I had not sat down to talk with him for almost three years.
There were reasons. He was busy building a house in another village. And I have been traipsing the globe.
But we had a lot in common.
His was one of the first Mexico blogs I ran across when I was looking for a place to retire. And, even though we bloggers are as diverse as any random group of people, we all share that odd desire to be prodigal with what many people think to be private. Instead, we plop it all out there on line for all comers to pick up and examine.
We were also from the same part of The States -- before we moved south.
So, we decided to meet for dinner on Thursday. He had not yet tried the only local restaurant that cooks a pizza I like: Chez Cedric. And I was interested to see if it was still as good as my first visit (seine memories). I had heard some comments on our local message board about food and service issues that were completely inconsistent with my experience.
As luck would have it, we arrived an hour early. Because we were both hungry, we wandered over to the newish Japanese restaurant. It was also closed. But the owner saw us, pulled a table onto the street, and we had a pleasant meal. Yakisoba chicken for me.
The best part of the evening, though, was the conversation. Catching up on local doings. The joys of the blogosphere. Our plans for the future. (In my case, always up for grabs.)
We even had a bit of street theater from a healthy-looking young man who told us his tales of woe -- including lifting his shirt to be certain we saw his surgery scars. I am not certain he meant us to see the bullet wound in his side.
But I could not get the thought of pizza out of my mind. So, last night I showed up during open hours at Chez Cedric.
Everything I wrote last November is still true.
It is by far the best-appointed restaurant in the area. Real table cloths. Cloth napkins. Carafes of spiced oil and balsamic on each table with an accompanying flower arrangement.
But, just as no one leaves a Broadway show whistling the scenery, restaurant atmosphere will add only so much if the food is not good.
Most people on the local message board like everything about Chez Cedric. But a couple participants found the pizza "average" and the service "slow."
I think I have eaten in all of the local restaurants that serve pizza. And I would agree that most of the pizza ranges from passable to ghastly. By comparison, they make Domino's look good. Or, at least, edible.
There were reasons. He was busy building a house in another village. And I have been traipsing the globe.
But we had a lot in common.
His was one of the first Mexico blogs I ran across when I was looking for a place to retire. And, even though we bloggers are as diverse as any random group of people, we all share that odd desire to be prodigal with what many people think to be private. Instead, we plop it all out there on line for all comers to pick up and examine.
We were also from the same part of The States -- before we moved south.
So, we decided to meet for dinner on Thursday. He had not yet tried the only local restaurant that cooks a pizza I like: Chez Cedric. And I was interested to see if it was still as good as my first visit (seine memories). I had heard some comments on our local message board about food and service issues that were completely inconsistent with my experience.
As luck would have it, we arrived an hour early. Because we were both hungry, we wandered over to the newish Japanese restaurant. It was also closed. But the owner saw us, pulled a table onto the street, and we had a pleasant meal. Yakisoba chicken for me.
The best part of the evening, though, was the conversation. Catching up on local doings. The joys of the blogosphere. Our plans for the future. (In my case, always up for grabs.)
We even had a bit of street theater from a healthy-looking young man who told us his tales of woe -- including lifting his shirt to be certain we saw his surgery scars. I am not certain he meant us to see the bullet wound in his side.
But I could not get the thought of pizza out of my mind. So, last night I showed up during open hours at Chez Cedric.
Everything I wrote last November is still true.
It is by far the best-appointed restaurant in the area. Real table cloths. Cloth napkins. Carafes of spiced oil and balsamic on each table with an accompanying flower arrangement.
But, just as no one leaves a Broadway show whistling the scenery, restaurant atmosphere will add only so much if the food is not good.
Most people on the local message board like everything about Chez Cedric. But a couple participants found the pizza "average" and the service "slow."
I think I have eaten in all of the local restaurants that serve pizza. And I would agree that most of the pizza ranges from passable to ghastly. By comparison, they make Domino's look good. Or, at least, edible.
Chez Cedric's pizza is consistently excellent. At least, for me.
The crust is thin and always cooked to almost a cracker crispness. With just enough wood-fired smokiness to ensure the crust did not begin its life in an Oxxo freezer.
I like pepperoni. That is problematic in Mexico. Most pepperoni produced here tastes as if it is the first cousin to bologna. The pepperoni at Chez Cedric is both firm and spicy. Not quite Boar's Head. But the best I have had in Mexico.
For me, the selling point is the cheese. Most pizzas in Mexico use cheeses that are not well-suited for pizza. Primarily due to the chemical after-taste. The cheese Chez Cedric uses is a fine quality cheddar. Thick enough to get a cheese taste without overpowering the rest of the ingredients.
Creating an artisan pizza is difficult. And subtle is not what some pizza eaters are after. I am. And it is the best I have found.
What baffles me are the complaints about service. But I hear the same tune often from northern tourists. I suspect part of it perception.
When I go out to eat in Mexico, I know it is going to be my main event either for the afternoon or evening. I will meet with acquaintances and we will spend two hours or so enjoying ourselves.
I do not expect to have a menu shoved in front of me the moment I walk in. I want to get settled and start conversation before I need to think about looking at food choices.
One thing I have always appreciated about Mexican waiters is they do not hover around giving the impression I need to rush my meal. And they do not treat me like a child by constantly asking how I like everything.
When I order my meal, I always order enough beverage to get me through the evening. A Coke Zero when the menu arrives, and a second Coke Zero when my pizza arrives.
By that standard, I have always had good service at Chez Cedric. In the winter. And in the summer.
And, even though I should be cutting back on the pizza, I will be showing up at Chez Cedric regularly this summer.
The restaurant is open from 7 to 10. Closed on Tuesday and Wednesday.
The crust is thin and always cooked to almost a cracker crispness. With just enough wood-fired smokiness to ensure the crust did not begin its life in an Oxxo freezer.
I like pepperoni. That is problematic in Mexico. Most pepperoni produced here tastes as if it is the first cousin to bologna. The pepperoni at Chez Cedric is both firm and spicy. Not quite Boar's Head. But the best I have had in Mexico.
For me, the selling point is the cheese. Most pizzas in Mexico use cheeses that are not well-suited for pizza. Primarily due to the chemical after-taste. The cheese Chez Cedric uses is a fine quality cheddar. Thick enough to get a cheese taste without overpowering the rest of the ingredients.
Creating an artisan pizza is difficult. And subtle is not what some pizza eaters are after. I am. And it is the best I have found.
What baffles me are the complaints about service. But I hear the same tune often from northern tourists. I suspect part of it perception.
When I go out to eat in Mexico, I know it is going to be my main event either for the afternoon or evening. I will meet with acquaintances and we will spend two hours or so enjoying ourselves.
I do not expect to have a menu shoved in front of me the moment I walk in. I want to get settled and start conversation before I need to think about looking at food choices.
One thing I have always appreciated about Mexican waiters is they do not hover around giving the impression I need to rush my meal. And they do not treat me like a child by constantly asking how I like everything.
When I order my meal, I always order enough beverage to get me through the evening. A Coke Zero when the menu arrives, and a second Coke Zero when my pizza arrives.
By that standard, I have always had good service at Chez Cedric. In the winter. And in the summer.
And, even though I should be cutting back on the pizza, I will be showing up at Chez Cedric regularly this summer.
The restaurant is open from 7 to 10. Closed on Tuesday and Wednesday.
