Tianguis: Mexico’s Street Market

The typical Mexican tianguis (street market) is a
multi-layered event. It combines wonderful shopping with catching up on
friends and gossip. It’s a place to restock your larder and recharge
your spirit at the same time.  The tianguis is the perfect spot to buy lovely
and inexpensive flowers, delicious field-fresh produce, and succulently
sweet tropical fruits. I also buy all of my fresh fish,
chicken, cheese, and yoghurt right there at the tianguis.  When I tell them where I shop, many friends from North of the Border exclaim, "What! Aren’t you afraid of—afraid of—" and their questions fade into puzzled silence.

No, I am not afraid. Not of food poisoning, not of communicable
diseases, not of spoilage. After years of purchasing nearly all of my
produce, meats and dairy products at the tianguis, I believe that it’s just as safe and healthy to buy those items from the tianguis
vendors as it is to buy them from a supermarket refrigerator case. I’ve never been
sick nor had any sort of problem from any of the foods I buy from the
market vendors. The friends I’ve convinced to try the vendors report
the same thing: unequalled satisfaction and never a problem.

It took me some time to figure out not only what I needed but also where at the tianguis I
wanted to buy. You can figure it out, too. My main rule of thumb is to
buy where the crowds have gathered to shop and to make my purchases
where the fresh foods I want are clean and free of flies. I haven’t
been disappointed. The quality of meat (particularly chicken)
is far superior to anything I’ve bought from a butcher. The cheeses and yogurt are unbeatable. The fish is inevitably fresh and clean. Not
only are the eyes clear but the fish still smell of the ocean.

It’s always best to go to the tianguis early to buy products that need refrigeration.
During those first hours of the market, the meats, fish, and dairy
products are still chilled and the selection is good. Later in the day,
some items may not be available and what’s left might look a bit tired.

There are usually several fishmongers at any good-sized urban tianguis.  A fishmonger’s booth is usually large and
filled with a variety of fish. Dorado (mahi mahi),
huachinango (red snapper), lenguado (sole), robalo (sea bass), mackerel, crabs, shrimp, octopus, tilapia, and a
full assortment of others fresh from the sea compete for space on a bed
of ice. You can request your fish entero (whole), filete (filleted), or even molido (ground, for ceviche).
If the fish is small, expect to pay by weight for the whole fish even
if you ask for it filleted. If the fish is very large, like a dorado,
you’ll be charged only for the fillets. Occasionally it’s possible to
make a special request. I’ve asked for fresh sea
scallops when they’re in season. If you’re making a request for a party
menu, it’s always best to have an alternative in mind: sometimes the
special item you want isn’t available.

All of the fish sold by these vendors comes from the Atlantic or Pacific oceans to
the main fish market in Zapopan, a suburb of Guadalajara. The vendors
are at the market before dawn to purchase the freshest fish to sell in
the tianguis.

At some tianguis (but not all) you’ll find vendors selling pork and some beef from a tiny
table. The table is just big enough for a few large pieces of fresh
pork ready to be cut to order, a scale, and a roll of plastic bags. 
Some days they also have freshly rendered lard for sale.

I eyed the women lined up to buy, I peered at the meat, and I watched the carnicero (butcher) cutting orders for several weeks before I stepped up to the
table myself. It took that long for me to know what I wanted to
request: a half kilo (approximately one pound) of maciza so that I could prepare carne de puerco con chile verde. Maciza is the solid leg meat (fresh uncured ham) I used for cutting cubes of pork. You can also have maciza ground for albóndigas (Mexican meatballs) or to mix with ground beef for a meatloaf or Italian meatballs. While I was waiting for my maciza, I noticed the lomo (pork loin) and made a mental note to add it to my shopping list another week.

The butcher told me that he buys only first class hogs
and has them butchered at the municipal slaughterhouse. At
the tianguis, he and his mother sell either lomo or maciza
cut to your specifications. The price for either meat on the day that I
talked with Sra. Gómez was $60 pesos per kilo. The meat is not
refrigerated at the tianguis, but it is meat-locker cold when it is
placed in the cooler where it is kept until it’s sold out, usually by
10 AM.

A little over a year ago I noticed that a new chicken seller had set up shop at the tianguis.
When I prepared the first skinless, boneless chicken breast that I bought from
Guadalajara’s Jaime Ribera, I was hooked. Brought freshly killed
to the tianguis on Wednesday mornings, Jaime’s chicken is the freshest, pinkest, plumpest, most flavorful chicken I have eaten in my life. His chicken is immaculately clean, as is his booth.

The pallid birds of the USA grow even paler in comparison to these
glorious creatures. Chicken this good was not available even in the
markets I frequented during two months I recently spent in France.

Jaime sells his chicken any way you want it, from a whole bird to just
the feet. Breasts can be had with or without skin and bones. If I want
the nearly paper-thin breast meat that is used here for preparing milanesa de pollo
(breaded chicken), Jaime either has it ready or cuts it for me while I
wait. Although the livers are mixed with hearts, I always ask him to
sell me just the livers. He carefully picks the hearts out of the mix.
When I buy the golden yellow feet—I use them when preparing chicken
stock—he always makes sure the toenails are well-trimmed.

Like the rest of the vendors featured here, Jaime never touches money
with his bare hands. He takes your payment in a piece of plastic wrap
or in a plastic glove.

For me, it isn’t a successful trip to the tianguis without buying at
least one liter of yogurt. Homemade, the yogurt is creamy, sweet without being cloying, full of
natural fruits, vegetables, or nuts, and just right for breakfast. My
particular flavor is the zarzamora (blackberry), but some friends rarely buy anything but the durazno (peach) and others swear by the nuez
(pecan). You’ll also find liter jars of mango, celery, carrot, and beet—just about
any flavor yogurt you might want. At $15 pesos a liter, it’s a real
steal. The vendors also sell a variety of cheeses, thick crema (Mexican cream, similar to French creme fraiche), requesón (Mexican-style
cottage cheese, similar to Italian ricotta), and flour tortillas. All
of the dairy products are kept fresh and cold in coolers during the
selling day.

My dairy product buying isn’t confined to just one vendor. I usually purchase cheeses from another booth.
Santiago and Ana Isabel Valdomillos specialize in cheeses, cream, yogurts, honey, and chicken nuggets, smoked pork chops, and other
easy-to-prepare meats. You’ll also see small bottles of Yakult, a
drinkable live-bacteria yogurt.

Santiago smiled when I asked how long he had been selling at the tianguis. "Altogether,
it’s been more than 28 years." He gestured with his index finger held
straight up to indicate the height of a small child. "I used to help my
Dad when I was no taller than this."

I’m particularly fond of Santiago’s queso cotija, a cheese named
for the town in Michoacán where it originated. It’s a sharp and fairly
dry cheese which crumbles easily. As it ages, it becomes drier and
sharper. It’s delicious crumbled over refried beans and enchiladas or
stirred into soups.

The dairy and other products are kept cold in coolers
throughout the day. The products kept out for sale on the tables are
also covered with cheesecloth to protect them from flies.

I think you’ll be wonderfully surprised by the freshness,
quality, and prices of the fish, meats, chicken, and dairy products
offered for sale by these vendors. There’s no reason to shop elsewhere
for what you’ll find on your regular outing to the tianguis.