Mexico City’s Best Hangover Cure Involves Beer and Shellfish

"Two beers please" says Diego Hernández, gesturing to one of the waiters that passes by us. His eyes are penetrating, bloodshot, and tired. "We had a late night down at La Docena. I have a brutal hungover," he confesses while sipping on the ice cold beer. His complexion starts to gather some color for a second.

We're at Cocina Conchita, Diego's latest Baja California restaurant in Mexico City. I have to admit I haven't tried his food at Corazón de Tierra—the restaurant he has over at proper Baja—but sitting here I almost feel like I took a quick vacation to Ensenada (as cheesy as it may sound.) Though Diego's gaze betrays last night's shenanigans, his eyes light up when he talks about Ensenada's food, culture, and products.

BajaMed enviable Mediterranean weather, good for produce, and biodiverse shores have made Ensenada the envy of chef's from across the border. The proximity of the area to the US has made local chefs adapt to the American work ethic, though the most noticeable culinary influence comes from the Japanese immigrants who settle the area in the 1920s. "There are third- and fourth-generation Japanese fishermen in the area," Diego tells me. All of this makes a world of difference between Ensenada and Mexico City, particularly when it comes to eating shellfish.

"Here [in Mexico City] people really like sweet flavors. A shrimp cocktail is usually swimming in ketchup," the chef tells me. "In Ensenada, flavors are subtler and we use more citrus. In central Mexico the diet is also heavier with more fried foods." Regardless of this, Diego enjoys eating garnachas. His grandparents, Toluca and Mérida natives, taught him about flavor variety from an early age; his childhood was spent enjoying both central and coastal delights.

When Diego walks out of his house, he immediately stumbles into a shellfish stand, or a cart. "I would ask for a tostada or a ceviche to go, and that's that," he tells me. "The ones over at 'El Güero' are pretty good." When I step outside my place, I do the same but with tacos al pastor. "I seek the shellfish stands because I couldn't eat at Corazón de Tierra every day. Can you imagine eating every day at Pujol (high end restaurant in Mexico City)? Those restaurants are for special occasions –Though I could eat here at Cocina Conchita every day." He turns over to check on the raw bar, where a cook is opening Kumamoto and Kumiai oysters, and Chocolate clams. At the same time, by divine chance –or careful choreography– a waiter passes us carrying an order of uni-crowned octopus tostadas. Yup, I get it, I could eat here every day too.

I hold the firm belief that there's a divide between land and ocean people when it comes to hangovers. Some cure their libation-malady with an oil-shiny beef garnacha, or a traditional menudo. But there's other people –lucky people, better people– that choose the ocean's freshness for their ailments. I am one of these ocean people, and Diego is too, and every time I wake up with an "over-and-under the mezcal bottle" headache I cannot but to think of oysters, aguachile, and shrimp soup; poor carnitas tacos, I never think of them. As I eat a shrimp and octopus aguachile with chiltepín chilies –sweating from the spice–, enjoying homemade shoyu –a clear symbol of the Japanese influence in Baja California–, and drinking a beer, I become increasingly certain that hooch and seafood are the true ying and yang of the hangover.

I'll be back. Especially whenever I need a cure for "an inexplicable headache."