Pan de muertos (special bread for Day of the Dead), almost ready for the oven at Panadería Maque, Calle Ozululama 4, at the corner of Calle Citlatépetl, Colonia La Condesa.
Late in October, my baker-friend Jane suggested that in honor of Mexico's Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), we go poking around in bakeries. Pan de muerto is one of the traditional treats set out on altars to entice the spirits of the dead back for a visit with the living, and every bakery has its own recipe. As it happened, neither of us had a lot of time on the appointed day, so we made a list of eight spots to visit in Colonia La Condesa. We set off on foot with high hopes of finding sublime breads.
The family-size pan de muertos at Panadería Maque, wrapped in cellophane and ready to go home with you. We calculated that it would serve eight or more people, with a good-sized slice or more for each person. It cost just under 400 pesos.
Our first stop–we arranged our bakeries in a big oval starting with the one closest to Mexico Cooks! home and ending as near as possible to the same spot–was at Panadería Maque. Maque is a several-bakery/coffee shop chain open from 8AM breakfast to 10PM light supper in Col. Condesa. We were impressed by the big crowd at the outdoor and indoor tables, the long line waiting to be seated, and the bustling wait staff whizzing by with coffee, great-looking sandwiches, and lots of pan de muertos. We took some pictures and made a note to return for breakfast another morning when we both had more time.
Not on our list but in our path, at the corner of Calle Ozululama and Av. Amsterdam: Louis Robledo's Tout Chocolat, where the pan de muertos was made with chocolate. Jane bought one hot out of the oven to take home. She also bought each of us a delicious macarrón. They were very nearly as good as the ones I tried last spring in Paris.
Next on our list was Panadería La Artesa, at Alfonso Reyes 203, corner Calle Saltillo. Mexico Cooks!' wife often stops at La Artesa for baguettes and pan de agua, both of which are good but not spectacularly so. The owner noticed that both Jane and I had cameras with us; he started berating us with, "No photos! No photos! Put the cameras away!" If you want to put up with that kind of behavior, fine. Neither Jane nor I will be going back.
As we strolled along, we noticed this sign: MANDUCA. Recently opened at Calle Nuevo León 125-B, this terrific bakery was also not on our list–but what a find! Trendy but not precious, all its bread is baked on the premises.
Real bread! Manduca's delightful manager, Alejandra Miranda Medina, told us that the baker is German.
We couldn't leave; hunger suddenly overcame our need to step lively. Jane ordered a pan de muerto and coffee; I asked for one of the pretzel bread individual loaves and butter. The pretzel bread was marvelous, the heavily anise-flavored pan de muertos a little less so. The outside seating (there are also tables inside) was comfortable and pleasant.
Manduca's pan de muertos enticed us to stay, but Jane and I both prefer this bread with more orange flavor and a lighter touch of anise.
We continued to meander down Calle Nuevo León, looking for Panadería La Victoria, our next destination.
La Victoria, at Calle Nuevo León 50 (almost to the corner of Calle Laredo), bills itself as a Rioplatense (from the River Plate area that lies between Argentina and Uruguay) rotisserie and bakery. The chef is from Uruguay. These little sweet breads, called vigilantes (watchmen), are filled with a sweetened creamy cheese and topped with ate de membrillo (sweet quince paste). In Uruguay, these are said to be the favorite sweet bread of policemen–hence vigilantes.
Pan de muertos from La Victoria. These mini-breads (compare them with the ordinary size of the tongs at the right of the photo) are just the right size for two or three bites.
We spent a few minutes looking for Panadería Hackl (Calle Atlixco 100, between Calles Campeche and Michoacán, but realized distance and our rapidly disappearing time meant that we would have to come back another day.
We walked through Fresco by Diego (Fernando Montes de Oca 23, near the corner of Calle Tamaulipas), which offers some breads but is primarily a restaurant.
Our last stop was Pastelería Suiza, at Parque España 7 (between Calles Oaxaca and Sonora). It's a 70-year-old Mexico City institution with several sucursales (branches); this location is the original. Mention this bakery to almost anyone who loves pan dulce (sweet bread) in the Distrito Federal and the response will be a sigh of blissful longing.
On November 2, the only bread for sale at Pastelería Suiza was pan de muertos, and the only pan de muertos left, in several sizes, was split horizontally and stuffed with a huge schmear of nata (thick sweet cream). It looked like the Holy Grail of pan de muertos. I could not resist buying two individual-size panes de muertos.
You choose your bread, take it to the wrapping station, pick up your ticket, pay at the cashier, and then go back for your bread. The wrapping staff put the pan on a tray, then surrounded it with a cardboard collar.
Wrapped up in paper and string, the package has a come-hither look equal to the bread itself.
We could hardly wait–the Pastelería Suiza pan de muertos and a cup of hot tea would be our cena (supper) that night.
The verdict? The thick mound of nata was quite honestly an overkill of creamy sweetness. And the bread itself? The texture was wrong, more like a dry, crumbly, unpleasant muffin than like traditional pan de muertos. The bread had no flavor–not a drop of orange, not a drop of anise, nothing. It was a tremendous disappointment. Big sigh…but not blissful in the least.
So, you might ask: you walked all over Colonia La Condesa, you sniffed breads, you tasted breads, and nothing really satisfied Your Pickiness. What now?
A few days prior to Mexico's Día de los Muertos, my wife and I stopped at what is essentially our corner bakery, located at the corner of Av. Insurgentes and Av. Baja California, hard by the Metro station a couple of blocks from our house. Panificadora La Espiga (the Spike of Wheat bread maker) is large but ordinary, with not much to recommend it other than its proximity to us. A seasonal craving for pan de muertos had us by the innards, though, and we bought two small ones. They looked generic, with the traditional sprinkle of sugar: no nata, no chocolate, nothing special at all.
Pan de muertos, La Espiga.
When I tasted the pan de muertos, I was surprised. My exclamation was, "A poco!" (I don't believe it!) The texture was dense, slightly layered, and moist. The not-too-sweet flavor leaned toward the orange, with just a hint of anise. Who could have guessed! It was perfect. Jane and I had wandered far afield, spent time and money in all those uppity Condesa bakeries, and I had already tried the best bread of the bunch. Next year, Jane. I promise to take you to La Espiga first.
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