Running through all the fabric of San Francisco's history is the thread
of Mexican and Spanish romance and tradition, carrying us back to the
very days when the trooper sent out by Portola first set eyes on the
great inland sea now known as San Francisco Bay. It would seem that the
cuisinaire most indelibly stamped on the taste of the old San Franciscan
would, therefore, be of either Spanish or Mexican origin. That this is
not a fact is because among the earliest corners to California after it
passed from Mexican hands to those of the United States, were French and
Italian cooks, and the bon vivants of both lands who wanted their own
style of cooking. While the Spanish did not impress their cooking on San
Francisco, it is the cuisine of the Latin races that has given to it its
greatest gastronomic prestige, and there still remains from those very
early days recipes of the famous dishes which had their beginnings
either in Spain or Mexico.
There is much misconception regarding both Spanish and Mexican cooking,
for it is generally accepted as a fact that all Mexican and Spanish
dishes are so filled with red pepper as to be unpalatable to the normal
stomach of those trained to what is called "plain American cooking."
Certain dishes of Mexican and Spanish origin owe their fine flavor to
discriminating use of chili caliente or chili dulce, but many of the
best dishes are entirely innocent of either. The difference between
Spanish and Mexican cooking is largely a matter of sentiment. It is a
peculiarity of the Spaniard that he does not wish to be classed as a
Mexican, and on the other hand the Mexican is angry if he be called a
Spaniard. But the fact remains that their cooking is much alike, so much
so, in fact, as to be indistinguishable except by different names for
similar dishes, and frequently these are the same.
The two famous and world-known dishes of this class of cooking are
tortillas and tamales. It is generally supposed that both of these are
the product of Mexico, but this is not the case. The tamale had its
origin in Spain and was carried to Mexico by the conquistadors, and
taken up as a national dish by the natives after many years. The
tortilla, on the other hand, is made now exactly as it was made by the
Mexican Indian when the Spanish found the country. The aborigine
prepared his corn on a stone metate and made it into cakes by patting it
with the hand, then cooked it on a hot stone before an open fire. It is
still made in that manner in the heart of Mexico, and we could tell a
story of how we saw this done one night in the midst of a dense tropical
forest, while muleteers and mozas of a great caravan sat around their
little campfires, whose fitful light served to intensify the weird
appearance of the shadows of the Indians as they passed to and fro among
their packs, but this is not the place for such stories.
Of the old Mexican restaurants, those of us who can look back to the
days of a quarter of a century ago remember old Felipe and Maria, the
Mexican couple who kept the little place in the alley back of the old
county jail, off Broadway. Here one had to depend entirely upon
sentiment, or rather sentimentality, to be pleased. The cooking was
truly Mexican for it included the usual Mexican disregard for dirt.
Chattering monkeys and parrots were hanging around the kitchen, peering
into pots and fingering viands, and they served to attract attention
from myriads of cockroaches that swarmed about the walls. One could go
to this place just on the theory that one is willing to try anything
once, but aside from its picturesque old couple, and its Dantesque
appearance, it offered nothing to induce a return unless it was to
entertain a friend.
Everyone who lived in San Francisco before the fire remembers Ricardo,
he of the one eye, who served so well at Luna's, on Vallejo and Dupont
streets. Ricardo had but one eye but he could see the wants of his
patrons much better than many of the later day waiters who have two.
Luna's brought fame to San Francisco and in more than one novel of San
Francisco life it was featured. Entering the place one came into the
home life of the Luna family, and reached the dining room through the
parlor, where Mrs. Luna, busy with her drawn work, and all the little
Lunas and the neighbors and their children foregathered in the window
spaces behind the torn Nottingham curtains which partially concealed the
interior from passers on the street. The elder sons and daughters
attended to the wants of those who fancied any of the curios displayed
in the long showcase that extended from the door to the rear of the
room.
Passing through this family group one came to the curtained dining room
proper, although there were a number of tables in the family parlor to
be used in case of a rush of patrons. Luna's dinners were a feature of
the old San Francisco. They were strictly Mexican, from the unpalatable
soup (Mexicans do not understand how to make good soup) to the "dulce"
served at the close of the meal. First came the appetizers in form of
thin slices of salami and of a peculiar Mexican sausage, so extremely
hot with chili pepino as to immediately call for a drink of claret to
assuage the burning. Then came the soup which we experienced ones always
passed over. The salad of modern tables was replaced by an enchilada,
and then came either chili con carne or chili con polle according to the
day of the week, Sundays having as the extra attraction the chili con
pollo, or chicken with pepper. In place of bread they served tortillas,
which were rolled and used as a spoon or fork if one were so inclined.
Following this was what is known among unenlightened as "stuffed
pepper," but which is called by the Spanish, from which country it gets
its name, "chili reinas." To signify the close of the meal came
frijoles fritas or fried beans, and these were followed by the dessert
consisting of some preserved fruit or of a sweet tamale. Fifty cents
paid the bill and a tip of fifteen cents to Ricardo made him as happy
and as profuse with his thanks as the present day waiter on receipt of
half a dollar.
Accepting Luna's as the best type of the Mexican restaurant of the days
before the fire, our inquiry developed the fact that the dish on which
he specialized was chili reinas, and this is the recipe he used in their
preparation: