What do you know, it's papalo!

There’s a certain scent I associate with Mexico that I’ve always assumed was laundry detergent. It’s overly pungent and heavy, with hints of citrus and mint. It’s the kind of smell that wafts into your nose and lingers there for hours, overpowering anything else with which your olfactory senses come into contact. I’ve smelled it in grocery stores in Guanajuato and outside of domestic kitchens in Mexico City not to mention in some of the Mexican neighborhoods here in NYC. I don’t know why I assumed the smell came from soap, I just did.

Last week, I found myself in Jackson Heights and I stopped into the charming El Sol de Azteca to grab a bite to eat. They had cemitas on the menu—a Pueblan sandwich stuffed with spicy pork, red onions, chipotles, lettuce, avocados and that Mexican string cheese called quesillo all piled high on a sesame seed bun. I’d never had one and was curious how it compared to a torta, another Mexican sandwich. I took a bite and was pleased by the crisp, buttery bun and the spice and juice from the meat and vegetables, but there was a hint of that smell, that funky flavor that I always assumed was detergent. I took the sandwich apart and found an herb. After tasting it, I realized that it was the source of that flavor. That smell wasn’t detergent, it was a plant!

I asked the waitress in my rusty Spanish what was the name of the herb. She smiled and said, “Papalo!” Papalo. Who knew? I finished my sandwich trying to savor this new flavor, but couldn’t quite work my head around the fact that what I always thought was soap was actually an herb. I now understood how those who can’t stand cilantro feel.
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