"That looks like a truck ran over it," the cooking instructor from Mexico City observed. The pork knuckle had just arrived, a giant flattened blob of flesh, bones sticking out every which way, shrouded in golden skin. Loud crunching was all that could be heard around the table as we excitedly tore the dermis away—gobbling as we went—to reveal tender veins of meat in shades ranging from light to dark gray, interspersed with globs of snowy fat. "Crispy pata" ($7.95) is king of the menu, a dish that could be served at hundred-dollar joints in Manhattan and still be praised with the same enthusiasm. Alongside came a saucer topped off with a sweet-sour dip of white vinegar, bay leaf, and whole black peppercorns, betraying the entrée's... More >>>