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Kitchen Sayings, Part Two :: Mexico’s Dichos de la Cocina

A beautiful pink and golden Mexican chicken, ready for the soup pot.

Last week's article about Mexico's dichos de la cocina (kitchen sayings) was just the tip of the iceberg. I love them so much that I thought you might like to learn more of them!

Chile relleno con frijoles negros de la olla (stuffed poblano chile served with freshly cooked black beans). Photo courtesy Conde Pétatl.

Mexico's dichos de la cocina (kitchen sayings) number in the hundreds, if not the thousands. Just like sayings and proverbs in any language, Mexican dichos usually have a double meaning: what the words of the saying are, and then how they are interpreted. In English, the phrase "the early bird catches the worm" make sense just as you read it, but it has a secondary import: if you start your endeavor sooner rather than later, you have a much better chance of success. So it is with all of these!

Pig heads at a Mexico City market, ready to buy and take home to make pozole.

Here are some of Mexico Cooks!' personal favorite kitchen sayings:

–Vale más pan con amor, que gallina con dolor. Bread eaten with love is worth more than chicken eaten with pain.
–Se cambia mas fácilmente de religión que de café. It's easier to change your religion than to change your coffee.
–Quien hambre tiene, en pan piensa. The hungry person thinks of bread.

Café con leche (coffee with milk) served with a basket of pan dulce (sweet Mexican breads).

–El que parte y comparte, se queda con la mejor parte. The one who portions and shares, gets the best part.
–Al hablar, como al guisar, su granito de sal. In speaking and cooking, a grain of salt.
–Frutos y amores, los primeros son los mejores. Fruits and loves–the first are the best.

A street vendor's fresh fruit in Paracho, Michoacán. He sells seasonal fruits, including papaya, sandía (watermelon), and mango. Enlarge any photo for better detail–in this photo, you'll see the bees.

–Guajolote que se sale del corral, termina en mole. The turkey that gets out of the yard ends up in mole.
–La vida es como una cebolla, uno la pela llorando. Life is like an onion, you cry while you peel it.
–Mata el pollo y pon la mesa. Kill the chicken and set the table.

Frijol peruano ('Peruvian' beans), ready to cook in a clay pot filled with water.

–Mentir y comer pescado quieren cuidado. Be careful when lying and eating fish.
–Nunca falta un negrito en el arroz. There is always a black speck in the rice.
–Al hambre de siete días, no hay pan duro. If you've been hungry for a week, there is no such thing as hard bread.

Champurrado (chocolate atole) at Restaurant Flor de Lis, Mexico City.

–De golosos y tragones, están llenos los panteones. Cemeteries are filled with gluttons and big eaters.
—En la forma de agarrar el taco, se conoce al que es tragón. They can tell if you're a big eater by the way you hold your taco.
—La mujer y las tortillas, calientes han de ser. Women and tortillas have to be hot.

Taco de carnitas at a Mexico City tianguis (street market).

There are literally hundreds more Mexican kitchen sayings. Sometime soon Mexico Cooks! will be back with more.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.

1 de July de 2017
Mexican Kitchen Sayings :: Dichos de la Cocina Mexicana
Frijoles boil in a clay pot placed on a creative fogón (on-the-ground cooking fire). The fire ring is the wheel rim of a truck, the wood is what was available. The clay pot ensures old-fashioned flavor and Mexico Cooks!' interest in the cooking process ensured old-fashioned hospitality. "When will the beans be ready?" I asked. "Come back at 1:30," the cook told us. "They'll be ready, and I'll make some tortillas."

Twenty or more years ago, Mexico Cooks! ate a once-in-a-lifetime meal in Mexico. Simplicity itself, the comida (midday meal) consisted of steamed white rice piled with home-grown sliced bananas, homemade fresh cheese, frijoles de la olla (beans in their pot liquor, freshly cooked as in the photo above), and hand-patted tortillas, hot from the comal (griddle). That meal, served in an outdoor kitchen, was our introduction to Mexican tradition, authenticity, and hospitality, all on a level we had never known before.

Food, shared with friends and acquaintances, brings us together in elemental hospitality. Food and the sharing of it in Mexico have, since earliest times, given rise to wonderful dichos (sayings) from the kitchen.

This hand-embroidered tablecloth was made for display at Pátzcuaro's Museo Regional del Arte Popular (Regional Folk Arts Museum). Every one of its many, many sayings stiched into the cloth is a dicho de la cocina. The one closest to the bottom of the photo says, "Del plato a la boca, se cae la sopa." ("Between the plate and the mouth, the soup spills"–which means "between one's intention and one's accomplishment, a lot can go wrong".

Quoting a dicho de la cocina always brings a smile. Here are a few favorites:
- Mujer que guisa, se casa a prisa. (The woman who cooks is soon married.)
- A comer y a misa, a la primer llamada. (To eat and to Mass, go at the first call.)
- Mejor llegar a tiempo que ser invitado. (It's better to arrive on time than to be invited.)
Rich or poor, people always invite others to share their table. It's seriously offensive to refuse an offered meal.
- Al que nace para tamal, del cielo le caen las hojas. If you're born to be a tamal, your corn husks will fall from heaven.
- Come a gusto y placentero y que ayune tu heredero. Eat what you like and at your pleasure–let your descendants fast!
- Cuando el ratón está lleno, hasta la harina le sabe amarga. When the mouse is full, even flour tastes bitter to him.
Red pozole, made with pork, chiles, and nixtamal de maíz cacahuatzintle (a type of processed dried corn), is one of Mexico's most comforting meals. For a wonderfully rich recipe, try this one from our friend Rolly's favorite cook, Doña Martha.
- Desayunar como rey, comer como príncipe y cenar como mendigo. Eat breakfast like a king, eat at midday like a prince, and have supper like a beggar.
- El hambre es la buena, no la comida. Hunger is the good thing, not the food.
- El que parte y comparte, se queda con la mejor parte. The one who cuts and serves the food gets the best part.
Uchepos de leche are a regional Michoacán specialty served for breakfast or supper.
- Fuchi… ¡quiero más! It's AWFUL…give me some more!
- Gástalo en la cocina y no en medicina. Spend it in the kitchen, not on medicine.
- Invierno buen tiempo para el herrero, el panadero y el chocolatero. Winter's a good time for the ironworker, the baker, and the chocolate maker.
Mexican caldo de pollo–traditional chicken soup–is hearty with shredded chicken, carrots, calabacita (similar to zucchini), potatoes, and chayote. Dressed and seasoned at the table with a spritz of jugo de limón (Key lime juice), roughly chopped cilantro, minced onion, and a spoonful of spicy salsa, it's absolutely essential to one's comfort and well-being.
- La comida entra por los ojos. Food comes in through the eyes.
- La paciencia es amarga, pero sus frutos son dulces. Patience is bitter, but its fruits are sweet.
- La venganza es dulce al paladar, pero amarga para la garganta. Vengance is sweet in the mouth, but bitter in the throat.
An outdoor kitchen is still common in rural areas of Mexico. This one is lovely, dressed in soft blue paint and flowers.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.
24 de June de 2017
Old Kitchen Pals and Exotic New Friends :: Herbs from a Mexican Garden

Fresh hierbabuena (mint) growing in a Morelia friend's garden.

The cuisines of Mexico–and you know that there are many–are a fantastic amalgam of indigenous corn-based food preparations with an overlay of Spanish ingredients, a strong influence of Moorish flavors, and a lagniappe of French artifice from the mid-19th Century. There is no one cuisine in this big country, although some popular dishes are found in every region. Not every cook prepares enchiladas with the same list of ingredients; tacos, although ubiquitous in Mexico, can be different at every crowded taco stand.

Mexico Cooks! stores garlic in this 3" diameter wire basket, hanging from a cup hook on the side of a cupboard. Circulating air keeps the garlic fresh for quite a while.

Mexican canela (cinnamon), for sale in a Oaxaca market. Mexican cinnamon sticks are usually about two feet long and, unlike the short, hard, nearly flavorless cinnamon sticks sold outside the country, are easily broken into the length piece you need for a recipe. Grind it into horchata (usually a chilled rice drink), use it to flavor a comforting, sweet and hot atole (a thick corn drink), or use it for traditional seasoning in arroz con leche (Mexican rice pudding). Naturally there are many other Mexican recipes that require canela.

Many of the herbs and spices that you use in your own kitchen are also used in the Mexican kitchen. Garlic, cinnamon, oregano, and thyme are in widespread use here. Cumin, cloves, and mint show up frequently. Lemon grass, which we usually think of as an ingredient in Thai or Vietnamese dishes, is commonly grown in many parts of Mexico and is used to make tea.

A good part of the differences in the regional cuisines of Mexico is each region's use of herbs. Some of those herbs are completely unknown to those of us whose familiarity with Mexican food stops with Pepe's Taco Hut on Main Street, USA. Pepe, whose mother's family emigrated to the USA from the Mexican state of Hidalgo, prepares the restaurant's platillos fuertes (main dishes) from recipes passed down from his abuelita (grandmother), who lived for 97 years in the same Hidalgo village. He's adapted those recipes to include the ingredients he can find in the States and to the palates of his customers.

This herb, a large-leafed, strong-flavored variety of oregano called orégano orejón (big-ear oregano), is unusual even in Mexico. Mexico Cooks! once had a pot of it, but it has unfortunately gone to the great beyond. I'd love to have another pot of it.

Oregano is quite common in Mexican cooking. It can be used either fresh or dried. A small pot of oregano in a sunny spot of your kitchen garden will usually be plenty for all your cooking needs. If you live in a place where the growing season is short, harvest oregano periodically through the summer, tie the stems in small bunches, and hang upside down in a dark place to dry. It dries very fast and retains most of its aroma and flavor. Discard the stems and store the crisp leaves in an airtight, lightproof containers.

Because the growing season in many parts of Mexico is almost year-round, I can always cut a fresh sprig of oregano or two to use when making spaghetti sauce, pescado a la veracruzana, (fish prepared in the style of Veracruz) or other tomato-based sauces. I wash the sprigs and either strip off the leaves into the pot or put the entire sprig into the sauce for seasoning.

In Mexico, albahaca (basil) is used primarily in Italian food. However, it's widely grown and used in an unusual way: many small businesses put a pot of growing basil just outside the door to their shops. Why? The creencia (belief) is that a flower pot of albahaca will draw clients and money to the business.

Romero (rosemary). This non-native herb is used very little in Mexico's cuisines. However, some 'modern Mexican' chefs are making cold rosemary infusions to be drunk either before or with a meal.

The Mexican kitchen uses a wide range of other herbs. The Spanish names read like a mysterious litany: albahaca, epazote, estragón, hoja santa, hierbabuena; comino, clavo, and romero. In English, they are (in order) basil, wormseed, tarragon, holy leaf, mint, cumin, cloves, and rosemary.

Epazote grows wild all over Mexico and in parts of the United States. Several months ago I paid ten pesos at a tianguis (street market) for a pot of it to plant in my garden. As I was carrying the pot home, my neighbor, Doña Mago, saw me and exclaimed, "Porque compraste eso?" ("Why did you buy that?").

"Well, you know" I answered, "I like it to cook in my beans, to make quesadillas, for the flavor—"

"No, no, no, amiga!" she cried, and pointed a finger toward the corner. "It grows up through the cracks in the sidewalk just down the street. You should have asked me to show you where to find it. You could have saved your money. When I want some, I just go over there and cut a piece." It's true. When I was out for a walk the next day, I noticed for the first time the epazote plant she had mentioned.

Regardless of my profligate waste of ten pesos, I do like to cook a big sprig of epazote in a pot of beans. The herb is originally from Mexico and Central America. The indigenous language name that was given to epazote is derived from the Nahuatl words 'epti' and 'zotle': the combined word means 'skunk sweat'. As you can imagine, the herb has a very strong and distinctive flavor. According to Mexican kitchen lore, epazote also has anti-flatulent properties, which is why it might be smart to add it to the boiling bean pot.

Pescado en hoja de plátano (fish cooked in banana leaf). Restaurante San Miguelito, Morelia, Michoacán.

Banana leaves are used for wrapping meats to prepare barbacoa (southeastern Mexican barbecue, cooked in a pit) and for wrapping and flavoring tamales from Oaxaca, in southeastern Mexico. Another plant used to give uncommon seasonings to Oaxacan cuisine is hoja de aguacate (avocado leaf). You won't be able to run right out to your nearest Safeway or HEB store to find either of these. If you live in an area where there's a large Asian population, you'll find packages of frozen banana leaves in any well-stocked Asian food market. As for avocado leaves—well, the only avocado leaf that gives anise flavor to a dish is native to Mexico and doesn't grow elsewhere. Unfortunately there's no seasoning substitute for them; the Hass avocado leaf has no flavor.

Hoja santa (holy leaf) is also known as acuyo.

Hoja santa is used extensively in Mexican cooking. It's a large, heart-shaped leaf that comes from a tall, bushy plant—a plant that will take over the garden space that it's planted in and then some, if you let it. It's a native of Mexico and has medicinal properties as well as seasoning uses. The flavor of hoja santa is reminiscent of anise, and it combines exceptionally well with fish or chicken.

As you can see, Mexican home cooking is far more than tacos and enchiladas. The more unusual kitchen herbs of Mexican cuisine add intense flavor without adding that blast of spiciness that we so often mistake for the only seasoning of Mexico.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.

17 de June de 2017
One Tianguis, Two Tianguis: Mexico’s Ancient Street Markets in the Modern World

Freshly picked red and white corn at a Pátzcuaro, Michoacán tianguis (street market).

The typical Mexican tianguis (street market) is a multi-layered event. It combines wonderful shopping with catching up on gossip and meeting friends. 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 meat right there, from the vendors at the tianguis. When I tell some friends from North of the Border where I shop, many exclaim, "What! Aren't you afraid of—afraid of—" and their questions fade into puzzled silence.

Beautiful Mexican papaya, sold year-round at almost every tianguis. Wrapped in newspaper for trucking from grower to market, it's expertly cut to show prospective buyers the ripe, sweet flesh.

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. People say, "But what about refrigeration at an open-air market? And what about flies?" Perishables like meats, fish, and chicken are generally displayed on a bed of ice. I've rarely seen flies anywhere at a tianguis! Neither have I 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. If there's a tianguis near you, you can figure it out, too. My main rule of thumb is to buy where crowds have gathered to shop and to make my purchases where the fresh foods I want are clean and displayed to catch the buyers' eye. I haven't been disappointed. The quality of meat (particularly chicken and pork) is far superior to anything I've bought from a butcher. The cheeses are unbeatable. The fish is inevitably fresh and clean. Not only are the eyes clear but the fish still smell of the ocean.

Seedless red grapes, ready to be weighed at a small tianguis in Morelia, Michoacán.

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 (mahi-mahi) or the much larger atún (tuna), you'll be charged only for the fillets. Occasionally it's possible to make an advance order for a special request. I've asked for fresh sea scallops or soft shell crabs when they're in season. If you're making a request for a specific 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 in the state of Jalisco comes to the main fish market in Zapopan (a suburb of Guadalajara) from the Atlantic or Pacific oceans. The vendors are at the fish market long before dawn to purchase freshly caught fish to sell in the tianguis. For an up-close look at La Viga, the enormous wholesale fish market in Mexico City, read here.

At some tianguis (but not all) you'll find vendors selling pork and some beef from their booths. This 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.

The first time I shopped for meat at a tianguis, I requested a kilo (approximately two pounds) of maciza (solid boneless leg of pork) that I could use to prepare carne de puerco con chile verde. 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 a beautiful bone-in lomo (in this case, pork loin) and made a mental note to add one to my shopping list another week.

Browned cubes of pork in salsa verde (green sauce). All of the ingredients for this dish (pork, lard, tomate verde [tomatillos], chile serrano, cilantro, and onion) came from my local tianguis. It's ready to go into the oven.

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, his mother, 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 where I shop. When I prepared the first skinless, boneless chicken breast that I bought from Jaime Ribera, I was hooked. Brought freshly killed to the tianguis on Wednesday mornings, Mexican chicken is the freshest, pinkest, plumpest, most flavorful chicken I have eaten in my life. This chicken is immaculately clean, as is his booth.

A whole Mexican chicken. It weighs approximately three kilos (about six and a half pounds). This one was destined for the soup pot.

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 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 chicken livers are sold as is–still connected to the hearts–I always ask him to sell me just the livers. He carefully picks the hearts out of the mix. And when I buy the golden yellow feet—I use them when preparing chicken stock—he always makes sure the toenails are well-trimmed.

Here's a list of chicken prices from a couple of years ago; prices have gone up and will probably be as different at your local tianguis as they are at the one where I shop. If your Spanish needs brushing up, though, you'll find the names of the parts helpful. From the top down:
Entero: whole chicken. Gallina: whole laying hen. Pechuga: breast of chicken. Pierna y muslo: leg and thigh. Retazo: the back with wings attached. Molleja: gizzard. Hígado: liver. Pata: the foot. Guajolote: turkey. Nuggets: you know already!

These vendors also sell a variety of cheeses, thick crema (Mexican table cream, similar to French creme fraiche), requesón (Mexican-style cottage cheese, similar to Italian ricotta), and corn or flour tortillas. All of the most perishable 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.

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 atop a plate of enchiladas, or stirred into soups as a thickening agent.

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 near his waist to indicate the height of a small child. "I used to help my Dad when I was no taller than this." 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–of better quality and for less money–on your regular outing to the tianguis.

One last note: the word tianguis comes from the Náhuatl word for street market. The word is the same whether it refers to one tianguis, two tianguis, or all of the tianguis in Mexico. Here's how to pronounce tianguis: tee-AHN-geese. Have a wonderful time shopping!

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours

10 de June de 2017
Cold Drinks That Tell a Story :: You and Your Family Will Love These in Mexico

If you've shopped at any of Mexico's thousands of tianguis (street markets), municipal markets, or fairs, you may have wondered what certain vendors were ladling out of their frosty glass jugs. Those are aguas frescas, made in every fresh fruit flavor you can imagine. In general, these fruit waters are made from purified water and are safe to drink. The aguas frescas in the photo are at Aguas de Casilda, Mercado Benito Juárez, in the city of Oaxaca. The large, beautiful stand is an icon in Oaxaca.

In addition to aguas frescas, there are numerous fresh or fermented drinks along Mexico's way. At various hole-in-the-wall supper restaurants, pineapple tepache is the order of the day, served fizzing with a pinch of bicarbonate of soda. And on the outskirts of one small town as you drive toward Guadalajara, a sign hangs from a guamúchil tree. It reads "Aquí Se Vende Pajarete" (Pajarete Sold Here) and advertises yet another unusual beverage.

Along many highways and byways, you'll regularly see someone selling aguamiel and pulque, the ancient drink of the Aztecs, from large jars positioned on a tiny table. By the same token, pulque, both unflavored and curado (flavored with fruit, vegetables, or nuts) is a favorite in bars called pulquerías.

Tuba

Tuba vendor, Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco.

If you've wandered along the magical beaches bordering Mexico's western coastlines, you may have noticed a man with a yoke-like pole across his shoulders, a red painted gourd suspended from the pole by a rope. His cry is "Tuba! Tubaaaaaaaaaaa!" and his hands are full of plastic cups.

In Mexico, tuba is primarily a coastal drink. Several years ago I was surprised to see a tuba vendor at a tianguis in Guadalajara. Later I started seeing the same man selling tuba in Tlaquepaque, and at the Thursday and Sunday artisans' tianguis in Tonalá. If you happen to be in the area, look for him—he's easy to spot, with his bright-red gourd of tuba suspended from a pole across his shoulders.

A glassful of tuba, served with freshly chopped apple, salted peanuts, and ice.

Coconut palm sap is fermented to make the clear, white, sweet wine called tuba. To collect the sap, workers climb the palm tree in the morning and evening and bruise the coconut flower stalk until it starts to ooze its liquid. The stalk is tied with bamboo strips into a special bamboo container to catch the sap. Crushed tanbark from the mangrove tree is dropped into the container to give the sap a reddish color and to hasten its fermentation. As many as three flowers from one coconut tree can be made to yield sap. Each flower produces tuba for two months, after which it dries out and is cut from the tree.

The liquid actually begins to ferment while still in the bamboo container on the tree, but the alcohol content increases considerably with longer fermentation. Tuba quenches the thirst, is good for indigestion, and makes conversation flow easily.

Tejuino

Since long-ago times, cooling tejuino has refreshed Mexico. It's made from the same corn masa (dough) that's used for tortillas and tamales. The prepared masa is mixed with water and piloncillo (cone-shaped Mexican brown sugar) and boiled until the liquid is quite thick. It's then allowed to ferment slightly—but just slightly. I've never known anyone to get so much as a buzz from sipping a cupful of cold tejuino.

Tejuino vendor, Tlaquepaque, Jalisco.

Once the tejuino is thickened and fermented, it's mixed as needed with freshly squeezed jugo de limón (key lime juice), a pinch of salt, water, ice, and a big scoop of lemon sherbet. Just about everywhere in Mexico, it's sold in plastic glasses—small, medium, and large—or in a plastic bag with the top knotted around a drinking straw.

Some people say that tejuino is an acquired taste. I acquired the taste for it the very first time I tried it and often crave it on hot afternoons. There is nothing more refreshing. Fortunately, there was a tejuino vendor just a block from my house in Guadalajara, so I could buy a glassful when the spirit moved me. Cup after cup of freshly prepared tejuino is ladled out to customers every day. Although tejuino is only a slightly sweet drink, the masa base makes tejuino very filling. A small glass is usually very satisfying.

Tejate

Tejate, a cold and foamy nixtamal-ized corn and chocolate drink, is particular to Oaxaca, especially found in the city's markets and in the small towns all around the area. Tejate is very refreshing on a hot day at the market–in this case, at the weekly market in Zaachila, Oaxaca. Compare the size of the jícara (the red enameled bowl afloat in the tejate) to the size of this very large clay vessel.

Tepache

I've found tepache in several cenadurías (restaurants open for supper only, usually from 7:30 PM until midnight) in Mexico, as well as at street stands and, occasionally, market stands. Tepache is simple to make and the ingredients are readily available whether you live North or South of the Border. You might like to try this at home.

Tepache (teh-PAH-cheh)
1 whole pineapple (about 3 pounds)
3 quarts water
1 pound piloncillo or brown sugar
1 cinnamon stick, approximately 3" long
3 cloves

Wash the skin of the pineapple well. Cut off the stem end and discard. Leave the skin on the pineapple and cut the entire fruit into large pieces.

Place the pieces of pineapple in a large container and add two quarts of water, the piloncillo or brown sugar, the cinnamon, and the cloves. Cover and allow to rest in a warm place for approximately 48 hours. The longer you allow the liquid and fruit to rest, the more it will ferment. If you let it sit for longer than 48 hours, taste it periodically to make sure it is not overly fermented, as it will go bad.

Strain the liquid—the tepache—and add the last quart of water.

If you prefer, do not add the last quart of water. Instead, add one cup of beer and allow to rest for another 12 hours.

Strain again and, if you have used the beer, add three cups of water.

Serve cold with ice cubes.

Tepache vendor, Zihuatanejo.

At any cenaduría, you can ask for your tepache with a pinch of bicarbonate of soda. You can also add it at home, just before you're ready to drink a glassful. The addition makes the tepache fizz and bubble, and it's said to be extremely good for the digestion. An elderly neighbor of mine swears by it as a heartburn remedy.

Pajarete

In the Mexican countryside, tequila drinking starts as soon as the sun comes up. If you drive Mexican highways early any morning—early, please, when the air is still chilly and cool gray bruma (light fog) clings to the flanks of the mountains of the Central Highlands—look for a small hand painted sign. "Aquí Se Vende Pajarete" (pah-hah-REH-teh) is all it says. The sign may hang from a tree, it may be tacked to a fencepost, and you won't see any indication of a cart or stand.

Aqui se vende pajarete: Pajarete sold here!

Away from the road, behind the trees, past the bushes, just over there by those old wrecked cars, a dairy farmer milks his cows. As he milks the patient cows and they snuffle their hot breath into the misty morning, groups of men (sombrero-wearing men who are real men) gather around the cow lot, each man with his large clay mug. Into each mug go a stiff shot of either charanda (a sugar cane alcohol), mezcal, or tequila, a bit of sugar and some cinnamon-laden Mexican chocolate grated from a round tablet. The mug is then filled with warm milk, freshly squeezed directly into the mug–straight from the cow. More a body-temperature drink than a cold drink, that's pajarete: breakfast of champions.

I don't expect you to whip up most of these six popular drinks in your home kitchen, but I thought you'd love knowing about some of Mexico's really unusual cold drinks.

There are many more interesting and unusual drinks in Mexico, everything from A (acachú, a drink that sounds like a sneeze, made near Puebla from the wild cherry) to Z (zotol, made in Chihuahua from the sap of wild yucca). Wherever you are in Mexico, you'll find something fascinating to quench your thirst, make you feel more at home in the culture, and give you a story to tell.

A toast to each of you: Salud, dinero, y amor, y tiempo para gozarlos. Health, money, and love, and time to enjoy them.

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3 de June de 2017
Favorite Mexico City Delicacies, Catching Up: Late 2016 – Early 2017

You've heard that old saying, "Life is uncertain, eat dessert first…"? Here we are, beginning at a meal's sweet ending with a tamal de chocolate (chocolate tamal) from Pasillo de Humo in Mexico City. I've eaten others in the city that don't quite make the cut, since most are dry and not very chocolate-y. This one, on the other hand, is more like a deeply rich yet still light-textured chocolate bar. Two thumbs up!

In December 2016, it was my privilege to enjoy comida (Mexico's main meal of the day) at Restaurante Quintonil, invited by my dear friend, Pamela Gordon. The Polanco restaurant, a superb effort by Jorge Vallejo and his team, met and surpassed our hopes and expectations. What a marvelous treat! This charming amuse was only the beginning of a delicious meal.

Across the street from my Mexico City home is a tiny and extremely tempting torta stand. Half of one of these tortas (Mexico's iconic sandwich) is almost enough, but the flavors are such that it's hard to stop without finishing the whole thing. This particular sandwich is a torta cubana (Cuban style); if you look at the bottom corner of the left side, you can see the tell-tale sign of its identity: a torta cubana in this part of Mexico almost always includes a cut-up hot dog!

My wonderful friend Rosalba Morales Bartolo, a skillful and well-known cocinera tradicional from the state of Michoacán, prepares tacos de charales (tiny fish) that changed my thinking about these lake fish. There was a time when I wouldn't eat charales: they were inevitably extremely 'fishy' and very badly prepared. When I met Rosalba, she insisted that I try just one of hers. What a difference! Rosalba pulls them from Lake Pátzcuaro in nets and uses a generations-old family method of preparing them; hers are cleaned and scaled, dusted with flour, fried in fresh oil, and are incredibly delicious. Whether I eat them as a a finger-food snack or as a taco, they're one of my favorite delicacies!

From Restaurante Mia Domenicca in Mexico City's Colonia Roma, this grilled octopus is accompanied by its own ink, caramelized grape tomatoes, puréed cauliflower, and a mirror of fresh green olive oil. The inventive dish is beautifully cooked, beautifully presented, and a wonderful mix of flavors and textures.

From Restaurante La Tradición in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán–and from the hands and heart of my beloved Victoria González, another of Michoacán's extraordinary cocineras tradicionales–a plate of her fabulous aporreadillo, beans, and rice. Aporreadillo is a specialty of Michoacán's Tierra Caliente; doña Vicky hails from Apatzingán, in the heart of those hot lands, and her preparation of the dish is exquisite. Made of dried beef, scrambled egg, tomatoes, and a delicious broth, I like it best served over rice.

Wait, this isn't from Mexico City! But let me introduce you to one of the magnificent scones from Rebecca's Coffee House in the South Park neighborhood of San Diego. Rebecca Zearing and her crew have been turning out hot scones, freshly made marmalades, and excellent coffee (among other things) for the last 25 years. When Mexico Cooks! was in San Diego in February, we were lucky enough to catch Rebecca in the shop with an almost-ready batch of scones in the oven. I'm not sure which was better: the welcoming hug from my old friend Rebecca, or this uniquely delicious scone! When you're in San Diego, don't miss going.

Mexico Cooks! is particularly fond of Mexican caldo de pollo: chicken soup like I hope your Grandma used to make. Based on a rich, long-simmered chicken broth, this soup is full of vegetables (in this batch: carrots, calabacitas [like zucchini], green beans, and potatoes). At table, a big squeeze of limón (Key lime), a dollop of whatever might be your favorite salsa picante, and some coarsely chopped cilantro give this dish a zing that you will crave after the first taste. Add a big spoonful of Mexican red rice to the bowl; that's how we eat it in Mexico for simple, home made comfort.

Mexico is rightfully famous for its aguas frescas (fresh fruit waters), but this is one you might not yet have tried. Fresh cucumber combines with fresh mint and a little sugar to make a wonderfully cool and refreshing summer drink. This particular agua de pepino (cucumber water) slaked our thirst at a culinary event at Mexico City's American School. It was just right for a very warm spring day–and it looks so pretty in its jug.

One last dish: coctel de caracol, pulpo, and camarón (a cocktail of sea snail, octopus, and shrimp) from the incredible Ensenada cook Sabina Bandera, well-known everywhere as La Guerrerense. Served in an immensely flavorful cold broth made from the seafood cooking stock, tomato, chile, and cilantro, this cocktail is perfection pure and simple. I'd met doña Sabina a few years ago, but this past November was the first time I'd been able to taste her heavenly seafood tostadas, salads, and cocktails. If you're ever in Ensenada, Baja California–or if you hear that she is going to be cooking where you are, hurry. Get there. You don't want to miss these briny wonders.

Mexico Cooks! with Sabina Bandera, La Guerrerense.

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27 de May de 2017
Oaxaca Comida and Cena :: Main Meals and Light Suppers From the Primer Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales

Sra. Martina Escobar Montero, gracious owner at Restaurante Catedral, welcomed our press group to Oaxaca with the city's typical hospitality. Pictured here at the bountiful buffet featured each Sunday at the restaurant, Sra. Escobar is flanked by (l) Carlos Contreras and (r) Faustino Hernández, both members of the restaurant team. Catedral, which opened originally nearly 40 years ago, finds itself in an enviable position: one of the best traditional restaurants in Oaxaca. Sra. Escobar has been at the helm for all those years. Mexico Cooks! has eaten there many times, and knows that the food, service, and ambience are impeccable.

The minute our press buses rolled into Oaxaca's Centro Histórico, we drove immediately to Restaurante Catedral, at the corner of Calles García Vigil and Morelos. We were immediately seated for the Sunday buffet in one of the sunny dining rooms. The mole negro (above), known in Mexico as el rey de los moles (the king of moles) was just one of the huge variety of dishes available from the buffet; Sra. Escobar told us that her delicious version is a generations-old family recipe; the layers of flavors in the mole combined to send us all to the moon.

Oaxaca's mole verde is one of my all-time favorite dishes, and the mole verde prepared at Restaurante Catedral is no exception. In my opinion, it was tied for first place with the mole negro. If you'd like to try making mole verde at home, you'll find a recipe in this Mexico Cooks! article from 2016.

After a full afternoon of press activities, our hosts took us all to the wonderful Tlayudas Doña Flavia, near Santa María de Tule, for tlayudas. The tlayuda is a very thin, large-diameter corn tortilla, specialty of Oaxaca. The tlayuda is prepared by spreading it with a smallish amount of asiento (ah-see-EHN-toh, the fat that's left in the bottom of the pot after rendering fresh pork lard; asiento is thick, deep brown, and full of tiny crispy bits of pork); that layer is then smeared with cooked and smoothly ground black beans. On top of that, you get a lot of quesillo (Oaxaca cheese). The tlayuda with its layers is then folded in half and, in this case, toasted over wood fire. If you've chosen a portion of meat to go with your tlayuda, it's also grilled and served on top. The tlayuda is cut in half so it fits on your platter (yes, platter) and served to you with pipicha, a Oaxacan herb that is meant to be torn apart and stuffed into each half. Use table salsa–red or green–as much as you like, and a pinch of salt if needed–to boost the layers of flavor even further. If you're in Oaxaca and hungry at night, Tlayudas Doña Flavia is the place to go.

Each of these tlayudas measures approximately 12" to 14" in diameter. They're ready to be prepared for desayuno (breakfast), comida (Mexico's main meal), cena (supper), or for a filling snack, any time of the day.

The following two days, we of the press crew ate our comida at the Encuentro–which was, after all, why we were in Oaxaca. Please be sure to see some of the highlights of what we ate here. Our second night in Oaxaca, our hosts had arranged a late-evening cena at Mezquite, a 'modern Mexican' restaurant, open just since February 2017, at García Vigil 601-A, Centro Histórico. The restaurant served us a variety of mezcales to taste, then a good selection of their appetizer/taco offerings.

A platter of Mezquite's delicious molotes&#0160
;bathed in mole and topped with cheese, sprigs of beautiful green verdolagas (purslane), and thinly slice radishes. These molotes were made of partially ripe plátano macho (plaintain) that is cooked in its peel and then smashed into a purée. The cook then forms it into a slightly elongated oval, fills it with (in this case) quesillo (Oaxaca cheese), lightly flours each one, and fries each one until it is golden brown. Are they delicious? Yes, indeed they are!

Although we ate and drank on the rooftop at Mezquite for nearly two hours, some of the moments of looking at the glorious illumination of Oaxaca's Templo de Santo Domingo managed to distract me from so much food, delicious though it was.

Sra. Deyanira Aquino, otherwise known as "La Teca" (a woman from the town of Juchitán, Isthmus of Tehuantepec, Oaxaca) and owner of the marvelous restaurant also called La Teca, talked with me for a few minutes after giving a conference on the last day of the Encuentro. At the end of our chat, she said, "You mean you won't be able to come to the restaurant this time?" I told her I'd try, but the chances were slim. Press time was almost entirely accounted for by Encuentro activities. How disappointing for both of us! Shortly after our chat, though, a miraculous few hours opened up and I and a group of women friends from Mexico City were able to make the time to have cena at the restaurant with Sra. Deyanira. Our time with her was the icing on the cake of our days in Oaxaca!

We started as always with the fine mezcal served at La Teca. It's traditionally accompanied by orange slices or chunks which one sprinkles with sal de gusano (the truly delicious sal de Colima [sea salt from the western coastal state of Colima] combined with a finely ground secret mix of hot red chiles plus roasted and ground red maguey cactus worms). What, worms? Yes, and if you ever have a chance to try sal de gusano, please don't look askance. It's terrific and the flavors are all but addictive!

Among a selection of seven or eight different and marvelous dishes that we ate, La Teca's tamales de cambray stand out in my mind. These are a specialty of the Isthmus: filled with ground meats, potatoes, and a selection of fruits, the mixture moistened with mole and wrapped first in rich masa (corn dough) and then in banana leaves to steam, tamales de cambray are a delicacy not to miss. Just writing about them makes my mouth water!

Mexico Cooks! hopes you've enjoyed seeing the food, traditions, and people at the Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Oaxaca. The minute I know the dates for 2018, I'll let you know–and anyone who wants to come along with me, please let me know!

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20 de May de 2017
Oaxaca Restaurant Recommendations From the Primer Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales! Breakfast First…

Our first breakfast in Oaxaca at the end of April was at Restaurante Las 15 Letras (Abasolo #300, Centro Histórico, Oaxaca). We started with a seasonal fruit plate that included watermelon, papaya, kiwi, and cantaloupe. Mexico Cooks! prefers to eat tropical fruits the typically Mexican way, with a squeeze of limón (key lime), a pinch of salt, and a sprinkle of powdered chile. Try it that way–the sweetness of the fruit combines with the other flavors to bring a new flavor profile to your palate.

A really marvelous tamal–as usual, wrapped in banana leaves in the Oaxacan style–followed the fruit course.

Our main breakfast course at Las 15 Letras was chilaquiles entomatados con cecina a lightly spiced, lightly dried beef served atop a plate of totopos (tortilla chips) sautéed and then bathed in tomato sauce. Crumble white cheese on the chilaquiles and voilà–delicious.

The restaurant is charming, decorated with Oaxacan artesanía (craft work) from all of the state's eight regions. I had eaten here several times before; the meals have always been wonderful.

Breakfast on Day Two took place at Zandunga, a restaurant that I had read a good bit about but that I had never visited. We started the meal with full servings of seasonal fruits (papaya, watermelon, and banana) and freshly squeezed orange juice.

Because Aurora de Toledo, Zandunga's delightful owner, served us so very many dishes, a friend at table and I decided to share this tamal de elote. Not only did the sweet tamal come with a plate of cheese, but of course I dolloped rich crema de mesa (table cream) over it and topped that with fiery salsa de chile de árbol.

As you might begin to notice, there is no such thing as too many tamales. Zandunga's tamal de cambray is filled with mildly spicy picadillo, a kind of meaty, fruity hash. My friend and I split this one, as well. There are limits, no? Or maybe limits don't apply in Oaxaca!

Zandunga's design and decor, both coordinated by señora Toledo and her sons, are modern and quite comfortable, mixing many traditional elements into the room. The restaurant combines its delicious food with a mezcal bar. Here, typical Mexican oilcloth tablecloths combine with a quote from Oaxaca's literary prize-winning author, Manuel Matus. The translation: "Mezcal frees us from an infinite thirst for eternity."

One of our Zandunga cooks for the morning, Daniela Luis Rodríguez. Daniela has been in the kitchen at Zandunga for a bit more than a year and loves her work.

A niche in the Zandunga entryway displays old metates with their metapiles–volcanic stone grinding stones, each with its 'rolling pin'. The round grey item in the middle of the photograph is a molcajete, used for grinding spices, chiles, and other vegetables for sauces.

On my last morning in Oaxaca–for this trip–breakfast was at the Mercado de la Merced's Fonda Florecita. A fonda usually refers to a family-run eating spot, either in a market or free-standing. I've eaten at the wonderful Fonda Florecita many times. The first thing I order is a cup of hot chocolate, traditionally prepared with water.

My breakfast: cecina enchilada (semi-dried meat soaked in spicy chile sauce and cooked) with enfrijoladas (tortillas dipped in bean sauce prepared with native avocado leaves–the avocado leaves give the beans a heavenly anise-like flavor).

Three days, three superb Oaxaca breakfasts! Next week, we'll take a look at our press group's comida de bienvenida (welcoming midday meal), cenas (suppers), and a snack or two. Be sure to come back hungry.

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13 de May de 2017
OAXACA: First Grand Meeting of Oaxaca’s Traditional Cooks :: Primer Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Oaxaca

Oaxaca hosted its first-ever Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales on April 24-25, 2017. The festivities included more than 50 traditional home cooks from Oaxaca's eight regions, plus two days of conferences and other activities. Doña Martina Sánchez is the person shown on the poster; she's making a tlayuda, a very large, thin corn tortilla that will subsequently be topped with any number of ingredients.

Indescribably delicious empanandas, prepared by doña Martina Sánchez at the Mexico City press conference prior to the Encuentro.

From 1:00PM until 9:00PM, the cocineras tradicionales (traditional cooks) sold plates and platters and bowls of both well- and little-known dishes to the hordes and throngs of avid attendees. More than 10,000 people showed up over the course of two days. The Encuentro was a tremendous success in every respect.

Señora Celia Florián, traditional cook, restaurant owner (Las 15 Letras, Calle Abasolo 300, Centro Histórico, Oaxaca), and one of the principal organizers of the Primer Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Oaxaca. My dear friend Celia is a truly great woman, in every sense of the word.

Oaxaca thrilled Mexico Cooks! with an invitation to an April 23-26 hosted press trip to Oaxaca, for the sole purpose of eating, drinking, photographing, and writing about the first Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales in that city. The event took place during the celebration of the city's 485th anniversary of founding, and what a celebration it was! The Encuentro, primarily organized by Señora Celia Florián and hosted by Oaxaca's city government and other organizations, the event included more than 50 traditional cooks who set up their cooking fires on the Plaza de la Danza, just in front of Oaxaca's beautiful Basílica de Nuestra Señora de la Soledad.

La Danza de los Rubios of Santiago Juxtlahuaca, Oaxaca, pounded the stage with its fiercely colorful, tremendously flashy rendition of this more than 100-year-old dance to open the Encuentro. Normally danced during Carnaval, the bailable (dance) made a wonderful festival of the Encuentro. Photo courtesy Daniel Cui, IGERS Mexico.

Just one of a huge number of whole pigs, roasted over firewood at the Encuentro. This one was almost ready to be served, together with puré de papa (mashed potato), all in the style of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, in far-southern Oaxaca.

My plate, filled with tender, juicy, wood-roasted, mouth-watering carne de cerdo (pork meat), Isthmus-style puré de papa (mashed potato), and delicious sauce. The cocinera tradicional istmeña who served the crowd wears the typical clothing of the Tehuana: a woman from the Isthmus: hand embroidered velveteen blouse coupled with a colorful skirt and typically white lacy underskirt, gold filigree jewelry, and a ribbon or flower wreath around the head. Photo courtesy Gaby Vargas.

From left to right: Rufina Mendoza Ruíz, Abigail Mendoza Ruíz, Mexico Cooks!, and Marcelina Mendoza Ruíz. The Mendoza Ruíz sisters are arguably the best-known cocineras tradicionales in Oaxaca–and probably in all of Mexico. Indigenous Zapotecas from Teotitlán del Valle, they operate Tlamanalli, their family restaurant. Abigail Mendoza has literally traveled the world educating people about Mexican and Oaxacan food. It's a privilege to be a friend of the loving Mendoza family.

Tichindas en caldo de frijol: sweet-water mussels hand-gathered from their muddy flats along the coast of Oaxaca and prepared in a slightly spicy, slightly savory, slightly sweet sauce of smoothly-ground beans that knocked my socks off. The mussels themselves, shells and all, were just over an inch long. From now on, when I think para chuparse los dedos (finger-lickin' good), this will be the dish in my mind. I ate this bowl of mussels on the last day of the Encuentro; on the first day, a friend gave me the last tiny bit of a tamal with one of these mussels, still in the shell, wrapped in rich masa (corn dough). The next day, I went looking for those tamales, but they were completely sold out. This bowl of tichinda soup was my consolation prize, but wow, a prize indeed.

Three members of a fascinating and tender round table conference; the one of the topics was "food memories from your childhood". The Tehuanas (women from the Istmus of Tehuantepec) are (left to right): Aurora de Toledo, owner of Restaurante Zandunga; Deyaniro Aquino Pineda, owner of Restaurante La Teca; and Ofelia Toledo Pineda, owner of Restaurante Yu Ne Nisa. All three restaurants are located in the city of Oaxaca.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UgQROnZ1SY0&w=560&h=315]
Tejate, one of the iconic drinks of Oaxaca, is made from corn masa, Oaxacan chocolate, canela (Mexican cinnamon), the finely ground large brown seed of the mamey fruit, and flor de cacao (also known as rosita). After those ingredients are beaten by hand (see video), water and ice are added.

Mamey fruit for sale at a market in Oaxaca. The mamey tastes very much like a baked sweet potato. The cut fruits–so beautiful!–have had their seeds removed to be sold separately.

At the top of the photo are long sticks of Mexican cinnamon. In the woven tray is flor de cacao, or rosita. At the bottom are the large brown mamey seeds, ready to be ground to a fine powder for tejate.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFg7WqFmn3U&w=560&h=315]
In this video, the vendor has added cold water and ice to the tejate mixture–it's almost ready to serve. You can see that the surface of the tejate is foamy and thick, while the liquid she mixes from on high is thin, as it is supposed to be. Tejate is a delicious and extremely refreshing cold chocolate drink. When you're in Oaxaca, be sure to try it!

The finished product, tejate ready to be served. We thoroughly enjoyed a jícara of this one at Oaxaca's Mercado Benito Juárez.

For two full days and evenings, thousands of hungry people lined up at this event for Oaxacan regional food specialties that are rarely seen outside the comunidades (small indigenous towns) where they are made. Oaxaca residents, Mexicans from states near and far, and foreign tourists devoured anything and everything that the cocineras tradicionales prepared; everything I tasted was a thrill. The Encuentro was enlivened by constant live music and other entertainment, the city was in full fiesta mode for its anniversary, and everyone was excited and happy to be present.

As soon as the dates for the Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Oaxaca 2018 are announced, I'll post the news right here. You really, really need to book your trip as soon as possible! The event is a do-not-miss. In addition, I'll be offering a guided tour of the festivities!

Eager comensales (diners) pass along one of three sides of the Plaza de la Danza, where the cocineras tradicionales served food. No admission fee at the Encuentro means that one can purchase more of the very inexpensive dishes that the traditional cooks prepare and serve. Photo courtesy Marichuy Garduño.

Part of the invited Mexico City press group took a culinary tour of Oaxaca's Mercado Benito Juárez. I'd been there many times before, and nevertheless learned a tremendous amount from our guide. We're sitting for our portrait at Aguas Frescas Casilda, an institution in Oaxaca.

Over the course of many years, Mexico Cooks! has been invited to countless culinary festivals in Mexico. The Primer Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Oaxaca will always stand out in my mind as extraordinary: as the first in Oaxaca and as being entirely exemplary of Oaxaca's marvelous hospitality. Profound thanks to Celia Florián, to the Oaxaca city government, to the Oaxaca tourism department, to CANIRAC Oaxaca (Cámara Nacional de la Industria de Restaurantes y Alimentos Condimentados–Mexico's national restaurant association), to the cocineras tradicionales, and to all who made this marvelous event possible. Trabajar en equipo siempre es mejor (it's always better to work as a team) has never been truer. Three cheers and huge gratitude to all.

Next week, Mexico Cooks! will feature some of the restaurants where we were spoiled rotten by Oaxaca's CANIRAC. The truth is, we ate more in three days than is really conscionable. Between the traditional food at the Encuentro and our meals at Oaxaca's legendary restaurants, we all but waddled our way through the city.

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6 de May de 2017
La Nueva Viga, Mexico City :: Second Largest Fish Market in the World

Mexico Cooks!' mother, circa 1980. She tried her best to give me good advice, but I was often loathe to listen.

In November 1969, she suggested that the March on Washington, against the war in Vietnam, might be overcrowded. I went anyway, and it was packed–but the experience was entirely worth being smooshed like a sardine in a can.

Over the course of several years, she warned me about wanting to do battle with the New Year's Eve crowds in New York City's Times Square. Although the idea of squeezing in still piques my interest, I haven't been there yet.

My mother didn't know about Mexico City's wholesale fish market, La Nueva Viga, but had she known, she would have insisted that Viernes Santo (Good Friday) was not the day to go. This photo, taken on Good Friday 2017, barely does justice to the incredibly jammed aisles at La Nueva Viga, Latin America's largest fish market and the second largest fish market in the world. Only the Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo, Japan, surpasses the volume of fish and seafood sold annually at La Nueva Viga. The Tsukiji market averages 660,000 tons of fish and seafood in yearly sales; La Nueva Viga racks up around 550,000 tons. I think 549,000 tons must sell just on Good Friday, the last day of abstinence from meat during Lent.

The main entrance at La Nueva Viga is on Prolongación Eje 6 Sur, Colonia San José Aculco, Iztapalapa. The facility extends over nearly 23 acres (9.2 hectares), with 202 wholesale warehouses, 55 retail warehouses and 165 sellers in total. On any given ordinary day, the market receives between 20,000 to 25,000 customers, mostly restaurant owners in Mexico City and the areas immediately around it. On Good Friday, the clientele is mainly retail: home cooks looking for bargain fish and seafood for the Friday before Easter. Both fish and good prices abound and it seems like half the city is there to buy–what a challenge!

On Good Friday 2017, friends Rondi Frankel, Magdalena Mosig, and I made the trek to La Viga. Rondi drove and Magdalena acted as our guide; she at one time owned a restaurant and always bought fish and seafood at the market. It was a great treat–not to mention an enormous help!–to have her show us the ropes. From my street, south of Mexico City's Centro Histórico, the trip to La Viga took about 45 minutes. Because it was Good Friday, there was no traffic at all until we were close to the market–and then–yikes! Bumper to bumper, several lanes of near-parking lot, hundreds of street vendors of everything from cold bottled water to kites, partial sleeves (wrist to above the elbow) to wear while driving so your arm doesn't get sunburned, thin, crisp, sweet fried morelianas (a kind of cookie), chewing gum, single cigarettes, bags of ready-to-eat mango with chile, limón, and salt, soft drinks, straw hats–anything at all that a person might want.

The massive parking lots for La Viga were completely filled, so we drove a couple of blocks past the fish market and found a private lot. Once we were finally at the market, we sloshed through salty puddles, thousands of fish scales flying through the air, and the clang of huge knives hitting long fish-cleaning tables. Then up a few stairs and we were smack in the middle of the jostling, shoving crowds, pushing between rows of vendor stalls.

Extra-jumbo shrimp! That's Rondi's normal-size adult hand, for comparison. Each shrimp measured approximately 8" long with the head on. The price? $280 pesos (approximately $15 USD) per kilo–or $8.00 USD per pound. If I had to guess, I'd say these huge shrimp are about 5 or 6 to the pound.

Beautiful, fresh, and enormous huachinango (red snapper) were everywhere. These measured about two feet long–great big ones!–and looked fresh as the morning. According to the sign, they were caught in the waters off the state of Veracruz, on the southeastern Gulf coast of Mexico. The darker fish to the left are mojarra (sea bream), delicious but very bony.

Another vendor displayed his mojarra with the gill flap raised. It's easy to see by the condition of the gill that the fish is wonderfully fresh. This is exactly how a gill
should look when you're buying: firm and pink.

Many vendors had huachinango for sale; these were offered at a booth farther down the aisle from the first photo of huachinango. You can tell by the condition of the eye that this lovely fish was freshly caught. The eye is shiny, not sunken into the head, and full of light. My only hesitation in buying a fish was the length of time that I would be carrying it around in a bag prior to getting it home and into the refrigerator: too long in the very warm Mexico City springtime weather.

The smallest of these almeja gallo (rooster clams, at the rear) carried a sign reading, "For soup". Their price was $20 pesos (about $1.40 USD) per kilo. As the sizes increased, the prices increased. The most expensive were the ones on the right, at 35 pesos the kilo.

Look at this incredible tower of live blue crabs, tied up with reeds! Mexico Cooks! has always seen blue crabs in retail markets, always quite moribund, so it was wonderful to discover that they actually arrive at La Viga still living.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-bSv1XADag&w=420&h=315]
Proof positive! Watch these babies wiggle! The first thing that crossed my mind to prepare was a big platter of Chinese blue crabs in black bean sauce.

Fresh red octopus, piled high. $245 pesos the kilo.

Spanish mackerel.

These are langostinos–where you live, they may be known as crayfish (although they are a completely different species).

Oysters: piled-up huge costales (in this case, open-weave polypropylene sacks) of oysters. Oysters are sold by the costal, or shucked in their liquid in plastic bags as long as your arm, and also in smaller containers for home consumption. Some oysters come from the southeastern Mexican states of Tabasco and Campeche; others come from the Pacific Coast states of Baja California and Sinaloa. Mexico is the fourth-largest producer of oysters in Latin America. These particular oysters were for sale at $150 pesos the sack. "Isn't that about $8.00 USD?" Why yes, it is.

Oysters, ready to eat. Served with fresh Mexican-grown limones (Key limes), a dozen cost 100 pesos at this sit-down restaurant in La Viga.

What would Mexican seafood be without a bottled table salsa to season it–along with limón and maybe a wee pinch of salt? What we see here is a small selection of the hundreds of salsas from which to choose.

And truly, it wouldn't be right to serve seafood without a splash of home-made salsa bruja: witches' sauce! I keep mine on my counter and top it off with more vinegar as needed. The salsa is a mixture of vinegar with onion, garlic, carrot strips, bay leaf, rosemary, chile (I use serrano), oregano, a couple of cloves, salt, and pepper. Stuff all the vegetables and herbs into an empty wine bottle, fill with vinegar, cork, and allow to sit for several days. Voilà, salsa bruja!

The next time I go to La Nueva Viga, I will abide by what my mother surely would have advised: go on a day when half of Mexico City isn't there! You come, too–we'll have a marvelous time!

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29 de April de 2017