The following Sunday I returned, excited to lose my pambazo virginity. Galdino was excited too, his favorite team, Los Pumas de La UNAM had just scored a goal. I ordered a pambazo ($6), not quite sure what to expect. The first step in making the pambazo is dunking the bread briefly in a guajillo chili sauce, dying it a reddish-orange and infusing it with a gentle heat. The bread, also known as pambazo, is then fried for a bit on the griddle and then filled with a mixture of potatoes and chorizo. It’s topped with crema, queso fresco, and , in my case, a lashing of fiery red salsa.
Unlike Galdino’s other sandwiches, which employ everything from head cheese to chorizo omelets and hot dogs, there is only one type of filling. “This is the original style, the way we do it in Mexico City,” he said as he handed it to me. It is dainty compared to some of his other creations, notably the football sized Torta Puma, but no less messy or delicious. The bread—crunchy and fried in parts, soft in others,but possessed of a nice heat throughout—just barely holds up to the hash-like filling of potatoes and crumbled sausage. I’m not sure whether they eat this bad boy for breakfast in Mexico City, but I like to think of it as the best, and messiest, Mexican breakfast sandwich I’ve ever eaten under the 7 train. The carb-on-carb combo gave me plenty of fuel for a long walk down La Roosie.
Tortas Neza, 111th St. and Roosevelt Ave., Corona