Word of the Day

otro / OH-tro / another

Good utility word. The phrase that pays is otra cerveza, por favor.

¿qué onda? / kay OWN-da? / what’s up?

If you’d like to be something of a social butterfly and interact with other people in Mexico, phrases like qué onda become a good way to informally greet others, along with other ones you probably know like qué paso or qué tal. Be sure to use it with a friendly tone of voice, since qué onda can go from “what’s up” to “what’s your problem” based on body language and inflection — we don’t want any big Samoan dudes bodyslamming anyone based on miscommunication, now, do we?

arrachera / arr-ah-CHAIR-ah / skirt steak

A popular choice for tacos al carbon stalls or on top of chilaquiles, arrachera is what we call skirt steak (inside skirt), usually marinated or tenderized via machine. It’s also usually the main cut in carne asada, although that’s a little more north Mexico and not so much Mexico City. You might also see this referred to as falda, which literally translates as “skirt.”

lo siento / low see-EN-to / I’m sorry
disculpe / diss-COOL-pay / excuse me
perdón / pear-DON / pardon me
permiso / per-MEE-soh / pardon me

Some more “helpful” words to know to be a more polite and well-rounded traveler. After all, you want to be able to pull off being Canadian, you gotta act the part.

Lo siento is the most Canadian of the apologies — you use it when you are offering condolences, or you truly are sorry about something (rather than just a throwaway ‘excuse me’ kind of sorry), or when you’ve got a couple of giant Samoan dudes looking at you like you’ve just misdemeaned their entire family.

Disculpe is the ‘excuse me sir can I get your attention’ sort of ‘excuse me.’

Perdón is the ‘sorry for bumping into you like a savage’ sort of ‘pardon me.’ This is the throwaway apology and is probably good for most other uses — so if you only remember one, this is probably the one.

Permiso is the ‘you’re in my way’ sort of ‘pardon me,’ good for getting out of metro trains and through crowds.

verdad / VAYR-dad / true

If I didn’t write it down, we’d all forget it. You know es verdad.

barbacoa / bar-ba-KO-ah / pit-roasted lamb

A regional specialty of the Mexican state of Hidalgo. Whole lambs are roasted in giant pits, wrapped in maguey (agave) leaves, usually overnight, and then the meat is taken out and sold in chunks. There’s usually also a giant pot placed underneath the lamb to catch drippings and make an amazing consommé. It’s usually a special occasion dish, due to the long cooking time, but there are a few restaurants in town who are only open on the weekends and bring whole batches of barbacoa in from Hidalgo. Definitely worth making the time and effort to enjoy.

Map location : El Hidalguense, Roma

la cuenta / la COO-en-tah / the check

Trying to hit some of the “necessary” words for travelling. You know, hello, thank you, donde está los baños, etc. Normally it’s enough to say “la cuenta, por favor” and you don’t need to get all formal.

relámpago / rell-am-PAH-go / lightning

I kinda feel like I should write an Underground Wrestling Primer as well? Most lucha libre matches are best two out of three falls with somewhat convoluted rules (maybe only convoluted if you know how American wrestling works?) and will involve teams of three wrestlers, but every once in a while you may see a match relámpago, or lightning match, where it’s a one-on-one match with a ten-minute time limit. These are usually to promote a very specific grudge match, or set up title defenses. Or, if you’re Dragon Lee in April 2018, it’s to tear your quad against Mistico and be taken off in a stretcher.

Felt for that guy. He looked in legit pain.

ahogada / ah-ho-GAH-dah / drowned

This is not included because I feel like I need to teach you words to say about your eventual torture experience, but because there’s a food that I’ve been wanting to try called a torta ahogada, or drowned sandwich. Basically they take a torta of whatever filling you want and dunk the entire thing in some sort of spicy tomato broth, which soaks into the bread. Then they put the whole thing in a plastic bag and expect you to still eat it with your hands.

Map location : El Pialadero de Guadalajara (Condesa)

estoy pedo / eh-stoy pedo / I am drunk

I figured we needed a better theme phrase than “no michelada” and “no pene” so there’s this. Pedo literally translates as “fart” so I have no idea where this slang came from. Alternately, estás pedo is “you’re drunk,” you know, if you feel the need to be all judgy.

A brief paragraph about the two forms of “I am” in Spanish — estoy and soy. Estoy is when you are some adjective — estoy bien (I am good), estoy mal (I am sick), estoy pedo. Soy, like the Beck song (or the Ritchie Valens song), is for when you are some noun — soy un perdedor (I’m a loser baby), soy capitan (soy capitan), soy Canadiense.

Chilango / chee-LAHNG-oh / specifically of Mexico City

This is one of those “both sides of the street” slang terms: Residents of Mexico City use it proudly, referring to themselves and things exclusive to Mexico City; outsiders use it derogatorily, to mean “tacky” or “obnoxious.” Since I normally just think of tacos al pastor when I think Chilango, I prefer the first interpretation.

c¿cuánto cuesta? / KWAN-to KWEST-ah / how much does this cost?

Yes, it will require you being able to parse some numbers, and maybe I should put those into this entry as well, but you’ll want this easy phrase to ask how much things are like: bags of crickets from grandmas in doorways, weird fruit from market vendors, quesadillas from street merchants, wrestling masks from the vendors around Arena Mexico — I think you get my point.

Cien is exactly one hundred. Any other number will use ciento (doscientos is 200, for example). Our address, should you need to tell a cabby or end up inviting weird people back to the apartment, is Avenida Sonora Ciento Treinta y Cuatro.

H will say “don’t put ideas in their heads” but you know it could happen.

chamoy / cha-MOY / pickled fruit condiment

Chamoy is a sauce or condiment made from pickled fruit, usually plums, apricots, mangoes, or some combination of the three. The fruit is pickled with salt and vinegar, and then the liquid is spiked up with chiles. Chamoy is, all at once, salty, sweet, sour, savory, and spicy, and is a popular condiment in Mexico.

You can get chamoy ice cream (or on top of raspados, shaved ice), get it on top of fresh fruit, and chamoy is one of the key ingredients in Dorilocos, which I think probably needs its own entry. You can even sometimes find micheladas made with chamoy instead of tomato juice.

Future beer idea: chamoy sour. I’ve actually had this on the list for quite a while.

cachete / ca-CHET-ay / cheek

cabeza / ca-BAY-za / head

As America gets into this whole “nose-to-tail” cooking mindset, it’s not uncommon to see cheeks on the menu — in fact, H and I had them as a starter course when we went to Old Major the first time.

But “nose-to-tail” butchering is less of a hipster trend and more of a necessity in Mexico — and it’s not uncommon to see more “questionable” cuts of meat and offal in the taco menus on street stands, usually all simmering together in a giant vat of beef or pork fat, that will then get chopped up and put into a taco.

I wanted to specifically call out cachete because, in my experience, pork cheeks are tender and yummy, and I could see that being a “safe” choice at a taco stand full of iffy looking cuts of meat. Cabeza is a mix of all the different head options, chopped up together.

Some other “head” options to single out:

pendejo / pen-DAY-ho / stupid

While technically pendejo translates as stupid, it’s used in common Mexican more as a slang term like “idiot” or “dumbass.” I take full responsibility teaching you all slang terms in the hopes you won’t go shouting them at locals, and will just use them to describe each other. Don’t let me down.

pulque / POOL-kay / fermented agave juice

Pulque is an ancient fermented beverage from pre-Hispanic times. It’s slightly thick, more than slightly sour, about 4-6% ABV, and is enjoying a bit of a resurgence in Mexico as young Mexicans try and get back in touch with their heritage.

Pulque comes from the maguey plant, an agave subspecies that produces one giant batch of sap after twelve years of maturation. This sap can be made into agave syrup, distilled into mezcal, or allowed to go through its natural fermentation process and become pulque. Pulque fermentation is a lot like sourdough fermentation, where a seed starter batch is added to the sap and allowed to kickstart the natural fermentation process.

Pulque can be served either in its natural state, or mixed with fruit juice or other flavors as a pulque curado. It’s a good match with barbacoa, which uses the leaves of the maguey plant in the cooking process.

apuesta / ah-poo-ES-ta / bet

Masks are the heart of lucha libre wrestling — a superpowered secret identity that lets ordinary taxi drivers and teachers become high-flying daredevils or back street sluggers fighting for glory in arenas around the world. The mask is the most important piece of gear a luchador owns.

And since it’s the most valuable item in lucha libre, sometimes it becomes a bargaining chip — a trophy for a long-running feud, collateral for a championship shot — and a lucha apuesta is a match where a luchador puts his mask on the line.

Win? Keep your mask. Lose? Remove your mask in front of the whole crowd and reveal your everyday identity.

The secrecy of the identities behind the masks is crazy. There are now some family dynasties where it’s easy to guess the sons once you know the father’s identity, but it still comes as a huge shock when big-name luchadors lose their masks. We’ll likely see Atlantis wrestle in Mexico City, and this cat is in his late fifties and has survived about 20 luchas apuestas, and no one has any idea who he really is.

chilaquiles / chee-la-KEE-lays / tortilla chips in sauce

H and I always talk about how weird it is that Americans have specific foods that they ONLY eat for breakfast, and no other times of the day. I remember what a treat it was to have pancakes for dinner when I was a kid. It was like pure chaos, cats and dogs eating breakfast together!

This seems to always come up travelling. Japanese love ramen all times of the day, especially breakfast. Germans have cold cuts all day long. And Mexico is no different, where things like tamales and chilaquiles, things that we probably consider more lunch or dinner, are popular breakfast choices.

Chilaquiles are totopos (Mexican tortilla chips, usually more strip-shaped than triangles), covered in salsa, and then topped with a usual set of accoutrements — chicken, crema, cheese, maybe some onions, maybe an egg especially in the morning. Commonly seen on menus all day long, they’re one of my go-to breakfast choices.

One of the things I added to the map for the first time this year was a stand that sells tortas de chilaquil, or chilaquiles sandwiches. Evidently the line gets ridiculously long close to lunch time, but they open up to sell for breakfast, so this might be the first stop on Wednesday!

claro / CLARR-oh / of course

Obviously, the most common word you’ll hear as an affirmative answer in Mexico is going to be si but claro is going to be a close second — it literally translates as “clear” or “clearly,” but you’ll hear it used more like “of course” or “I get what you’re saying.” Honestly I use it most often when I get the gist of what someone is saying, but I know if they keep talking, it will only confuse me again.

Advanced usage: claro que sí — same, only more emphatic. 

peligroso / pell-i-GROSS-o / dangerous

I was watching the Arsenal v. Sporting Lisbon game on TV yesterday afternoon, and the only channel showing it was the Spanish-language channel, and since that’s usually good for a great GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL celebration, the game ended 0-0 so this one was actually lacking a bit. But they did keep describing a player as “muy peligroso” and I realized I had no idea what that meant! Now let’s hope that we don’t actually have any reason to know what this word means. You gotta figure if Russ goes tequila loco that the locals will have more colorful things to call him that just “dangerous.”

(It was Aaron Ramsey, if you’re curious, and he really hasn’t been super peligroso this season.)

chapulin / chap-ooh-LEEN / cricket

I think maybe Heather needs to write this one, since I did NOT try one last year — but now, due to the peer pressure of just about everyone else being all gung-ho to eat them, I am also all-in on crunching through legs and carapaces. These crickets are originally from Oaxaca and get toasted up with lime and maguey worm salt and sometimes a little chile. Usually you’ll find a little old lady in a doorway with a giant basket of the things, who will bag up a handful for your snacking delight. 

Don’t confuse this with the Atrevida beer Chapulin Colorado, which is an Irish red ale and (despite what you might think from the name) doesn’t actually contain any crickets. 

siesta / see-ESS-ta / mid-day nap

So … I fell down on the job about educating my peers. Totally my fault. In my defense it was a busy couple of weeks.

Since we’re going in the winter, it may not be critical to understand the concept of a siesta, but there’s a very good reason that folks have a huge lunch around 2 and then go and snooze it off — it’s freaking hot in the summer, and the best place to let your stomach digest all those tacos is in bed. Or on the couch, I’m not gonna judge, you siesta where you want.

albondigas / al-BOHN-dee-gahs

Sure, I can tell you that these are Mexican meatballs, sometimes served in gravy with root vegetables, sometimes served in a brothy soup, but honestly this is just a great word to say no matter what it means. Albondigas. Delicioso.

manzana / mahn-ZAHN-a

Had a nice day out at the new Stem Ciders supercompound in Lafayette today, eating sausage and corn bread and drinking a variety of ciders. I don’t really remember much apple hanging around in Mexico — most of the fruit is more tropical and less hardy or stonefruit — but I figured this was more appropriate for today than whatever the Spanish word for “pimento cheese” is. Great place, would be really nice for a future Field Trip in the fall, when you can sit around the fire pit and look at the mountains in the distance.

abierto / ah-bee-YER-to

cerrado / ser-AH-do

This actually is Sesame Street stuff, I’m pretty sure I remember Grover teaching me about abierto (open) and cerrado (closed) — maybe with a door? A box? I don’t know. I do know that it’s relevant for shops, restaurants, and other businesses that will have signs on the window.

Zocalo / ZOH-cah-loh

At the center of Mexico City’s old town is the Zocalo, an enormous main square that plays host for state functions, public protests, military activities, and the odd heavy metal worship session on Easter. (By “odd” I don’t mean it happens infrequently, I’m sure it happens every year, but man was it strange.) The square is immense — 240 meters on a side — and has a giant flagpole in the center, bearing the Mexican flag.

On the north side of the square is the Metropolitan Cathedral, and on the eastern edge is the Palacio Nacional, the seat of the executive branch of the Mexican government, and home to a magnificent Diego Rivera mural depicting the history of Mexico.

torta / TOR-tah

You may think “obviously torta means cake” and you’d be correct … ish. Torta does mean cake in traditional Spanish, but in Mexico, it’s actually a sandwich, made on special rolls called bolillos and filled with traditional Mexican ingredients. The fillings can vary from fried eggs to grilled meats, but usually there’s a base of black beans at the bottom, and some vegetables and avocado on top.

Maybe surprisingly, not EVERYTHING in Mexico is served on tortillas!

tardes / TARR-des

It’s probably obvious even to those of us who learned the bulk of our Spanish from Sesame Street that “buenos dias” is “good morning” and “buenos noches” is “good evening,” but you’ll get a lot of use out of “buenos tardes” which is “good afternoon.”

(Not to be confused with the time-travelling phone booth with the same pronunciation.)

Condesa / con-DESS-ah

Sure, Mexico City is one of the largest cities in the world, but most of the adventures in this trip will likely be in two or three boroughs and six or eight colonias, or neighborhoods, in the center of the city. La Condesa is the neighborhood where the apartment is, and it will be important to know this when you’re getting cabs or Ubers.

La Condesa is the hip, trendy neighborhood of Mexico City, one of the centers of recent Mexican gentrification, and home to up and coming restaurants, cafes, art galleries, and a pair of beautiful parks that bookend the apartment — Parque México and Parque España. Because of the rise of gentrification in the area, there’s a lot of interesting and unique international businesses.

Barrio Chino / BAH-ree-o CHEE-no

Until you get there, I think it’s hard to comprehend the scope and scale of Mexico City, and maybe a little hard to think of it as anything other than taco stands and margarita bars. But the reality is that Mexico City is bigger in both size and population than either New York or Los Angeles, and is an actual metropolitan area and not just some beach town. It has skyscrapers, a subway system, and a varied population. So this means it also has its own immigration history and its own ethnic neighborhoods. Europeans, Middle Easterners, and even the Chinese have all come to Mexico City and stamped their own identity onto parts of the city.

Just to the east of the Zocalo and south of Alameda Park is Mexico’s own Chinatown, or Barrio Chino. 

The Chinese presence started in the late 1800s when Mexico was working to modernize and expand its railway system, and grew up until the 1930s, when Mexico actually attempted to expel the ethnic Chinese from the city. Today, Barrio Chino is only about two square blocks, but is still a home for a handful of traditional Chinese shops and restaurants (albeit mostly staffed by Mexicans).

miel / mee-YELL

There will undoubtedly be a lot of food words in these lessons, since we definitely don’t want anyone to accidentally order stomach or brains or ant eggs, but there are certainly some critical words that will be required on a daily basis, and honey is probably one of them. Despite what our evening class practiced, café con miel is likely not an actual thing that a barista will readily have available, so as a corollary, we recommend learning “¿tienes miel?” which means “do you have honey?”