After years of seeing jackfruit on vegetarian menus — used as a meatless substitute at restaurants like the new vegan Mexican PlanTita’s Kitchen, where it’s a stand-in for carnitas and birria — it struck me that I did not properly know what jackfruit is.
A little research came up with some fascinating facts for this tree fruit is native to the tropics and especially to rainforests. It is, first of all, the largest fruit that grows on a tree, weighing as much as 120 pounds, which must really smart when one drops on your head. And there are plenty waiting to drop; a mature jackfruit tree produces up to 500 melon like fruit a year.
When ripe, jackfruit is sweet. When green, the taste is mild. And the texture is sort of, kind of, if you have a good imagination, like that of shredded beef or pork. The good news is, at least it’s not lab meat, created by a team of mad scientists working with ingredients that never have, and never will, exist in nature. And should probably not be put in our bodies.
Jackfruit is at least real — and it’s a big part of the menu at PlanTita’s, a tiny vegan Mexican inside a very mini mini-mall far from trendy 2nd Street. It’s a restaurant with a cult following in the vegan press (sites like happycow.net), where any attempt to go meatless is greeted as a world-shaking event.
PlanTita’s follows in the (leather-free) footsteps of local vegan Mexicans like Gracias Madre, Sugar Taco and Cena Vegan. For good reason — only Indian food does a better job creating remarkably tasty dishes without using animal products. It’s all, simply speaking, in the spices.
Like the restaurant itself, the menu at PlanTita’s Kitchen is small, but it’s also focused on creating meatless versions of, as the menu says, “authentic Mexican vegan food.” The menu begins with a classic order of guac and chips — which is vegan by definition, except for the odd versions made with crumbly Mexican cheese, with bacon bits tossed in for good measure.
In this case, no surprise, the guac is guac — just avos mashed with lime, cilantro and red onions, served with house-made tortilla chips, which means they’re not fried in animal fat.
The guac and chips are followed by salsa and chips — another meatless classic, made with chile de arbol, which gives the sauce more of a texture than other peppers, tossed with tomatoes and tomatillos. And then, the menu gets interesting.
The next dish is the elote fried “ribs” — a dish of the moment that I recently encountered as well, unexpectedly, at a trendy Japanese sushi bar. (A fusion of Japanese and Mexican cooking? Who would’ve thunk it?) It consists of corn, cut into “cobettes,” flavored with chili seasoning, and deep-fried till it’s crunchy. It’s also drizzled with a chipotle vegenaise — mayo without dairy, an impressive creation.
The vegenaise appears as well on the fries and beans, “queso loaded” with “braised soyrizo.” You can also get it “esquite style,” with jackfruit carnitas, fried corn and garlic aioli sauce — dairy-free, of course.
Which brings us to the curious world of jackfruit. Jackfruit, as I noted above, does not taste like meat. But, under a lot of sauce and other ingredients, it gives the illusion of meat (it does have a meatlike texture). It’s a bit like chicken breasts, which have little flavor of their own, and are used as a vehicle for any number of flavorings.
The jackfruit birria is more richly spiced than the jackfruit carnitas. And both do a reasonably good job of being faux meat. More than the vegan shrimp in the aguachile — shrimp is shrimp is shrimp, and nothing takes its place for me. But then, if you’re committed to a vegan life, certain accommodations are called for.
That said, the tacos and burritos are tacos and burritos — in appearance, in texture and, more or less, in taste. There’s a good order of flautas as well (with jackfruit), and pozole verde stew (with jackfruit as well). I did especially like the mushroom al ajillo tacos — simply because it wasn’t pretending to be anything but a vegetable dish.
If I were to become a closet vegan or vegetarian, it would be to eat … vegetables. I like vegetables. Vegetables are our friends. Making them pretend to be meat will eternally befuddle me.
Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.