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| Plaque on Alberto's wall (Yucatán Times) |
Since the holidays are upon us, what better time to reminisce about food and places we just couldn't get enough of. My pleasure with Alberto's Continental Patio restaurant in Merida went so far that I even wrote it into the story of Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival.
"Clay and Layla stopped in front of Alberto's Continental Cuisine, a white-washed mansion turned restaurant a few blocks from the main plaza. After a quick nod of acceptance from Layla, the couple entered. Inside they discovered an oasis filled with antiques and art.
The back wall displayed Madonna art, all in wood and brass next to an ethereal painting of a floating Guadalupe along with a twelve foot cross displayed amid Maya idols. They walked up polished marble stairs to where an older gentleman in a tired business suit stood next to a mostradore."
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| Alberto Salum (by Joe Stines) |
For the record, Merida is a city obsessed with food, from street vendors selling peso-tasty tacos and salbutes to high-end establishments sporting white tablecloths, silver candelabra, and old school wait staffs trained to anticipate your every need. Alberto's fell into the latter category.
ALBERTO SALUM
Though Alberto's Continental Patio has been closed since 2013, then reincarnated as Patio 57 until 2018, I'm sharing a memory of both the iconic restaurant and it's equally charming and loquacious owner, Alberto Salum. It is with great sadness I report Alberto died October 1, 2021, in Merida. He was in his eighties.
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| Outdoor patio, during Patio 57 reincarnation. (TripAdvisor) |
His great-grandfather had migrated to Mexico from Syria in 1894, and Alberto and his brother José were Mexican born and bred, perfect delegates for the glories and grandeur of the country, city and peninsula they called home. Alberto's Continental Patio was an ode to not only their chosen city, Merida, but to foods native to Merida, the Yucatán Peninsula, and Syria, their family's homeland, though the restaurant's Lebanese dishes were borrowed from their great-grandfather's recipes.
MENU POTPOURRI
What? you say. How does one combine shish kebab, baba ghanoush, and hummus with chicken pibil, gulf seafood, and margaritas? With innovation and grace, found in copious amounts at Alberto's. It's why, as stated in Alberto's obituary in the Yucatán Times, "the strikingly handsome dining spot was full of character, with an eclectic collection of antiques, paintings, and sculptures."
And oh, what an assortment of art! I stumbled onto the restaurant on an early trip to Merida in the late 1980s. Wanting to not be too near the main plaza, we began to make wider concentric loops around the tourist district and hit pay dirt when we fell upon Alberto's at Calle 64 and Calle 57.
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| Foyer of Alberto's Continental but during Patio 57 years |
We entered and climbed the marble stairs that stretched onto a long, welcoming foyer. Before us on the left we viewed a wall chock full of grand paintings. Directly in front of us was a massive credenza. Standing next to it was a tall older gentleman in a tired business suit. He smiled and made a slight bow. Could it be Alberto? Indeed it was!
"Dinner?" he asked, waving menus with a flourish. We nodded.
"Dining room?" He pointed to a well-lit room on his right filled with a long center table and a number of four-tops placed around it. Crisp white table cloths and silver candelabra lit by gorgeous glass chandeliers gave the room a patina of pageantry and decorum. "Or," and he paused theatrically as he pointed to his left, "The courtyard garden?"
CHOICES
A difficult choice. I couldn't take my eyes off the lavish dining room with its sublime lighting, the pomp and circumstance.
He must have seen the pickle I was in. Glamorous dining room or jungly courtyard that bore a tumble of palms, orchids, bromeliads and dead center, the largest banyan I'd yet to see. White linen-draped tables surrounded the massive tree and an ornamental bar to one side boasted more art—but this time with crucifixes in every conceivable material. They cluttered the wall above a liquor-laden mahogany counter, a dueling oxymoron of sin.
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| Wall behind bar in a more recent iteration (Yucatan Times) |
But that first night, I was drawn to the spacious dining room with its sublime lighting and decorum. An obliging smile crossed his lips. "First would you like a cocktail in the courtyard? A margarita? Then we'll move to the dining room."
We followed him as though he was the Pied Piper. He moved towards the Holy Bar to mix up a couple concoctions after seating us with another flourish at the perfect table. We were the only customers to be had. We fell on the drinks as though we'd spent a waterless month in the Sahara. A not wholly unexpected second round was to follow.
As we entered the dining room. Alberto found us another perfect spot. Only one other table was occupied at the far corner of the room and the couple appeared ready to depart. He brought menus, we ordered, and after we finished a delectable meal, he walked over to check if everything had been up to par.
AND SO IT BEGINS
Here is where the true story begins. Or as Alberto would often say, "And that's how my story began in the land of Yucatán."
"Would you like to see my private collection in the back?" he asked without fanfare.
Indeed we would. He took us down a hall crowded to near overflow with antiques and paintings into a small crowded room. The walls were crammed with oil paintings. Pre-Columbian style artwork sat on the floor—statues, plaques, artifacts. He had numerous stories about it all and we were rapt listeners as this highly unusual raconteur talked on. He told us the building itself dated back to 1727 and was adorned with some of the original stones from the Maya temple it replaced. The mosaic floors were from Cuba. I'm sure much more was said but one can only take in so much. (Damn those margaritas).
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| Mosaic floors in Patio 57 phase (TripAdvisor) |
Perhaps this occasion of seeing his back rooms and hearing unbelievable stories of Merida, the art world, the Yucatán and his early life in nearby pueblo Sisal as a cloth salesman before opening the restaurant, a short stint in Palo Alto, CA, as a dentist, and archeological tales about pyramid sites—not to mention the great food—were what bequeathed him early on a successful business that was lauded by numerous and well-known reviewers. His secret: he treated the place as if it was his own living room.
THE HEYDAY
According to obit writer Lee Steele, Merida had already changed quite a bit from its 1960s, '70s and 80's heyday, back when it was listed in guide books and travels stories. In 1985, The New York Times food writer R.W. Apple Jr. included Alberto's "lime soup" and excellent Arab dishes in a nationwide list of recommended dining spots. And ten years later, Susan Spano, also of the Times, called Alberto's a "culinary institution."
"At my courtyard table there, I could see the stars between the branches of an ancient rubber tree snuggled against the wall. Candles glowed. A guitarist played. The menu featured Mexican, Yucatan, and Lebanese dishes—which make surprisingly happy plate mates," she wrote. Even Diana Kennedy, famous expat Mexican author, in her Essential Cuisines of Mexico cookbook clocked in when she described being in his kitchen and charbroiling a chicken for the recipe Pollo en Escabeche.
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| Outdoor patio (Yucatan Magazine) |
Alberto's was a romantic restaurant of the old school. The curved Moorish arches, the mosaic floor. And, as stated by Yucatán Times, it's antiquity was underscored by the countless antiques and oils, archeological relics in this softly lit over-the-top charming hacienda.
What star was I born under that I could experience Alberto and his cuisine over and over again? Every chance I had I dragged our family and guests that three-hour drive from Puerto Morelos to Merida. We'd spend the night in the Gran Hotel in the historic district, play all day in Merida's many markets and shops and walk its narrow streets. Around seven we'd head over to Alberto's. It's still a fond memory for them all, I am delighted to say; you simply cannot forget Alberto.
"No one met Alberto and left without a story, a memory, or artifact," said Joe Stines, a close friend.
