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Eater
9 hours ago
- Eater
Where Cookbook Author Rick Martinez Eats in His Hometown of Mazatlán, Mexico
I didn't move to Mazatlán for the food — but it's one of the main reasons I never I first came here five years ago, it was just one quick stop on a longer research trip for Mi Cocina , my James Beard Award-winning, regional Mexican cookbook. I'd heard whispers that the shrimp in Mazatlán was the best in Mexico — maybe the best in the world. I was skeptical, but curious. And then I tasted it. Sweet, plump, cold from the ocean, a perfect vehicle for lime and lots of chiles. That was the beginning of my love for the city, which resulted in my move here in 2020. Since then, this city has seeped into every corner of my life and routine. I live a few blocks from the ocean, where fishermen bring in their boats before dawn and soon get busy selling their catch — sweet scallops, oysters, fish for ceviches and aguachiles — straight from the beach to vendors, restaurants, and home cooks. (People eat seafood here in the morning because that's when it's at its best.) I walk to the mercado and pass stalls piled high with tomatoes so ripe they practically sauce themselves, avocados that are always ripe and creamy like butter, limes still fragrant from the tree, and pineapples still warm from the sun. By afternoon, the air thickens and tacos emerge full of cabeza, tripa, and other meats — and they don't retreat until 3 a.m. The food isn't rushed or forced. It's seasonal, local, intuitive — a reflection of the people who cook it and the land and sea that sustain it. At the places I love most, you can feel the passion and the sazón. There's a tea shop down the street from my house where a young baker taught himself how to make laminated pastries on YouTube. There's a couple from Mexico City making tlacoyos and tacos with masa as intense as the filling. There's a seafood stand with the best aguachile in town, expertly butterflied shrimp, and three ridiculously gorgeous salsas. These restaurants aren't just following tradition; they're expanding it, pushing it, making it their own. I've eaten in every corner of this city. From the loudest stalls to the quietest cafes. These are the places I return to again and again. The places that taste like Mazatlán. The places that taste like home . This serene tea salon started as a plant-filled cafe focused on chai, matcha, and vegetable-focused dishes. Then it hired José Armando Arellano, a self-taught local baker who mastered European pastries through curiosity and determination. I love coming here because I'm a laminated pastry obsessive with high standards and zero self-control. His ham and cheese croissant is a revelation; made with dough laminated with guajillo chile butter, it bakes into crispy, spicy layers wrapped around salty ham and cheddar. It tastes like a flaky, porky miracle. The bostock — a frangipane (almond cream) topped brioche — is a perfect hybrid of French toast and almond croissant. Both are decadent, deeply satisfying, and often gone before noon. I come for the pastries, but the hojicha lattes (roasted green tea), matcha, and sense of calm keep me there. Constitución 620, Centro Histórico . Open from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., Wednesday through Monday; closed Tuesday Aguachile, a dish born in Sinaloa and arguably perfected in Mazatlán, is a bite of spicy, oceanic bliss, combining raw shrimp with a searing mix of lime juice and fresh serrano chiles, cucumber, red onion, and (if you're smart) creamy avocado. After trying versions everywhere from fancy restaurants to plastic-stool puestos, I come back to Ay Papá again and again. I love coming here because this is the best aguachile in Mazatlán — and I've done the research. Just north of Centro, this casual, super local restaurant slices its shrimp whisper-thin so it soaks up every drop of that lime-chile 'agua.' It's cold, spicy, salty, and wildly fresh, perfect with the crispy tostadas or a stack of Saladitas (Mexico's far superior version of saltines). On the side, you'll get three salsas: a green serrano salsa for extra sting, a fiery red chile de árbol, and a deep, umami-rich, soy sauce-based salsa negra. I use all three. My ideal bite? A half tostada, one giant tender shrimp slice, a half-moon of cucumber, some avocado, a spoonful of salsa, and a sliver of red onion. It's crunchy, creamy, tangy, spicy, and ice-cold — basically the culinary equivalent of jumping into the ocean in August. Antonio Rosales 2104A, Mazatlán . Open from 10:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., Thursday through Monday; closed Tuesday and Wednesday Mariscos Piquillas is one of those effortlessly cool neighborhood gems where you can settle into a white plastic chair under the trees, sip a michelada, and let the hours melt away. It's casual and deeply local, with sidewalk seating, friendly staff, and the kind of laid-back energy that makes you want to order another round just to keep the vibe going. Bring a date, bring your friends, bring your book — it all works here. I love coming here because a perfect afternoon involves seafood, beer, and zero urgency. The menu leans Baja-ish with light, tempura-style seafood tacos served on excellent blue corn tortillas. But the standout, for me, is the taco de chicharrón y pulpo: fatty, crispy pork belly paired with tender grilled octopus and splashed with a punchy salsa verde. It sounds chaotic. It is. And it works. The restaurant also does a tostada de chile morita that layers smoky peanut salsa with cucumber, onion, and your choice of shrimp (raw or cooked) and octopus; the combination of textures is incredible. And while the aguachile de chile morita may not be the most traditional in town, it's deeply flavorful and just spicy enough, with the signature dark, smoky heat of the chile morita. Avenida Miguel Alemán 915, Centro, Mazatlán . Open from noon to 8 p.m., Tuesday through Sunday; closed Monday 1/8 Best to try every meat option. The name does not lie — this taco cart-meets-open-air-restaurant serves super tacos. By 4 p.m., the team fires up the grill on a busy street corner near the beach, and it stays hot until well after midnight. I love coming here because some nights are made for cabeza and tripitas, and this spot is the undisputed king of tacos after dark. Customers order their meat of choice (six kinds, if you're counting) and preferred format: tacos (maíz or harina), vampiros (rippled, crispy tortillas that look like vampire wings), chorreadas (corn gorditas with asiento de puerco and queso Chihuahua), or quesadillas (flour tortillas with melty cheese and meat). My move is a flour quesadilla with cabeza (rich, fall-apart cow's head meat) and an extra crispy tripa quesadilla on the side, but whatever route you take, you're in good hands. But it's not just the food — it's the whole vibe . The smells of carne asada, cabeza, tripa, and al pastor fill the air, while the sounds of banda spill out from cars and sidewalk speakers. It's open-air, loud, happy, and totally infectious, the ideal stop after a night of dancing, karaoke, beach beers, or cruising the Malecón. You sit shoulder to shoulder with friends, families, and strangers, inhaling carne and laughter in equal measure. It's not just a taco stop. It's a Mazatlán ritual. Calle Segunda Carvajal 3057-C, Reforma . Open from 4 p.m. to 2 or 3 a.m., Tuesday through Sunday; closed Monday La Chilanga ES is a Mexico City-style restaurant run by a couple who brought their masa, recipes, and Chilanga (CDMX resident) spirit to Mazatlán. They nixtamalize and grind their own corn, and build the menu around masa-rich classics like gorditas, tlacoyos, huaraches, quesadillas, sopes, and more. I love coming here because CDMX cravings hit hard when you're 600 miles away. My forever order? The gordita de chicharrón prensado — those crispy, fatty bits of pork belly pressed into masa are ecstasy. The runner up has to be the quesadilla de huitlacoche with Oaxacan cheese, folded into a thick, chewy tortilla that actually tastes like corn. And then there's the pambazo, maybe the only one in Mazatlán: a soft telera roll dunked in guajillo chile sauce, grilled until toasty and red, then stuffed with chorizo, potatoes, beans, lettuce, crema, and queso. It's messy and spicy, and it calls to me. Dr. Carvajal 2501, Centro, Mazatlán . Open from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m., Tuesday through Sunday; closed Monday See More: Celebrities Mexico Travel Guides
Vancouver Sun
13-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Vancouver Sun
Cook This: 3 Mexican recipes from Salsa Daddy, including coconut fried shrimp and pineapple salsa
Our cookbook of the week is Salsa Daddy: Dip Your Way into Mexican Cooking by Mazatlán-based chef and author Rick Martínez. Jump to the recipes: camarones al coco (coconut shrimp), la piña (the pineapple) and salsa de cebolla y serrano caramelizado (caramelized onion and serrano salsa). Salsa Daddy emanates happiness. Rick Martínez 's new cookbook is filled with light and levity, bright colours and vibrant flavours. Having recently marked five years of living in the Sinaloan town of Mazatlán on Mexico's Pacific coast, it reflects his love of salsa as much as it does his state of mind. Researching his first book, Mi Cocina (2022), took Martínez to 156 cities and all 32 Mexican states. He first visited Mazatlán in pursuit of its 'incredibly sweet shrimp' and chose not to return to New York City, where he'd lived for 20 years. That decision changed his life. 'I'm so happy,' says Martínez. 'It's been an incredible ride.' Discover the best of B.C.'s recipes, restaurants and wine. By signing up you consent to receive the above newsletter from Postmedia Network Inc. A welcome email is on its way. If you don't see it, please check your junk folder. The next issue of West Coast Table will soon be in your inbox. Please try again Interested in more newsletters? Browse here. Part of Martínez's aim with the book was to create an escape. He frequently whips up salsa for one but recognizes that, more often than not, people make it for a crowd. 'There's an inherent joy and happiness that goes around salsa because it's communal. And you're typically very happy while you're eating it and probably drinking something that's going to make you even happier. And so, I wanted the book to be kind of the pre-game to that and start that festive, happy vibe.' Martínez dedicated his second cookbook to salsa mainly because of feedback from his fans and followers. He featured 16 salsa recipes in Mi Cocina, thinking that would satisfy his audience's appetite, but they wanted more. 'I also just personally love making salsas,' says Martínez. Adding to his inspiration, he'd noticed a trend since moving to Mazatlán. 'Whenever I was invited to a family gathering or carne asada (barbecue), the thing I noticed about the family dynamic is that the elder folk in the family usually have the dishes they always cook. So it's like, 'My tía makes the rice, this cousin makes the beans, Abuelita (Grandma) makes the tamales.' And nobody steps on those toes. You step away. So, it doesn't really leave that much for the younger folks to make.' As a result, kids from 10 years old to young adults in their 20s are typically tasked with bringing salsa. Which makes sense, Martínez emphasizes — it's a relatively low-risk, low-investment dish, and you don't have to be an experienced cook to make it. More importantly, salsa is an opportunity for expression. 'You get to completely let go and unbridle your creativity because no one's going to judge you against anything else. And also, what I found is that these younger people had star dishes,' says Martínez. 'If you can make something that turns heads and gets you noticed, all of a sudden, you're elevated on par with the tías and the abuelitas. They might not admit it, but I think deep down, that's what you want.' Part of the beauty of salsa is that there are no rules, he adds. 'There are too many self-imposed rules by people living outside of Mexico relative to the cuisine that just don't exist here. So, I wanted to give people a guide to how to construct a salsa using a particular type of method, but then just improvise around it. Use what you like. Use what you have. Use what's in season, and it's going to be amazing.' Seven of Salsa Daddy's eight chapters delve into, you guessed it, salsas, from smashed and chopped to blended and cooked. Martínez concludes the book with a chapter on 'quick and easy meals,' with an emphasis on Mexican dinners: enchiladas and chilaquiles, tortas, tacos and quesadillas, guisos and soups, and 'dishes I can't live without,' such as camarones al coco (coconut shrimp). The final chapter wasn't originally part of the plan. After making countless salsas for the book, Martínez's perspective on them changed. No longer purely accompaniments to meals, they became the starting point for dishes. With salsa containers filling his fridge and freezer — and friends and neighbours at capacity — he started experimenting. Martínez's first test was a meatloaf with a litre of salsa mixed into the ground beef. 'I was like, I have no idea what's going to happen, but at least I now have a (litre) gone.' It was a success. Each weekend, as he made space in his fridge for the coming week, he took notes of his creations. Leftover salsa might become a glaze, barbecue sauce, broth or braising liquid. Martínez was struck by the ease of using salsas in everyday cooking and knew he had to include some ideas in the book. 'If I give you easy, low-lift meals that you can pair with the salsas or make using the salsas, then that's a good service that will help you get dinner on the table fast. And also, it's going to be really yummy. It's amazing to me because I've never seen this written about salsas. But it's a flavour bomb. It's acid, salt, heat, sweetness, umami, and you're putting that into a broth or braise or a glaze, and it's going to be great. And it's there — you should use it.' Throughout the book, Martínez highlights enticing ways to enjoy salsa as a condiment, Mexican and not. He smothers caramelized onion and serrano salsa on a cheeseburger, spoons ghee, vanilla and chilhuacle salsa macha over vanilla ice cream, tosses a red cream salsa with penne and grilled chicken, and uses cucumber, tomatillo and poblano salsa (El Pepino or The Cucumber) as a bed for fried tofu triangles. Martínez sees Salsa Daddy as a representation of how living in Mexico has changed him as a cook. Though he still respects the cuisine and culture, he's less preoccupied with how far he should push things. Recipes such as El Pepino resulted from an end-of-the-week experiment with leftover vegetables. Salsa Tejana (Texas Salsa; roasted peaches, charred habanero and toasted pecans) is an homage to his Texan upbringing. After writing Salsa Daddy, he has a new confidence in developing recipes based on his deepened knowledge of Mexican cuisine. 'I never thought writing a book would have changed me so much. I felt like Mi Cocina was more cathartic — like I had a lot of stuff that just needed to come out — and I felt very relieved and unburdened after that book was published. I love Mi Cocina, but this book was such a journey. I feel so transformed.' Coconut-fried shrimp and pineapple salsa Serves: 4 1 lb (453 g) extra-large shrimp, peeled and deveined 1 tsp kosher salt (0.14 oz/4 g), plus more to taste 1 tsp freshly ground black pepper, plus more to taste 1/2 tsp freshly ground allspice, pumpkin pie spice or cinnamon 1 cup all-purpose flour (4.4 oz/125 g) 2 large eggs 3 cups shredded dried coconut, preferably sweetened, divided Virgin coconut oil or vegetable oil (about 4 cups/1 L), for shallow-frying For serving: La Piña (recipe follows) or another fruity salsa Lime wedges, for squeezing Optional equipment: A deep-fry thermometer In a medium bowl, toss the shrimp with the salt, pepper and allspice until completely coated. Cover with plastic and refrigerate until ready to use — but for no longer than 3 hours. Set up a dredging station in three shallow bowls or pie plates: Add the flour to one. Place the eggs in a bowl and beat with 1 tablespoon water to combine. Place 1 1/2 cups of the dried coconut in a third bowl. Season the flour and eggs with salt and pepper. Pour 1 inch (2.5 cm) of coconut oil into a heavy medium pot and fit with a deep-fry thermometer, if using. Heat over high until the thermometer registers 325F (163C). Working in small batches, dredge the shrimp in the flour, turning to coat and packing into crevices. Shake to remove the excess and transfer to a sheet pan. Dip the shrimp into the egg mixture, tap against the side of the bowl to allow excess to drip off, then pack coconut firmly onto the shrimp to completely cover. Gently shake off excess and return to the sheet pan. After you have breaded about half of the shrimp, you will have used most of the coconut and what is left will be slightly wet from the egg. Discard and continue working with the remaining 1 1/2 cups dried coconut. Line a sheet pan with paper towels and set near the stove. Working in batches, fry the shrimp until golden brown, turning once, about 1 minute per side. Adjust the heat level during frying to maintain a consistent temperature. Transfer to the paper towels to drain. Serve the warm shrimp on a platter with salsa and a squeeze of lime. Rick's tip: Smash chopped salsas so they stick to the shrimp. Charred pineapple and habanero with a drizzle of olive oil Makes: 1 1/2 cups 1/2 medium pineapple (1 lb/460 g), peeled, cored and thinly sliced 3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, divided 1/4 medium white onion (3.1 oz/89 g) 2 habanero peppers (0.7 oz/22 g), stemmed, halved and seeded 2 garlic cloves, unpeeled 1 1/2 tsp kosher salt (0.21 oz/6 g), plus more to taste Brush both sides of the pineapple with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil to prevent them from sticking. Line a large cast-iron skillet with a sheet of foil and heat the skillet over high heat (and I mean high, we need that pineapple to caramelize, not steam) until very hot. Working in batches, add the pineapple, onion, habaneros and garlic and cook, using tongs to turn occasionally, until everything is charred on all sides, about 3 minutes for the garlic, 3 to 4 minutes for the chilies, and 6 to 8 minutes for the onion and pineapple. (Alternatively, arrange an oven rack in the top position and preheat the broiler to high. Arrange the pineapple and vegetables on a foil-lined sheet pan and roast under the broiler, turning occasionally, until all sides are charred.) Transfer to a plate to cool. Working in batches, use a molcajete or mortar and pestle to smash and grind the pineapple, onion, habaneros and garlic until a chunky but pourable salsa forms. Transfer to a medium bowl and stir in the remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil and the salt. Taste and season with more salt if desired. Do ahead: The salsa can be made up to 2 days ahead. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator, or freeze for up to 1 month. Shrimp! All seafood. Or with chips, at the beach or pool. Ideally, you're using a sweet, ripe pineapple with a hint of give when you press into its spiky skin. If your pineapple is on the underripe, greener side, char it and then blend it, because it'll be too firm to easily smash, and the heat will caramelize the sugar and make it taste sweeter than it actually is. Onion, garlic and serrano Makes: 2 cups 6 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil 4 medium white onions (3 lb/1.4 kg), sliced 4 garlic cloves, sliced 10 serrano peppers (7 oz/200 g), stemmed and sliced 1 tbsp kosher salt (0.4 oz/12 g), plus more to taste In a large pot, combine the oil, onions, garlic, serranos and salt and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the onion is deep golden brown and very soft, 35 to 40 minutes. Add 1/2 cup water to deglaze the pan, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan and cook until most of the water has evaporated, about 2 minutes. (Optional: Transfer to a blender and purée until spreadable but still a little chunky.) Taste and season with more salt if desired. Do ahead: The salsa can be made up to 5 days ahead. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator, or freeze for up to 1 month. On burgers, torta Milanesa, pozole verde con pollo, tacos, mac and cheese. Add a spoonful with cream cheese to stuff peppers. Recipes and images reprinted with permission from Salsa Daddy: Dip Your Way into Mexican Cooking by Rick Martínez, copyright ©2025. Published by Clarkson Potter/Publishers, an imprint of Penguin Random House. Our website is the place for the latest breaking news, exclusive scoops, longreads and provocative commentary. Please bookmark and sign up for our cookbook and recipe newsletter, Cook This, here .
National Post
13-06-2025
- Entertainment
- National Post
Cook This: 3 Mexican recipes from Salsa Daddy, including coconut fried shrimp and pineapple salsa
Article content Jump to the recipes: camarones al coco (coconut shrimp), la piña (the pineapple) and salsa de cebolla y serrano caramelizado (caramelized onion and serrano salsa). Article content Salsa Daddy emanates happiness. Rick Martínez 's new cookbook is filled with light and levity, bright colours and vibrant flavours. Having recently marked five years of living in the Sinaloan town of Mazatlán on Mexico's Pacific coast, it reflects his love of salsa as much as it does his state of mind. Article content Article content Researching his first book, Mi Cocina (2022), took Martínez to 156 cities and all 32 Mexican states. He first visited Mazatlán in pursuit of its 'incredibly sweet shrimp' and chose not to return to New York City, where he'd lived for 20 years. That decision changed his life. 'I'm so happy,' says Martínez. 'It's been an incredible ride.' Article content Article content Part of Martínez's aim with the book was to create an escape. He frequently whips up salsa for one but recognizes that, more often than not, people make it for a crowd. 'There's an inherent joy and happiness that goes around salsa because it's communal. And you're typically very happy while you're eating it and probably drinking something that's going to make you even happier. And so, I wanted the book to be kind of the pre-game to that and start that festive, happy vibe.' Article content Martínez dedicated his second cookbook to salsa mainly because of feedback from his fans and followers. He featured 16 salsa recipes in Mi Cocina, thinking that would satisfy his audience's appetite, but they wanted more. 'I also just personally love making salsas,' says Martínez. Adding to his inspiration, he'd noticed a trend since moving to Mazatlán. Article content Article content 'Whenever I was invited to a family gathering or carne asada (barbecue), the thing I noticed about the family dynamic is that the elder folk in the family usually have the dishes they always cook. So it's like, 'My tía makes the rice, this cousin makes the beans, Abuelita (Grandma) makes the tamales.' And nobody steps on those toes. You step away. So, it doesn't really leave that much for the younger folks to make.' Article content Article content As a result, kids from 10 years old to young adults in their 20s are typically tasked with bringing salsa. Which makes sense, Martínez emphasizes — it's a relatively low-risk, low-investment dish, and you don't have to be an experienced cook to make it. More importantly, salsa is an opportunity for expression.
