Author: typepadtowordpress

Día de la Candelaria : February 2 : Candlemas Day in Mexico

For about a month prior to Christmas each year, the Niño Dios (baby Jesus) is for sale everywhere in Mexico. Mexico Cooks! took this photograph in 2006 at the annual tianguis navideño (Christmas market) in front of Templo San José in Guadalajara. These Niños Dios range in size from just a few inches long to nearly the size of a two-year-old child. They're sold wrapped in only a diaper.

When does the Christmas season end in your family? When I was a child, my parents packed the Christmas decorations away on January 1, New Year's Day. Today, my wife and I like to enjoy the nacimientos (manger scenes), the Christmas lights, and the tree until January 7, right after the Feast of the Three Kings. Some think that date is scandalously late. Other people, particularly our many Mexican friends, think that date is scandalously early. Christmas in Mexico isn't over until February 2, el Día de la Candelaria (Candlemas Day), also known as the Feast of the Presentation.

The Holy Family, a shepherd and some of his goats, Our Lady of Guadalupe, an angel, a cat, and some indigenous people form a small portion of Mexico Cooks!' nacimiento. Click on the photo to get a better look. Note that the Virgin Mary is breast feeding the infant Jesus while St. Joseph looks on.

Although Mexico's 21st century Christmas celebration often includes Santa Claus and a Christmas tree, the main focus of a home-style Christmas continues to be the nacimiento and the Christian Christmas story. A family's nacimiento may well contain hundreds–even thousands–of figures, but all nacimientos have as their heart and soul the Holy Family (the Virgin Mary, St. Joseph, and the baby Jesus). The nacimiento is set up early–in 2012, ours was out at the end of November–but the Niño Dios does not make his appearance until the night of December 24, when he is sung to and placed in the manger.

Niños Dios at Mexico City's Mercado de la Merced. The figures are dressed as hundreds of different saints and representations of holy people and ideas. The figures are for sale, but most people are only shopping for new clothes for their baby Jesus. All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! except as noted.

Between December 24, when he is tenderly rocked to sleep and laid in the manger, and February 2, the Niño Dios rests happily in the bosom of his family. As living members of his family, we are charged with his care. As February approaches, a certain excitement begins to bubble to the surface. The Niño Dios needs new clothing! How shall we dress him this year?

The oldest tradition is to dress the Niño Dios in hand-crocheted garments. Photo courtesy Manos Mexicanos.

According to Christian teaching, the Virgin Mary and St. Joseph took the baby Jesus to the synagogue 40 days after his birth to introduce him in the temple–hence February 2 is also known as the Feast of the Presentation. What happy, proud mother would wrap her newborn in just any old thing to take him to church for the first time? I suspect that this brand new holy child was dressed as much to the nines as his parents could afford.

The Niño Dios dressed as San Juan Diego, the indigenous man who brought Our Lady of Guadalupe to the Roman Catholic Church.

Every February 2, churches are packed with men, women, and families carrying their Niños Dios to church in his new clothes, ready to be blessed, lulled to sleep with a sweet lullaby, and tucked gently away till next year.

The Niño Dios as el Santo Niño Doctor de los Enfermos (the holy child doctor of the sick). He has his stethoscope, his uniform, and his doctor's bag. This traditionally dressed baby Jesus has origins in mid-20th century in the city of Puebla.

Every year new and different clothing for the Niño Dios comes to market. In 2011, the latest fashions were those of the Archangels–in this case, the Archangel Gabriel.

The Niño Dios dressed as Peruvian San Martín de Porres, the patron saint of racially mixed people and all those seeking interracial harmony.

Niño Dios de la Eucaristía (Holy Child of the Eucharist).

Niño Dios dressed as San Benito, the founder of the Benedictine Order.

Niño Dios dressed as a Chinelo (costumed dancer from the state of Morelos).

Niño Dios de la Abundancia (Holy Child of Abundance).

The ceremony of removing the baby Jesus from the nacimiento is called the levantamiento (lifting up). In a family ceremony, the baby is raised from his manger, gently dusted off, and dressed in his new finery. Some families sing:

QUIERES QUE TE QUITE MI BIEN DE LAS PAJAS, (Do you want me to brush off all the straw, my beloved)
QUIERES QUE TE ADOREN TODOS LOS PASTORES, (Do you want all the shepherds to adore you?)
QUIERES QUE TE COJA EN MIS BRAZOS Y CANTE (Do you want me to hold you in my arms and sing)
GLORIA A DIOS EN LAS ALTURAS. (Glory to God on high).

One of the most popular 'looks' for the Niño Dios in Mexico City is that of San Judas Tadeo, the patron saint of impossible causes. He is always dressed in green, white, and gold and has a flame coming from his head.

Carefully, carefully carry the Niño Dios to the parish church, where the priest will bless him and his new clothing, along with you and your family. After Mass, take the baby Jesus home and put him safely to rest till next year's Christmas season. Sweet dreams of his next outfit will fill your own head as you sleep that night.

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

2 de February de 2013
Los Reyes Magos to La Candelaria: Three Kings, Rosca de Reyes and Tamales!

Most Mexicans eat traditional rosca de reyes (Three Kings' Bread) on January 6. Its usual accompaniment is chocolate caliente (hot chocolate).

The Día de los Reyes Magos (the Feast of the Three Kings)
falls on January 6 each year. You might know the Christian feast day as
Epiphany or as Little Christmas. The festivities celebrate the arrival
of the Three Kings at Bethlehem to visit the newborn Baby Jesus. In
some cultures, children receive gifts not on Christmas, but on the Feast
of the Three Kings–and the Kings are the gift-givers, commemorating
the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh that they presented to the
Baby Jesus. Many, many children in Mexico still receive special gifts of
toys from the Reyes (Kings) on January 6

Typically, Mexican families celebrate the festival with a rosca de reyes (Three Kings' Bread). The size of the family's rosca
varies according to the size of the family, but everybody gets a slice,
from the littlest toddler to great-grandpa. Accompanied by a cup of chocolate caliente (hot chocolate), it's a great winter treat.

Chef Arturo Camacho Domínguez of Tampico, Tamaulipas.

My friend Chef Arturo Camacho Domínguez, who lives and works in
Tampico, Tamaulipas, recently wrote a bit about the significance of the rosca. He wrote, "The rosca de reyes
represents a crown; the colorful fruits simulate the jewels which
covered the crowns of the Holy Kings. The Kings themselves signify
peace, love, and happiness. The Niño Dios hidden in the rosca
reminds us of the moment when Saint Joseph and the Virgin Mary hid the
Baby Jesus in order to save him from King Herod, who wanted to kill
him. The three gifts that the Kings gave to the Niño Dios represent the Kings (gold), God (frankincense), and man (myrrh).

"In Mexico, we consider that an oval or ring shape represents the movement of the sun and that the Niño Dios represents the Child Jesus in his apparition as the Sun God. Others mention that the circular or oval form of the Rosca de Reyes, which has no beginning and no end, is a representation of heaven–which of course is the home of the Niño Dios."

On January 6, 2009, Paty Mora de Vallejo, wife of Morelia's mayor Fausto Vallejo, served a slice of the enormous rosca de reyes monumental moreliana, prepared jointly by bakeries from everywhere in the city.

Here in Morelia, Michoacán, bakers prepare an annual monumental rosca for the whole city to share. The rosca
contains nearly 3000 pounds of flour, 1500 pounds of margerine, 10,500
eggs, 150 liters of milk, 35 pounds of yeast, 35 pounds of salt, 225
pounds of butter, 2000 pounds of dried fruits, and 90 pounds of orange
peel. The completed cake, if stretched out straight, measures two
kilometers in length! Baked in sections, the gigantic rosca is
the collaborative effort of ten bakeries in the city. The city
government as well as grocery wholesalers join together to see to it
that the tradition of the rosca continues to be a vibrant custom.

The plastic niño (baby) baked into our rosca measured
less than 2" tall. The figures used to be made of porcelain, but now
they are generally made of plastic. See the tooth mark on the head? Mexico Cooks! is the culprit. Every rosca de reyes baked in Mexico contains at least one niño; larger roscas can hold two, three, or more. Morelia's giant rosca normally contains 10,000 of these tiny figures.

Tradition demands that the person who finds the niño in his or her slice of rosca is required to give a party on February 2, el Día de La Candelaria (Candlemas Day). The party for La Candelaria calls for tamales, more tamales, and their traditional companion, a rich atole
flavored with vanilla, cinnamon, or chocolate. Several years ago, an
old friend, in the throes of a family economic emergency, was a guest at
his relatives' Three Kings party. He bit into the niño buried in his slice of rosca. Embarrassed that he couldn't shoulder the expense of the following month's Candelaria party, he gulped–literally–and swallowed the niño.

El Día de La Candelaria celebrates the presentation of Jesus in the Jewish temple, forty days after his birth. The traditions of La Candelaria
encompass religious rituals of ancient Jews, of pre-hispanic rites
indigenous to Mexico, of the Christian evangelization brought to Mexico
by the Spanish, and of modern-day Catholicism.

In Mexico, you'll find a Niño Dios of any size for your home nacimiento (Nativity scene). Traditionally, the Niño Dios is passed down, along with his wardrobe of special clothing, from generation to generation in a single family.

The presentation of the child Jesus to the church is enormously
important in Mexican Catholic life. February 2 marks the official end
of the Christmas season, the day to put away the last of the holiday
decorations. On February 2, the figure of Jesus is gently lifted from
the home nacimiento (manger scene, or creche), dressed in new
clothing, carried to the church, where he receives blessings and
prayers. He is then carried home and rocked to sleep with tender
lullabies, and carefully put away until the following year.

Each family dresses its Niño Dios according to its personal
beliefs and traditions. Some figures are dressed in clothing
representing a Catholic saint particularly venerated in a family;
others are dressed in the clothing typically worn by the patron saints
of different Mexican states. Some favorites are the Santo Niño de Atocha, venerated especially in Zacatecas; the Niño de Salud (Michoacán), the Santo Niño Doctor (Puebla), and, in Xochimilco (suburban Mexico City), the Niñopa (alternately spelled Niñopan or Niño-Pa).

This Xochimilco arch and the highly decorated street welcome the much-loved Niñopan figure.

The veneration of Xochimilco's beloved Niñopan follows centuries-old traditions. The figure has a different mayordomo every year; the mayordomo is the person in whose house the baby sleeps every night. Although the Niñopan (his name is a contraction of the words Niño Padre or Niño Patrón) travels from house to house, visiting his chosen hosts, he always returns to the mayordomo's
house to spend the night. One resident put it this way: "When the day
is beautiful and it's really hot, we take him out on the canals. In his
special chalupita (little boat), he floats around all the chinampas (floating islands), wearing his little straw hat so that the heat won't bother him. Then we take him back to his mayordomo, who dresses our Niñopan in his little pajamas, sings him a lullaby, and puts him to sleep, saying, 'Get in your little bed, it's sleepy time!" Even though the Niñopan
is always put properly to bed, folks in Xochimilco believe that he
sneaks out of bed to play with his toys in the wee hours of the night.

Trajineras (decorated boats) ready to receive tourists line the canals in Xochimilco.

Although he is venerated in many Xochimilco houses during the course of every year, the Niñopan's
major feast day is January 6. The annual celebration takes place in
Xochimilco's church of St. Bernard of Sienna. On the feast of the
Candelaria, fireworks, music, and dancers accompany the Niñopan as he processes through the streets of Xochimilco on his way to his presentation in the church.

Gloria in Xochimilco with Niñopa, April 2008. Photo courtesy Colibrí.

Blue papel picado (cut paper decoration) floating in the deep-blue Xochimilco sky wishes the Niñopan welcome and wishes all of us Feliz Navidad.

El Día de La Candelaria means a joyful party with lots of tamales, coupled with devotion to the Niño Dios. For more about a tamalada (tamales-making party), look at this 2007 Mexico Cooks! article.

From the rosca de reyes on January 6 to the tamales on February 2, the old traditions continue in Mexico's 21st Century.

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

26 de January de 2013
Las Apariencias Engañan :: Appearances Deceive (Frida Kahlo’s Recently Discovered Belongings)

Magdalena Carmen Frida Kahlo y Calderón, age three or four, and friend. Photo by her father, Guillermo Kahlo.

Which is the Frida Kahlo who most touches your imagination? The innocent toddler in her beribboned shoes?

The iconic self-portrait dressed as a Tehuana (woman from Oaxaca's Isthmus of Tehuantepec)?

The pain-wracked, alcoholic, drug-addicted, unadorned, exhausted Frida? This photo was taken on July 2, 1954, at her last public appearance. She (in her wheelchair), Diego Rivera, and a group of friends and colleagues marched in Mexico City to protest the involvement of the United States Central Intelligence Agency in the overthrow of Guatemala's president. Frida Kahlo died on July 13, 1954.

There was a time, and not too long ago, when I thought I understood the moments that these photos purport to reveal. Photos and self-portraits are a record of life, just as black-and-white as the first and last of these three. Except–perhaps not. Perhaps, as the on-going exhibit at Casa Museo Frida Kahlo is titled, las apariencias engañan. Appearances deceive. What we see is tricky. Appearances are as fluid as blood in the veins, as liquor down the throat, as dye seeking fabric, as paint on a palette. And as Anais Nin is alleged to have said, "We do not see things as they are. We see things as we are."

The original drawing used for the exhibit poster is part of Frida Kahlo's diary.

When Frida Kahlo died, Diego Rivera insisted that the places in her home where the majority of her personal effects were stored (two bathrooms, some trunks and closets) be sealed for the following 50 years. In 2004, under the close supervision of museum directors, workers knocked down bathroom walls and pried open long-locked doors. They found literally thousands of items belonging to the couple, including more than 300 of Frida Kahlo's dresses, some of her jewelry, some hair ornaments, shoes, and orthopedic appliances.

A few of the Oaxaca-style skirts and huipiles (blouses) from Frida Kahlo's closets and trunks, currently showing in Room 2 of the exhibit space. If you are familiar with her paintings, you may recognize one or two.

Detail of encaje (lace) and other fabrics from the skirts shown second and third from the right in the above photo.

Las Apariencias Engañan opened in late November 2012. According to museum personnel, the exhibit will be on display for approximately one year, during which time the mannequins' clothing will be changed every three to four months. Not only will these changes give the public an opportunity to see more of the 300 dresses found when the walls were knocked down, but long-stored delicate fabrics will not be subjected to the stress of their own weight as they are displayed.

The Tehuana headdress from the self portrait shown above. Click on any photograph to enlarge it for a better view.

The restoration period has lasted nearly eight years. Despite the conditions under which Frida's clothing and other belongings were stored for 50 years, what we see is a marvel of both natural preservation and expert resurrection. The mounting of the exhibit, supervised by curator Circe Henestrosa and mounted by prominent British architect and designer Doctor Judith Clark, stuns with its mix of the lovely, the grotesque, and the matter-of-fact.

You may well be familiar with some of Frida's famous hand-painted plaster of Paris corsets, decorated with her fabled fantastical flowers, animals, and even the Communist hammer and sickle. They are beautiful. About five years ago, the museum's exhibit of the artist's night bedroom included both her death mask, wrapped in a rebozo, and a plaster of Paris corset.

These three corsets suspended (by white ribbons meant to evoke bandages) from white-tile walls that are symbolic of the bathrooms where the items were found, are not beautiful to any eye. They are what they are: early 20th century medical appliances meant to bind, to support, and inevitably to inflict pain on the wearer.

A pair of Frida's black suede shoes. Srta. Maricarmen Rodríguez López, my personal guide to the exhibit, said, "People ask why Dr. Clark insisted that we mount these shoes showing the back rather than the pretty front with bows on the toes. Look closer. The right shoe has an elevated heel to compensate for the shortness of Frida's right leg." Srta. Rodríguez also mentioned that the entire exhibit is designed to emphasize the disabilities that Frida suffered from the time she was a child of six, when she had polio which left her right leg thinner and shorter than the left.

Frida's calf-high, crimson leather lace-up boot–the left boot, with its wedge heel, decorated with panels of Chinese embroidery and a bell on a ribbon (…rings on her fingers, bells on her toes…).

The right boot and prosthesis, quite literally the other side of the story. Compare the wedge heel on this boot with the wedge on the other. Due to gangrene, doctors were forced to amputate Frida's long-injured right leg in 1953.

The metal supports for this and other items in the exhibit symbolize the iron handrail that pierced her abdomen and uterus in the 1925 trolley-car accident in which she suffered other serious injuries: a broken spinal column, a broken collarbone, broken ribs, a broken pelvis,
eleven fractures in her right leg, a crushed and dislocated right foot,
and a dislocated shoulder.

Arguably the most famous page from Frida's diary: Pies para qué los quiero si tengo alas pa'volar. (Feet, what do I need them for, if I have wings to fly.) Dated 1953 and painted just prior to the amputation of her right foot.

From Frida's trunks, a hair ornament. The tiara includes aluminum and textile flowers and green linen leaves.

Another hair ornament, in the form of a butterfly.

Gold chokers and other necklaces.

Who will see my brokenness, when the glory of my wardrobe hides my pain? In the exhibit, even the limbs of the mannequins resemble prostheses.

A full cabinet of Frida's long-stored belongings: clothing, jewelry, shoes, even a pair of golden cat's-eye sunglasses came from the closets and trunks.

Las Apariencias Engañan is intended to be a revolving, year-long exhibit. Sponsored in large part by Vogue Magazine, as well as BMW, The Anglo Mexican Foundation, British Airways, The BBVA Bancomer Foundation, the Japan Foundation, Lasalle College of the Arts, Montblanc, the University of the Arts London, and Valentino Parfums, the exhibit also includes a roomful of newly created items of haute couture based very loosely on Frida's wardrobe. This dress and jacket are by GQ's 2012 Designer of the Year Riccardo Tisci of Givenchy. Still more designer dresses are by Costume National and Jason Wu, among the other couture houses involved in the show.

From Frida's diary: arrows point to all of the parts of her body where she had surgeries. A tear falls from her right eye. I asked Srta. Rodríguez, "But she never had surgery on her head…?" "No, la flecha esa simboliza el daño psicológico…" ('No, that arrow represents the psychological damage.') Although the drawing shows only a few arrows, Frida actually had 22 or more surgeries.

Frida Kahlo chose her very Mexican wardrobe with extreme care. Each item was
designed to flatter this part, cover that part, hide the other part.
Under her embroidered and boldly colorful square-cut huipiles
(in this instance, Oaxaca-style blouses), terrible leather-and-metal
corsets were barely noticable to others. A maimed foot, a withered leg, a missing
leg? Let the boots take center stage, let the lace-bordered skirts be a
frothy smoke screen. Don't attend to my limp, look at the wreath of flowers in
my hair. Pay no attention to this wheelchair, raise your eyes to my multiple
gold necklaces, the bracelets on my arms, the rings on my fingers.

The exhibit reveals in a way that a photo, an article online, or a
biography cannot show how and why Frida Kahlo invented the appearance of festive
health for herself. The psychology that moved her to create this way
of life and this wardrobe, the fractures (both physical and mental) that shaped her need
for window dressing: all is apparent in the exhibit, and we see both the color and the shadow, the harsh reality and the fugue of fashion. Frida stands naked before us, a human being rather than a souvenir. ___________________________________________________

With profound thanks to Hilda Trujillo Soto (Directora Casa Museo Frida Kahlo), Patricia Cordero (Coordinadora de Difusión y Contenidos Digitales, Casa Museo Frida Kahlo), and Maricarmen Rodríguez López (Redes Sociales y Difusión, Casa Museo Frida Kahlo) for their time and effort in arranging a private guided tour of Las Aparencias Engañan for Mexico Cooks!.

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

19 de January de 2013
Signs of the Times at Mexico City’s Mercado de Jamaica

This man carries his purchase: cempasúchil (marigolds) and crisántamo (chrysanthemums) for the Day of the Dead. Most of the flowers at the market are grown in the State of Mexico, which is separate from but almost completely surrounds Mexico City. In the State of Mexico, flower growing generates a yearly economic bounty of $2,700,000,000 pesos: two billion seven hundred million, folks. It's not a typo.

This truckload of wholesale flowers for the Day of the Dead–golden cempasúchil, white nube (baby's breath), and wine-red cordón del obispo (cockscomb)–was undoubtedly destined for someone's retail flower shop.

In late October, Mexico Cooks! went to the Mercado de Jamaica specifically to find flowers and decorative items to build a home altar for the Day of the Dead. We were quite taken with these veladoras (candles in their holders). We found exactly what we wanted, but that became our secondary objective once we passed into the produce section of the market.

Many of Mexico City's markets use this sort of printed sign to advertise the price of what's for sale–in this case, vine-ripened Roma tomatoes–and every sign has a bit of advice to offer about your potential purchase. I've loved these signs since long before moving to Mexico's capital. On this market jaunt, the lightbulb went on: all of you would love these typical and sometimes funny signs, too. This one urges, "Don't think about it too much…take home a little kilo!".

For already-cut-up calabaza de castilla (a hard-shell Mexican squash): 'money well spent'.

For limón criollo (Mexican limes): I'll be right with you!

Limas–and there really is no translation for this uniquely Mexican fruit. They are neither limes nor lemons, nor are they oranges. But as the sign says: it's scrumptious!

Chile jalapeño: pretty and cheap, at four pesos the quarter kilo.

White potatoes for 10 pesos the kilo: smile.

Beautiful crisp cucumbers: ask for more.

At six pesos the kilo: 'Don't look any further!'

This merchant is offering his chiles jalapeños at 14 pesos the kilo: 'Like you saw on TV'.

This sign is my current favorite. "Ni hablar mujer" means 'Lady, don't even talk about it!'. The phrase is also part of a Pedro Infante song.

Next year, plan to come along with us to this marvelous market. Ahorita la atiendo!

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

12 de January de 2013
Próspero Año Nuevo (Happy New Year), Mexican Style

In Mexico and other Latin American countries, women wear yellow
underwear on New Year's Eve to bring good luck and wealth in the year to
come. Red underwear indicates a New Year's wish for an exciting love
interest!

Sweeping the Feathers, by Victor Gabriel Gilbert. It's the custom in Mexico to thoroughly clean the house prior to the start of the New Year–you don't want to bring any leftover mugre (dirt) into the clean, fresh year.

Superstition or not, many people here in Mexico have the custom of ritos del Año Nuevo
(New Year's rituals). Some rituals include foods, others prescribe
certain clothing, and still others warrant attention for religious
interest.

As
the clock strikes midnight, it's common to eat twelve grapes–one at
each ding, one at each dong of the bell. While eating the grapes, you
make a personal wish for each grape you consume, welcoming the new
year that's beginning. Mexico Cooks! finds that it's helpful
to write down the twelve wishes so as not to forget one or choke in
the rush to swallow the grapes before the clock finishes striking the
New Year's earliest hour!

Eating
a tablespoonful of cooked lentils on New Year's Eve is said to bring
prosperity and abundance. You can also give raw lentils–just a
handful–to family and friends with the same wish.

On
a small piece of paper, write down the undesirable habits and customs
you'd like to let go of in the New Year that's just starting. Burn
the paper, then follow through with the changes!

Choose three stones that symbolize health, love, and money. Put them in a place where you will see them every day.

Light
candles: blue for peace, yellow for abundance, red for love, green
for health, white for spirituality, and orange for intelligence.

Spill
clean water on the sidewalk in front of your house as the clock rings
in the New Year. Your house will be purified and all tears will be
washed away.

To
have money for your needs all year, have some bills in your hand or
in your pocket to welcome the arrival of the New Year. Some people
fold up the money and put it in their shoes!

Take
your suitcase for a walk. Legend is that the farther you walk with
your suitcase, the farther you'll travel. Several New Year's Eves ago,
Mexico Cooks! and a few friends celebrated by walking our
suitcases around the block, and we all traveled far and wide during
the new year that followed.

Mexico Cooks! wishes all of you a muy Próspero Año Nuevo–and especially wishes that your red underwear brings you (or keeps you) the love of family, friends, and that special someone.

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

5 de January de 2013
Pastorela in Cuitzeo: Devil Take the Hindmost
This article, originally published at Christmastime 2007, has been extremely popular every Christmas since then. We think you will enjoy this slightly updated version…

A Seattle Christmas pageant, circa 1953. Thanks, Sandy in Seattle!

My school put on a Christmas pageant when I was in the third grade,
back in the days before the law specified generic holiday greetings. Remember how Joey
and Jimmy, Ralphie and Bobby, were the shepherds in their father's striped
terrycloth bathrobes, the sashes tied three or four times around their
waists? Chuck got to be Joseph and that prissy little Amy got to dress
in blue and white as the Virgin Mary when everybody KNEW it should have
been you up there nuzzling the Baby Jesus. Here's a sweet little
reminder:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clSUr9fLapY&w=320&h=240]

A 19th Century pastorela photograph showing Bartolo, the indolent shepherd who overslept and missed his chance to go to Bethlehem to see the Niño Dios.

In Mexico, a Christmas pageant, like almost everything, is different from Christmas plays North of the Border. Called a pastorela,
the Mexican Christmas play is part very naughty topical comedy, part
traditional drama, part Sunday school lesson, and 100% morality play. Pastorela means pastoral, or a play that takes place in the countryside, and concerns the activities of pastores, or shepherds. First introduced to Mexico by Franciscan missionaries in the 1500's, pastorelas
continued to grow in favor here. Today the plays are one of the most
popular Christmastime entertainments. The theme portrays the eternal
conflict between good and evil. The plot revolves around the pilgrimage
of the shepherds to Bethlehem to see the newborn Niño Dios (Christ Child).

The devil is not ordinarily associated with Christmas. In Mexico, however, Satanás
plays a very solid role in the holiday festivities. He is actually the
star! Lucifer works all his worst wiles to detour the shepherds away
from their destination. Costumed as various alluring personages, Satan
and his associate devils do their best to trick the shepherds into
abandoning their journey to redemption. At the end, Satan is trumped,
good triumphs, the shepherds meet the Holy Family, and all is well.

Mexico Cooks! recently spent a week or so looking for a pastorela to be presented at a time we could attend. Last week, Judy noticed an article in the newspaper about a pastorela that was being offered that very night in Cuitzeo, a small town about an hour north of Morelia. The title of the play (El Ermitaño.com:
The Hermit.com) was intriguing, the photo of the performers in costume
looked exciting, and the timing was right. We called our friend Bunny,
who jumped at the chance to accompany us to the evening performance, and
we were off to Cuitzeo.

Cuitzeo reached the status of Mexican Pueblo Mágico, the third in Michoacán, in 2006. The requirements for the Pueblo Mágico designation are:
- a town or city rich in tradition
- located in an area of high interest to tourists
- that it have a strong history
- that it have ready access from major highways
You'll see in this video that Cuitzeo easily meets Pueblo Mágico criteria.

Our pastorela took place outside, on the grounds of the
Ex-Convento de Santa María Magdalena, a 16th Century Augustinian
convent. Judy, Bunny, and I stopped first in the church to see the
Christmas decorations.

Cuitzeo's 17th Century Virgin Mary wears a charming straw sombrero, carries a lace-trimmed basket, and rides a donkey as she and Joseph travel to Bethlehem.

The presentation of El Ermitaño.com was sponsored by Adopt a
Work of Art, the Michoacán Secretary of Tourism, the Cuitzeo city
government, the National Institute of Anthropology and History, and the
newspaper La Voz de Michoacán. We discovered that this pastorela was not a simple country town's Christmas caprice. It is a sophisticated, professional play of great good humor.

According to Miguel Sabido, the creator of El Hermitaño.com,
"The culture which distinguishes Mexico is both vast and rich, but it's
composed of more than our country's admirable buildings. Mexico has
its greatest patrimony in its popular rituals, and its recipes like the pinole cookies that are only made here in this region, and the pastorelas. These are Mexico's legacies and we must make a commitment to spread her traditions."

The pastorela characters mounted the stage dancing, singing, and rejoicing.

Adam and Eve were the first to take the devil's bait: Adam bit the apple and all hell broke loose.

Still singing, the shepherds, in typical indigenous Purhépecha dress, started their trip to Bethlehem.

El ermitaño (the hermit), portrayed as a post-elderly (think
200 years old) fellow, leads the shepherds (in this case, indigenous
Purépecha from Michoacán) on the long trip to Bethlehem. The Archangel
Michael warns them that they'll see the devil in the disguise of famous
and fascinating people. When Satan begins to tempt the simple
shepherds, they easily fall into his traps.

El ermitaño (the hermit) co-starred with Satan.

Famously rival Mexican soccer teams, a drunken debauch complete with
Caribbean dancers in flounced skirts and turbans, and an angelic choir
are all devils in disguise. In every encounter, Archangel Michael has
to intervene to prod the shepherds on their way. Topical jokes ran
wild, references to the famous and the infamous flew, and we loved it
all.

Finally, Bethlehem! The Virgin Mary holds the Niño Dios as St. Joseph and the shepherds look on.

The pastorela story was typically good conquers evil, but
what a production! Acted, danced, and sung by professionals, the
morality play kept the crowd (packed into bleachers on two sides of the
open stage) laughing, clapping, booing and hissing, and singing along
with Mexico's treasured and iconic villancicos (Christmas carols).

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07FjX4R1d-s&w=350&h=263]
Listen to this lovely version of Los Peces en el Río. Can you hear the lyric 'la Virgen lava pañales'? It means 'the Virgin is washing diapers'!

Mexico Cooks! wishes everyone a very joyous New Year, filled with good health, great happiness, and many delights.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.
29 de December de 2012
The Mexican Nativity Scene at Christmas: El Nacimiento

A Christmas tree may well be the central focus of your home decoration during this joyous season of the Christian year. In most parts of Mexico, the Christmas tree is a fairly recent import and the primary focus of the holiday is still the nacimiento (manger scene, creche, or nativity scene).

One of Mexico Cooks!' biggest delights every late November and early December is shopping for Christmas–not hunting for gifts, but rather for new items to place in our nacimiento (manger scene). Truth be told, we have five nacimientos–or maybe six–that come out each Christmas season, but only one of them keeps growing every year.

The tiny figures in this nacimiento are made of clay; the choza (hut) is made of wood. The shepherds and angels have distinctive faces; no two are alike. One shepherd carries firewood, another a tray of pan dulce (sweet breads), a third has a little bird in his hands. The tallest figures measure only three inches high. The Niño Dios (Baby Jesus) is not usually placed in the pesebre (manger) until the night of December 24. The Niño Dios for this nacimiento is just over an inch long and is sleeping on his stomach with his tiny knees drawn up under him, just like a real infant. This nacimiento was made about 25 years ago in Tonalá, Jalisco, Mexico.

Mexican households traditionally pass the figures for their nacimientos down through the family; the figures begin to look a little tattered after traveling from great-grandparents to several subsequent generations, but no one minds. In fact, each figure holds loving family memories and is the precious repository of years of 'remember when…?''. No one cares that the Virgin Mary's gown is chipped around the hem or that St. Joseph is missing an arm; remembering how the newest baby teethed on the Virgin's dress or how a long-deceased visiting aunt's dog bit off St. Joseph's arm is cause for a family's nostalgic laughter.

Nacimiento en vivo (living nativity scene), Lake Chapala, Jalisco, Mexico. In 13th century Italy, St. Francis of Assisi was inspired to re-enact the birth of Christ. The first nacimiento was presented with living creatures: the oxen, the donkey, and the Holy Family. Even today in Mexican communities, there are hundreds of living manger scenes.

Holy Family, 18th century Italy. The first nativity figures, made of clay, were created in 15th century Naples and their use spread rapidly throughout Italy and Spain. In Spain, the early figural groups were called 'Belenes' (Bethlehems).

A few weeks before Christmas, our tiny nacimiento de plomo (manger scene with lead figures, none over three or four inches high) comes out of year-long storage. The wee village houses are made of cardboard and hand-painted; each has snow on its roof and a little tree in front. You might well ask what the figures in the photo represent: Sr. San José (St. Joseph, who in Mexico always wears green and gold) leads the donkey carrying la Virgen María (the Virgin Mary) on their trek to Belén (Bethlehem). We put these figures out earliest and move them a bit closer to Bethlehem every day. This nacimiento is the one that grows each year; we have added many figures to the original few. This year we expect the total number of figures to rise to more than 125.

Click on the photo and you will see that the Holy Family has not yet arrived in Bethlehem; the choza is empty and St. Joseph's staff is just visible in the lower right-hand corner. Click to enlarge the photo to better see the figures in the nacimiento: gamboling sheep, birds of all kinds, shepherds, shepherdesses, St. Charbel, an angel, and Our Lady of Guadalupe are all ready to receive the Niño Dios (Baby Jesus). Notice the upright red figure standing in the Spanish moss: that's Satanás (the devil), who is always present in a Mexican nacimiento to remind us that although the birth of Jesus offers love and the possibility of redemption, sin and evil are always present in the world.

Detail of the lead figures in our ever-growing nacimiento. To the left is a well (with doves) and a woman coming to draw water; to the right is an arriero (donkey-herder) giving his little donkey what-for. No matter how many figures are included, the central figures in any nacimiento are the Holy Family (St. Joseph, the Virgin Mary, and the Baby Jesus). In Mexico, those three are collectively known as el misterio (the mystery).

A very small portion of one of the largest nacimientos on display in Mexico City. It measures more than 700 square meters and includes thousands of figures. They include everything you can think of and some things that would never occur to you: a butcher shop, a running stream and a waterfall, sleeping peasants, and washerwomen. A nacimiento can include all of the important stories of the Bible, from Genesis to the Resurrection, as well as figures representing daily life–both today's life in Mexico and life at the time of Jesus's birth. Photo courtesy El Universal.

Papel roca (hand-painted paper for decorating a nacimiento), a choza (little hut), and two kinds of moss for sale in this booth at the Guadalajara tianguis navideño (Christmas market). This year, Mexico Cooks! has purchased figures of a miniature pre-Hispanic loinclothed warrior, a tiny shoemaker working at his bench, a wee man sawing firewood, and a shepherd standing under a tree while holding a lamb. The shepherd's tree looks exactly like a stalk of broccoli and makes us smile each time we look at it.

Where in Mexico can you buy figures for your nacimiento? Every city and town has a market where, for about a month between the end of November and the first week in January, a large number of vendors offer items especially for Christmas. Some larger cities, like Mexico City, Guadalajara, Morelia, and others, offer several tianguis navideños (Christmas markets) where literally thousands of figures of every size are for sale. Last year we found a tiny figure of the seated Virgin Mary, one breast partially exposed as she nurses the Niño Dios, who lies nestled in her arms. It's the only one like it that we have ever seen.

This booth at a tianguis navideño in Guadalajara offers Niños Dios in every possible size, from tiny ones measuring less than three inches long to babies the size of a two-year-old child. In Mexico City's Centro Histórico, Calle Talavera is an entire street devoted to shops specializing in clothing for your Niño Dios. The nacimiento is traditionally displayed until February 2 (Candlemas Day), when the Niño Dios is gently taken out of the pesebre in a special ceremony called the levantamiento (raising). The nacimiento is then carefully stored away until the following December.

Near Mexico City's Basílica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, this religious goods store also advertises that it will dress the Niño Dios for your nacimiento.

Piles of gold and silver glitter cardboard stars of Bethlehem, for sale at the tianguis navideño in southern Mexico City's Mercado Mixcoac.

An assortment of clay figures for your nacimiento: villagers, chickens, and vendors. Size and scale don't matter: you'll find crocodiles the size of your little finger and elephants bigger than a soft drink can. Both will work equally well in your nacimiento.

Giant flamingos go right along with burritas (little donkeys). Why not?

Each traditional figure in a nacimiento is symbolic of a particular value. For example, the choza (the little hut) represents humility and simplicity. Moss represents humilty–it's something that everyone steps on. The donkey represents the most humble animal in all creation, chosen to carry the pregnant Virgin Mary. The star of Bethlehem represents renewal and unending light.

Which diablito (little devil) tempts you most, the one with the money bag or the one with the booze?

How many shepherds do you want? This Guadalajara tianguis navideño booth has hundreds, and in sizes ranging from an inch to well over a foot tall.

It wouldn't be a Mexican nacimiento without tortillas!

This Christmas, Mexico Cooks! wishes you all the blessings of the season. Whatever your faith, we hope you enjoy this peek at the nacimiento, one of Mexico's lasting traditions.

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22 de December de 2012
Christmas–Piñata Time in Mexico!

Traditional piñatas ready for sale decorate the door to the Hernández family's tiny taller (workshop) on Av. Lázaro Cárdenas in Morelia, Michoacán.

Among clean ollas de barro (clay pots), plastic receptacles filled with engrudo (flour/water paste), and colorful, neatly stacked rounds of papel de china
(tissue paper), Sra. María Dolores Hernández (affectionately known as
Doña Lolita) sits on an upturned bucket. She'll celebrate her 82nd
birthday on December 24, and she still lights up–just like a Christmas tree–when she talks about her business and her life.

The last point of the star-shaped piñata is in Doña Lolita's hands, nearly ready to be glued into place.

"When I was a young woman, raising my family together with my
husband, it was hard for us to make a good living here in Morelia. We
had eight children (one has died, but six girls and a boy survive) and
we struggled to make ends meet. My husband was a master mason, but I
wanted to help out with the finances. I knew a woman who made piñatas, and I thought, 'I can do that.' So I started trying my hand, nearly 60 years ago."

Doña Lolita adds another layer of newspaper to this piñata
in progress. "You can't put too much newspaper on the pot, because it
will take too long to break," she explained. "And you can't put too
little on it, either, because then the first child to hit it will break
it. That's no good, either. You just have to know how much to use."
Click on the photo to enlarge it and get a good look at the clay pot
inside the paper maché.

"The woman who made piñatas wouldn't give away her secrets,
so I had to figure everything out for myself. You should have seen me
the first time I tried to make a bird's beak for a parrot-shaped piñata! A man I knew told me to make it out of chapopote
(a kind of tar), so I did. It hardened all right, but later in the
day the weather warmed up and that beak dripped down to here! What a
mess! I finally figured out how to make the shape out of paper, but I
just about broke my head thinking about it!"

Pre-cut rounds of papel de china (tissue paper) wait to be glued onto a piñata. The black plastic bag holds strips of newspaper.

Doña Lolita told me about the different grades of paper used to create different styles of decoration on the piñata,
and she explained different kinds of paper-cutting techniques; she's
absolutely the expert. Here, her son-in-law Fernando cuts tissue paper
for fringe. His hands are so fast with the scissors it made my head
spin; he can even cut without looking.

"In those days, the clay pots cost four and a half pesos for a gross–yes, for 144. In the old days, I usually sold about 7,000 piñatas every December, so you can imagine the investment I made just in clay pots. In the 1960s, I could sell a large piñata for seven pesos. Now–well, now the pots are much more expensive, so naturally the piñatas cost more, too. The large ones cost 45 pesos. This year, I'll sell about 1,000 piñatas just for the posadas. "

Piñatas in various stages of completion hang from every beam in Doña Lolita's tiny workshop.

"When my daughter Mercedes was about eight years old, she wanted to learn to make piñatas. She'd been watching me do it since she was born. So I taught her, and I've taught the whole family. Piñatería (making piñatas)
is what's kept us going." Doña Lolita smiled hugely. "My children
have always been extremely hard workers. There was a girl for each part
of making the piñatas. Every year, we started making piñatas in August and finished at the beginning of January.

This gigantic piñata, still unfinished, measures almost six feet in diameter from point to point.

"One time, we had so many piñatas to finish that I didn't think we could do it. So I thought, 'if we work all night long, we can finish them by tomorrow morning.'
Only I couldn't figure out how to keep the children awake to work all
night." She laughed. "I went to the drugstore and bought pills to
stay awake. I knew I could keep myself awake, but I gave one pill to
each of the children. And in just a little while, I was working and
they were sleeping, their heads fell right down into their work!
What! Those pills didn't work at all! The next day I went back to the
drugstore and asked the pharmacist about it. 'Oh no! I thought you
asked me for pills to make them sleep!' he said." Doña Lolita laughed again. "We finished all the piñatas in spite of those pills, but you had better believe me, I never tried anything that foolish again."

Doña Lolita builds piñatas
with her son-in-law, Fernando Cedeño Herrera (left), her daughter
Mercedes Ayala Hernández, her grandchildren and her
great-grandchildren. A close friend, Oswaldo Gutiérrez López
(background), works with the family. Her grandson Enrique, 19, says he
intends to keep the family business going.

Oswaldo Gutiérrez works on this piñata in the doorway of the tiny taller. Doña Lolita has taught many people the art of creating traditional piñatas, but her family and her loyal customers say she's the best piñatera (piñata maker) in Morelia.

"People come from everywhere to buy my piñatas. I don't have to take them out to sell; I only sell them here in the taller.
Because they're so beautiful and well-made, all the best people in
Morelia–and lots of people from other places–come to seek me out and
order piñatas for their parties. I've taught my family that
our work is our pride and our heritage, and my children have all taught
their children the same. That is our legacy, our family tradition."

Fill the piñata with candy like these bags of traditional colación (hard candies especially for Christmas).

But why piñatas, and why in December? During the early days of the Spanish conquest, the piñata was used as a catechetical tool. The body of the piñata
represented Satan; each of the seven points symbolized the seven
capital sins (pride, lust, gluttony, rage, greed, laziness, and envy).
Breaking the piñata equated with the triumph of good over
evil, overpowering Satan, overcoming sin, and enjoying the delights of
God's creation as they pour out of the piñata. Doña Lolita's most sought-after piñatas continue the traditional style, but she also creates piñatas shaped like roosters, peacocks, half-watermelons, deer, half moons, and once, an enormous octopus!

Now, for the nine nights from December 16 through December 24, Mexico celebrates las posadas. Each evening, a re-enactment of the Christmas story brings children dressed as la Virgencita María (ready to give birth to her baby) and her husband Sr. San José
(and a street filled with angels, shepherds, and other costumed
children) along the road to Bethlehem, searching for a place to stay.
There is no place: Bethlehem's posadas (inns) are filled.
Where will the baby be born! For the re-enactment, people wait behind
closed doors at certain neighborhood houses. The santos peregrinos
(holy pilgrims) knock, first at one door, then another. At each house,
they sing a song, begging lodging for the night. At each house, the
neighbors inside turn them away in song: 'No room here! Go away! Bother someone else!' Watch a lovely slide show: Las Posadas.

Freshly toasted cacahuates (peanuts) also stuff the piñata. The wooden box holding the peanuts is actually a measure, as is the oval metal box.

After several houses turn away la Virgen, San José,
and their retinue, they finally receive welcome at the last designated
house. After the pilgrims sing their plea for a place to stay, the
guests assembled inside sing their welcome, "Entren santos peregrinos…"
(Come in, holy pilgrims…). The doors are flung open, everyone piles
into the house, and a huge party starts. Traditional foods like ponche (a hot fruit punch), buñuelos (a thin circle of fried dough covered with either sugar or syrup), and tamales (hundreds of tamales!) pour out of the kitchen as revelers sing villancicos (Mexican Christmas carols) and celebrate the coming of the Niño Dios (the Child Jesus). Finally, all the children line up to put on a blindfold and take swings at a piñata stuffed with candy, seasonal fruits, and peanuts.

This five-pound bag of hard candies shows a blindfolded (but peeking) boy ready to break open the filled piñata. Luis Gómez, a merchant at Local 290, Mercado Independencia in Morelia, offers these and other bags of piñata candies.

Mandarinas (tangerines) are in season at Christmastime and round out the goodies in lots of piñatas.

The piñata, stuffed with all it will hold, hangs from a rope during the posada
party. A parent or neighbor swings it back and forth, up and down, as
each child takes a turn at breaking it open with a big stick. Watch
these adorable kids whack away.

The piñata, lovely though it may be, is purely temporary. Nevertheless, happy memories of childhood posadas with family and friends last a lifetime.

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15 de December de 2012
Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe en Imágenes :: Images of Our Lady of Guadalupe

The actual tilma (cape-like garment woven from maguey cactus fibers) worn by San Juan Diego in December 1531. The framed tilma hangs over the main altar at the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, Mexico City.

The annual feast of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe (Our Lady of Guadalupe) falls on December 12. Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe
is Mexico's patron saint, and her image adorns churches and altars,
house facades and interiors, taxis, private cars, and buses, bull rings
and gambling dens, restaurants and houses of ill repute. The shrine of
Our Lady of Guadalupe, la Basílica, is a place of extraordinary
vitality and celebration. On major festival days such as the
anniversary of the apparition on December 12th, the atmosphere of
devotion created by the hundreds of thousands of pilgrims is truly
electrifying.

Statues of Our Lady of Guadalupe for sale at the many, many souvenir booths outside the Basílica.

The enormous Basílica of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe in
Mexico City is the most visited pilgrimage site in the Western
Hemisphere. As many as 18 to 20 million people visit the shrine each year. Its location, on the hill of Tepeyac, was a place of great
sanctity long before the arrival of Christianity in the New World. In
pre-Hispanic times, Tepeyac had been crowned with a temple dedicated to
an earth and fertility goddess called Tonantzin, the Mother of the Gods.
Tonantzin was a virgin goddess associated with the moon, like Our Lady
of Guadalupe who usurped her shrine.

Our Lady of Guadalupe tattoo.

Read the full story of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe here.

Our Lady of Guadalupe surrounded by fresh roasted peanuts, Morelia, Michoacán. November 2009.

Holy water bottles in rainbow colors of plastic, for sale at the booths just outside the Basílica.

Art casket, Our Lady of Guadalupe and the Basílica.

Folk art depiction of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Statue
in resin of Our Lady of Guadalupe and Pope John Paul II, who was
devoted to her. This image continues to be reproduced as calendars, statues of all
sizes, and pictures to hang on the wall. Pope John Paul II still has millions of devotees in Mexico.

Portrait of Monseñor Diego Monroy, rector of the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. The painting is part of Monseñor Monroy's private collection.

Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, 19th century image on metal. At the top of this antique memento you can see the words, "Santuario de Guadalupe, 12 de Diciembre".

In 1810, Padre Miguel Hidalgo carried this banner to lead the struggle for Mexico's independence from Spain.

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8 de December de 2012
Colonia La Condesa Bakery Crawl–Un Paseo por las Panaderías de Colonia la Condesa

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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1 de December de 2012