Mexicans often eat their meals later than we do in the United States. Breakfast—desayuno—is served around nine or ten. Comida, the main meal of the day, is taken between two and four, and cena, a light evening meal, at nine or ten. Very civilized, if you ask me.

On the day that Patty, Cristy and I arrived at Mom's house in Lagos de Moreno, it was pushing eleven, so if we wanted breakfast, we would have to hurry over to Jaime's Restaurante before they were sold out of everything.

Oh, we could find corn flakes and oranges at Grandma's house, but that's not breakfast. Cereal is a little something to tide you over in the early morning until it's time for desayuno, and desayuno means real food.

We walked into Jaime's and sat down. Patty asked me what I wanted to eat: a tough question considering nearly everything on offer was foreign to me. There were no printed menus. Jaime's kitchen was outside, on the sidewalk. Customers crowded around the stove, looked to see what was cooking, and yelled their orders to the cooks. I was lost.

Left to right: Patty, Patricia (Mom), nephew JJ, and brother Harold.

I told Patty I wanted to try everything. She looked at me dubiously. I said, "Really. Everything."

Our waitress came over and initiated negotiations.

[In Mexico, we have meseras (waitresses), not servers. There's no word in Spanish for "server" as a gender-neutral noun meaning person who brings you food. None. So don't be getting on me about sexist language.]

[Sorry. A little confidence crisis there.]

Most of the discussion with the mesera was about "what was left." Apparently, the good stuff sells out early. Like maybe bufa (lung)? We had arrived a little late, so some entrees weren't available. Eventually the list of "what was left" was mastered, our orders were placed, and our food arrived.

John's breakfast.

Here's what was in my bowl:

• Biftek (thin slices of chewy beef)
• Chicharron (pieces of deep-fried pork skin in tomato sauce
• Mitote (a spicy stew of heart, liver and kidney
• Frijoles (beans)
• Moronga (blood sausage)
• Chilequiles (tortilla chips in sauce)
• Juevo con chile (eggs)

Washed down with a couple cups of café de olla, this meal fortified me for the entire day.

Jaime's is a popular restaurant, usually jammed with people. During the late morning, the mesera was shouting out what foods were still available, in case anyone wanted more. Patrons talked loudly trying to reach one another. The waitress yelled. Kids ran around. Delightful bedlam.

By the time I took the picture below, many people had left.

Left foreground: Patty's daughter Cristy; with two of her cousins, Pati and Susan. Our mesera on the right.

Jaime's is a class act: clean, friendly, delicious. Many of the chairs are upholstered just like those in any fine Mexican dining room. Actually, the restaurant occupies part of a private home. It's hard to see where the restaurant leaves off and the house begins.

Like any good Mexican business, the Church gets a mention. Two posters, one of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the other of Leonardo da Vinci's Last Supper, hang on the walls. At least Jaime spared us having to gaze at an agonized, bloody figure nailed to a cross—while we chewed our moronga.

If my meal were described to me the way I'm writing about it here, I would be revolted. Too much weird stuff. But in truth, the food was wonderful: savory, full of flavor and spice. It helped that I was never really sure what I was getting in each bite. Separating sensibility from sense of taste is difficult for me. But with food as delicious as Jaime's, relaxing and enjoying the meal was easy. And, they have the best made-to-order tortillas.

—§—

Jaime's Restaurant
Downtown Lagos de Moreno

Food: *****
Wine: *
Service: ***½
Ambience: ***
Price: $

Highly recommended. Reservations not required. No credit cards.

Check it out.