Monday, 3:02 p.m.
The kitchen begins winding down after a busy lunch service. Staff cracks into prep for dinner and the week to follow. Fresh veggies are washed, chopped and portioned out across the counter for the day’s tasks.
Putting Community First at Casa México
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If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like behind the scenes of a restaurant, this is for you. In Behind the Line, photojournalists take you inside the kitchen for a unique perspective on everything that goes into a single day of service, and the people who make it all happen.
In this edition, we get a glimpse into a day at Philadelphia’s Casa México, a South Philly institution for Mexican cuisine, helmed by acclaimed chef Cristina Martinez .
Opened in 2021 by chef Cristina Martinez — following the success of her critically lauded restaurant, South Philly Barbacoa — Casa México in South Philly features Martinez’s signature slow-cooked lamb alongside an expanded menu, including cochinita pibil, esquites and a variety of consommés. Colorful tabletops line the spacious dining room, ideal for groups looking to kick back with tasty tacos and a cold agua fresca. Carrying on the traditions and community love of South Philly Barbacoa (opened in 2015), Casa México has also become a neighborhood staple, and after spending two days in the kitchen with Martinez, one thing is clear: It all starts with the staff and the level of care and attention they put into everything they do.
3:15 p.m.
A chef wrangles a massive box down off a shelf and chuckles as he sees our eyes widen at the 20-pound vacuum-cleaner–size immersion blender he pulls from inside it. He sets up a workstation and begins making a batch of salsa verde using tomatillos, serrano chiles, cilantro, some salt, and a little water. A co-worker walks over to drop in some garlic and onions.
3:24 p.m.
Avocados are next up in the salsa verde. Each one is ripe and creamy, something chef and owner Cristina Martinez has dialed in after many years of sourcing and maintaining quality produce through the challenge of changing seasons.
3:32 p.m.
Chef Martinez takes a break from nearby prep to stop by the salsa verde station. “The key is not adding too much water and hitting the perfect level of salt, especially since tomatoes naturally vary in water content,” she says. She tastes it and, satisfied with the balance, begins dividing the vibrant salsa into containers for service and to-go orders.
3:36 p.m.
Casa Mexico serves up 1,000 portions of salsa verde every week.
3:40 p.m.
Tortillas at Casa México start with sourcing organic corn from a local farm. Each is hand-formed and pressed from fresh masa, the result of nixtamalization (soaking and cooking in an alkaline solution) and grinding the corn in a rustic nixtamal mill.
3:43 p.m.
Any given week can see Casa México shaping up to 5,000 tortillas for service or events.
3:52 p.m.
Chef Martinez works the grill outside to prepare quesadillas with housemade mozzarella and seasonal squash blossoms, freshly picked from the farm — and only available four months out of the year. She smiles and waves at people as they pass.
Some folks stop for a quick chat; she knows them from the neighborhood. Some simply slow their pace to linger with curiosity, recognizing her from her star turn on the Netflix series “Chef’s Table,” which featured her in 2018.
4:00 p.m.
Atop a handmade comal de barro, there are tortillas crisp for quesadillas, and veggies blistering for salsa rojo. Says Martinez, “The live fire gives food a flavor that simply can’t be replicated.”
4:09 p.m.
With the vegetables now cooked, Martinez begins assembling salsa rojo in a molcajete, a full-body process she calls “more than a recipe step.” “It’s putting your hands, strength and heart into each motion,” she says. She grinds a handful of chile de árbol. “You like it spicy?” she asks, tossing in a few more with a laugh, before adding tomatoes, green chilies, garlic, onion and tomatillos. Martinez dabs the salsa on the back of her hand to taste. The essential part here, she says, is getting the salt just right.
4:16 p.m.
Back inside the kitchen, staff chop to order and serve the restaurant’s signature barbacoa, a dish Martinez has made since her years growing up in Capulhuac, Mexico. It’s also the dish that won her national acclaim, landing her first restaurant, South Philly Barbacoa, on Bon Appétit’s Best New Restaurants list in 2016.
4:20 p.m.
Out in the dining room, tacos are served, and we meet Danny Rindone, who settles into his seat for a late lunch with friends. He’s a repeat diner even though he just moved to Philly from Houston. “It’s hard to get good Mexican food out of Texas,” he says, taking a beat after a bite to handle the heat from the salsa rojo, “but this is it.”
4:27 p.m.
A woman pops in to pick up agua fresca for her parents. She hugs the chef and tells me she booked South Philly Barbacoa to cater both her graduation party and wedding — her key to winning cool points with family and friends. She chooses from the selection of drinks on offer today: pineapple, melon, naranja and the always popular horchata. Chef Martinez’s favorite is the jamaica without sugar, a deep-purple hibiscus agua that she believes cleanses the blood and nourishes the body.
4:35 p.m.
Pasta maker Christina Zani arrives with a shopping bag of tomatoes and Tupperware. She’s preparing for a collaboration with Chef Martinez later in the week, combining barbacoa and pasta. The two friends clear some space in the kitchen, slice the produce and arrange the elements for their potential starter dish: heirloom tomato salad, topped with a sweet-and-sour agrodolce of Sungold tomatoes, dates, garlic, colatura di alici (Italian fish sauce) and fresh basil. It’s decidedly Italian but still needs a bit of Mexican influence, so Martinez motions for us to follow her outside.
4:49 p.m.
Martinez tops the comal de barro with two options: pecans and pine nuts, and they soon develop a deep, toasty char over the coals, a potential nod to a Mexican mole. She scoops them into bowl, and we all head back inside.
5:02 p.m.
At the table, Martinez and Zani burn the tips of their fingers sprinkling the toasted nuts over the waiting tomatoes. They taste, discuss, and pine nuts — which add a grounding, earthy flavor and textural crunch — make the cut. The dish is complete.
Leaving the friends to eat and finish planning, I pack up for the day. “See you Saturday,” says Martinez. “You’ll get to see the line!”
Saturday, 12:01 p.m.
It’s just hit noon, and the restaurant is bustling. Martinez is in and out of the kitchen, bussing tables, chopping barbacoa and working the line. She’s been working since 5 a.m.
Spend enough time at Casa México, and you’ll notice how some diners come for the chef as much as they come for the food. Even though customers can order at the register or at a touch-screen kiosk, a handful of folks wait to give their orders to Martinez directly. More than a few customers tell her, “This is my favorite restaurant in Philly.”
12:15 p.m.
A small group of diners orders barbacoa by the kilo to share along with the restaurant’s consommé. The soup, poured over rice and chickpeas, comes in two variations: panza and pozole.
12:29 p.m.
The kitchen prepares plates of esquites: sweet, plump corn, served off the cob with chorizo, cream and grated cheese.
1:17 p.m.
Out on the patio, Evan Chan (left) and Simone Chen tear into their tacos. Chan, a personal chef and cooking instructor, began his culinary career in the South Philly Barbacoa kitchen. “I used to be in there at 6 a.m. cutting all these veggies,” he says, gesturing to the bowls of onions, cilantro, cactus and chiles. “I’ve pricked my finger so many times on this cactus.”
While Chan grew up in his own family’s restaurant, he considers Martinez his “superhero chef mom” and the hardest working woman he knows. Developing his own style of Asian fusion cuisine, he remembers testing out recipes on her and recalls how she was always willing to eat and offer suggestions. Among the lessons Martinez taught him, one in particular endures: “Serve your community first, and it will serve you back.”
1:45 p.m.
Martinez walks up with a sly smile on her face. “You want some tacos?” How can I resist? She slides us an order of cochinita pibil, a slow-cooked Yucatán-style pork taco topped with onions pickled in wild rose vinegar from Casa Mexico collaborator, Noma Projects. We make quick work of the plate.
1:52 p.m.
In the kitchen, staff hand-shreds a batch of cochinita pibil. Cooked in a tradition Martinez learned during the two years she lived in Yucatán, the whole pig gets a 12-hour marinade of achiote seeds and recado rojo. It’s then cooked on low heat for at least six hours.
2:11 p.m.
Giving the staff a break, Martinez steps in to help with tortillas.
2:34 p.m.
As the tortillas fill up the grill, Martinez’s eyes brighten. She smiles and points to make sure we see the tortillas puff up on the flat-top. She did the same on Monday when tortillas began to rise on the comal.
“There are times when, no matter how many tortillas are made, they don’t puff up,” she says. “The environment is too hectic.” A tortilla puff, to Martinez, is a sign that the restaurant and guests are in harmony.
3:08 p.m.
A rush of orders starts to pile up, and staff balance plates for service: chicken tinga and grilled steak tacos with quesadillas.
3:15 p.m.
Watching the kitchen swing into gear, I’m reminded of something Evan said earlier about working with Martinez. “She allowed me to train in her community,” he said. Not kitchen, not restaurant — community.
It’s a distinction you can see throughout Casa Mexico, as large groups arrive in the dining room to sit and laugh and share barbacoa served by the kilo, with warmly wrapped tortillas and an array of accompanying salsas and veggies. Martinez will be here until 10 p.m. tonight, working, yes, but also watching the faces as they delight in her food. Dining here, she says, is about the family unit and shared memory, a communal experience she hopes to preserve through her story and traditions. And at least for today, the tortillas continue to puff.
