Pizza Clandestino…At first, I thought that it was quite a catchy name for a pizzeria, but it was not a name, it was a description.
A few weeks ago, in the first solitary days of the Coronavirus lockdown, our dinner options were becoming very monotonous. Sirens had been wailing all day long here in Kanasín and announcement trucks had been driving around telling people to stay off the streets unless going to the drug store or doctor’s office. What a mess. My wife and I settled in for another uneventful evening of TV and we were trying not to think about anything going on outside. We had had enough.
Soon after that, the door sprang open to the room we were watching TV in and there stood our second youngest son with two pizza boxes in his hands and a very silly grin on his face. “¿Quieres pizza, Daddy?”
I guess that I should explain. I am the only English speaker in our family. My wife and our sons are Mexican. My position has always been that it is my responsibility to learn their language and customs and not for them to have to change their way of living their lives. It has worked out pretty well so far. The locals look at me not so much as a gringo, but just another Kanasinero.
But hold on……we were talking about pizza.
Yes, Rulo was standing there with two boxes of fresh pizza.
I should have taken a picture, but there was no time. Between the hands flying in and out of the boxes and the laughter and sounds of enjoyment, all that I would have gotten was a photo of an empty box.
The clandestine part of this means that the pizza is made in a neighbor’s backyard under a 200-year-old tree behind a 100-year-old stone wall. There is no phone and no tax. It’s all totally done in secret.
As for the pizza itself, the similarity to pizza ends at the shape and the box that it came in. It all starts out with a drier crust spread with refried beans topped with shredded turkey breast, sliced onion, sliced tomato, shredded manchego cheese, jalapeno peppers and some subtle spices that I will have to investigate more thoroughly on my next order. Of course, this is all melted and baked to perfection. It even has a local name. It is called Pizzanucho original de Kanasín.
This is one of the best reasons to assimilate. If you are not part of the community, no Pizza Clandestino for you.
Editorial by David Foster
Although you can’t hit up Pizza Clandestino in Kanasín (shh it’s a secret), you can visit Pizzanucho Marrero in Mérida, owned and operated by José Luis Marrero Bermejo.
Insiders tell us that your order should absolutely start off with a Marrerocola and a Ratón (check out the tail!) before passing on to the main course: the Pizzanucho. Let us know your thoughts in the comments.
Calle 105 #526, Melitón Salazar, Mérida
Tel. (999) 984 4345
FB: Pizzanucho Marrero
Mon. – Thu. 7 pm – 12 am, Fri. and Sun. 7 pm – 1 am, Sat. 7 pm – 11 pm
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