Nighttime in El Grullo

by Wendy Beltran (United States of America)

Making a local connection Mexico

During the day, El Jardín Municipal of El Grullo is a calm, tree-lined plaza, with the occasional merchant selling clothing and souvenirs. But at night, food vendors occupy every available space, the smell of sizzling grills wafting down the streets, drawing people to the city center. “Los mejores en el mundo!” he says, pushing the plate of tacos towards me. The best in the world. I chuckle to myself – this is the third time Eduardo has made this claim about a taco stand during the weekend traveling around Jalisco. We’re sitting at a bright red plastic table, one of many set up on the blocked off streets surrounding El Jardín. It’s hard to imagine this is the same serene park I walked through that afternoon. Whereas during the day people are hustling about to work or school, at this hour, everyone is here to eat. Eduardo takes a bite of his taco and smiles, eyes closing as he hums with delight at the taste of his hometown. Tacos are a familiar comfort, and though this is my first trip to Mexico outside of the tourist towns just south of San Diego, I felt certain I wouldn’t encounter anything quite so different in terms of food. A more authentic flavor, perhaps. Or the preference towards handmade. Now, looking down at my plate of tacos de tripas, I admit this is the second time he has presented me with something new. Though I have dined on them before, tripas – small intestines – chopped up and cooked on a busy street corner, enveloped by two corn tortillas… Well, this was a first for me. I am the only one in the group not from the area. Eduardo and his family have been more than welcoming as I tag along their family vacation to El Grullo. I’ve known his daughter for years but only met the family at her wedding not long ago. Eduardo was born and raised here, and he speaks of his upbringing with a longing for easier days. His life in the United States has been equally difficult and rewarding. His children are all adults and married now, and he can enjoy his later years knowing his sacrifices paid off. He recalls how the young men and women of the town would walk around the plaza’s gazebo in the evenings, the women walking clockwise as the men circled them counterclockwise. Romances emerged from these opposite circles, meeting eyes if they were interested in each other and talking quickly in passing. “Now, they just text each other! No need to talk at all!” Eduardo exclaims, as the table laughs. It’s how he met his wife, and as I look around the table at his children and their spouses, I realize it’s how we all came to be at that table in that very moment. He views the new chain store, XOXO, on the corner as a sign of the changing times. These stores are found all around Mexico and since his last visit, two more of these convenient stores have come to town. It goes unsaid that some things will remain the same. Seeing the varying generations around me, debating which stand has the best version of their favorite dish, assures me that nighttime will always be the best time to get together in El Grullo. They don’t make it obvious, but the table is waiting for my first bite, their eyes glancing at my plate as Eduardo continues to reminisce about his younger days. Finally, he comes back to the present. He nods towards my plate, urging me to try his favorite snack. He smiles, with only a hint of mischief, wondering what this Latina raised in the United States will think of their signature dish. I take a small bite. I move slowly, considering the flavors. It’s still piping hot and the pieces pop in my mouth. Salty, smoky, and delightfully chewy. Like everything I’ve tried in my journey, it floods my palate with unexpected spice. I smile and nod along with Eduardo, “Los mejores en el mundo!”