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Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America
The nationally syndicated columnist and bestselling author of ¡Ask a Mexican! presents a fascinating and tasty trip through the history and culture of Mexican food in this country, uncovering great stories and charting the cuisine’s tremendous popularity in el Norte.Nationally syndicated columnist and bestselling author of ¡Ask a Mexican! Gustavo Arellano presents a tasty trip through the history and culture of Mexican food in this country, uncovering great stories and charting the cuisine’s tremendous popularity north of the border. Arellano’s fascinating narrative combines history, cultural criticism, food writing, personal anecdotes, and Jesus on a tortilla. In seemingly every decade for over a century, America has tried new culinary trends from south of the border, loved them, and demanded the next big thing. As a result, Mexican food dominates American palates to the tune of billions of dollars in sales per year, from canned refried beans to tortilla wraps and ballpark nachos. It’s a little-known history, one that’s crept up on this country and left us better for it.
322 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 10, 2012
147 people are currently reading
1927 people want to read
About the author
Gustavo Arellano
13 books64 followersGustavo Arellano is the author of ¡Ask a Mexican!, a nationally syndicated weekly column published by Orange County's alternative weekly OC Weekly. It was first published in 2004 as a one-time spoof, but it ended up becoming one of the weekly's most popular columns.
Every week, readers would submit their questions based on Mexicans, including their customs, labor issues, and illegal immigration. Arellano responds to these questions in a politically incorrect manner often starting with the words "Dear Gabacho."
On May 1, 2007, Reuters featured the column on its news homepage under the "Oddly Enough" heading.
Every week, readers would submit their questions based on Mexicans, including their customs, labor issues, and illegal immigration. Arellano responds to these questions in a politically incorrect manner often starting with the words "Dear Gabacho."
On May 1, 2007, Reuters featured the column on its news homepage under the "Oddly Enough" heading.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 166 reviews
June 26, 2012
What an incredibly disappointing book.
If you know me, you know that I love Mexican food of all kinds. Whether it is cheap burritos in west Texas, high end alta cocina, regional dishes found in small Mexican villages, or moles that I make in my own kitchen, I love Mexican food. I have been known to plan vacations around Mexican cooking, including several cooking classes that my wife and I have taken. I am also very interested in food writing and the cultural history of food. So needless to say, I was excited to read this book.
And there were parts of it that were very interesting. Especially some of the opening chapters about tamales and the early days of Mexican food coming to America, which contained lots of information I havent seen anywhere else. But as the book went on I grew more and more tired of Arellano's high horses and pet peeves. He writes from a very southern california-centric point of view, and some of his generalizations to the rest of the country don't really mesh with my experiences living in Texas and the east coast (one example is that it seemed odd to read about the dissapearance of Tex-Mex at the same time that Chuy's is opening a dozen new locations) and it generally made me distrust many of his claims.
But most disappointing to me was Arellano's use of the word 'authentic'. Throughout the book he throws the word around in various ways without ever really seeming to intellectually engage with what he means by the term or even really giving a definition of it. Instead, he uses the word as a compliment at times while other times criticizing the ways other people use the term (for any of Diana Kennedy and Rick Bayless's faults, I at least understand what they mean when they use the word). I admit that in recent years I have become very interested in the idea of what we mean when we talk about authentic ethnic food (see the great Lucky Peach Issue 2 article a few months back on the topic) but the chips on Arellano's shoulder are big enough to be annoyingly inconsistent.
Arellano is a good storyteller for the most part, and I enjoy the 'character' he does in his 'Ask A Mexican' work (because i assume it is a character). But if you are looking for a book that discusses the history of Mexican food in the US with any intellectual consistency and depth, I would recommend looking elsewhere. (In particular, I am looking forward to Jeffrey Pilcher's new book, as his Que Vivan Los Tamales!: Food and the Making of Mexican Identity remains the pinnacle of writing about Mexican cusine.
If you know me, you know that I love Mexican food of all kinds. Whether it is cheap burritos in west Texas, high end alta cocina, regional dishes found in small Mexican villages, or moles that I make in my own kitchen, I love Mexican food. I have been known to plan vacations around Mexican cooking, including several cooking classes that my wife and I have taken. I am also very interested in food writing and the cultural history of food. So needless to say, I was excited to read this book.
And there were parts of it that were very interesting. Especially some of the opening chapters about tamales and the early days of Mexican food coming to America, which contained lots of information I havent seen anywhere else. But as the book went on I grew more and more tired of Arellano's high horses and pet peeves. He writes from a very southern california-centric point of view, and some of his generalizations to the rest of the country don't really mesh with my experiences living in Texas and the east coast (one example is that it seemed odd to read about the dissapearance of Tex-Mex at the same time that Chuy's is opening a dozen new locations) and it generally made me distrust many of his claims.
But most disappointing to me was Arellano's use of the word 'authentic'. Throughout the book he throws the word around in various ways without ever really seeming to intellectually engage with what he means by the term or even really giving a definition of it. Instead, he uses the word as a compliment at times while other times criticizing the ways other people use the term (for any of Diana Kennedy and Rick Bayless's faults, I at least understand what they mean when they use the word). I admit that in recent years I have become very interested in the idea of what we mean when we talk about authentic ethnic food (see the great Lucky Peach Issue 2 article a few months back on the topic) but the chips on Arellano's shoulder are big enough to be annoyingly inconsistent.
Arellano is a good storyteller for the most part, and I enjoy the 'character' he does in his 'Ask A Mexican' work (because i assume it is a character). But if you are looking for a book that discusses the history of Mexican food in the US with any intellectual consistency and depth, I would recommend looking elsewhere. (In particular, I am looking forward to Jeffrey Pilcher's new book, as his Que Vivan Los Tamales!: Food and the Making of Mexican Identity remains the pinnacle of writing about Mexican cusine.
November 9, 2017
Tacos rule. But you know this. There's nothing as good as a good taco. There's nothing as good as a good tamale. Maybe it's just me, but that's how I feel. Mexican food, properly prepared (and sometimes even improperly prepared) is the best.
I'll tell you this. I am a little bit romantic when it comes to Mexican food. So much so, when I finished this book, I literally emailed its author the following:
Gustavo-
I just finished your book "Taco USA" and admire the work and dedication you put into it. Thank you for the book.
Though I now live in NYC, I too am from Southern California. I am one of those white people who love Mexican food. I grew up with the smells of Menudo, corn tortillas, burritos, enchiladas, tacos, and tamales. I wanted to share with you my story.
My Mom grew up in East L.A. in the 1950s. She was of Spanish descent, her abuela spoke only Spanish; her mother spoke both Spanish and heavily accented English. My mom's mother -my grandmother- was head of the household. Her husband had been killed in WWII and she did not remarry so the household was a Spanish speaking one. East L.A. even then was a neighborhood of Latinos. The way my mom explained it, there were all types of people: Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban, a vast array of people who spoke a common language. Though my grandmother's last name was Tucker, her maiden name was Balderama. They fit right in.
Grandma Tucker was the sole breadwinner. Every day she trekked by bus to downtown L.A. where she worked as a secretary for an accounting firm. She worked hard. The money she earned had to support not only three people: my mom, her brother, and their abuela. They were, in short, poor.
I imagine that it was the Spanish language that bonded them to the neighborhood. It was comfortable to speak one's native tongue, even if it was a different dialect. My mom's abeula didn't like the slang words, but she didn't mind the people that spoke them. They made friends with their neighbors. And like neighbors do, they shared food.
I'm not claiming to great complexity. When it came to taco's we liked fresh tortillas, not fried. We ate enchiladas in green salsa. If we wanted a snack, my mom made us a corn tortilla quesadilla (just jack cheese melted between two tortillas), or something my sister and I called a "butter" (butter slathered on a flour tortilla and heated in the microwave).
But the thing that I feel the most nostalgic about, the thing that chokes me up even as I type this, is probably the most Mexican. Tamales on Christmas Eve.
My mom didn't make tamales. We ordered them. I grew up in Buena Park. In the 70s of my youth, you could still find what we considered authentic Mexican food at small hole-in-the-wall restaurants. I'd go with my mom when she ordered, and she'd speak Spanish, ordering two dozen spicy tamales and a dozen sweet ones. The order would be ready on the Eve. I can remember the smell when they came into the house already warm; you could smell the spicy chicken, the steamed masa. Oh my god, it smelled like Christmas.
You'd take a tamale and first unwrap a wet piece of paper that was wrapped around the corn husk. You'd open the husk and slide the tamale onto your plate. We ate and ate, But there would always be leftovers. My Grandmother would bring empanadas that she made, stuffed with spiced beef. Great, but I don't regard them as romantically.
Christmas morning while my sister and I tore open our presents -food was the last thought for us- my mom heated up two tamales and ate them with a cup of coffee. That smells like Christmas too.
I live in Queens now. There's a tamale lady who sells chicken and cheese enchiladas on Saturdays. Her spot is right below the elevated train platform. My wife and I sometimes stop and buy tamales from her (my wife had never had tamales before meeting me, now she's addicted).
When the tamale lady opens her cooler, that smell wafts out and I'm hit by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. When we take them home and unwrap them, I sometimes feel like crying. Not out of sorrow, but out of pure joy. I wish my mom was around to try these tamales (she died 2 years ago...fuck cancer). Their aroma makes me think of my mom.
This happened again recently when I went out for a run and ran by the window of someone who must have been preparing menudo. When my mom got home from work, she would frequently heat up a can of menudo for a snack or lunch. I didn't really eat it -tripe seemed disgusting- but my mom loved it. So when I ran past that window and the scent of menudo hit me, I felt a surge of emotion in my chest and again was on the verge of tears.
Yep, my life is tied up with Mexican food. I just don't like the taste, I have all sorts of associations with it. It's more than chips and salsa to me.
So thank you for the book. I don't normally write to the authors of books I like, but your book made me feel like Holden Caulfield, only instead of picking up the phone, I could just send you an email.
Thanks again,
Jeff
I've never before written to a writer. So I must like this book. If you have any connection with Mexican food, even if you just like a frozen margarita, you should probably read this.
I'll tell you this. I am a little bit romantic when it comes to Mexican food. So much so, when I finished this book, I literally emailed its author the following:
Gustavo-
I just finished your book "Taco USA" and admire the work and dedication you put into it. Thank you for the book.
Though I now live in NYC, I too am from Southern California. I am one of those white people who love Mexican food. I grew up with the smells of Menudo, corn tortillas, burritos, enchiladas, tacos, and tamales. I wanted to share with you my story.
My Mom grew up in East L.A. in the 1950s. She was of Spanish descent, her abuela spoke only Spanish; her mother spoke both Spanish and heavily accented English. My mom's mother -my grandmother- was head of the household. Her husband had been killed in WWII and she did not remarry so the household was a Spanish speaking one. East L.A. even then was a neighborhood of Latinos. The way my mom explained it, there were all types of people: Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban, a vast array of people who spoke a common language. Though my grandmother's last name was Tucker, her maiden name was Balderama. They fit right in.
Grandma Tucker was the sole breadwinner. Every day she trekked by bus to downtown L.A. where she worked as a secretary for an accounting firm. She worked hard. The money she earned had to support not only three people: my mom, her brother, and their abuela. They were, in short, poor.
I imagine that it was the Spanish language that bonded them to the neighborhood. It was comfortable to speak one's native tongue, even if it was a different dialect. My mom's abeula didn't like the slang words, but she didn't mind the people that spoke them. They made friends with their neighbors. And like neighbors do, they shared food.
I'm not claiming to great complexity. When it came to taco's we liked fresh tortillas, not fried. We ate enchiladas in green salsa. If we wanted a snack, my mom made us a corn tortilla quesadilla (just jack cheese melted between two tortillas), or something my sister and I called a "butter" (butter slathered on a flour tortilla and heated in the microwave).
But the thing that I feel the most nostalgic about, the thing that chokes me up even as I type this, is probably the most Mexican. Tamales on Christmas Eve.
My mom didn't make tamales. We ordered them. I grew up in Buena Park. In the 70s of my youth, you could still find what we considered authentic Mexican food at small hole-in-the-wall restaurants. I'd go with my mom when she ordered, and she'd speak Spanish, ordering two dozen spicy tamales and a dozen sweet ones. The order would be ready on the Eve. I can remember the smell when they came into the house already warm; you could smell the spicy chicken, the steamed masa. Oh my god, it smelled like Christmas.
You'd take a tamale and first unwrap a wet piece of paper that was wrapped around the corn husk. You'd open the husk and slide the tamale onto your plate. We ate and ate, But there would always be leftovers. My Grandmother would bring empanadas that she made, stuffed with spiced beef. Great, but I don't regard them as romantically.
Christmas morning while my sister and I tore open our presents -food was the last thought for us- my mom heated up two tamales and ate them with a cup of coffee. That smells like Christmas too.
I live in Queens now. There's a tamale lady who sells chicken and cheese enchiladas on Saturdays. Her spot is right below the elevated train platform. My wife and I sometimes stop and buy tamales from her (my wife had never had tamales before meeting me, now she's addicted).
When the tamale lady opens her cooler, that smell wafts out and I'm hit by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. When we take them home and unwrap them, I sometimes feel like crying. Not out of sorrow, but out of pure joy. I wish my mom was around to try these tamales (she died 2 years ago...fuck cancer). Their aroma makes me think of my mom.
This happened again recently when I went out for a run and ran by the window of someone who must have been preparing menudo. When my mom got home from work, she would frequently heat up a can of menudo for a snack or lunch. I didn't really eat it -tripe seemed disgusting- but my mom loved it. So when I ran past that window and the scent of menudo hit me, I felt a surge of emotion in my chest and again was on the verge of tears.
Yep, my life is tied up with Mexican food. I just don't like the taste, I have all sorts of associations with it. It's more than chips and salsa to me.
So thank you for the book. I don't normally write to the authors of books I like, but your book made me feel like Holden Caulfield, only instead of picking up the phone, I could just send you an email.
Thanks again,
Jeff
I've never before written to a writer. So I must like this book. If you have any connection with Mexican food, even if you just like a frozen margarita, you should probably read this.
April 12, 2019
Food writing has to be the most dreadful genre. Worse even than Malcolm Gladwell pop psychology or memoir. It seems everyone is either a blowhard like Anthony Bourdain or on some quest to show off their bona fide cultural authenticity. Books like "Taco USA" show that it need not be that way.
If you're like me you know that two of the greatest programs to ever air on television are "A Hot Dog Program" and "Sandwiches You Will Like" In those programs the camera crew visited unpretentious, iconic regional restaurants renown for their hot dogs or sandwiches. Taco USA mines food gold in a similar vein, but in this case the focus is on varieties of Mexican food in the US. In fact the right camera crew could translate this book into a stellar third pillar beside "A Hot Dog Program" and "Sandwiches You Will Like"
Arellano succeeds where so many authors fail because of his sense of humor, curiosity and unpretentiousness. The book covers the origins of all of the classics Mexican food imports and the various feuds, characters and funny anecdotes that accompanied their rise to dominance. Arellano also rises up admirably to address and at the same time laugh off the ridiculous authenticity question that invariably comes up when talking about Mexican food.
About the only bad thing I can say about this book is that reading it before bed is a difficult task because you're going to find yourself getting up to go find snacks in the kitchen.
If you're like me you know that two of the greatest programs to ever air on television are "A Hot Dog Program" and "Sandwiches You Will Like" In those programs the camera crew visited unpretentious, iconic regional restaurants renown for their hot dogs or sandwiches. Taco USA mines food gold in a similar vein, but in this case the focus is on varieties of Mexican food in the US. In fact the right camera crew could translate this book into a stellar third pillar beside "A Hot Dog Program" and "Sandwiches You Will Like"
Arellano succeeds where so many authors fail because of his sense of humor, curiosity and unpretentiousness. The book covers the origins of all of the classics Mexican food imports and the various feuds, characters and funny anecdotes that accompanied their rise to dominance. Arellano also rises up admirably to address and at the same time laugh off the ridiculous authenticity question that invariably comes up when talking about Mexican food.
About the only bad thing I can say about this book is that reading it before bed is a difficult task because you're going to find yourself getting up to go find snacks in the kitchen.
January 1, 2021
Wow. Almost a whole year to read this. The story of this book, in short, is that I put it on an Honors seminar syllabus as our core text, unread save for an article that served as the basis for an early chapter in the book. I had met Gustavo Arellano a few months before at Tucson Meet Yourself, and was super excited to use his book for my first course taught specifically for the UA Honors College. A few months into 2020, and well...COVID hit. I kept reading but increasingly fell behind as my students were also struggling to keep reading about food, especially at restaurants that they could no longer travel to. Is that this books fault? Not even remotely.
What Gustavo has written here (and I humbly use his first name mostly because he seems so friendly and warm both in person and in his writing here) isn’t really a standard history of Mexican food in America, but really an examination of the cultural diffusion of Mexican foods and products into the American zeitgeist leading to so much of the Americana of today’s culinary landscape to owe continued indebtedness to la comida pura.
I also really love Gustavo’s unabashed curiosity and fandom for things like my now-hometown of Tucson, the loncheras of Orange County, and the unusual (what I call the grilled cheese and tomato soup of Mexico) El Paso Chico’s Tacos. This book feels incredibly well-researched (an impossible thing to judge) and it also feels somewhat timeless. These are stories and histories that have to do with the dawning of America but also very much are informed by the experience of peoples immigrating from their homes seeking new opportunities. Anyone who needs an updating in the American Dream (myth though it remains in many cases) should really read a book like this.
In closing, I would say I’d be curious to see how the last decade of American politics might shape Gustavo’s take on these stories today. While he doesn’t err cautiously away from criticism, I think he plays a bit too much with the kid gloves when discussing the likes of Glen Bell and other Anglo entrepreneurs who out and out stole recipes and concepts from Mexican businesses and mom-and-pop joints in ways that, while they may have flown decades ago (but did they? Did they really?) wouldn’t at all fly today. And yet, Taco Bell still has my patronage at least monthly with horrifying, dubious, and yet gustatorily satisfying creations like nacho fries (yikes). It’s all very complicated, as Gustavo contests, but I think the knowing and championing of the Mexican families that really tie into the legacy of some of these foods and dishes is well worth knowing and celebrating. I feel like Gustavo helped me to better understand my own backyard of Tucson and it’s Sonoran culinary heritage that much better, so when I go to Casa Molina or Losbeto’s (any of the various Beto’s, really) or Tania 88 or El Guero Canelo or Anita Street Market, I better grasp why the tortillas might be the way they are, what motivates their inclusion of chile colorado (it’s traditionally Sonoran! And it’s amazing!), and why I should be so grateful to be eating more of these foods and never moan about the absence of a California-style burrito on a menu.
So that’s a thanks, and a strong recommendation. Read this. But also be prepared to be hungry. Don’t fight the cravings!
What Gustavo has written here (and I humbly use his first name mostly because he seems so friendly and warm both in person and in his writing here) isn’t really a standard history of Mexican food in America, but really an examination of the cultural diffusion of Mexican foods and products into the American zeitgeist leading to so much of the Americana of today’s culinary landscape to owe continued indebtedness to la comida pura.
I also really love Gustavo’s unabashed curiosity and fandom for things like my now-hometown of Tucson, the loncheras of Orange County, and the unusual (what I call the grilled cheese and tomato soup of Mexico) El Paso Chico’s Tacos. This book feels incredibly well-researched (an impossible thing to judge) and it also feels somewhat timeless. These are stories and histories that have to do with the dawning of America but also very much are informed by the experience of peoples immigrating from their homes seeking new opportunities. Anyone who needs an updating in the American Dream (myth though it remains in many cases) should really read a book like this.
In closing, I would say I’d be curious to see how the last decade of American politics might shape Gustavo’s take on these stories today. While he doesn’t err cautiously away from criticism, I think he plays a bit too much with the kid gloves when discussing the likes of Glen Bell and other Anglo entrepreneurs who out and out stole recipes and concepts from Mexican businesses and mom-and-pop joints in ways that, while they may have flown decades ago (but did they? Did they really?) wouldn’t at all fly today. And yet, Taco Bell still has my patronage at least monthly with horrifying, dubious, and yet gustatorily satisfying creations like nacho fries (yikes). It’s all very complicated, as Gustavo contests, but I think the knowing and championing of the Mexican families that really tie into the legacy of some of these foods and dishes is well worth knowing and celebrating. I feel like Gustavo helped me to better understand my own backyard of Tucson and it’s Sonoran culinary heritage that much better, so when I go to Casa Molina or Losbeto’s (any of the various Beto’s, really) or Tania 88 or El Guero Canelo or Anita Street Market, I better grasp why the tortillas might be the way they are, what motivates their inclusion of chile colorado (it’s traditionally Sonoran! And it’s amazing!), and why I should be so grateful to be eating more of these foods and never moan about the absence of a California-style burrito on a menu.
So that’s a thanks, and a strong recommendation. Read this. But also be prepared to be hungry. Don’t fight the cravings!
July 30, 2012
Delicious... makes the mouth water. My favorite section was the four pages of San Diego style Mexican food in the burrito chapter, including the history of the "-bertos". Wish I could get a California Burrito out here!
January 22, 2015
I'm happy to say that by the time the credits rolled, I've come to understand Mr. Arellano and give him kudos for this well-researched, funny, entertaining book. I found this book in a university library next to Michael Pollan, and was initially shocked out of my comfort zone by the differences between the two. Arellano peppers his book with reference to "gabachos," or the "pinche gringo," and other derisions of white America. Are they fairly earned? Maybe. Is the widespread generalization gratuitous and unnecessary in an otherwise well-constructed study of culinary popular culture? Definitely. After reading some of his Ask a Mexican columns, that is a much better venue, and the jokes land in a way they don't in this book. Ultimately, Arellano is a well-intentioned troll.
If you can get past the racial wordplay, the book gives a very thorough and interesting journey through Mexican food and its adaptations to the American palate over the last two centuries. I learned a ton about the history of industrialized Mexican food, fast-food, and how "authenticity" should be (if even) defined. Particularly as a Texan-born gabacho living in California, everything he wrote rang familiar for me, and it was nice experiencing that nostalgia (because who doesn't remember that Pace Picante commercial from the 90's?).
If you eat, cook, or think about Mexican food, this book is worth a read - even por nosotros pinches gringos culeros. ;-)
If you can get past the racial wordplay, the book gives a very thorough and interesting journey through Mexican food and its adaptations to the American palate over the last two centuries. I learned a ton about the history of industrialized Mexican food, fast-food, and how "authenticity" should be (if even) defined. Particularly as a Texan-born gabacho living in California, everything he wrote rang familiar for me, and it was nice experiencing that nostalgia (because who doesn't remember that Pace Picante commercial from the 90's?).
If you eat, cook, or think about Mexican food, this book is worth a read - even por nosotros pinches gringos culeros. ;-)
January 4, 2013
Really interesting about the origin of Mexican food in the US. I can now argue about what is "authentic" Mexican food.
January 26, 2016
I feel this is book understands Mexican food and all those derived from it. It makes you understand why Americans have fallen for Mexican food and what that means for Mexican culture.
August 3, 2019
Few books cover as much ground as Taco USA. While there is a slow chapter here and there, when it finds it's pacing it's a gripping read on the evolution of Mexican culture on food in the United States.
December 18, 2019
Interesting read on many restaurants I actually had been too
May 5, 2024
Yay I'm done!
September 22, 2021
Burritos in space... who would have thought it!
Bread may be dangerous in space, 'cause it clogs air vents, but flour tortillas are A-OK!
This quirky social history of "Americanized" Mexican food is an epic journey through time as to how the cuisine from South of the Border conquered America. It's also a good example of a good book (in most respects) in the genre of food writing: it's unpretentious, engaging, and, at times, hilarious. I also appreciated that it was written for a more general audience than a specialized, academic one.
The author is Gustavo Arellano, a gifted narrator with a sense of style, his skills honed by the penning of his popular column "Ask a Mexican," which featured in OC Weekly (it's now a book all its own). He also wrote a "personal" history of Orange County, California.
The book is a refreshing departure from the numerous others on culinary history I've consumed over the years (!). It didn't parade an endless list of the author's accolades or engage in shameless name-dropping, as many other books of this genre tend to do, which was much appreciated. Rather, it tells the fascinating stories of the real people, pioneers, all, who introduced some of America's now-most-loved food items to a mass market: from chili to tacos, burritos, enchiladas, and even junk-food staples such as Fritos and Dorritos (little gold things... my favorite!). One observation: as noted by a couple of other reviewers, this engaging social history is written from a decidedly "Southern-California" perspective, so some of the content which assumes local knowledge may be lost on readers from other parts of the country.
Small sacrifice, though. This thoroughly entertaining and fairly well-researched book relates, mostly in chronological fashion, the meteoric rise of "Mexican" food in the US. The ubiquitous cuisine's success is clearly manifest (with a few notable exceptions, as the book relates): salsa even overtook ketchup as America's best-selling condiment in the 1990s, and we've apparently never looked back. Now, as the author notes, it seems that every few years, a new trend in fusion cuisine inspired by south-of-the-border fare which captures the culinary imaginations of Americans seems to pop up: flaming fajita platters... chimichangas... chipotle! Some combinations are truly shocking: fish tacos, OK... Korean barbecue tacos: yikes!
To get into the "meat": (pardon the pun). As the first chapter notes, not unlike the case of religious traditions, culinary syncretism has existed since time immemorial, as has incorporating notions of the divine into truly heavenly cuisines. Example: the fascinating phenomenon of the Christ of the Cacao figure in Mexico City. A few miles from one of the most significant churches in the country sits the Metropolitan Cathedral of the Assumption. Inside its St. Joseph's chapel is a dejected-looking Christ figure, depicted seated, holding a branch of a cacao tree. To this day, worshipers leave offerings, sometimes of foods such as candies at the feet of the figure, as the Aztecs, who inhabited the area centuries prior would have done in worship of their deities. A little more esoteric phenomenon is the "Jesus-image-in-a-tortilla" one, where images of the divine seem to randomly appear in burn patterns in food items like tortillas and occasionally slices of bread, which, as the author relates, in one case even spawned a backyard shrine which became a pilgrimage site for the faithful.
The above cacao example also reminds me of the Madonna of the Pomegranate, popularized by Byzantine monks in the 8th and 9th centuries, who incorporated Christian elements along with those of the pagan past into their canon. This depiction has become rather popular in southern Italy: there is even a Basilica of the Madonna of the Pomegranate near the town of Borgo La Pietraia (a few miles from Paestum). The icon became even more popular and well-known in the fifteenth century, as a result of the 1487 Botticelli painting, now housed in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. An even earlier version may have appeared, courtesy of none other than Leonardo da Vinci, circa 1457, but the creator of that particular work is disputed. In any event, pomegranates were alternatively associated with death and rebirth in ancient times (the story of Persephone and the underworld), but also fertility (the many seeds). The pomegranate was also closely associated with the goddess Hera - hence the translation from the Queen of the Gods to the Queen of Heaven, Mary. So, too, with Christ of the Cacao. In short, this kind of thing has been going on for a long time.
The first chapter addresses Mexico's pre-Spanish heritage, most notably the Aztecs. As one would expect, culinary traditions began morphing almost immediately when the newly-arrived Spanish were furnished with new foods they had never seen previously, including maize, turkey, vanilla, and, most profoundly, the ancestor of chocolate, first a drink made from the beans of the cacao plant. Sadly, cultivation of these highly lucrative crops, especially vanilla and cacao, has all but ceased in the land of their birth. The cultivars of these wonderful plants have been exported to the far reaches of the globe and are now grown on extensive plantations in Africa and Madagascar, in the case of the former, resulting in the near demise of the industries for native people in Mexico. Other food items followed, including tomatoes, potatoes, and the ubiquitous chili pepper, all new-world introductions which made their way across the Atlantic via what is known as the Columbian Exchange. There certainly was an exchange, but it seems that the "Old World" came off the better for it. Who can conceive of "Italian" food, whose development in America has a fascinating story all its own... without tomatoes!?
The result, as the author notes: Mexican food has made such inroads into the global market that it has the power to "turn skeptical, outright hostile foreigners into zombies to the taste." Such is the power of regional cuisines everywhere, in fact.
These examples set the tone for much of the book: although much has been gained by the introduction of traditionally Mexican products to the wider world, much has also been lost, as the author is never slow to lament. The "native" aspects of these foods have been replaced by "commercialized," mass-marketed versions whose modern forms bear little resemblance to those of their predecessors (see especially Chapter 3), to the degree that they have lost their "authenticity" (an oft-utilized term in this book, but, admittedly, not one herein clearly defined). Perhaps the most profound example is the "canned" enchilada... just... don't. Frozen pizza, conversely, has experienced far more success, and much less revulsion.
In defense of syncretism, however: it's not really a fair criticism. The same could be said of almost every ethnic cuisine which has become "-ized" in new environments - and not just in the US, the above example of "Italian" food being paramount. Take pizza, for example. What has to be America's most popular food item has morphed from its humble beginnings as "peasant" fare in southern Italy, around Naples, probably, to a worldwide cultural phenomenon. Few would argue that "pizza" is actually "Italian," and fewer still would criticize the fact that every place on the planet where you can find it has engaged in cultural appropriation in developing their own unique take on the omnipresent flatbread meal. Even in the US, fierce rivalries abound as to which is proper, or even preferable: Chicago deep-dish or New York thin-crust? How about Hawaiian?
Personal anecdote (several, actually): I quickly discovered this realization when I began to travel internationally, even living in Italy on a fellowship several years back. Prior to that, however, I had the opportunity to travel to Southeast Asia, on a couple of occasions, where I encountered the same phenomenon. Now, I love me some Italian food, being of Italian heritage myself. Let's just say that what is described as "Italian" food differs greatly, depending on where you are on the map. Try Italian food in THAILAND! I've had it at four-star hotels and at hole-in-the-wall expat proprietorships in Chiang Mai, and, suffice to say, it's an altogether different animal from the cuisine you would get in either the US *or* Italy. Or anywhere else, for that matter... and that's the point. It's good... just, different.
I can say the same for Indian food, which I've also had on multiple continents. Indian food in Italy is decidedly different from that found in the small, predominantly-take-out shops in Britain which tend to concentrate in certain neighborhoods, or in the sit-down restaurants in the US. In Italy, it has a distinct flavor that I've encountered nowhere else in the world - it tends to be not as "sweet," one of the greatest sins of Indian food commonly found in the US, and is more heavily laden with spices, especially basil, than in other places. It has a uniquely "Italian" flavor, which I was not expecting. Again, I've had it throughout Italy and Europe (an Indian food dinner in Salzburg, Austria to celebrate my 25th birthday was a real treat!), with my favorite being in a small, mom-and-pop (mama e papa?) eatery in Trastevere, across the Tiber from the center of Rome, and in my experience, each place adjusts the flavors according to local tastes. Having never been to India, which is so highly regional that to characterize an entire cuisine as "Indian" is also problematic, I can't even imagine what it's like there. I won't even get started on "Chinese" food.
Maybe that's missing the point, with regard to the acceptance of the foods but the rejection of the people who created it, but that happens everywhere else, too, as I've seen, including in Italy when I was living there. Perhaps a preferable way to frame the argument is that upon their introduction to other cultures, traditional Mexican foods transformed radically from their original versions, however loosely defined, and have become truly globalized, but, unfortunately, this has often resulted in the demise of the previous traditions in their homeland, along with the loss of their historical and cultural significance. For example, with regard to what we colloquially refer to as "hot chocolate": the original drink, as the Aztecs would have enjoyed it, has no sugar, and consists of a cocktail of ingredients, most significantly, whipped cocoa butter and chili water, the former element completely absent in modern "cocoa," which is essentially chocolate-flavored milk. The current form is almost unrecognizable from the original, with much being lost, including knowledge about the plants and the people who first developed it. That is, indeed, lamentable.
To that end, the succeeding chapters try to make amends, to tell the tales of both foods and people, such as the vendors of early versions of Mexican foods, pioneers who first brought "traditional" dishes to an American mass market. These included the Chili Queens, denizens of Southwest chili con carne booths, and the "tamale men" of San Francisco (and elsewhere), mobile tamale vendors, who, under the direction of an American company, were dispatched into US cities as far as Chicago and New York. Both were eventually supplanted by commercialized versions of the foods tailored for American palates, in the form of canned products which could be stocked in pantries rather than purchased from individual sellers. However, the more "traditional" versions, as well as the vendors who sell from private homes and small businesses still endure.
Overwhelming demand for these products resulted in the perhaps inevitable development of processed foods, including the junk food staples we all know and most love. Chapter Eleven is also a personal favorite - it's essentially an Ode to the Tortilla, a humble staple cooked up daily from masa (NOT cornmeal, as the author is quick to note) by women throughout the Latinx world, which just seemed to take on a life of its own when it was introduced to El Norte. This includes the proliferation of flour tortillas, produced in enormous factories, the invention of the ubiquitous tortilla chip and associated condiments, such as guacamole. Inevitable commercialization then launched a thousand ships in the form of the chemical-laden processed snacks we can't conceive of life without: Fritos, Dorritos and other concoctions which seem to appear in a never-ending stream of varieties.
The most intriguing chapter to me was Chapter Three, which discussed the birth of the modern Mexican food restaurant (now considered "fast food"), most notably Taco Bell, the brain child of Glen Bell (of course), an enterprising restaurateur whose far-reaching influence is still felt today. These early introductions ushered in an entire syncretized cuisine, including the next phase of conquest, via the sit-down Mexican restaurant in the US, ala now-defunct eateries like El Torito and several others which formed the backbone of America's Mexican food experience in the 80s and 90s. Other chain restaurants likewise opened, with more or less success.
Increasing familiarity with "Mexican" food resulted, perhaps not surprisingly, in the proliferation of recipes and cookbooks, beginning largely in the 1950s, when the latter really became a thing, which also denotes a difference in cultural phenomena. Americans have had a long love affair with cookbooks: any celebrity worth their salt seems to have one these days. It began with the inclusion of "Spanish" and "Mexican" recipes concocted by housewives and professional chefs alike (admittedly those of decidedly European ancestry, at least initially), which expanded into entire books on the latter in their own right. The chapter also notes the dearth of "fine dining" Mexican restaurants and the efforts of both expats and natives who have attempted to bring regional cuisines to a larger audience.
After these limited introductions which met with great success, it seems that Mexican cuisine went regional, first with the the "Southwest" Mexican-food-inspired phenomenon, hailing largely from New Mexico, a country unto itself, it appears, shortly thereafter followed by the "Tex-Mex" craze, whose (seemingly) few defenders still praise its virtues to the skies. These are but two examples of common fare going high-brow, with enterprising chefs taking the term "fusion" to a whole new level, but not always successfully. Southwest fusion certainly isn't what it used to be, and the author argues that "Tex-Mex" is largely on its way out to all but a few faithful, but new iterations continue to inspire, so, despite the decline of New Mexican Southwest and Tex-Mex fare, their shadow is decidedly still with us.
Overall, I enjoyed this book, for a number of reasons, but I did take issues with some things. In addition to there being multiple factual errors (I'm not going to list them all here), the reason that it gets a three-instead of a four-star rating (it really should be about a 3.5) is due to its sometimes-decidedly accusatory tone, specifically surrounding what I would call the wrongful "cultural appropriation" of Mexican food in the US. The picture on the cover speaks a thousand words, in fact.
As we have noted, culinary (and, indeed, cultural) syncretism is ancient, indeed - and the exchange always goes both ways. However, the book tended to focus excessively on the author's assertions that Americans (itself a problematic term, as it's an undeniably diverse category) have historically accepted foods from Mexico but have overtly rejected Mexicans themselves, along with their other cultural traditions. The statement is certainly accurate in some respects, but the way in which the author presents this assertion is highly over-generalized, and was something I didn't really like in a culinary history. As I have described, based on my own personal experiences over the course of a lifetime and visits to nearly two dozen countries, that, too, is a cultural consistency. Describing something as "lily-white" is just irksome. It's his book: he can write what he wants, and I respect his views, but his tone in some of his statements just rubbed me the wrong way, this latter criticism coming from a cultural and ethnic "hybrid" with as many syncretic elements as the food he describes.
Bread may be dangerous in space, 'cause it clogs air vents, but flour tortillas are A-OK!
This quirky social history of "Americanized" Mexican food is an epic journey through time as to how the cuisine from South of the Border conquered America. It's also a good example of a good book (in most respects) in the genre of food writing: it's unpretentious, engaging, and, at times, hilarious. I also appreciated that it was written for a more general audience than a specialized, academic one.
The author is Gustavo Arellano, a gifted narrator with a sense of style, his skills honed by the penning of his popular column "Ask a Mexican," which featured in OC Weekly (it's now a book all its own). He also wrote a "personal" history of Orange County, California.
The book is a refreshing departure from the numerous others on culinary history I've consumed over the years (!). It didn't parade an endless list of the author's accolades or engage in shameless name-dropping, as many other books of this genre tend to do, which was much appreciated. Rather, it tells the fascinating stories of the real people, pioneers, all, who introduced some of America's now-most-loved food items to a mass market: from chili to tacos, burritos, enchiladas, and even junk-food staples such as Fritos and Dorritos (little gold things... my favorite!). One observation: as noted by a couple of other reviewers, this engaging social history is written from a decidedly "Southern-California" perspective, so some of the content which assumes local knowledge may be lost on readers from other parts of the country.
Small sacrifice, though. This thoroughly entertaining and fairly well-researched book relates, mostly in chronological fashion, the meteoric rise of "Mexican" food in the US. The ubiquitous cuisine's success is clearly manifest (with a few notable exceptions, as the book relates): salsa even overtook ketchup as America's best-selling condiment in the 1990s, and we've apparently never looked back. Now, as the author notes, it seems that every few years, a new trend in fusion cuisine inspired by south-of-the-border fare which captures the culinary imaginations of Americans seems to pop up: flaming fajita platters... chimichangas... chipotle! Some combinations are truly shocking: fish tacos, OK... Korean barbecue tacos: yikes!
To get into the "meat": (pardon the pun). As the first chapter notes, not unlike the case of religious traditions, culinary syncretism has existed since time immemorial, as has incorporating notions of the divine into truly heavenly cuisines. Example: the fascinating phenomenon of the Christ of the Cacao figure in Mexico City. A few miles from one of the most significant churches in the country sits the Metropolitan Cathedral of the Assumption. Inside its St. Joseph's chapel is a dejected-looking Christ figure, depicted seated, holding a branch of a cacao tree. To this day, worshipers leave offerings, sometimes of foods such as candies at the feet of the figure, as the Aztecs, who inhabited the area centuries prior would have done in worship of their deities. A little more esoteric phenomenon is the "Jesus-image-in-a-tortilla" one, where images of the divine seem to randomly appear in burn patterns in food items like tortillas and occasionally slices of bread, which, as the author relates, in one case even spawned a backyard shrine which became a pilgrimage site for the faithful.
The above cacao example also reminds me of the Madonna of the Pomegranate, popularized by Byzantine monks in the 8th and 9th centuries, who incorporated Christian elements along with those of the pagan past into their canon. This depiction has become rather popular in southern Italy: there is even a Basilica of the Madonna of the Pomegranate near the town of Borgo La Pietraia (a few miles from Paestum). The icon became even more popular and well-known in the fifteenth century, as a result of the 1487 Botticelli painting, now housed in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. An even earlier version may have appeared, courtesy of none other than Leonardo da Vinci, circa 1457, but the creator of that particular work is disputed. In any event, pomegranates were alternatively associated with death and rebirth in ancient times (the story of Persephone and the underworld), but also fertility (the many seeds). The pomegranate was also closely associated with the goddess Hera - hence the translation from the Queen of the Gods to the Queen of Heaven, Mary. So, too, with Christ of the Cacao. In short, this kind of thing has been going on for a long time.
The first chapter addresses Mexico's pre-Spanish heritage, most notably the Aztecs. As one would expect, culinary traditions began morphing almost immediately when the newly-arrived Spanish were furnished with new foods they had never seen previously, including maize, turkey, vanilla, and, most profoundly, the ancestor of chocolate, first a drink made from the beans of the cacao plant. Sadly, cultivation of these highly lucrative crops, especially vanilla and cacao, has all but ceased in the land of their birth. The cultivars of these wonderful plants have been exported to the far reaches of the globe and are now grown on extensive plantations in Africa and Madagascar, in the case of the former, resulting in the near demise of the industries for native people in Mexico. Other food items followed, including tomatoes, potatoes, and the ubiquitous chili pepper, all new-world introductions which made their way across the Atlantic via what is known as the Columbian Exchange. There certainly was an exchange, but it seems that the "Old World" came off the better for it. Who can conceive of "Italian" food, whose development in America has a fascinating story all its own... without tomatoes!?
The result, as the author notes: Mexican food has made such inroads into the global market that it has the power to "turn skeptical, outright hostile foreigners into zombies to the taste." Such is the power of regional cuisines everywhere, in fact.
These examples set the tone for much of the book: although much has been gained by the introduction of traditionally Mexican products to the wider world, much has also been lost, as the author is never slow to lament. The "native" aspects of these foods have been replaced by "commercialized," mass-marketed versions whose modern forms bear little resemblance to those of their predecessors (see especially Chapter 3), to the degree that they have lost their "authenticity" (an oft-utilized term in this book, but, admittedly, not one herein clearly defined). Perhaps the most profound example is the "canned" enchilada... just... don't. Frozen pizza, conversely, has experienced far more success, and much less revulsion.
In defense of syncretism, however: it's not really a fair criticism. The same could be said of almost every ethnic cuisine which has become "-ized" in new environments - and not just in the US, the above example of "Italian" food being paramount. Take pizza, for example. What has to be America's most popular food item has morphed from its humble beginnings as "peasant" fare in southern Italy, around Naples, probably, to a worldwide cultural phenomenon. Few would argue that "pizza" is actually "Italian," and fewer still would criticize the fact that every place on the planet where you can find it has engaged in cultural appropriation in developing their own unique take on the omnipresent flatbread meal. Even in the US, fierce rivalries abound as to which is proper, or even preferable: Chicago deep-dish or New York thin-crust? How about Hawaiian?
Personal anecdote (several, actually): I quickly discovered this realization when I began to travel internationally, even living in Italy on a fellowship several years back. Prior to that, however, I had the opportunity to travel to Southeast Asia, on a couple of occasions, where I encountered the same phenomenon. Now, I love me some Italian food, being of Italian heritage myself. Let's just say that what is described as "Italian" food differs greatly, depending on where you are on the map. Try Italian food in THAILAND! I've had it at four-star hotels and at hole-in-the-wall expat proprietorships in Chiang Mai, and, suffice to say, it's an altogether different animal from the cuisine you would get in either the US *or* Italy. Or anywhere else, for that matter... and that's the point. It's good... just, different.
I can say the same for Indian food, which I've also had on multiple continents. Indian food in Italy is decidedly different from that found in the small, predominantly-take-out shops in Britain which tend to concentrate in certain neighborhoods, or in the sit-down restaurants in the US. In Italy, it has a distinct flavor that I've encountered nowhere else in the world - it tends to be not as "sweet," one of the greatest sins of Indian food commonly found in the US, and is more heavily laden with spices, especially basil, than in other places. It has a uniquely "Italian" flavor, which I was not expecting. Again, I've had it throughout Italy and Europe (an Indian food dinner in Salzburg, Austria to celebrate my 25th birthday was a real treat!), with my favorite being in a small, mom-and-pop (mama e papa?) eatery in Trastevere, across the Tiber from the center of Rome, and in my experience, each place adjusts the flavors according to local tastes. Having never been to India, which is so highly regional that to characterize an entire cuisine as "Indian" is also problematic, I can't even imagine what it's like there. I won't even get started on "Chinese" food.
Maybe that's missing the point, with regard to the acceptance of the foods but the rejection of the people who created it, but that happens everywhere else, too, as I've seen, including in Italy when I was living there. Perhaps a preferable way to frame the argument is that upon their introduction to other cultures, traditional Mexican foods transformed radically from their original versions, however loosely defined, and have become truly globalized, but, unfortunately, this has often resulted in the demise of the previous traditions in their homeland, along with the loss of their historical and cultural significance. For example, with regard to what we colloquially refer to as "hot chocolate": the original drink, as the Aztecs would have enjoyed it, has no sugar, and consists of a cocktail of ingredients, most significantly, whipped cocoa butter and chili water, the former element completely absent in modern "cocoa," which is essentially chocolate-flavored milk. The current form is almost unrecognizable from the original, with much being lost, including knowledge about the plants and the people who first developed it. That is, indeed, lamentable.
To that end, the succeeding chapters try to make amends, to tell the tales of both foods and people, such as the vendors of early versions of Mexican foods, pioneers who first brought "traditional" dishes to an American mass market. These included the Chili Queens, denizens of Southwest chili con carne booths, and the "tamale men" of San Francisco (and elsewhere), mobile tamale vendors, who, under the direction of an American company, were dispatched into US cities as far as Chicago and New York. Both were eventually supplanted by commercialized versions of the foods tailored for American palates, in the form of canned products which could be stocked in pantries rather than purchased from individual sellers. However, the more "traditional" versions, as well as the vendors who sell from private homes and small businesses still endure.
Overwhelming demand for these products resulted in the perhaps inevitable development of processed foods, including the junk food staples we all know and most love. Chapter Eleven is also a personal favorite - it's essentially an Ode to the Tortilla, a humble staple cooked up daily from masa (NOT cornmeal, as the author is quick to note) by women throughout the Latinx world, which just seemed to take on a life of its own when it was introduced to El Norte. This includes the proliferation of flour tortillas, produced in enormous factories, the invention of the ubiquitous tortilla chip and associated condiments, such as guacamole. Inevitable commercialization then launched a thousand ships in the form of the chemical-laden processed snacks we can't conceive of life without: Fritos, Dorritos and other concoctions which seem to appear in a never-ending stream of varieties.
The most intriguing chapter to me was Chapter Three, which discussed the birth of the modern Mexican food restaurant (now considered "fast food"), most notably Taco Bell, the brain child of Glen Bell (of course), an enterprising restaurateur whose far-reaching influence is still felt today. These early introductions ushered in an entire syncretized cuisine, including the next phase of conquest, via the sit-down Mexican restaurant in the US, ala now-defunct eateries like El Torito and several others which formed the backbone of America's Mexican food experience in the 80s and 90s. Other chain restaurants likewise opened, with more or less success.
Increasing familiarity with "Mexican" food resulted, perhaps not surprisingly, in the proliferation of recipes and cookbooks, beginning largely in the 1950s, when the latter really became a thing, which also denotes a difference in cultural phenomena. Americans have had a long love affair with cookbooks: any celebrity worth their salt seems to have one these days. It began with the inclusion of "Spanish" and "Mexican" recipes concocted by housewives and professional chefs alike (admittedly those of decidedly European ancestry, at least initially), which expanded into entire books on the latter in their own right. The chapter also notes the dearth of "fine dining" Mexican restaurants and the efforts of both expats and natives who have attempted to bring regional cuisines to a larger audience.
After these limited introductions which met with great success, it seems that Mexican cuisine went regional, first with the the "Southwest" Mexican-food-inspired phenomenon, hailing largely from New Mexico, a country unto itself, it appears, shortly thereafter followed by the "Tex-Mex" craze, whose (seemingly) few defenders still praise its virtues to the skies. These are but two examples of common fare going high-brow, with enterprising chefs taking the term "fusion" to a whole new level, but not always successfully. Southwest fusion certainly isn't what it used to be, and the author argues that "Tex-Mex" is largely on its way out to all but a few faithful, but new iterations continue to inspire, so, despite the decline of New Mexican Southwest and Tex-Mex fare, their shadow is decidedly still with us.
Overall, I enjoyed this book, for a number of reasons, but I did take issues with some things. In addition to there being multiple factual errors (I'm not going to list them all here), the reason that it gets a three-instead of a four-star rating (it really should be about a 3.5) is due to its sometimes-decidedly accusatory tone, specifically surrounding what I would call the wrongful "cultural appropriation" of Mexican food in the US. The picture on the cover speaks a thousand words, in fact.
As we have noted, culinary (and, indeed, cultural) syncretism is ancient, indeed - and the exchange always goes both ways. However, the book tended to focus excessively on the author's assertions that Americans (itself a problematic term, as it's an undeniably diverse category) have historically accepted foods from Mexico but have overtly rejected Mexicans themselves, along with their other cultural traditions. The statement is certainly accurate in some respects, but the way in which the author presents this assertion is highly over-generalized, and was something I didn't really like in a culinary history. As I have described, based on my own personal experiences over the course of a lifetime and visits to nearly two dozen countries, that, too, is a cultural consistency. Describing something as "lily-white" is just irksome. It's his book: he can write what he wants, and I respect his views, but his tone in some of his statements just rubbed me the wrong way, this latter criticism coming from a cultural and ethnic "hybrid" with as many syncretic elements as the food he describes.
March 28, 2013
Taco USA is the second book that I've read this month about Mexican food in America. When I began, I was already a devotee of pure Mexican vanilla and the fair trade coffee of Oaxaca. Now, I've found a USDA certified organic chocolate bar!
Gustavo Arellano's book has gone a long way in answering my questions about the history of Tex-Mex and Cal-Mex, why the traditional recipes changed over time, the nutritiousness of the cuisine, and how the introduction of canning, the invention of machinery, and a fascination for fast, street food (throughout our history - not just today) helped an already loved and craved-for cuisine become a regular part of our dinner or lunch repertoire.
Now, all I have to do is shop the growers' markets for fresh organic Florida produce, learn to trust and to try new or familiar fruits and veggies imported from Mexico, find a source for local, unmodified corn and heirloom tomatoes, plant a new variety of peppers in the spring garden, and cook up a little Tally-Mex!
Gustavo Arellano's book has gone a long way in answering my questions about the history of Tex-Mex and Cal-Mex, why the traditional recipes changed over time, the nutritiousness of the cuisine, and how the introduction of canning, the invention of machinery, and a fascination for fast, street food (throughout our history - not just today) helped an already loved and craved-for cuisine become a regular part of our dinner or lunch repertoire.
Now, all I have to do is shop the growers' markets for fresh organic Florida produce, learn to trust and to try new or familiar fruits and veggies imported from Mexico, find a source for local, unmodified corn and heirloom tomatoes, plant a new variety of peppers in the spring garden, and cook up a little Tally-Mex!
July 7, 2013
The U.S has been invaded! Oh and what a wonderful invasion it has been. I have a deep love for all food Mexican. I even married a beautiful young Mexican lady. And the green chili her Mama used to make was so wonderful. Now that tradition, along with many other wonderful recipes, have been passed to my wife. This book tells the story of how so many of these great foods crossed the border and created there very own regional favorites such as Tex-Mex and the Southwestern rage. So grab this book and some tacos, maybe a burrito and a bowl of green chili as well, and enjoy the smoky spicy flavors of a great food invasion.
April 12, 2021
The author of the 'Ask a Mexican' column pens a book about the history of Mexican food in the United States. Sometimes a bit light on details, and affecting a breezy style, he still managed to entertain and leave me consistently hungry while reading the book, which was certainly his intention.
June 3, 2012
This account of how Mexican food has made it's way into American cuisine is funny and informative. I admit to being one of the vanquished!
October 23, 2016
I really enjoyed this book and learning the history of one of my favorite types of food
January 4, 2021
2020-11 - Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America. Gustavo Arellano (Author) 2012. 320 Pages.
We saw this book used as a text in a college classroom while watching a show about food in New York City at “the ass crack of dawn” (Thanks Kyle Zemlicka!) Before the 30-minute episode was done we had ordered the book on kindle. Note: Mexican food is my favorite cuisine. I personally feel that a good Mole’ sauce is the pinnacle of taste and greatness. This book is a romp through US history through the lens of food … Mexican food. Of course, this begs the question … What is Mexican food? Modern Mexico is a large and diverse nation encompassing many diverse geographic and climate zones which influence its cuisine. Mexico also has a long colonial history and a pre-European history of great sophistication, complexity and worth. In fact, there is a lot of the pre-Columbian that still exists and moves modern Mexican society. The bottom line is that Mexican cuisine is not a mono-cuisine. This then leads to the idea of authenticity. Authentic Mexican cuisine is not frozen in time or place. It is diverse and ever evolving to new influences, tastes, and inputs. This evolutionary process is seen in how food changes when it crosses north into the USA … or rather when the USA expanded and gobbled up large chunks of Mexico. This book does a marvelous job of showing that evolutionary process at work as Mexican cuisine spreads and adapts. What I found interesting though was that it the USA, it was the cuisine of the poor that has led the infiltration and adaptation … variations of chili Colorado, Tamales, Tacos … the crown jewels of Mexican cuisine does not come until much later in history and even now it is still not common. This book is really about a give and take … a conversation between food, people, industrialism, and taste. You see waves of introduction as people in the US are looking for that “next thing” and then they adapt it to their own tastes and to the needs of mass distribution. It makes sense that this tome would be used as a textbook. It provides a very good look into trends, machinations, and evolutions on both sides of the Mexican cuisine line. A little discussion is given to the food contributions of the indigenous people and the “Columbian Exchange”. This is important because so much of the worlds food today has its origins in the Americas and was modified and developed by the indigenous people of the Americas. I found connections in my own family history to the “Tamale Man” of the past that surprised me. A good read … best accompanied by the food that is in the book. Viva Mexico!
We saw this book used as a text in a college classroom while watching a show about food in New York City at “the ass crack of dawn” (Thanks Kyle Zemlicka!) Before the 30-minute episode was done we had ordered the book on kindle. Note: Mexican food is my favorite cuisine. I personally feel that a good Mole’ sauce is the pinnacle of taste and greatness. This book is a romp through US history through the lens of food … Mexican food. Of course, this begs the question … What is Mexican food? Modern Mexico is a large and diverse nation encompassing many diverse geographic and climate zones which influence its cuisine. Mexico also has a long colonial history and a pre-European history of great sophistication, complexity and worth. In fact, there is a lot of the pre-Columbian that still exists and moves modern Mexican society. The bottom line is that Mexican cuisine is not a mono-cuisine. This then leads to the idea of authenticity. Authentic Mexican cuisine is not frozen in time or place. It is diverse and ever evolving to new influences, tastes, and inputs. This evolutionary process is seen in how food changes when it crosses north into the USA … or rather when the USA expanded and gobbled up large chunks of Mexico. This book does a marvelous job of showing that evolutionary process at work as Mexican cuisine spreads and adapts. What I found interesting though was that it the USA, it was the cuisine of the poor that has led the infiltration and adaptation … variations of chili Colorado, Tamales, Tacos … the crown jewels of Mexican cuisine does not come until much later in history and even now it is still not common. This book is really about a give and take … a conversation between food, people, industrialism, and taste. You see waves of introduction as people in the US are looking for that “next thing” and then they adapt it to their own tastes and to the needs of mass distribution. It makes sense that this tome would be used as a textbook. It provides a very good look into trends, machinations, and evolutions on both sides of the Mexican cuisine line. A little discussion is given to the food contributions of the indigenous people and the “Columbian Exchange”. This is important because so much of the worlds food today has its origins in the Americas and was modified and developed by the indigenous people of the Americas. I found connections in my own family history to the “Tamale Man” of the past that surprised me. A good read … best accompanied by the food that is in the book. Viva Mexico!
September 7, 2025
#Binge Reviewing my previous Reads #Food History
This book is a lively, witty, and deeply informative exploration of how Mexican cuisine transformed American eating habits over the last century. At first glance, it might appear to be a simple foodie tale of tacos, burritos, and tamales, but Arellano dives far deeper, uncovering the historical, cultural, and political currents that allowed Mexican food to move from regional tradition to nationwide obsession.
The book opens by tracing the migration of Mexican flavours northward, from the U.S.-Mexico border into California, Texas, and beyond. Arellano doesn’t just describe recipes; he maps cultural adaptation. Traditional dishes were modified to suit American palates, often in surprising ways. Think hard-shell tacos, nachos, or Tex-Mex chilli—dishes that have become ubiquitous yet are only loosely tied to their Mexican roots. Arellano treats these adaptations with both humour and respect, acknowledging the creative hybridity that makes food culture so fascinating.
What sets Taco USA apart is Arellano’s focus on social history. He shows how Mexican food in the U.S. is inseparable from issues of immigration, labour, and identity. Taco trucks, taquerías, and family-run restaurants are not just eateries—they are symbols of resilience, cultural exchange, and the complex dynamics of assimilation. Arellano highlights the prejudice, stereotypes, and barriers faced by Mexican communities, juxtaposing them with the nation’s growing appetite for the very food those communities introduced.
Arellano’s writing sparkles with humour and anecdotal richness. He recounts encounters with eccentric chefs, debates over authenticity, and the quirky trajectories of dishes that became American staples. At the same time, he never loses sight of the political and historical context, showing that the conquest of American taste by Mexican food is as much a story of cultural negotiation as it is of culinary delight.
Taco USA also gestures toward contemporary issues: the commercialisation of Mexican food, debates over authenticity versus adaptation, and the ongoing dialogue between tradition and innovation. The book reminds us that food history is never neutral; it reflects migration patterns, economic shifts, and cultural politics.
To sum up, this is a smart, funny, and richly detailed history that demonstrates how Mexican cuisine reshaped American culinary landscapes. Arellano’s work is perfect for food historians, cultural scholars, and anyone curious about the politics and pleasures behind the taco on their plate.
This book is a lively, witty, and deeply informative exploration of how Mexican cuisine transformed American eating habits over the last century. At first glance, it might appear to be a simple foodie tale of tacos, burritos, and tamales, but Arellano dives far deeper, uncovering the historical, cultural, and political currents that allowed Mexican food to move from regional tradition to nationwide obsession.
The book opens by tracing the migration of Mexican flavours northward, from the U.S.-Mexico border into California, Texas, and beyond. Arellano doesn’t just describe recipes; he maps cultural adaptation. Traditional dishes were modified to suit American palates, often in surprising ways. Think hard-shell tacos, nachos, or Tex-Mex chilli—dishes that have become ubiquitous yet are only loosely tied to their Mexican roots. Arellano treats these adaptations with both humour and respect, acknowledging the creative hybridity that makes food culture so fascinating.
What sets Taco USA apart is Arellano’s focus on social history. He shows how Mexican food in the U.S. is inseparable from issues of immigration, labour, and identity. Taco trucks, taquerías, and family-run restaurants are not just eateries—they are symbols of resilience, cultural exchange, and the complex dynamics of assimilation. Arellano highlights the prejudice, stereotypes, and barriers faced by Mexican communities, juxtaposing them with the nation’s growing appetite for the very food those communities introduced.
Arellano’s writing sparkles with humour and anecdotal richness. He recounts encounters with eccentric chefs, debates over authenticity, and the quirky trajectories of dishes that became American staples. At the same time, he never loses sight of the political and historical context, showing that the conquest of American taste by Mexican food is as much a story of cultural negotiation as it is of culinary delight.
Taco USA also gestures toward contemporary issues: the commercialisation of Mexican food, debates over authenticity versus adaptation, and the ongoing dialogue between tradition and innovation. The book reminds us that food history is never neutral; it reflects migration patterns, economic shifts, and cultural politics.
To sum up, this is a smart, funny, and richly detailed history that demonstrates how Mexican cuisine reshaped American culinary landscapes. Arellano’s work is perfect for food historians, cultural scholars, and anyone curious about the politics and pleasures behind the taco on their plate.
October 5, 2018
This was a fun and engaging nonfiction read that was light enough to pick up and put down over the course of a month, but also informative and very well researched. I definitely was raised on Mexican food and thought I knew my stuff; this book definitely made me look around and go "Wtf is any of this."
While I probably won't remember every single founder of every single restaurant, here's a few major takeaways:
-Man, we bastardized Mexican food RIGHT AWAY. I had no idea we were canning tamales in the 1890's, among other things. And the "romantic" view of Mexico has always been a thing and was always, essentially, a lie.
-My preferred kind of American Mexican food is New Mexican (which makes sense since that's what my mom cooks)- now I know what defines that and how that influences my cooking. Also it leaked into Colorado's Mexican food WHICH I can see evidence of here (even though our green chile is totally inferior).
-Some of the brands I consider generally mediocre and inauthentic- Pace, Old El Paso, Ortega- have been around much longer than I thought and maybe aren't as "inauthentic" as I would've thought. Whatever that even means- I feel like nothing is "authentic" any more.
- So many dishes across the country I have to try! And I had NO IDEA that the Chubby's I have been to was the incorrect one.
I do think that the authors point of view is very California-centric and some of his opinions should be taken with a grain of salt, but overall I found the book a good way to turn what I thought I knew on its head.
While I probably won't remember every single founder of every single restaurant, here's a few major takeaways:
-Man, we bastardized Mexican food RIGHT AWAY. I had no idea we were canning tamales in the 1890's, among other things. And the "romantic" view of Mexico has always been a thing and was always, essentially, a lie.
-My preferred kind of American Mexican food is New Mexican (which makes sense since that's what my mom cooks)- now I know what defines that and how that influences my cooking. Also it leaked into Colorado's Mexican food WHICH I can see evidence of here (even though our green chile is totally inferior).
-Some of the brands I consider generally mediocre and inauthentic- Pace, Old El Paso, Ortega- have been around much longer than I thought and maybe aren't as "inauthentic" as I would've thought. Whatever that even means- I feel like nothing is "authentic" any more.
- So many dishes across the country I have to try! And I had NO IDEA that the Chubby's I have been to was the incorrect one.
I do think that the authors point of view is very California-centric and some of his opinions should be taken with a grain of salt, but overall I found the book a good way to turn what I thought I knew on its head.
February 5, 2023
Taco USA takes a delicious journey through the introduction and evolution of Mexican cuisine throughout United States history, each chapter highlighting a specific food such as tamales, tacos, enchiladas, and so much more. Gustavo Arellano clearly has deep appreciation for Mexican food and his mouth-watering descriptions make it hard to read if you are the least bit hungry.
The “meat” of Taco USA are the stories of the people who saw Americans' appetite for Mexican food and built restaurants franchises, factories, and markets to fill that hole on Americans’ plates. I enjoyed the discussions on the innovation needed to mass produce things that have such a long history in Mexican homes such as how to replicate a handmade tortilla in a factory setting into something tasty. The section on the rise of the question around authenticity was equally as fascinating and entertaining, as were the compromises made to make Mexican food fit Americans’ palate.
I found some of the historical passages to be a little too meticulous and repetitive. There were times when Arellano’s voice came off as trying to be too clever, but overall I came away with a better understanding and appreciation for how Mexican food is so embedded in American culture and history.
The “meat” of Taco USA are the stories of the people who saw Americans' appetite for Mexican food and built restaurants franchises, factories, and markets to fill that hole on Americans’ plates. I enjoyed the discussions on the innovation needed to mass produce things that have such a long history in Mexican homes such as how to replicate a handmade tortilla in a factory setting into something tasty. The section on the rise of the question around authenticity was equally as fascinating and entertaining, as were the compromises made to make Mexican food fit Americans’ palate.
I found some of the historical passages to be a little too meticulous and repetitive. There were times when Arellano’s voice came off as trying to be too clever, but overall I came away with a better understanding and appreciation for how Mexican food is so embedded in American culture and history.
January 3, 2025
From a SoCal Mexican-American perspective, Arellano does a great job covering the history and reach of many staples in good that I eat or grew up eating. Personally, the history of certain foods, like tamales and tacos, that Arellano provides deepens a cultural connection and appreciation between myself, my family, and culture. The book gives great insight into how food I grew up eating, now considered popular food, Americanized or authentic, is being appreciated by all walks of life.
Historically, it is interesting to see just how long Mexican food has been in the US and where.
Additionally, I appreciate the background and conversation that is provided when it comes to discussing non-Mexican inclusions into the history of Mexican cooking in the US via cookbooks. Although his criticisms are hard on Dianne Kennedy and Rick Bayless, I agree on his take that there should be more emphasis on the Latino/Mexican cooks and authors that grew up closer to the cuisine. However, there is no doubt that Kennedy and Bayless have contributed greatly to the recognition and expansion of Mexican food.
Historically, it is interesting to see just how long Mexican food has been in the US and where.
Additionally, I appreciate the background and conversation that is provided when it comes to discussing non-Mexican inclusions into the history of Mexican cooking in the US via cookbooks. Although his criticisms are hard on Dianne Kennedy and Rick Bayless, I agree on his take that there should be more emphasis on the Latino/Mexican cooks and authors that grew up closer to the cuisine. However, there is no doubt that Kennedy and Bayless have contributed greatly to the recognition and expansion of Mexican food.
August 19, 2021
A fun look through the history of Mexican food in the United States with a vivid writing style and a humanist slant. Surprisingly depressing at points, as a decent chunk of this history covered from 1800-1975 revolves around non-Mexican people co-opting Mexican foods, making them blander, and selling them to the (white) masses at great profit, while the people responsible for those dishes in the first place toiled on in obscurity. However, the book wisely chooses to largely sidestep heavy-handed morality as it covers these events, largely presenting them solely as they happened, and leaving it to the reader to ascribe their own values to them.
I was amused at the strange addendum that the frozen margarita machine - so emblematic of the 1980's, Chi-Chi's school of Mexican food - was actually one of the few US Mexican food industry innovations that was actually created and promoted by a Mexican person. Who woulda thunk?
I was amused at the strange addendum that the frozen margarita machine - so emblematic of the 1980's, Chi-Chi's school of Mexican food - was actually one of the few US Mexican food industry innovations that was actually created and promoted by a Mexican person. Who woulda thunk?
January 8, 2024
I'm not sure I would ever have picked this book to read on my own. While I was in the library one day, talking to one of my favorite librarians, I noticed the book and mentioned it to her asking if she'd read it. She hadn't but it had been included in a Summer Reading List within the last couple of years and she'd heard some good things about it. Since I didn't already have a couple of thousand books I wanted to read I thought I love Mexican food and could probably eat it almost every day, so why not. It proved to be really interesting and informative. There was much history that I probably won't remember but a number of tidbits that I most certainly will (i.e. the arrival of a specific group of Mexican groceries that came to Indianapolis, Indiana where I grew up and still survive today...) Plus it became a challenge book for me this month as I had to read a book I considered spicy and since I'm not into romantic reading at all...particularly spicy...this was my book!!
October 2, 2017
It took me a bit to get into this book, but once I did, I really enjoyed it. I found the initial chapters about vanilla and chocolate to be the least interesting and at first the author's light tone was a little abrasive. However, as he moved into trends and "Americanization" of different types of Mexican food, and the history therein (for example, how chili & tamales were initially popular, compared to the evolution of tacos and burritos), I could not have been more fascinated. I loved learning about the history behind all sorts of Mexican food, from Taco Bell to the rise & controversy of Rick Bayless to oddities I've noticed (the "bertos" chains in southern California) to interesting tidbits (canned tortillas existed!!). I definitely recommend to anyone interested in any of these areas.
June 28, 2019
This is an interesting book on the history of Mexican food, Tacos, burritos Tex-mex and most importantly the history of Tequila. It covers how places like Taco Bell, Chi Chi, Taco johns, Del Taco and others came about. The description of some of the food at the time that they had to make do with for the closes thing for Mexican food was pretty sad. Did you know there are or were can tortillas ? How disgusting. There is a chapter on real chocolate and Mexican hot coco which I can not wait to try.
It is interesting to see how food is different depending on the region like when they are talking about green chili. I grew up in Southern New Mexico so I am very familiar with Hatch green chili and the way it is served in New Mexico. It talks about the San Luis Valley in Southern Colorado and for that matter in most of Colorado. I live in Pueblo and Pueblo is well known for its green chili also and it is a running competition on which towns green chili is the best, In Colorado the green chili is more like a stew or a gravy but it sure is good. There are parts of the book that in my opinion plod along but all in all this is a pretty good read and informative.
It is interesting to see how food is different depending on the region like when they are talking about green chili. I grew up in Southern New Mexico so I am very familiar with Hatch green chili and the way it is served in New Mexico. It talks about the San Luis Valley in Southern Colorado and for that matter in most of Colorado. I live in Pueblo and Pueblo is well known for its green chili also and it is a running competition on which towns green chili is the best, In Colorado the green chili is more like a stew or a gravy but it sure is good. There are parts of the book that in my opinion plod along but all in all this is a pretty good read and informative.
January 17, 2021
Perhaps it’s simply because I’ll eat just about anything if it’s served on a warm tortilla but I found Taco USA to be immensely enjoyable. Gustavo knows his food and he knows his writing. While there are periods where the point seems to get away from him (in fairness this is an insanely complicated historical exploration), he overall succeeds in his goal: a broad look at how Mexican food wove its way into American culture. I could have done without his Top Five chapter and would have liked to have seen a little more effort on recent evolution (Kogi isn’t discussed until the very end and only briefly.
Also, make sure you have your favorite Mexican inspired dishes on hand because you will find yourself wanting tacos, enchiladas and all the rest throughout your read.
Also, make sure you have your favorite Mexican inspired dishes on hand because you will find yourself wanting tacos, enchiladas and all the rest throughout your read.
March 2, 2020
This book will make you hungry! And I think that’s Arellano’s main point. His writing about food is brilliant and impressive, but the book brings in a lot of history as well. We tend to think that Mexican food has been around a long time in the US, but a lot of the staples are actually pretty recent inventions, many from the 50s or later. Taco Bell, hard shell tacos, frozen margaritas, nachos, fajitas; Arellano tracks down interviews or first hand accounts of these greats getting invented! He’s definitely an alt-weekly writer, and one of the best, so the chapters kind of read like great alt-weekly pieces. Fun book and I learned a lot.
May 29, 2020
“And if your neighborhood still suffers under the tyranny of Taco Bell and combo plates? Fear not -- Mexican food is coming to wow you, to save you from a bland life, as it did for your parents and grandparents and great-grandparents. Again. Like last time -- and the time before that.”
― Gustavo Arellano, Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America
Perfect pandemic reading! I'm so glad I waited to read it! Love Gustavo Arellano's writing and reporting. This book is a gift and a treat. It is also researched in detail and concludes with well-resourced endnotes.
A fun, informative, a delicious read!
― Gustavo Arellano, Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America
Perfect pandemic reading! I'm so glad I waited to read it! Love Gustavo Arellano's writing and reporting. This book is a gift and a treat. It is also researched in detail and concludes with well-resourced endnotes.
A fun, informative, a delicious read!
May 23, 2021
I'm about 10 years late to "discover" this book but I'm so glad that I did! I absolutely loved slowing down to learn about things like hard shell tacos, how a lot of hardworking fingers got burned repeatedly for someone to come up with the idea of making those in a special device, or how the frozen margarita was concocted. It's so worthwhile to learn about the history of how so many cultures come together to create a dish, a food that we might assimilate and think of as "our" own when it in fact it's so many layers. Like those yummy layered enchiladas? I'll be planning some trips around these historic eateries.
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