Gerardo Medina runs Taquería Los Amigos, a 24-hour stand located at a busy intersection in an upscale neighborhood in Mexico City.
With more overseas customers eating his tacos, he began to notice similar reactions to his pico de gallo: red faces, sweat, complaints about the spiciness.
So Mr. Medina, 30, got rid of the serrano peppers, leaving only tomatoes, onions and cilantro. While he still offers an avocado salsa with serrano and a red salsa with morta chiles and chiles de árbol, he wanted to offer a non-spicy option for international guests who aren’t used to intense heat.
“It attracts more people,” he said.
Chile is fundamental to Mexican cuisine and, in turn, to the country’s identity. Mexicans put them in, often in the form of salsa everything: tacos, seafood, chips, fruit, beer and, yes, even sorbet.
“Food that is not spicy is basically not good food for the majority of Mexicans,” said Isaac Palacios, 37, who lives in Mexico City, after eating a taco smothered in salsa.
But since the pandemic, the nation’s capital — with a metropolitan area of 23 million, a temperate climate and rich cultural offerings — has become wildly popular as both a tourist destination and a new home for international transplants who can work remotely and whose earnings dollars or euros make the city more accessible. (Americans are the largest group.)
As a result, in some neighborhoods, gentrification was inevitable.
English is often heard on the streets. Rents have skyrocketed. Boutiques and cafes are increasingly common.
But another key manifestation of this international shift—a reduction in the heat levels of salsas in some of the city’s many taquerias—has alarmed Mexicans and sparked a debate about how much they should adapt to foreigners.
What may be good for business may not be good for the Mexican soul.
“It’s bad,” Mexico City resident Gustavo Miranda, 39, said after downing tacos with co-workers. “If you don’t want it spicy, don’t use any. If you turn down the heat on a salsa, it’s now a dressing. It’s not salsa anymore.”
The influx of new residents from abroad has been a boon for some Mexico City neighborhoods like Roma, Condesa and Polanco, which boast leafy, tree-lined streets and vibrant shopping and dining scenes.
Taquerias that have softened their salsas said they wanted to be more welcoming to people with different tolerance levels, not just Americans, but Europeans and even customers from other Latin American countries where the kitchen doesn’t have as much heat.
Jorge Campos, 39, the manager of El Compita, a taco shop that opened in the heart of Rome a year ago, said the taquería had dropped the heat level on one of the three tables – a charred tomato-based sauce – by using more jalapeños and less habanero peppers.
International customers, he said, sometimes sent tacos back because the sauces had burned their mouths. Since the other salsas are inherently spicier—the red one is made almost entirely from chile de árbol, while the green one has serrano peppers—they tweaked the charred salsa to make it easier on some restaurants.
“You give them a range of choices, and after they know themselves, they say, ‘OK, I’ll try the medium,'” Mr. Campos said, adding that waiters usually explain the spicy flavor to people from abroad.
Some taco shops have begun labeling their sauces with spice level indicators, in part to help non-Spanish-speaking customers. A red flame equals fairly tame. five red flames means caution.
At Los Juanes, a popular taco stand that sets up on a Roma Norte sidewalk every night, one worker, Adolfo Santos Antonio, 22, said the staff had started reducing the heat level of one of its three salsas — using more jalapeños and avocados, fewer serrano peppers — after international customers commented on how hot it was.
But not all taco shops have felt the need to appease multinational tastes.
Guadalupe Carrillo, 84, manager of Taquería Los Parados, which has been in Roma Sur for nearly 60 years, said that in her three decades there the salsa recipes have not changed despite the growing influx of non-Mexicans.
“Foreigners should learn our customs and tastes,” he said. Like when we go there and eat hamburgers or something that’s not spicy.
Janelle Lee, 46, who recently visited Mexico City from Chicago with her husband, said she just couldn’t handle the spiciness. Still, she added, she didn’t expect taquerías to modify their sauces for people like her.
“They should keep who they are, the culture they have and their food,” he said.
On social media, weakened salsas in Mexico City have become a hot topic, fueling fears of a changing city.
Tijuana native Carmen Fuentes León, 29, a DJ and social media influencer who frequently posts about food and lives in San Diego, caused a stir on social media this year after a two-week visit to Mexico City, where she said that he was eating tacos. for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Her conclusion? Some sauces don’t pack the heat. The culprits? People from abroad.
“I’m in Mexico City as a victim of gentrification,” he said in a TikTok video criticizing the salsas at taco chain El Califa, which has locations in several affluent parts of the city.
In colorful language, Ms. Fuentes said that if Americans didn’t like the sauces, they should go home and eat the less spicy options there.
The video, so far, has garnered 2.3 million views and nearly 5,000 comments, many of which are supportive.
Ms. Fuentes, in an interview, said she recorded the video because she was “very frustrated” that she couldn’t get the level of heat she wanted, noting that she eventually found spicier sauces — but outside the genteel neighborhoods.
Sergio Goyri Álvarez, 41, whose father started the El Califa chain 30 years ago, said that while the chiles used in the five salsas can vary in spiciness depending on the harvest, their salsa recipes “don’t they have changed”.
In fact, he said, a fifth salsa, made with habaneros, was recently added for Mexicans who like it extra spicy and didn’t think the chain’s options had enough heat.
El Califa, however, has done other things to cater to foreigners. Mr. Goyri said the chain began offering menus (with photos) in English and added vegetarian tacos (soy, pea protein or grain), which have become a hit among global customers.
“We’re providing services to these foreigners,” he said, “but we’re not changing anything about our spirit or our DNA to try to ride this wave of foreigners.”
Adrián Hernández Cordero, 39, who heads the sociology department at the Metropolitan Autonomous University in Mexico City and has studied gentrification and food, said international influences had drawn attention to the salsa debate.
Some foods have also become milder in the last decade because Mexicans, particularly in urban areas, have realized that spiciness contributes to intestinal problems.
“It’s very easy, especially on social media, to look to outsiders for the problem,” he said, “when we don’t see that the situation is much more complex.”
Tom Griffey, 34, originally from Boston, moved to Mexico City in 2019 after being enchanted while visiting a friend and works remotely as a data engineer. He said he usually spread the hottest salsa and even if it burned his mouth, he would never complain about it.
“I try to blend in as much as possible,” said Mr. Griffey, who speaks Spanish and whose partner is Mexican.
At Taquería Los Amigos, Mr. Medina doesn’t speak much English, but he said he at least warned diners by pointing to the condiments and saying “spicy” or “not spicy.”
Lately, he’s been experimenting more on the less spicy side, introducing sweeter options like onions caramelized with pineapple juice.
Next; Maybe a mango salsa.
