You can take the Awkward Girl to Mexico City, wine and dine her, but you can't take the Awkward out of the Girl : A thoughtful review of the world renowned restaurant Pujol

I have this thing, where G will treat me to something amazing, something that my awkward little self is unused too and I will inevitably prove that as much as I want to appear like someone that is accustomed to such treatment, I'm not. In fact, it's so outside the whelm of my own possibilities, it's like I manifest the situation to turn into another embarrassing episode. You would think I would be quite accustomed to such things at this point, but I'm always surprised when they happen to me, each and every time.

Case in point: Madrid, last summer. It was my birthday week and G, who had been checking on hotels for months, saving up all of his Marriott points, for months, got a hotel room where dreams are quite literally made. It had two bathrooms. TWO. One bathroom is not enough now that I know two can be a thing. Once you have two, you can never go back; in fact it would be cruel to even ask that of a person.

After checking in, G went to the gym and I decided to treat myself to a luxurious shower in the master bathroom. Long story short, I flooded that bathroom. Now when I say flooded, I mean at least an inch of water that no amount of towels used could mop up. And believe me, I used all of them. And to make matters worse, as I was trying to frantically clean up the massive lake that was now in the bathroom, I heard a faint knock on the door, but I disregarded it, as you would, when you're in a new country, don't speak the language, and have Noah's flood to clean up. I ignore people when they come to the front door at home, surely that would work in this situation. Wrong! I heard a nose and a male voice. I panicked of course, grabbed the nearest towel, even though there were perfectly good, amazingly soft robes, if I would have just opened one of the closet doors. But I hurriedly wrapped the towel instead around myself, peaked around the corner. A small Spanish man had entered the room. His eyes widened when he saw my half naked self and then he began to explain why he was there amidst, I believe, a heartfelt apology or two. I quickly stated, "No habla espanol" and then proceeded to brokenly communicate that my husband was not there. I have no idea if he understood me.

"I think it's my terrible accent," I told G once. "That's why no one can understand my Spanish."

"No," he said. "You're not saying the words correctly."

And that would make sense, since half the time I speak Spanish to a native speaker and I'm met with questioning eyes, confused looks.

The Spanish man soon scuttled away, with an embarrassed nod or two thrown in my direction. G can go into the whys and hows of what I did to flood that bathroom. Lots of science and math would be involved, but it still did not change the fact that it happened, to me.

Again, in Venice, same summer, through his investigative skills and perseverance, we got to stay at the St. Regis. Upon entering our room, a bottle of a peach cocktail was sitting on the table with a note explaining how happy the hotel staff was that we were staying with them and to enjoy this free bottle, on them. Hells to the yeah, I thought. I was fully prepared to finish the bottle but I needed some ice for my glass. I searched the hotel room and then searched some more, but as much as I looked I couldn’t find the ice bucket.

“G,” I said. “I will get us some ice, but where's the bucket.”

He sadly shook his head as he tilted it to one side with a sigh. “ Babe, there’s not an ice machine in a hotel like this; you call the concierge and they will bring you whatever you want.” I didn’t of course call the concierge because you know, anxiety, but I did drink that bottle, every last warm drop of it.

And don't get me started on the time I caught my sleeve on fire at a nice sushi restaurant in front of my in laws, or the time I was trying to get meat off of a skewer and it shot across the room. Or the aqua mineral/melon debacle of 2021. The list can go on and on.

So, when it was suggested that we go to Pujol, one of the top restaurants in the world, imagine how I felt. I could foresee mistakes being made, wine being spilt, mouth unknowingly being stained as my teeth became embedded with some sort of greenery that would stay wedged between a front tooth until I was back in the hotel room and looked in the mirror.

A little background information about the restaurant first. Pujol, between 2011 to 2022, was consistently ranked one of the top restaurants in the world, receiving two Michelin stars in 2020. It's highest ranking was 5th in 2022 by the The World's 50 Best Restaurant List, as well as being recognized as the top restaurant in North America that same year. It opened in 2000 by Chief Enrique Olvera with the vision to showcase traditional Mexican cuisine. Jesus Duron is now the chef de cuisine, but maintains the original vision of the restaurant.

Needless to say, I was excited for this experience, and was more than willing to forgo another embarrassing mishap or two to have it.

Pujol is located in one of the nicer parts of Mexico City, but if you didn’t know it was there you might walk right past it, we actually did and we were looking for it.

G walked confidently to the front desk looking like he owned the place, I naturally lagged behind unsure and a bit nervous, what if our reservation hadn’t gone through? Sometimes I stand a few steps back when in an unfamiliar situation, my fight or flight instinct always being more flight than fight.

We were 15 minutes early by the way. Miracles do happen.

The restaurant itself is not very large. There is inside and outside options that seamlessly merge from one to the other. We were seated quite close to two other couples on the inside portion. I wish we would have had a bit more privacy. I kept getting distracted by their conversations and then began to make up stories about each of their relationships, but I couldn't share my thoughts with G because we were sitting so close to them. No fun!

There were seven course to be had and I chose to also purchase the drink pairing where they paired traditional Mexican beverages with five of the courses. It’s important to note here that this seven course tasting menu is set, with a few exceptions. I noticed the other couples shared a few of our choices, but others were quite different and not even listed on our menu, so there may be more than one tasting menu to choose from, I’m not really sure, but if you know drop a comment explaining. The menu or menus do change seasonally, except for the mole, and I will get to that little piece of heaven a bit later.

Upon being seated, the waiter, as all waiters and restaurants that cater to English speakers usually do, asked which language I would like to have the menu and instructions. G looked at me. "It's up to you," he said and me having a rare bold moment of confidence said, "Let's do Spanish, I'm practicing." The waiter nodded his head with a half grin and then proceeded the instructions in Spanish. I was lost in 2.5 seconds. Needless to say it was around the third or fourth course, my confusion etched into the lines of my face, that our waiters switched over to English.

So, my apologies that my descriptions of each course are not as accurate as they would have been if I had just said that I preferred being told them in English.

Course #1: Botanas or Snacks: Two baby elotes, potato stuffed gorditas with chili mayonnaise, and lychees

All of this you can find as street food in Mexico. The elotes being my absolute favorite. You can pick up a huge corn on the cub smeared with mayonnaise and a white crumbled cheese, or have it rubbed in lime juice and chili, almost anywhere you walk in Mexico City. Of course, this was an elevated version of the traditional elote and was covered with some sort of orange spicy sauce. Gorditas you can as well find on the streets. Little old lady's dropping them into vats of hot oil, fried to perfection, but they usually are stuffed with different kinds of meat and a white cheese and cream.

The presentation, as you can see was impeccable, however I almost prefer the street corn over this high end version. I like the larger kernels of corn and mayo unceremoniously dripping down my chin with each bite and chili powder that burns your mouth, your tongue upon contact. The gorditas, however, melted in your mouth and the lychee was the perfect sweetness to round out the first course.

Course #2: We got to pick between a ceviche or a parota salad

G choice the ceviche.

The ceviche had big chunks of shrimp, octopus, and fish. However, what made this dish different from the traditional ceviche was the sauce; it was thick, almost like a soup. All in all it was very refreshing. The lime flavor came through, but was not quite as citrusy as I prefer.

I opted for the salad.

The salad was a reconstruction of tomatoes, kidney beans, guamuchil, which is a tree that produces these fleshy sweet edible seeds, and parota which is also a tree that makes edible seeds as well. The whole thing, put together, was fresher and lighter than the ceviche. I could definitely taste the sweetness of the seeds and mixed with the lime in the vinaigrette it was very refreshing.

The pairing drink was a nonalcoholic kabocha, which was very sweet and refreshing. I was glad it was not sour like some kabochas I have had before. I tasted primarily pineapple in the drink.

Course #3: We got to pick again between two dishes.

G chose the wild muscle birria.

A traditional Mexican birria is usually a slow cooked stew made with very tender goat, lamb, or beef. But in this birria they used mussels and the sauce was not as thick, which made it a lighter version of the traditional. It of course came with tortillas, to be used as the foundation to put some of the meat and sauce upon.

G really enjoyed this nontraditional birria, but if you don't like fresh mussels than it probably would not be for you.

I chose the Aztec cake.

It was a lot lighter than G's dish and another reconstruction. The way it was layered reminded me of vegetarian lasagna. It had layers of of choyota, which is a tropical American vine that yields an edible root. Choyota has the texture of a pear, but the flavors of cucumber and it was all put together in a light tomato sauce, hence why it looked and felt like a lasagna. Overall, this dish was extremely light and fresh.

They paired this dish with a Mexican beer called Cielito Lindo, a Vienna Lager that originates in Jalisco, Mexico. This was actually the highlight of this dish for me. It had a woodsy vanilla flavor and was absolutely delicious. The heartiness of the beer was the perfect compliment to the lightness of the cake.

Course #4: Our choices tlincluded a full blood wagyu, zarandeado fish and quelites salad, or (what we didn't choose) a wild sweet potato in the embers, male peanut, and the children of amaranth. I don't know really what any of that meant, besides the sweet potato, but it was a vegetarian dish and G does not do "that shit," he told me later.

G chose the wagyu.

It was short ribs that were in a roasted adobe sauce and Monte Verdolagas cactus with a slice of avocado. Tortillas were also included and as our waiter said, everything in Mexico you eat with a tortilla. I thought the meat was delicious, however, G thought that even though the meat was a great quality cut, the way that it was cooked was not rare enough, so flavors that could have been great were just mediocre.

I chose the zarandeado fish.

This dish traditionally features a whole fish, typically a snapper that is butterflied, marinated, and grilled over hot coals. I loved the fish. They kept the skin on and it was crispy, lemony, with some sweetness mixed in. A small quelites salad was on the side. It resembled more of a spinach salad with an almost nonexistent vinaigrette.

This dish was paired with a Mexican brute. I should have taken a picture of it, but the waiter whisked the bottle away before I had the opportunity and I didn't want to ask him to bring it back; that's incredibly silly because these waiters were superb, catering to my every need. If I dropped my napkin or purse they appeared out of no where to pick it up for me. I really liked the brut, however, it was a bit sweeter than brutes I've had in the past.

Feeling at this point -

Course #5: And now the highlight and what this restaurant is in fact known for, the mole madre, or mother mole.

This mole is a fresh mole, which is the light brown center, paired with a 1500 day aged mole, which is the outer darker ring. Our waiter said to start in the center and work your way out and of course, tortillas were provided to scoop up all of that deliciousness. G had to show me how to pinch the edges of the tortilla so it makes a spoon. I struggled with doing this of course and just smushed the tortilla flat side down, as a true white girl would, to absorb any and all of the extra deliciousness.

I have had mole before and it tasted more like the center section, a bit sour with hints of coffee, however, the outer edge, the part that had been aged for all of those days was savory, woodsy, and had hints of dark chocolate. It was heavenly, no matter how full I was, I wanted another plate of it.

I read that at one point, when the chef changed the menu as is done seasonally, he got rid of the mole, and there was a slight uproar. So now if you ever go to Pujol, rest assured, the mole will be there to greet you and you will fall in love with it as I did.

I resisted the urge to pick up the plate and lick the excess or use my fingers, since we ran out of tortillas.

The mole dish was paired with a tequila, one of G's favorites actually, The Family Reserve Extra Anejo. I, of course, love this tequila as well. We actually have several bottles of it at home. When I moved in with G I had no idea that this was a sipping tequila, with special tequila flutes, which I filled to the brim, such a big no no for the tequila aficionado, especially when it is also quite expensive.

Course #6: Dessert. Our choices: A coconut custard, a rice lychee pudding with a toasted vanilla fritter on top, or a Chocolate tamale with ice cream.

G chose the rice lychee pudding.

G, for the record loves loves rice pudding and it did taste how it traditionally should. It wasn't overly sweet or heavy.

I chose the chocolate tamale of course. I love anything chocolate.

I had a bit of trouble getting the cake out of the tamale. G had to to undo the strings on each side for me, but once the chocolate was unveiled, it was very dark, but again not overly sweet. The cake was spongy and had a dark coffee flavor although the texture was a bit gritty, but not in a bad way; I could taste the individual chocolate pieces. The chocolate was from Soconusco and the cajeta ice cream was from Sayula. The ice cream tasted like a typical vanilla ice cream and paired well with the darkness of the cake.

The drink pairing was one of the best drinks I've ever had. It was a tequilla blanco and steamed milk. I would never have thought to pair these two things together, but the flavors complimented each other so well. The tequilla was strong, but the sweetness of the milk combatted that.

Since it was our anniversary celebration, they included this cake as well.

It was a mango cake wrapped in a banana leaf. The cake itself was incredibly spongy and very light and fresh. The perfect ending to this meal, I thought.

But we weren't done quite yet. They then brought out three small pieces of Mexican chocolate and this almost put me over the edge, but we shared them anyway. They were very rich and dark and just small little bites. It would have been perfectly paired with a red wine, but I couldn't have fit another thing into my stomach and that's saying a lot for me especially since I do have a love affair with most wines.

My final take away is that I would definitely go back, just for the mole if nothing else. The drink pairing menu was not worth the money in my opinion. Next time I would just get a couple glasses of wine.

I was treated like a queen or princess, at the very least. The staff was so generous, nice, and catered to our every want and need. They even escorted us out of the restaurant and into our uber.

I was proud that I didn't catch my dress on fire or flood the restaurant. I did have a cold, so was trying to discreetly blow my nose amidst many a tissue that I hid in my purse after each quiet blow, so as not to disgust the people sitting around me.

We left Pujol with full stomachs and an amazing experience that I will remember for a long time to come.