Onomastico Chez Carnitas Uruapan

Onomastico Chez Carnitas Uruapan

Yesterday was my onomastico, which is to say, it was my name day. In Catholic countries like Mexico and Italy, birthday celebrations are a recent, foreign cultural intruder, introduced by unscrupulous greeting card vendors who have learned all too well what they were taught in U.S. business schools. Be that as it may, for people like me, whose families have one foot in the old country and the other over here, the only reasonable solution to the opposing cultural tugs is to compromise and celebrate both. And for me personally this is especially good, since my birthday is, as the Neapolitans say, 'sotto Natale', and my name day is almost exactly six months later. In fact, this system was seemingly designed for me.

Now, 'a name day' perhaps needs a little further explanation for those who are not members of the Universal Church. One's name day is the feast day of the saint, after whom one has been christened at baptism. In my case, I am named after Saint Anthony of Padua, whose feast day -- and thus also my onomastico -- is June 13th. In this regard, one must be quite specific about the identity of the saint, for in many cases there are more than one saint with a given name. For example, there is also Saint Anthony of Egypt, but his feast day is in January (the 17th). Had I been named after him, my onomastico and birthday would surely have been conflated into one and I would have lost out on the full richness of my diverse cultural upbringing... I note in passing that this onomastico business is an excellent reason for Italian and Mexican Americans to forgo the temptation to be too innovative in the names they give their children: Is there a Saint Shane? Or Saint Tiffany? Saint Kobe? Saint Picabo? When do they celebrate their onomastici?

Well, obviously they don't, the poor wretches. But they can go to Carnitas Uruapan, just as we did yesterday, and enjoy a light and refreshing meal of Michoacan style, slow-cooked pork.*

On what started as a fine and sunny Sunday morning, we betook ourselves to Pilsen for a short visit to the Fine Arts Museum, a stroll around the surrounding park and, perhaps, lunch in one of the for us hitherto unexplored places west of Ashland or else at Don Pedro's carnitas shop all the way over by Racine. After looking over Don Chon's taqueria on 18th Street, we continued on a little further for a peek at the mountain of carnitas to be seen through the front window of the Uruapanese (or is it Uruapanenco?) 'carniteria'. It wasn't really possible to see in past the customers by the door who were standing buying their pork to go, and we hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. But just then, Sant'Andogne helped us to find our focus, sending a message by means of a little breeze that brought the intoxicating aroma of slow-cooked pork to our noses. I spoke up: "For carnitas, we must go to Don Carbajal."** And in we went.

We ordered a pound of the carnitas -- 'maciza' -- and a salad. The table was immediately set with: 1) a bowl (actually more a clear plastic box) of salsa (not very spicy); 2) a bowl of pickled Jalapeño peppers; 3) a tortilla holder filled to the brim with the best of the locally produced corn tortillas, piping hot, from El Popo; 4) an utterly unneeded salt shaker. Upon the arrival of the meat, Lucantonius (3 1/2), as if answering Patrick Henry, declared with great solemnity: "Give me pork!"

The carnitas were delicious, with a proper degree of moistness and the wonderful flavour created by the sweetness of the meat itself and the darker richness of the fat, all heightened by the appropriately pronounced level of saltiness. In support of the simple combination of pork and tortilla, the salsa was good, though to my taste too mild, but I was quite happy to be able to pick up the heat level and add a sour element to the experience by munching some pickled Jalapeños along with my tacos. The salad provided further good accompaniment to the meat: strips of nopalito, with white onion, cilantro and lime juice, crowned with a few slices of tomato and a snow-like dusting of tangy queso añejo. To accompany the thirsty work of constructing and consuming so many "porky tacos," as Lucantonius called them, we all had Eau du Robinet.

A most tasty and more than satisfying repast it was and all at the cost of a mere $11.50, before tip (and since I was 'onomastico-boy', Amata had to pick up the check). We have had carnitas for take-out from Don Pedro and, without doubt, Don Pedro's product is excellent. But the experience of eating in at Carnitas Uruapan was most enjoyable in all respects, including the entertainment provided by the many little (mostly crude) jokes in Spanish and the sometimes (unlike the food) tasteless depictions of pigs posted all around the dining area.

Carnitas Uruapan also serves menudo and, of course, chicharrón, delicious and reasonably priced meal; I highly recommend it.

Antonius

* Doña Amada informs me that Uruapan, the name of a city in southern Michoacan, is Tarascan in origin, for those of you who were wondering... I hope there was at least one out there, besides me...
**Inoncencio Carbajal is the proprietor of Carnitas Uruapan, according to an article that appeared in the Chicago Tribune in 2002.

Post-site-move character problems fixed.

Ah, to have such fine reporting on LTH! This must have been what that poster had in mine when commenting on the level of reporting here!

So, now that I have thoroughly buttered you up, let me offer my counter-point, Carnitas Paisa. I have nibbled both the carnitas and the cactus at Carnitas Uruapan, and well, maybe our long departed 3 initialed friend (a/k/a the Brilliant One) can rank these versions of long cooked pork confit, but I cannot. Yet, I prefer Carnitas Paisa.

Firstly, the Dona. She is the hostess with the mostess, the epitome of carnitas herself, in her flowing and un-embarrased mu-mu. (The vaguely Botero-esque portraits around Carnitas Paisa give further thought that this is a place that adores its flesh--Oprah should do one of her fat acceptance programs from this locale.) She takes extreme pride in her product, and you will taste that pride.

Second, in a realm of equal products (i.e., kettle cooked "real" carnitas), one must distinguish through other items. Caritas Paisa completes the meal with complimentary, convert anyone to chicharron, chicharron, a salsa from dried peppers that IS spicy, and as Maxwell Street taco warriors know, the ultimate weapon, fresh made tortillas. If Carnitas Paisa has one fault, it is its early closing, but the Dona has always ensured me that one should just eat earlier.

Carnitas Paisa
3525 West Fullerton Avenue
Chicago, IL 60647
(773) 278-2062

Vital Information wrote:Ah, to have such fine reporting on LTH! This must have been what that poster had in mine when commenting on the level of reporting here!

Aw shucks... [emoticon ligature intended]... Thanks!

... maybe our long departed 3 initialed friend (a/k/a the Brilliant One) can rank these versions of long cooked pork confit...

His comments on this issue would indeed be most welcome.

Yet, I prefer Carnitas Paisa... in a realm of equal products (i.e., kettle cooked "real" carnitas), one must distinguish through other items. Caritas Paisa completes the meal with complimentary, convert anyone to chicharron, chicharron, a salsa from dried peppers that IS spicy, and as Maxwell Street taco warriors know, the ultimate weapon, fresh made tortillas.

Very sound reasoning, VI, and I'm sure Amata and Lucantonius will be as happy as I am to get this recommendation. We very much enjoy cruising different neighbourhoods in the car (admittedly unnecessary fuel consumption but we are in other respects very environmentally friendly folk) and checking out a new taqueria or palacio de carnitas. Fresh made tortillas are certainly a major attraction, though in defense of Uruapan, I would say that the tortillas from El Popo that they serve are the best of the manufactured tortillas in the city that I've had and they were served up nice and hot. Concerning the complimentary chicharrón, it sounds great, though I'm not sure if I could eat my heart's (dis)content in carnitas and still find room in my arteries for a dose of pork rinds in the same meal. The temptation to overeat might be too great for me...

In any event, it's good to have quality places for carnitas in different parts of the city. We live near Pilsen and go there often, sometimes expressly to eat out but other times to hang out in a café, to shop or visit the museum, so Uruapan is a nice further nosh-option in that neighbourhood. But now we have the dilemma of having to choose between Don Pedro's and Uruapan. To compare those two properly, I'll have to eat in at Don Pedro's some time but this town is big enough for, no, deserves and demands multiple palaces of pork.

Thanks for the tip; we will hopefully have a chance to visit Paisa in the not too distant future.

Oh yeah, one question for you by way of comparison... I think Don Pedro's and Uruapan's carnitas are pretty much equally salty. How about Paisa's? Roughly the same?

A

Vital Information wrote:Ah, to have such fine reporting on LTH! This must have been what that poster had in mine when commenting on the level of reporting here!

So, now that I have thoroughly buttered you up, let me offer my counter-point, Carnitas Paisa. I have nibbled both the carnitas and the cactus at Carnitas Uruapan, and well, maybe our long departed 3 initialed friend (a/k/a the Brilliant One) can rank these versions of long cooked pork confit, but I cannot. Yet, I prefer Carnitas Paisa.

Firstly, the Dona. She is the hostess with the mostess, the epitome of carnitas herself, in her flowing and un-embarrased mu-mu. (The vaguely Botero-esque portraits around Carnitas Paisa give further thought that this is a place that adores its flesh--Oprah should do one of her fat acceptance programs from this locale.) She takes extreme pride in her product, and you will taste that pride.

Second, in a realm of equal products (i.e., kettle cooked "real" carnitas), one must distinguish through other items. Caritas Paisa completes the meal with complimentary, convert anyone to chicharron, chicharron, a salsa from dried peppers that IS spicy, and as Maxwell Street taco warriors know, the ultimate weapon, fresh made tortillas. If Carnitas Paisa has one fault, it is its early closing, but the Dona has always ensured me that one should just eat earlier.

Carnitas Paisa
3525 West Fullerton Avenue
Chicago, IL 60647
(773) 278-2062

By way of comparison, has anyone tried Carnitas Tariacuri at 16th and Throop? I'm trying to fins "the best" carnitas for a friend from Kansas City who is coming for a visit and this place has been mentioned as a possibility.

"our long departed 3 initialed friend (a/k/a the Brilliant One)..."

This makes me a bit anxious. Could you elaborate? I had been wondering of late where those often illuminating, always provocative posts had gone.

Server: Quieres carnitas con, con, hmmm...[makes vertical movement with hand over esophagus)
Me: Buche?
Server: Si, buche.
Me: Si!