The Critic knows for a fact that many of the 19 readers of his ramblings have been – probably repeatedly – to eat at the market in Santiago, so he will just post a few photos of the delicious breakfast enjoyed recently in the company of the always charming Better Half and a group of amigos.
The Casual Restaurant Critic recently had the opportunity to have dinner at the new Miyabi location on Prolongacion Montejo at 17 street, in the Colonia Mexico section of northern Merida. It is in a little shopping plaza called Plaza Arbolm named after the arbol (tree) that was incorporated in spectacular fashion into the design of the new Miyabi restaurant.
The sushi is as good as usual, nothing new to report there, and they are working out some kinks with the service due to the fact that waiters that want to work in a very busy environment are hard to come by, according to one of the owners.
The Critics only quibble would be the 3 point font used on the menu, which is impossible for most anyone to read, especially in the subdued lighting.
Kudos to the architectural firms who design the place (there were two) who decided to go against the time-honored local tradition of cutting down the tree that was obviously in the way. Maybe some other architects can learn from this, especially those charged with designing new residential developments.
The Critic recommends going if just to experience the amazing surroundings. And a little sashimi, why not.
On this site of the old penitentiary, in a park called the Park of Peace, there is a display of flowers happening that might be worth a visit if you are interested in flowers. The display has been presented in the form of an original design that incorporates Mayan cosmology and the personal vision of its creator, Martin Ramirez.
Martin and his wife Eugenia Morales, both agricultural engineers, started what was then a novel idea back in 1994: opening the city’s first exotic plant store in Merida’s first world-class mall, the Gran Plaza. Since then they have moved on to larger projects. This current project, one of only three in all of Mexico has been done in conjunction with the municipal government of Merida.
An interesting fact that should be considered when taking in this bounty of color: each plant had to be selected according to the time that the flowers would appear, in order to achieve all the colors at the same time, not an easy feat.
The exhibit opens at 9 AM and is a good morning activity, which can be combined with a posterior (or prior) visit to the nearby Santiago market for breakfast.
Some photos of my very recent visit to the Camino de las Flores:
Merida is not the charming small city it once was. Being the safest place in the country, close to international destinations by air and with things like queso relleno to eat, the city has attracted folks from all over, growing exponentially in the last few decades. Architects and construction companies in cahoots with indifferent and self-serving politicians delight in destroying the little green we have left and replacing it with heat-absorbing concrete and cement fraccionamientos and malls. So many malls. Parks? Nah. Not profitable, so no one cares about those. Climate? Buy air conditioning.
Again I digress. Back to the subject of traffic.
In the interest of science and traffic technology, it would be interesting to see what routes people are taking and how long does it take to complete these routes.
For example, my personal longest and most frustrating trip was from Calle 21 in Chuburna to the Altabrisa mall. This relatively short-distance jaunt turned into a 45 minutes nightmare odyssey of stop lights, topes and slinking bumper to bumper traffic. Thank goodness for podcasts, as Terry Gross was able to calm my increasing desire to unload a shotgun on those around me.
What about you? Perhaps one or more of the 19 readers currently reading this blog could chime in on their favorite (sarcasm) routes and the time it took them. And anything remarkable along the way that might have ocurred.
Inspired perhaps by listening to George Carlin reading his book, or my growing impatience as I get older, or the restrictions put on my free speech in an increasingly politically correct world, I feel the urge to let loose a little.
This post will perhaps remind early readers of my neurotic ramblings from over 15 years ago, when this blog morphed out of a print version of my thoughts, both positive and negative, on life in the formerly white city of Merida. For my Yucatecan readers, those who know me will acknowledge that not everything is perfect in this great city and those who don’t know me, will tell me to go home and worse. To the former, thank you for your realism, to the latter, go suck on an habanero chile: I am home thank you very much.
There are some important traffic routes in the city of Merida, of which I will address two, having just traversed the city from one end to the other on a Saturday: the avenida Jacinto Canek and the Prolongacion del Paseo de Montejo, both of which are a goddamn mess. One is named after a Mayan revolutionary, the other after the illustrious Spaniards that thought it would be cool to tear down the remains of the Mayan T’ho and build their version of a Merida in the new world. Both are congested disasters in terms of traffic flow and city planning.
First of all, there are no lanes. Three lanes become four, then two and then four again, without any warning and without any order whatsoever. Cars jostle for position and swing right and left, driven by people who apparently have received their driver’s license from a box of Choco-Krispis and without the faintest notion of how to operate a motor vehicle. If you are driving in a left lane, you will suddenly find yourself in a lane that is exclusively for left turns, no warnings. You, and a hundred other cars behind and in front of you, will then try to move into a right or center lane, avoiding the cars flying up alongside you and actually accelerating to prevent you from getting unstuck. Old people, older than me even, will straddle two lanes, completely oblivious to the concept of a lane and perhaps in their minds they are still in 1950, when traffic was much lighter and you could get away with such idiotic driving.
There are crosswalks, with their paint completely faded away, waiting for some brave soul to attempt a crossing; there are also raised pedestrian crosswalks that force you to come to an almost complete stop so as not to destroy your suspension. Interestingly, these are nothing more than elongated speed bumps or topes, since the crosswalks lead from one side of the street to a partially treed median, where there is no crosswalk and from where you are on your own, as there is no crosswalk leading from the median to the other side of the street. Who are the mentally-challenged city planners who come up with these designs, I wonder, as I ease my car over yet another giant obstacle in the road. Having any sort of clue is not a requirement for their taxpayer-funded positions, it seems.
Interestingly, the one place where there SHOULD be a raised crosswalk or – mínimo – some yellow paint, is on 60, at the Tecnologico. Here, students are constantly running across the street without any bumps to slow down traffic. I always marvel at the fact that nothing has been done here, when other streets feature these suspension-rattlers so prominently and in less-trafficked locations.
Turn signals on vehicles driven by the afore-mentioned Choco Krispi license holders are unused and vehicles sashay from left to right and right to left, the drivers left guessing as to where the lanes might be, as paint is obviously in very short supply and so whatever lane marker was painted a month ago has now been washed away
Traffic policemen, who may or may not have ever driven a vehicle of their own, direct traffic in such a way as to further make life miserable for everyone else, creating bottlenecks and traffic jams beyond anyone sane’s worst nightmare. The traffic lights, untimed and randomly switching from green to red and taking at least a thousand years to change, create further lines and congestion.
It can take you a solid 45 minutes to drive from say, 47 street and Montejo to the roundabout at Chedraui Selecto and the Gran Plaza mall. This roundabout, created by the same mindless planners as those in charge of the crosswalk tope, is a two and a half lane affair, funneling traffic from 5 lanes back into 4 to where Cordemex meets Costco. Then there is a further delight once you pass Liverpool and head into what is the area around the newest monster-mall name Via Montejo/The Harbor, where you will find a traffic light on a 3 lane road that does not align at all with the 3 lanes you will be taking once you get through the traffic light. If you are in the left lane, you must then force your way right and make that person in the middle lane also move to his or her right, often accompanied by much handwaving and horn honking. The engineers who design these roads should really face a firing squad for their complete and utter ineptitude.
There are more cases like these, of course.
In el centro there are plenty of one-way streets, where you will be happily driving along when suddenly you see oncoming traffic and realize that for a half-block section, the street has unbeknownst to you become a two-way affair.
On the Itzaes avenue, also called Avenida Aviacion or the street where the trannies gather at night, the same lane challenges and lack of paint make driving a treat.
I thank you, dear reader, for allowing me to get this off my chest. Happy and safe driving out there!
Traditionally, in the Yucatan you eat frijol con puerco (pork and beans in English speaking countries and feijoada en Brasil) on Mondays and if you are in the town of Tixcocob, a half hour from Merida, you can enjoy this classic dish prepared in the pib, or underground pit oven.
Pueblo Pibil is a beautiful restaurant, with attentive and courteous service and the food is really outstanding.
Once upon a time, on a Merida intersection, there was a great property to build a city park. Unfortunately, this being Merida, it became yet another shopping mall, complete with a hotel, a Best Buy, another Walmart (Merida needed another Walmart) a movie theater and the obligatory Telcel store, along with VIP’s, Fridays and some other lesser-known restaurants. Today the Critic will discuss one of these, the interestingly-named Partners and Brothers Burgerlab. Or Burguerlab.
Why is it called Partners and Brothers? I had a look at the website to find out more, and found the typical message of FUN! and FRESH! and COOL! with lots of really great English words sprinkled throughout (at the top of the website: HOME / SOMOS / FOOD / DRINKS / CONTACTO – why?) to make it all so much more international. Burger is spelled Burguer and then it isn’t, which shows an impressive eye for detail considering it is in their name. The annoying video on the home page says that at this restaurant, which seems like a clone of the Fridays or Bostons concept, at one point says: enjoy… partners, with your brothers. Um, OK. I don’t understand, but maybe it’s in English so that’s cool in itself, regardless of any possible meaning. By the way, the video and its ear-worm jingle will continue playing as long as you are on the website, ad nauseum.
The experience was a mix. The food is perfectly acceptable: the MiniCritic had a half kilo of BBQ ribs, which were tasty enough and the Critic had the Louisiana Burger, a monstrously high collection of many ingredients stacked on home-made bread. The bread kind of fell apart quickly, with the juices of the meat and the caramelized onions, but the flavor overall was very good. Home-made chips (as in potato chips) are an option and while they were fine, they seemed to have been sprinkled with either lemon or vinegar and the sour taste was not to the Critics liking. A dessert of apple tart, described in flowery terms as soaked in Jack Daniels blah blah blah, was frankly, inedible. The coffee is of the Nespresso machine variety.
Service, as is so often the case in Merida, was spotty. The waiter was friendly enough, when he was around. To get the drink order, one must get up to get a waiters attention. Many staff members are lounging about, absorbed in their smartphones and whatever exciting stuff is going on in there.
Considering the place had been open for three hours, you would think that things would be ready for the evening rush. However, sauces in glass bottles on the table were not full and had that look like they had been there since last month, with crusty bits inside and a generally unappealing look to them.
A visit to the bathroom revealed that there was no paper towel in the dispenser to dry ones hands after washing, that in spite of the obligatory cleaning schedule on the door which obviously no one was paying any attention to.
Dirty dishes on the table containing rib bones and burger/burguer carcasses had to be looked at for the longest time until the Critic, on his way to the bathroom, interrupted the waiter who was smartphoning with his compañeros, and mentioned that he might want to clear away the dishes.
That caesar salad! A caesar salad is a caesar salad. If you leave out the dressing with the anchovies, throw in a tomato and sprinkle with pumpkin seeds you no longer have the right to call this a caesar salad. Call it a bloody pumpkin seed salad, or a Mayan salad, or make up another name. It’s NOT a caesar salad for crying out loud.
So overall, this restaurant does not impress. The Critic suspects that it is popular with the drinking crowd in the evenings, especially on the terrace where there is a nice breeze and it is quite pleasant, in spite of the horrific view of traffic and concrete that makes up the area around Altabrisa. Then again, with drinks on the expensive side, including a bottle of scotch you can enjoy with your brothers (or partners) for a paltry $13,000 pesos, the target market might be a bit fuzzy.
Verdict? Don’t bother. Friday’s is directly across the hall from them, on the second floor of the mall, and they have their act together and will provide you with a more predictable American-style food experience. Partners and Brothers is a poor imitation.