Photo By James Heflin

Mi Tierra has that hard-to-pin-down authenticity.

A talented crafter of Indian dishes I once knew was fond of deriding my taste for Mexican food, the cuisine that reminds me most of my Texas childhood. With an extravagance born of his Kashmiri upbringing, he offered a grand dismissive wave as I enjoyed an enchilada and said, "Oh! James! Mexican food is peasant food."

I took no offense—most Mexican food does indeed hail back to a few elemental ingredients available even in humble circumstances: corn, beans, rice and cheese. Yet there is little in the world more pleasing than a handmade corn tortilla slapped onto a hot stone or an iron skillet, and its simplicity takes nothing away from the smoky al dente goodness.

From that kind of no-frills beginning a varied cuisine has sprung, one that threatens to continue its incursions into the world of fine dining largely thanks to devotee of Mexican cooking Rick Bayless. His Chicago restaurant Topolobampo served as a flagship for the more refined south of the border movement, and he and others have raised awareness of the regional specialties of a country whose eating habits encompass far more than the clichéd taco and burrito.

Massachusetts may not be a major outpost on the Mexican food map, but Hadley boasts a place that echoes the co-existence of new and old, expected and unexpected Mexican cooking. For ex-pats from more Southwesterly climes, it offers some of the only food in the Valley that truly deserves that oft-used term "authentic." Mi Tierra, found in the off-the-map space that once held the Hadley Pub, offers a menu full of the kind of Mexican favorites Americans have grown used to—tacos, burritos, and enchiladas—and dishes that most Americans haven't tried, things like bistec con nopales (beef steak with cactus strips).

The food at Mi Tierra boasts that hard-to-pin-down authenticity courtesy of the Perez family, who originally hail from Guerrero, a state in southwestern Mexico on the Pacific coast (and home to tourist destination Acapulco). Mi Tierra owner Jorge Perez first came to the U.S. some twenty years ago, looking, he says, like most immigrants, for "better opportunities." Perez and family have lived and worked in New Jersey and Connecticut, and in 2001, he came to Springfield and opened a small grocery called La Tiendita.

The timing of his opening, he explains, was a bit tough. "Most Mexicans come here in the summer to work. I opened in the winter, and I had some problems. But finally, summer came, and things got better and better."

Perez then decided to move his grocery to Hadley, into a smaller space right on Route 9. "One of my sisters decided to move here and work," he says, and more of his family followed. "Together," he says with a smile, "we do better."

When the Hadley Pub space became available, Mi Tierra was born. At first, the restaurant was only a few tables in the space containing the grocery store, but over time, the need for more tables overcame the need for grocery shelves. The space includes three rooms, and for a while, two of them held restaurant tables and the third held several shelves of Mexican groceries. These days, the entire space holds tables, and the grocery is no more.

Jorge's wife, Dora Saravia, and his two sisters helped create the Mi Tierra menu. And therein lies the secret of such good food.

Jorge's sister Virginia Perez says the key word is the Spanish term "casera," which means "homemade."

"Lots of things we do here," explains Jorge, "are the things we eat at home."

Back in Guerrero, says Virginia, the cooking was basic. But she learned to cook in Mexico City, so the Mi Tierra menu she, her sister and Saravia helped create reflects a more varied set of traditions. The simple dishes are often satisfying in just the manner of a really good tortilla—the chicken tacos, for instance, arrive on just such handmade tortillas, and offer strong, uncomplicated flavors like cilantro and onion with a lime wedge for acidity and a dish of salsa verde.

It's worth noting that Mi Tierra currently crafts its own tortillas from masa harina, and Jorge Perez says he hopes to add a tortilla machine soon, enabling him to make his own corn and lime mixture for even better tortillas and increase production in order to sell his customers stacks to take home.

In addition to the simple choices like tacos, Mi Tierra offers some decidedly more complex and upscale dishes. One section of the menu is devoted to Mexican dishes like the bistec con nopales, choices that are often less familiar to Americans. Of particular interest is a lineup of shrimp cooked in different ways. Camaron al ajillo is a dramatic plate of shrimp cooked with roasted garlic slices and adorned with strips of dried peppers, while camaron en chipotle delivers shrimp in a sauce of mind-blowing heat (courtesy of the chipotle) that approaches an Indian curry in its texture and presentation. All are served with a side of handmade tortillas.

The setting of Mi Tierra, tucked behind an unassuming strip of shops on Route 9, may seem modest, but make no mistake: the menu you'll find here is surprising in its scope, full of dishes that illustrate just why Mexican food—the real thing, full of regional variations and choices well beyond the usual—is showing up more often in the world of fine dining.

Jorge Perez offers a tantalizing bit of info as well. Soon, maybe even by the time this issue hits the streets, Mi Tierra's menu is expanding to incorporate even more choices. There's only one problem with that—a good problem: with so many new flavors to check out, it gets harder and harder to want just a burrito.