“On [Top Chef], I added fish sauce and sesame seeds to a mole – if an old lady from Mexico City had seen this, she would have hit me with a wooden spoon, ”says Maria. But it was that kind of risk-taking that made her win. The same goes for the dishes I devour in her restaurant: tacos made from grilled cauliflower in Madras curry, orange peel and coriander oil; a mushroom-based chorizo; and the famous, ever-changing flights of chips and salsa. Today, Maria’s signature chips are paired with everything from Mexican chipotle salsa to Asian peanut sauce. On the one hand she says, “I’m going to give you a real Mexican experience – and that’s wonderful.” But she also adds: “I’ll make you a salsa that is influenced by Indian, Japanese or Italian cuisine can. ”And that, I can confirm, is nice too.
While Mexican desserts like tres-leches cakes, orejas (puff pastry biscuits), and conchas (sweet rolls) are abundant in Tucson, Sonoran sweets in particular are harder to find. But I was determined to find these coyotes. You’re an integral part of the town of Hermosillo, three hours south of the border, but difficult to pin down in Tucson. According to Maribel, “They’re still a craft industry in Sonora – and if you live in Tucson you’re probably talking about someone bringing them to you from Hermosillo.”
However, I found a local supplier: Dolce Pastello. When I stopped by yesterday, owner Aide Almazan told me that she has two varieties in stock: pineapple and pumpkin. For the record, I’m grateful for all of the coyotas, and the pineapple in particular was transcendent. Even so, I was disappointed not to find the traditional cane sugar-filled variety – and when Aide said she would try to get something for me, my stalking started.
Finally, while I’m waiting, I see her phone light up with the long-awaited call: The man I need is outside, so I jump off my bar stool and walk Aide to the parking lot. The man, who happens to be Aide’s stepfather, doesn’t know what hit him when I take into custody the basket that his wife, the baker Maria Ofilia Almazan Serecer, sent him here.
I apologize for my behavior and take my prey to a countertop where I bury it like a jackal. Caramel? Great! Strawberry? Why not? More pineapple? I take her. But the cane sugar is nowhere to be found. Then I look at the counter and see that Aide has put something aside for me. Without wasting time, I peel back the protective plastic. Shortly behind the rich, flaky surface, my teeth sink into the whole cane sugar filling. I’ve seen the ingredient – which looks a bit like a solid lump of crystallized honey – in Mexican stores, but never imagined how smooth it could be and how ethereal it could taste. Had I known, I might not have left Tucson at all.