Susita la Coqueta Returns to Mexico After Fifty Years
A Mother’s Day Tribute + an Epic Meal at the San Ángel Inn
My mom Susan first traveled to Mexico as a rising high school junior to attend a Spanish language and cultural immersion program.
In a 1964 article from the Indianapolis Star’s teen section, my mother (aka “Susita la coqueta” or “Susie the flirt”) discussed the joys of market shopping, the puzzling lack of traffic regulations and her first exposure to the peculiarities of bullfighting.
Of the life-changing excursion, which set her on a path to becoming a career Spanish teacher, she had this to say to her interviewer:
“It was really a wonderful experience and I hope to be able to say ‘Adios United States, hola Mexico’ again.”
She did just that, several times over in the early-1970s.
After getting a graduate degree at Middlebury College and starting work at a private high school, she and my dad traveled throughout the country, visiting artists’ studios in small Oaxacan villages, taking in a charreada (rodeo) in rural Jalisco and observing Papantlans harvesting vanilla in the jungle highlands of Veracruz.
My mom has two particularly vivid memories from their time in the capital: one involves witnessing penitent worshippers crawl on their knees from one end of the Zócalo — the world’s second largest square — to the doorstep of the cathedral.
The other involves talking her way out of a fine for pulling a u-turn on Paseo de la Reforma — the widest boulevard in the center city. As she tells it, other cars were making the same maneuver but my parents got nabbed because they were driving a marked rental car. After she made her case in fluent Spanish at a nearby police station, the entire precinct started clapping and threw out the ticket.
In spite of these foundational experiences, somehow my mom had not set foot in Mexico since 1974. Hearing how much BB and I loved present-day Mexico City, she knew it was time to return.
In the weeks leading up to her visit, she peppered us with questions about access to bottled water and leafy greens. We assured her that rinsing lettuce with iodine tablets was a thing of the past.
I set to work crafting an itinerary full of markets, museums and good food. I wanted to pull out all the stops for her epic anniversary trip and so I booked a reservation at the legendary San Ángel Inn (Calle Diego Rivera 50, Ciudad de México 01060).
This stunning property (dating to 1692) originally served as a Carmelite monastery and then as a privately-owned hacienda dedicated to pulque production. Before the city sprawled in the 1950s, it was a weekend countryside retreat with a famed restaurant, resurrected in its current form in 1963.
As we entered into the tranquil setting, the urban chaos beyond the doors immediately slipped away. We secured a table surrounding the beautifully manicured courtyard, whose central fountain once provided refreshment to Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata’s horses.
Amid the soothing sound of fluttering songbirds, servers set down a bread basket with chilled butter curls and the Mexican equivalent of the supper club relish tray: crisp jicama, carrots, cucumber and olives with sliced limes and chili-spiked, whipped blue cheese.
I turned to my mom as we studied the menu and told her to get comfortable, as this meal was intended to proceed slowly.
BB and I ordered margaritas, which are justifiably lauded for their exacting mixture of silver tequila, triple sec and lime presented in mini carafes set in silver ice buckets. Our server poured us each a healthy splash into salt-rimmed Martini glasses, leaving the remainder for us to enjoy at our leisure.
We started with exquisite Castilian gazpacho, bursting with ripe tomato flavor, drizzled with piquant olive oil and served with croutons and chopped avocado.
Since the San Ángel Inn experience is as much about the spectacle and ceremony as the food itself, we also ordered two items prepared table-side.
First up was caesar salad. We oohed and awed as our utterly charming server Raul emulsified orange egg yolks with olive oil, anchovy, Worcestershire and garlic to create a luxurious dressing, all while carrying on a flirtatious banter with my mom over whether he or her husband (my dad) prepares a better caesar. Showered in parmesan and butter-soaked croutons, and tossed with way too much dressing, the salad was somewhat cloying but my mom dutifully played her part and told Raul his version edged out my dad’s.
Raul then set about hand-mixing raw beef with capers, chopped onion and umami-laden Maggi for a classic steak tartare. Plated atop white asparagus spears, tomato wedges and a single black olive, the finished dish possessed a classic elegance that harkened back to an earlier, more glamorous era of fine dining.
We also indulged in several Mexican dishes with continental touches. Huitlacoche crepes consisted of delicate pancakes rolled around the prized corn fungus and blanketed with stewed tomato and cheese. Tacos, filled with seared duck breast, were accompanied by exceptional guacamole and a trio of fresh salsas.
Although we were sated after our main course, the notion of leaving without ordering dessert was out of the question, particularly since a trio of musicians had begun strolling around the courtyard, lulling us with tender folk ballads.
When Raul approached the table, my Mom requested a carajillo. I was shocked, not only because my mom seldom drinks, but because she ordered one of the most popular drinks among Latinx hipsters.
“Mom, how do you know about carajillos?” I asked.
“Well, I used to drink them when I was living in Spain.”
It seems the San Ángel Inn had conjured reminiscences of my mom’s carefree days as a twenty-something in Madrid.
My mom was surprised to learn the Mexican version is served chilled — it’s a spiked espresso shot in Spain — but she was game. As Raul set down the ombré cocktail, he winked at my mom and said “shaken with love.” My mom erupted with coquettish laughter.
Susie the flirt was back.
Meanwhile, BB and I devoured a delicious corn cake, studded with amaranth pearls and served with a mini jug of coffee cream, a perfect conclusion to a near-perfect meal.
As if the experience couldn’t have been any more magical, upon exiting the courtyard we encountered a woman with two fortune-telling birds, Alejandro and Lupita. Lupita grasped a fortune with her beak and placed it in my mom’s palm.
I’m not sure what the fortune revealed, but this much was clear: my mom was having the time of her life on her first return trip to Mexico. We’re already talking about our next visit.
All photos by Jared Wheeler.
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This Mother’s Day tribute was quite a surprise, especially since I read it on my way to spend Mother’s Day with my blogger daughter Whitney in Washington, DC. She and BB were excellent guides and companions during this very special anniversary trip. By the way, Lupita’s fortune said, “Don’t wait another fifty years to return to my wild and magical city! And when you do, be sure to spend an afternoon on the patio at the San Ángel Inn.”
I love your blog and this one especially, as I see Susita weekly in Italian class during the winter. It’s great to know a bit more of her background, and I’ll tell her so when I see her for lunch next week.