The front of the menu (no link, website broken) tells us about what would be Mexico in the late 16th century. Spain invaded in 1519, brought waves of settlers, building new lives (and destroying others), bringing traditions and ingredients from home and discovering new ones. Hungry settlers, we are told, “wanted homecooked meals in a homelike environment.”
From the menu: The menu from TU Y YO is composed mainly of [the chef's] family recipes spanning over 100 years. From homemade salsas to typical meat sauces, each item is freshly made and 100% Mexican. We take pride in everything we prepare and thank you for taking the time to experience our culture.
Some of the ingredients and dishes will seem pretty familiar to you: beef, chicken, garlic, onions, avocado, chiles hot and not, beans, rice (made red and green, like the Mexican flag). Some ingredients, though fully Mexican (and pre-Columbian), will be new. Amaranth is grain, kinda cornmeal-sized, kinda oat-colored, mild. Nopales are tangy, mild cactus leaves. Cuitlacoche was famously remarketed as the Mexican truffle and is a mushroom: it is mild, warm, mushroomy, and has a rich, sticky scent like maple syrup. I like it a whole lot, but for heaven’s sake don’t look up a picture before you go because it looks hideous. Cricket empanadas are exactly what you imagine (the legs get stuck in your teeth). Most of these foods have fascinating nutritional, cultural or historical histories that the menu is happy to explain. In fact, it feels a little like I'm being assigned to research it, and I just want to eat. The restaurant is a member of Slow Food, a grassroots food/environment organization that I imagine they would also like you to research.
I see I’m making the same mistake Tu Y Yo makes, which is explaining the food rather than describing it. And that’s their flaw: technically proficient, intelligent, and not quite tasty enough. Lots of entrees are one food with one sauce, which is fascinating for the first four bites but gets old quick. There’s no panache. Consider nopales en salsa verde y amaranto. That’s mild, tangy cactus leaf in green sauce, and topped with amaranth grains – a bright green vegetarian plate. Maybe the amaranth adds earthy dustiness, and it sure looks nice sprinkled on top. But even with a side of rice and side of beans, I quickly developed palate fatigue and got bored. How can so many interesting ingredients and preparations seem dreary? I felt curious about the first bite, eager by the second bite, and apathetic about the sixth bite. If the complex sauces fascinated my taste buds as much as my mind, it’d be worth it, but they do not. This is also true of the mole colorado tlaxcalteca, the bisteca en salsa “borracha,” chilaquiles, enchiladas, and even the ancas de rana (frogs’ legs).
There are, however, some excellent standouts: the chile relleno in nogada, filled with ground beef, raisins, peaches, and almonds, may sound odd but is delicious, topped with a cream sauce and pomegranate seeds (again, the colors of the flag). I thought I was unfamiliar with beef and fruit together, until I realized tomatoes and chiles are both fruit. Can you think of Texas chili as fruit soup with meat? The chile ties it all together. This, friends, is what I wanted for the rest of the menu, too: challenging, brainy, and delicious all in one. The dish is very pretty, too.
Desserts are a little sexier, and equally intelligent. The imposible is a technical curiosity, a combined custard/chocolate cake with caramel sauce. Yes, I felt curious about how to successfully cook custard and cake together, but it is also nicely cocoa-y and eggy. Avocado cheesecake is smooth, thick and amusingly green with a nice crust. You may recognize the mouthfeel of avocado fat, but the flavor is sweet. I nearly recommended it to the well-loved owner of a Somerville pie shop sitting at the table behind me, but I hadn’t the courage. Hot chocolate, made in the traditional watery Oaxacan style, is the best I’ve had – the mild tartness from the chocolate isn’t muted by milk fat, and so I was able to learn how watery chocolate can be a good thing.
Considering how many moments in this review I considered writing “and you can look it up,” here are Wikipedia articles for many of the ingredients. If you are the sort of person who wants to look this stuff up, you will like Tu Y Yo better than most. You might learn how nutmeg/mace (same plant) were brought from the Maluku Islands (at one time, the only source) as part of the Manila-Acapulco galleon trade, leaving Mexican food with an Asian influence. Makes sense, but I’d never heard it before. Also, I now understand that besides chocolate mole, there are many mole varieties, including – wait for it – guaca-mole.
Nopales (tangy cactus leaf), Amaranth (grain), Slow Food (movement), Jamaica (hibiscus non-kool-aid), chiles en nogada, pastel imposible.
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