True Mexican food? Tempe’s Cocina Chiwas is true to itself. BY DOMINIC ARMATO H ere in Phoenix, Mexican food is religion. People state with confi- dence that they know real Mexican food. They grew up with it. They’re surrounded by it. The border is just a couple of hours away. Who, outside of Mexico, could be better informed about what is and isn’t authentic? And yet, when you ask these acolytes of Mexican cuisine to elucidate, very few of them — including those who immigrated from Mexico — seem to agree about what “real” Mexican food actually is. The Church of Mexican Food is a balkanized institution. Some factions are stridently evangelical, some happy to keep to themselves, but all maintain the convic- tion that theirs is the way and that others are poor, misguided souls. But Armando Hernandez and Nadia Holguin don’t need to be saved. “It’s very difficult for me to have these conversations, especially among our own people, about what’s considered authentic,” says Hernandez. “They’ll be like, ‘Well, my Grandma-’ and I’m like, yeah, I’m not your Grandma though.” Hernandez and Holguin were both born in Chihuahua and have trained in some of the Valley’s most prominent kitchens. Together, they created Tacos Chiwas, a drive-thru taco shopthat expanded intoa mini-empire of critically acclaimed restaurants. Recently, they teamed up with Rene Andrade and Roberto Centeno to launch Bacanora and Espiritu, collecting sold-out seatings and national accolades along the way. Their latest concept, Cocina Chiwas, opened in Tempe in February. But even for restaurateurs with this level of success, the dogmatic attitudes of local diners can be tricky to navigate. I know those attitudes, and I’ve had those conversations with more than a few lifelong Phoenicians who proudly point to “authentic Sonoran” food that looks a lot more like what I used to eat at a Midwestern suburban Chi-Chi’s in the 1980s than anything I’ve seen south of the border. That isn’t a value judgment. Mexican food, AZ-Mex and even suburban chain Mexare all culturally relevant in their own ways,and delicious is delicious wherever you find it. But it does suggest that the future of Mexican cuisine in Arizona may ride on whether we can stop bickering about what Mexican food is and adopt a more inclusive attitude about what it can be. What is Mexican food, anyway? Cocina Chiwas sports the kind of modern, clean-cut look that fits right into the young suburban aesthetic of the Valley’s premiere college town. But the menu doesn’t fit neatly into any of Phoenix’s pre-estab- lished pigeonholes, in large part because Hernandez and Holguin don’t either. “It’s a cliché, but I’m neither from here nor there, yeah? I was born in Chihuahua, but I grew up [in Arizona],” Hernandez says. “So [Nadia and I] are in this weird limbo of just trying to create something that’s ours.” The clearest example is their quesa- dillas, gorgeous organic flour tortillas topped with Mexican meats and vegeta- bles, piled with a blend of Menonita and asadero cheese, and baked to a charred crisp in the restaurant’s wood-burning oven.Are they quesadillas? Pizzas? Tlayudas? Cheese crisps? Does it matter? They’re delicious. I enjoy the chorizo version with its gentle, sour tang, and the birria quesadilla is tasty and pointedly on-trend.But the one that sings is the vegetarian quesadilla, topped with a disarmingly humble combi- nation of onions, mushrooms, spinach and jalapeños. I love the irony of serving a Caesar salad at a Mexican restaurant, even if the joke might fly over the heads of diners who didn’t know that it was invented in Tijuana. Highlighting a Prohibition-era Italian-ish dish that improbably became Baja California’s most famous culinary export feels like a self-deprecating lesson in the many ways the foods of Mexico can defy expectations. But I love it even more when the kitchen puts its stamp on the classic by serving “Broccolini a la Caesar,” with stout yet tender stalks of smoky, grilled brocco- lini standing in for the usual romaine. It’s both familiar and rebellious, a bit of a “Why the hell not?” creation, Hernandez explains, and it works. Playing with expectations No, Cocina Chiwas is not your typical Mexican restaurant, but even in Mexico, what is typical these days, anyway? There’s a persistent, stagnant attitude north of the border that regards Mexico as a nation frozen in the 19th century. Some folks could use a reminder that Mexico is a modern nation with cities filled with people who travel the world and like to play with and modernize their cuisine. “A lot of things that we’re trying to do, is it familiar?” Hernandez asks. “Hopefully. But we’re also not trying to give you exactly what you expect. That makes no sense to me. Why would I explore the idea of giving you exactly what already exists in your mind?” That’s how Hernandez and Holguin landed on sweet salsa macha, one of the menu’s secret weapons. Traditional salsa macha is an oily concoction made with toasted chiles, seeds and nuts. Sugar? Not so much. And its transformation at Cocina Chiwas was mostly a lark inspired by Hernandez and Holguin’s experience outside of Mexico. “That comes from a more Asian back- ground, where we’re like, man, I really like the way they kind of play with a little bit of heat, a little bit of sweetness,” Hernandez explains. “It’s kind of a fun thing where it’s like, oh shit, I think we’re onto something.” The parillada is a massive feast of grilled meats and acommpaniments that can feed a crowd. Dominic Armato Dominic Armato A bit of subtle refinement and clean, bright tomato sauce make the chiles rellenos a standout dish. >> p 24 ▼ Chow
