Dorilocos: Better than it looks. (Photo by David Hammond)

Linda Michoacana (“linda,” in Spanish, means “beautiful”), located at the corner of Oak Park and North avenues, serves paletas (frozen fruit bars), cream popsicles, milk- and water-based ice cream, fresh juices, and a few specialties.

Dorilocos are on the “secret menu.” 

“The people who know about them, know to ask for them,” said the young lady at the counter. We saw the bags of Doritos on the back wall and assumed, correctly, that we could get dorilocos at Linda Michoacana.

Mexico City’s Chapultepec Park was the former retreat of ancient Aztec rulers in the days before Cortez came a-knockin’ at Montezuma’s golden door. Now the park is an urban retreat for the people of Mexico City, a lush green space filled with history and some unusual things to eat. Along paths leading into the park are vendors with hand-lettered signs advertising “dorilocos” and “Doritos preparados.” We were intrigued.

Dorilocos — “crazy Doritos — have no set-in-stone recipe. Aside from the requisite bag of Doritos (cut the long way to become a kind of foil bowl), the other ingredients are dealer’s choice, though there seem to be several must-haves.

Though a bizarre and seemingly inedible mish-mosh of ingredients, dorilocos contain many complementary and contrasting flavors and textures. At Linda Michoacana, our bag of Doritos was topped off with pickled pig skin — “we let the skin marinate in jalapeno juice,” the young lady told us, “so they’re just a little spicy” — raw cabbage, avocado, sour cream, salsa, and Japanese peanuts (super-crunchy peanuts coated in wheat flour dough and fried). Because I had dorilocos with gummy bears in Mexico City, I asked for a scoop of those on top of what seemed about a pound of other ingredients.

Here’s why dorilocos work: the pickled pig skin has a texture comparable to gummies, but the sourness of the skin contrasts with the sweetness of gummies and, like the salsa, cuts through the richness of the avocado, sour cream, and cheese. The slight heat of the salsa plays off the sweetness as well; the raw cabbage provides a fresh vegetal note and crunch, as do the Doritos and peanuts. The whole thing works in ways it may be difficult to imagine.

In Chapultepec Park, one can also find papaslocas, which are potato chips in a large, clear plastic cup, dressed with pretty much the same ingredients as dorilocos, and including a long plastic straw with a thin coating of salty-sour tamarind candy.

At Linda Michoacana, their main business is frozen confections, and we also got paletas of Mexican chocolate and cajeta. The Mexican chocolate paleta has the gritty, cinnamon-y flavors of the disks of Mexican chocolate you can buy at any bodega, and the cajeta, traditionally made of caramelized goat milk, was fantastic.

Dorilocos may strike you as a bit over the top. When we were in Mexico City, Carolyn would not deign to have more than a forkful of my dorilocos; at Linda Michoacana, however, she went after the dorilocos with more enthusiasm that even I could muster. 

Dorilocos are much tastier than you might think.

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David Hammond

David Hammond, a corporate communications consultant and food journalist living in Oak Park, Illinois, is a founder and moderator of, the 8,500 member Chicago-based culinary chat site. David...