Category: Art and Culture

Pinche Gringo BBQ: The Silver Twinkie in Mexico City

In this mural around the corner from the restaurant, the silver Twinkie, icon of the Pinche Gringo BBQ joint, floats above Mexico City's Palacio de Bellas Artes (Palace of Fine Arts), offering a bilingual welcome to everyone in the Distrito Federal who wants Texas-style barbecue. You might be amazed to see how many people line up every day for a pile of smokey pork meat and a couple of sides or a mile-high beef brisket sandwich. In just seven months, this BBQ heaven has had to expand twice to accommodate the crowds. G'wan, line up. We did. Photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Pinche Gringo BBQ menu. Click on any photo to enlarge the image. Photo courtesy Pinche Gringo.

Mexico Cooks!, a person of a certain age, usually manages a fair degree of decorum when in public. "Pinche" is not a very nice word in Mexico, especially when attached to gringo, a word I certainly know but refuse to use either in writing or speaking. It surprises me no end when foreigners who hail from north of the Mexican border identify themselves with the derogatory term gringos, but Dan Defossey, the pinche gringo himself and founder of the feast, brings it off with grace.

Dan is a native New Yorker, transplanted to Austin, Texas and thence to Mexico City. He's a righteous smoked barbecue fiend. When he arrived in Mexico's capital, he had plenty of barbecue eating experience but no restaurant-running experience. It was the barbecue-eating experience he missed during his first four years in Mexico. Until his Pinche Gringo BBQ joint hit the scene in Colonia Narvarte, having a taste of 'cue meant an 11-hour drive to the Texas border.

Dan retrofitted the silver Twinkie, otherwise known as an Airstream travel trailer, for use as a cafeteria-style restaurant counter. Line up, study the wall-mounted menu while you wait, grab a tray and tell the genial (and bilingual) staff inside the trailer what you want to eat. A plated meat order (using the term loosely, since the Pinche Gringo piles your meat not on a plate but on a big sheet of paper on your tray) comes with two sides; you can order sides separately if you choose a sandwich. My order? "Carne de cerdo deshebrado (de-seh-BRAH-doh, Texas-style pulled pork), macaroni and cheese, and barbecue beans, please." My wife had ordered the pork ribs, with sides of potato salad and cole slaw; the plan was to share everything.

The line forms at the rear. The day Mexico Cooks! and a couple of boon companions went to eat BBQ, we purposely went quite early (1:00PM) to avoid a long wait. Mexico eats its main meal of the day at around three o'clock and we wanted to beat the rush. It turned out to be a strangely slow day; when there's a crowd, the line can snake all the way to the front door, down a step, and around the corner to the end of the building. Note the picnic table: at this very rustic restaurant, all seating is this type.

Pinche Gringo accepts cash payments and all credit cards. You can also pay via the PG iPad at the cashier–using PayPal Check-In, which takes the cost of your meal directly out of your PayPal account. It's a neat new wrinkle in payment processing. From the top down, the sign translates to, "Really damn practical, really damn easy, really damn fast!"

Time to cut to the chase: these are the pork ribs, a half-rack of smoked ribs, thickly drizzled with PG sauce and accommpanied by potato salad, cole slaw, a sesame-seeded roll, and Texas sweet tea. The flavor of the ribs was soft and smokey, but our companions, who also ordered ribs, said they weren't as fall-off-the-bone tender as he has eaten them the other four times he's been to Pinche Gringo. "Why did I pick the ribs? I love the pulled pork best," he regretted.

My other companion's potato salad tasted just like Mom used to make: rich with mayonnaise, slightly mustard-y, and just the right combo of tang and potato. The texture was strange to me, almost like mashed potato with lumps. I prefer my potato salad chunky, with the potatoes at a melt-in-the-mouth tenderness. The cole slaw, made with purple cabbage and carrots, was perfect.

The big pile-on-the-tray of pulled pork, sauced and with a side of mac'n'cheese and another of barbecue style beans. The fork-tender, slightly fatty pulled pork was the hands-down winner of the meal. I was loathe to share this pile with a companion in exchange for some of her ribs, but a deal is a deal.

The Texas-style beans were just right, sweet and smoky. The mac'n'cheese was slightly spicy, very cheesy, and creamy in the mouth. Score!

Smoked, tender beef brisket, chopped, stacked up six inches high and oozing out of the confines of its bun, served with onion and dill pickles and of course the standard PG sauce. A generous customer let me take this picture of his meal–but I noticed that he didn't offer me a taste. Some people just want it all for themselves!

Luis Urrutia Alonzo, one of the PGBB staff, let me sneak behind the scenes to photograph the four-door wood-fired gargantuan smoker. At the bottom left corner you can see the little burner. Gauges indicate that the heat is kept at a slow, even temperature. The meat is cooked for a while to seal in the juices, then wrapped in aluminum foil and smoked for ten hours–overnight. Dan Defossey brought the smoker from Texas, along with the elderly Airstream trailer. Sometime when you're at Pinche Gringo, ask him to tell you the tale of the trip.

Two of the several drink options: barrels of free-refill lemonade and Texas sweet tea. In addition, there's a good range of soft drinks and several kinds of beer.

Pie for dessert! The pies change every month. The pies for July, in this case: on the left, raspberry and cheese. On the right, real down-home apple pie. Which to choose! We all had the apple; it was as good as any I've ever had–really good.

So long for now, Pinche Gringo! We'll see you again soon to try more of your smokey Texas menu. You're a welcome addition to the Mexico City restaurant scene. Even though you don't offer tortillas or micheladas or Mexican salsas, everybody loves your style.

Pinche Gringo BBQ
Cumbres de Maltrata 360
Colonia Narvarte
Del. Benito Juárez 03020
Ciudad de México, Distrito Federal
Tel. 55 6389 1129
Hours: Wednesday, Thursday, Friday: 1PM – 7PM
Friday, Saturday, Sunday: Noon – 7PM
Monday and Tuesday: Closed

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2 de August de 2014
Michoacán Mezcal Uasïsï, Brought to You By Mayahuel–The Goddess of Maguey
When you read last week's article, Mexico Cooks! had just boarded a guajolotero (often called 'chicken bus', in English slang) to go with friends to meet a mezcal producer in Michoacán. I also left you with homework, class: did you read the article linked here? Give it a once-over, if you didn't already, and then let's get going down the road. Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better look. Photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Close to the northern edge of the Tierra Caliente, outside Etúcuaro, Michoacán, there's a well-hidden vinata (mezcal-making setup)–it's just beyond this field of cupreata maguey. To get there, you need to go with someone who knows how to find it. The mezcal producer, Ignacio Pérez Scott, is the fourth generation of his family to dedicate himself to production of the liquor. He produces traditional mezcal which he then sells to select bottlers for branding. We're visiting the vinata with Maira Malo Hernández, owner of the mezcal brand Uasïsï (wah-SHEE-shee), and her daughters, Viridiana and Mayra Méndez Malo. Sra. Malo's daughters and her sons, Juan, Carlos, and Jorge Méndez Malo are also part of the Uasïsï team.

In the shade of the vinata, mezcal producer Ignacio Pérez Scott shares an affectionate moment with Maira Malo Hernández.

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gprCMwmaKKc&w=640&h=360]Uasïsï, the name Sra. Malo chose for her mezcal, is the Purépecha word for bat. It's this bat that pollinates the cupreata maguey, among other magueys.

Don Nacho ("don" is an honorific title, used with great respect, and "Nacho" is the Mexican nickname for Ignacio) told me that his cupreata maguey (seen here with its spike of yellow quiote–the maguey flower) takes eight to ten years to mature. Once it matures and throws up the flower spike, the plant can be harvested.

When the producer harvests the maguey plant, the first task is to remove the quiote (flower stem); the pencas (leaves) are removed next. The pencas were removed from the places where you can see the diamond shapes on the outside of the hearts. The pencas can be used in cooking, particularly in making traditional barbacoa and mixiote. The corazón (heart) also known as piña (pineapple) of each maguey plant is then chopped into smaller pieces for baking. In the photo above, Mezcal Uasïsï owner Maira Malo Hernández pitched in to chop some of the piñas. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH (Maira Malo Hernández).

Here you can see the size of the chopped piñas de maguey. Each piña can weigh as much as 80 to 100 pounds. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

Pine logs, stacked firmly into the fire pit. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

Don Nacho is tamping the volcanic rock evenly into the pit, on top of the pine logs. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

The fire in the pit is red hot and smoking. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

The fire is burning evenly now, and the piñas are ready to be placed in the baking pit. The pit will be loaded with approximately 150 piñas weighing a total of about four tons. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

The burning pit is covered with petates (woven reed mats) and then with mounded earth. The piñas need to bake for a full week. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

After a week, the piñas are thoroughly baked and are now uncovered. At the bottom right-hand corner of the photo, you can see some petates (woven reed mats). Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

The more than six foot long pine-lined trench where the baked piñas are hand-chopped and smashed with axes.

The vinata crew has moved some of the baked piñas to the trough and are hand-smashing them with axes so that they can be placed into the fermenting tanks. Don Nacho and his crew use no machinery during any stage of their mezcal production. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

These are the tinacos (covered storage tanks) where the baked and smashed piñas are fermented. The fermentation process takes a week.

Post-fermentation, the process of double-distillation begins. This is the alambique (still), made of pine. As the mezcal distills, the metal top allows condensation to drip back into the still.

The other side of the alambique. Don Nacho explained that the wooden still will last for about one year; after that, the wood will be replaced.

This is the fire hole, where a pine wood fire actually cooks the fermented maguey piña mash to distill it. Above the metal arch of this fire hole are several inches of concrete, the top of which you can see in the photo just before this one. No fire actually touches the wooden still.

The finished product: Uasïsï Mezcal Joven. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

Both sides of the bottle. The front label, on the right, tells you that this is joven (young, unaged) mezcal with 48% alcohol content. The back label, on the left, gives all the pertinent information about the mezcal: the number and lot of the bottle, the exact provenance (village or state) of the mezcal, as well as the type of maguey used. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

Tamarind or pear flavored mezcal Uasïsï: made slightly sweet with real fruit, it's perfect for dessert. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

This Uasïsï tasting was held at UNLA (Universidad Latina de América) in Morelia, Michoacán.

And what, you ask, does Uasïsï joven actually taste like? To start with, if you have tasted other mezcales, you probably and immediately think smokey. Uasïsï is not in any way smokey. To my palate, Uasïsï joven tastes fresh, like the green of the maguey. It has slight lingering tones of Michoacán pine. It carries a hint of flowers. Because the alcohol content is high, the first sip feels strong in the front of the mouth. As it moves to the back of the tongue, it mellows. And the moment you swallow that first drop, filled with the flavors of Michoacán, you immediately want another. Uasïsï is an extraordinary drink, destined to be a star in the world of mezcal.

Now that you know you want a bottle (or two or three–don't forget about the tamarind dessert mezcal) of Uasïsï mezcal, where can you get it? The Uasïsï home base is Mex*Calli Mezcalería, Buenavista #5, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

Otherwise, my good friend Maira Malo Hernández and I (pictured at Morelia en Boca 2014 with Mexico City chef and chocolatier Luis Robledo Richards) invite you to buy Uasïsï at:
- Itacate Morelia
  Blvd. Juan Pablo II #315
  Morelia, Michoacán
- Agua y Sal Cebichería
  Campos Elíseos #199-A
  Col. Polanco, México D.F.
- La Catrina Comedor & Mezcalería
  Av. 5 de Mayo #661
  Zamora, Michoacán
It's entirely possible that Uasïsï mezcal will be coming soon to a liquor store near you. Check back with Mexico Cooks! from time to time and we'll keep you up to date on the possibility of export to countries outside Mexico. And if you're planning to be in Mexico and would like to visit the vinata, Mexico Cooks! can make that dream come true. The experience is magical.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.
19 de July de 2014
Pulque: Pre-Hispanic Drink, Gift of the Gods from the Maguey Cactus

This Mexico Cooks! article was originally published on April 24, 2010. Today, read it again to begin a series of occasional reports on the remarkable products given to us from the heart of the maguey cactus. Aguamiel, pulque, and mezcal all come to us from the abundant hand of Mayahuel, goddess of the maguey.

An agave atrovirens cactus. This enormous blue-gray plant, native to the ancient land which became Mexico, continues to provide us with pulque (POOL-keh), a naturally fermented alcoholic beverage. The maguey, with pencas (thick, succulent leaves) which can grow to a height of seven to eight feet, matures in ten to twelve years. At maturity, the plant can begin to produce liquor.

Pulque, native to Mexico, is suddenly all the rage in countries far from its origin. Folks who have most likely never seen a maguey cactus 'on the hoof' argue the relative merits of natural versus flavored pulques, canned versus straight from the barrel, and so forth. Mayahuel, the goddess of the maguey, is laughing up her sleeve at this current rash of pulque acficionados; pulque has been well-loved in what is now Mexico for longer than humankind can remember.

Legend has it that a thousand years ago and more, Sr. Tlacuache (Mr. Opossum, above) scraped his sharp claws through the heart of the maguey and slurped down the world's first taste of pulque–and then another, and another, until he had a snoot full. His meandering drunken ramble allegedly traced the path of the rivers that flow through Mexico. Photo courtesy Juan Palomino.

A drawing from the Codice Borbónico (1530s Spanish calendar and outline of life in the New World) shows Mayahuel, goddess of the maguey, with a mature cactus and a pot of fermented pulque. The first liquid that pours into the heart of the maguey is called aguamiel (literally, honey water); legend says that aguamiel is Mayahuel's blood.

Aguamiel actually comes from the pencas (leaves) of the cactus. In order to start the flow of liquid into the heart of the plant, the yema (yolk) of the plant is removed from the heart and the heart's walls, connected to the leaves, are scraped until only a cavity remains. Within a few days, the aguamiel begins to flow into the cavity in the heart of the plant. The flow of aguamiel can last anywhere from three to six months. Today, the men who work the maguey to produce pulque are still called tlaquicheros. The word is derived from the same Nahuatl origin as the name for the original tlaquichero: Sr. Tlacuache, Mr. Opossum.

An early tlaquichero removes aguamiel from the heart of the maguey by sucking it out with a long gourd. Today, workers use a steel scoop to remove up to six liters of aguamiel per day from a single plant.  Aguamiel is not an alcoholic beverage. Rather, it is a soft drink, sweet, transparent, and refreshing. Once it ferments, however, it becomes the alcoholic drink pulque, also known as octli.

The fermentation of pulque can start in the plant itself. Aguamiel, left in the plant's heart to 'ripen' for a few days, begins to ferment. For commercial production, which began in the 19th century, tlaquicheros remove aguamiel from the maguey and transfer it to huge steel tanks, where it ferments.

The heart of the maguey, full of aguamiel. The tool balanced in the liquid is the same type gourd that is pictured in the early drawing seen above. Between extractions of aguamiel, the leaves of the maguey are folded over the cavity where the liquid collects to prevent insects and plant debris from falling into the heart.

Mexican photographic postcard dating to the 1940s or 1950s. The women and children pose in front of huge maguey plants.

By the end of the 19th century, pulque was enormously popular among Mexico's very rich and very poor. Weary travelers in the early 20th century could find stands selling pulque–just for a pickmeup–alongside rural byways. Travelers riding Mexico's railroads bought pulque at booths along the tracks.  Pulquerías (bars specializing in pulque) were in every town, however small or large. In Puebla and Mexico City, legendary pulquerías abounded.

Italian expatriate Tina Modotti, a member of the Diego Rivera/Frida Kahlo artists' circle, photographed Mexico City's pulquería La Palanca in 1926.

This common image hung in pulquerías all over Mexico. Clients could order the amount of pulque they wanted according to the drawings–and be reminded of what they had ordered when the pulque had laid them low. Image courtesy of La Voz de Michoacán.

In the foreground are the actual pitchers and glasses used in Mexico's pulquerías. Compare them with the vessels in the drawing. Image courtesy of Museo del Arte Popular (DF).

Pulque lovers spent long evenings in their favorite pulquerías in an alcoholic haze of music, dancing, laughter and delight. Far less expensive than other hard liquors, pulque carries with it the romance of ancient legend, the tradition of a nation, and the approbation of the gods.

Edward Weston, American photographer, immortalized Mexico City's pulquería El Charrito, also in 1926.

Natural pulque is a pale white, semi-viscous, liquid with a slick, thick feel in the mouth; many people are put off by that feel, as well as by its slightly sour taste. Even for those who dislike natural pulque, another kind of pulque–called curado (in this instance, flavored)–is delicious. Natural pulque, combined with blended fresh fruit, vegetables, or ground nuts, becomes a completely different drink. Bananas, guavas, strawberries, and the tuna (fruit of the nopal cactus) are particular favorites.

Feria de Pulque (Pulque Fair) in the State of Mexico. Each of the jars holds pulque curado, each flavored with a different fresh fruit, vegetable, or type of nut.

Mexico Cooks! first tasted pulque about 30 years ago, in Huixquilucan, in the State of Mexico. Huixquilucan, once known to its inhabitants as Huixqui (pronounced whiskey), used to be a small town, and Mexican friends took me to its small-town fair where home-made pulque was for sale in what seemed like every booth offering food and drink. "Try it, you'll like it a lot!" my friends giggled. "Just a little taste! C'mon!" I was nervous: I'd heard about pulque and its slippery slimy-ness and its inebriating qualities. Finally we stood in front of a booth offering pulque curado con fresas: pulque flavored with fresh strawberries. "Okay, okay, I can try this." And I liked it! The first small cupful was a delicious, refreshing, slightly bubbly surprise. The second small cupful went down even more easily than the first. And then–well, let it be said that I had to sit down on the sidewalk for a bit. I truly understood about pulque.

Try it, you'll like it a lot…c'mon, just a little taste!

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5 de July de 2014
Mercado Roma: Hipster Foodie Heaven in Colonia Roma, Mexico City

The newest kid on the block is Mercado Roma: hyper-trendy, very upscale and muy de la moda (very much in style), and currently attracting hordes every weekend. It's only a little less crowded during the week. The building is the controversial but swinging hot spot at Calle Querétaro 225, Colonia Roma Norte, Mexico City. To coin a phrase, be there or be square.

Mexico Cooks! was amazed to see that Mercado Roma, not officially open until June 25, was full to the brim a couple of Saturdays ago. Several friends had told me you just have to go, and never wanting to be left behind in the rush for trendiness, we went. The cars you see in the photo above are actually double-parked, waiting for the valet parking guys to move them into the public parking lot directly across the street. Valet parking is good news: when you go, it's easiest to walk, take a taxi, or plan to pay the valet, since on-street parking is all but nonexistent.

At intervals on the front of the building, these official notices (ACTIVITIES SUSPENDED) plastered on the building's pillars are remnants of a still-undecided debate. The sides to be taken are:

1. Did someone pay off the city to allow construction of the building's not-yet-completed third floor?
2. Should commercial construction be allowed in this predominately residential street?
3. Is the street actually predominately residential?
4. Faced with the joy of new and trendy gourmet shops and tiny eating spots (mostly branches of well-recognized, glitzy Mexico City restaurants), does anybody really care?

It appeared that the gazillion people snarfing down free samples, purchasing urban market food from Mexico City's high-end chefs or their minions, and eagerly checking one another out didn't give a fig (of which we saw quite a few) about the controversy. We'll let the city and the architects figure it out. Let's press on!

This tiny corner of Mercado Roma–just a barely representative corner of the whole mob scene–was filled with milling throngs of mainly young people, although we saw a few heads as gray as our own. We were here on a midafternoon Saturday, and so was everyone else in the city!

We were initially lured by the offerings of bread, both sweet and salt, from Panadería La Silva. We bought a round pan rústico (a small rustic loaf, made with white flour and malt extract), the last two plain bagels (definitely not New York bagels, but tasty and chewy), and a couple of pretzel sticks. The bill for bread was just over $100 pesos (about $8.50 USD).

Some of the other bread offerings at Panadería La Silva: moños (ties, far left), cuernitos (croissants), biscochos (biscuits), roles de canela (cinnamon rolls, back center) conchas (shells, right foreground).

The booth called Germina offers raw, roasted, or candied nuts and seeds, as well as other nuts, seeds, and cereals. Here, in-the-shell pistachios.

Cheeses–just one small section of the cheese case–at Carlos Yescas' Lactography. The store specializes in Mexican cheeses and occasionally offers a wine-and-cheese tasting event. Most recently, the event, priced at $350 pesos per person, was available as a Father's Day gift.

Librería Porrua's stand is well-stocked with food-oriented and other books. Prices seemed standard for these books.

Chocolates Qué Bo!, by José Ramón Castillo, Mexico's premier chocolatier. These glorious bonbons–Qué Bo!'s signature dark or milk chocolate filled with everything from cajeta (thick burned milk) to mezcal or deeply flavored, rich café de olla (pot-style coffee flavored with cinnamon) and back again–are 19 pesos each and are simply wonderful. Qué Bo! means, 'Whoa, give me another one! These are fantastic!' Photo courtesy Mercado Roma.

Huerto 'sobre ruedas' (Garden on Wheels) will take your order by phone or email and deliver your organic vegetables to your door.

One of the two falafel we ordered from Arbanus at Mercado Roma. The spiel about the food says, "based on the traditional Arabic food that has been consumed in Mexico for many years." Chef Daniel Frydman and his crew offer house-made kibe, baba ganoush, doner kabob, hummous, and a number of other items. The pita bread was heavenly, the falafel was not. It had almost no flavor, the individual balls of falafel were unnaturally green and completely mushy rather than crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, and the vegetable topping was not what I know as appropriate.

We ordered two ordinary-sized falafel sandwiches and two bottles of water. The total cost: $250 pesos (approximately $20 USD). We won't be doing this again.

Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's Azul restaurant group (Azul y Oro, Azul/Condesa, and Azul/Histórico) is represented at Mercado Roma by Azul Antojo (antojo means ('whim'). These twenty-somethings were having a great time. Click the photo for a larger view of the menu.

The tile floor at Mercado Roma. I love it–it's just like the old 'tumbling blocks' quilt pattern.

Tea forté, brought to Mercado Roma by Tendencia Gastronomía.

Present at Mercado Roma and in San Ángel: Rancho Las Luisas Wagyu beef.

Dulce Corazón's charming booth near the rear of the first floor is filled with both traditional and unusual sweets.

In lieu of a business card, the Dulce Corazón shopkeeper gave me a house-made mazapán (peanut marzipan) with all the store's information on the label. A sweet treat indeed!

Pens and peltre (enameled metal) cups with Mercado Roma's logo.

Mexico Cooks! thoroughly enjoyed seeing the latest wrinkle in gourmet shopping at the hip, cool, and groovy Mercado Roma. Will we go back? We'll let you know! We'd be interested to know your opinion, if YOU go.

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

14 de June de 2014
XIº Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Michoacán :: Fiesta y Comida en México: In Mexico, the Food’s the Party

Ana Pellicer and James Metcalf's handmade–by their own hands–copper pots and pans–from their own kitchen–perfectly illustrate Maestra Pellicer's Saturday morning talk explaining the history and uses of copper in the kitchen. By 1450 A.D., the Tarascan (Purépecha) kingdom in the state of Michoacán had become the most important center of pre-hispanic metalworking. Metallurgy played a significant role in the structure of political and economic power in the Tarascan Empire.

Although many people erroneously believe that Don Vasco de Quiroga brought copper work to Michoacán in the 16th century, the excavation and working of copper items predates Don Vasco's arrival by approximately 900 years. Copper was crafted for use in funeral practices, ornaments, and ritual items.

Malachite and copper. Mtra. Pellicer, an internationally renowned copper sculptor, spoke about the connection between malachite and copper ore. She and her husband, the late James Metcalf, were instrumental in developing artisan copper work in Santa Clara del Cobre, Michoacán. Santa Clara is the last home of Mexico's copper art.

A panel of highly knowledgeable judges concentrates on the presentation of a traditional dish. From left, this panel includes chef Martha Ortiz, restaurateur Roberto González Guzmán, Maestro Benjamín Lucas Ángel, and jefe de cocina Yuri de Gortari, among others.

Norma Alicia Urbina Rangel, who lives in Uruapan, Michoacán, wore her most festive finery for the Sunday closing of the eleventh Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales. Her hand-embroidered guanengo (traditional Purépecha blouse) features the Virgen María and Niño Dios on the front, back, and sleeves. I asked her if she had made the blouse herself and she laughed. "Señora, my hand is skilled in the kitchen, not for embroidery. I bought it." For this Encuentro, Sra. Urbina competed in the category platillo de rescate ('rescued' dish–one that is now seldom prepared and is at risk of disappearing) with pescado seco capeado en salsa verde (battered dried fish in green sauce).

Edmundo Escamilla (left) and Yuri de Gortari, executive co-directors of the Escuela de Gastronomía Mexicana in Mexico City, gave an extraordinary talk about the conjunction of parties and food in Mexico. The two men are a living treasure, repositories of culinary history, techniques, ingredients, art, tradition, folklore, and much, much more. Authors of nine books, they were thrilled to participate in the Encuentro this past April.

As always, Mundo and Yuri gave a marvelous talk, filled with facts, myths, folklore, and tremendous good humor. Beginning with a short history of the caste system in colonial New Spain, they taught us about the body's need for a daily ration of salt, which led to the word salario (sal+diario) (salary), the huge variety of tamales that continues to exist in Mexico (4,000!), and how tamales were prepared in pre-Hispanic days in this country: without fat of any kind, tamales were eaten to celebrate the New Year.

Casta (caste) painting from colonial New Spain. This and many other paintings of the era reflect the importance that the Spanish gave to the mixture of races in the world they had conquered. The Spanish caste system gave rise to ethnic shame in what was eventually to become Mexico. The nomenclature of the mixes is long, and sometimes shocking to our 21st century sensibilities. Click on any photograph to enlarge the image for a better view.

Tamales de zarzamora (blackberry), a sweet Michoacán specialty.

When the Spanish arrived with pigs (think lard) and Catholicism, lard became part of many recipes for tamales: with the addition of lard to corn masa, the tamal became Christian, along with its indigenous cooks. Bendito puerco, bendita manteca! (Blessed pork, blessed lard!)

In Morelia every January 6, a giant-size Rosca de Reyes (Three Kings Bread) is dished up to hungry hordes.

Mundo and Yuri pointed out that Christmas feasting includes a fusion of the indigenous Maya belief that corn is our actual flesh and bones, combined with the newly arrived and harvested Spanish wheat which forms the Communion host–in Catholic dogma, the actual body and blood of Christ, which believers (the spiritual body of Christ) consume.

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rABJeZGNFNs&w=420&h=315]
After conclusion of the Sunday conferences and before the prizes were awarded for the XIº Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Michoacán, many of the cooks, jurors, and festival attendees danced for the sheer joy of it–as the crowd cheered, "Michoacán! Michoacán!". In Mexico Cooks!' video, historian Edmundo Escamilla dances with maestra cocinera Rosalba Morales Bartolo of San Jerónimo, Purenchécuaro, Michoacán.

The next edition of the Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Michoacán will take place on October 4, 5, and 6, 2014. If you'd like to come with me to see it all, please let me know! Mexico Cooks!' email address is patalarga@gmail.com.

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17 de May de 2014
XIº Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Michoacán: Michoacán’s Eleventh Festival of Traditional Cooks
[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3vlNbX2ZhbQ&w=420&h=236]
Whether you understand Spanish or not, the video will give you a marvelous feel for the extraordinary XI Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Michoacán, which took place in Morelia, Michoacán over the weekend of April 3, 4, and 5, 2014. The festival is known more commonly as the Encuentro de Cocina Tradicional de Michoacán.

Since 2007, Mexico Cooks! has been honored to be part of this conference, Mexico's most remarkable festival of traditional cooking. Affectionately known simply as "Las Cocineras" (the cooks), it's part love-fest, part food-fest, part culture-fest, and entirely about traditional indigenous cooking in the west-central Mexican state, Michoacán.

Because of its enormous popularity, the Las Cocineras will have two editions in 2014. The first, celebrated during 2014's Lenten season, took as its theme "Sabores de Cuaresma" (Lenten Flavors). A committee from the artisan town Tzintzuntzan decorated the stage as if it were a traditional Altar de Dolores, an altar dedicated to Our Lady of Sorrows. The second edition this year will take place on October 4, 5, and 6. Click on any image to enlarge it for a better view.

Left to right: Cynthia Martínez Becerril, president of the festival organizing committee; Ana Compeán Reyes Spíndola, representative of the national Secretary of Tourism offices (SECTUR) in Morelia; and Francisco José de la Vega Aragón, Director General de Innovación de Producto Turístico de la SECTUR Federal, immediately following the formal inauguration of the April festivities.

In November 2010, UNESCO awarded its Intangible cultural heritage designation to Mexico's cuisine: Traditional Mexican Cuisine – Ancestral, Ongoing Community Culture, The Michoacán Paradigm. The title is based in large part on this annual event and the manner in which it reflects Michoacán's culinary and cultural heritage. Due to the undisputed and unique importance of this festival to Mexico as a whole, representatives from Mexico's state and national tourism offices were present all weekend.

Now let's celebrate!

Maestra cocinera (master cook) Benedicta Alejo Vargas from San Lorenzo, Michoacán, indubitably the best-known Purépecha cook in the world, is giving a demonstration of the preparation of corundas de siete picos (seven-pointed corundas) while her granddaughter, nearly-four-year-old Imelda, watches.

To the far right of the photo you can see a bundle of oak twigs that are used at the base of the steamer to keep the corundas out of boiling water during the steaming process. In front of maestra Benedicta is a bowl of masa and another bowl of dough balls ready to be wrapped in leaves. To the far left in the photo, that tall object is dried corn leaves, wrapped with a cord for storage. Dried corn leaves are reconstituted for use during the season when fresh leaves are not available.

Corundas, a Purépecha-region specialty, are in this case corn tamales shaped like pyramids, wrapped in long corn leaves (center in the photograph above), and steamed. They can have three, five, or seven points–but popurlar opinion is that maestra Benedicta is the only person capable of consistently making them with seven points!

Maestra Benedicta's corundas con verduras (with vegetables), topped with col de árbol and tzirita. Corundas can be prepared as tontas (corn masa without filling), made with finely chopped vegetables incorporated into the masa (in this case, corn dough) as pictured above, or stuffed with chile strips and cheese.

When I met maestra Benedicta and most of the other traditional cooks, they did not speak Spanish, were shy and retiring, and were generally afraid to speak in public. Today, Benedicta and many of the others are internationally known, speak both Purépecha and near-fluent Spanish. The Encuentro's benefits to these women, most of whom live in distant rural outposts of Michoacán, include the self esteem that comes from being recognized and valued for their enormous contribution to their communities, their state, and their country.

Maestra Benedicta recently told a story of a woman who was standing in the long line at her Encuentro stand. She suggested that the woman buy food from the cocinera at the next stand, saying, "Her food is just like mine. We are making similar things." The woman shook her head. "The other cocinera doesn't speak Spanish." The maestra answered, "But the food speaks for itself."

This small representation of the Virgin Mary, ensconced in a flower-adorned niche at the top of Benedicta's stand, is dressed in typical Purépecha clothing, all made by Benedicta. Notice that her apron is hand-embroidered with typical clay jugs. In 2012, this Virgin traveled to the Vatican with a delegation of artisans and officials from the state of Michoacán, including Benedicta. She and a team of assistants prepared a typical Purépecha dinner for 900 people, including Pope Benedict XVI. Maestra Benedicta was thrilled to cook for her tocayo (namesake). Maestra Benedicta recently laughed as she told a group, "I never thought that I would leave my home in little San Lorenzo, but now–now I feel like a swallow, flying here and there."

Maestra cocinera Juanita Bravo Lázaro from Angahuan, Michoacán gave a fascinating talk about the nixtamal-ization of corn. Among her points were:
- the importance of choosing the very best mazorcas (ears of dried cacahuatzintle corn)
- taking the dried corn from the cob using a lava stone
- processing the corn in a new clay pot that has been freshly cured with cal (builder's lime)
She also elaborated on the use of ceniza (wood ash) and a bit of cal in the corn's cooking water and the carefully watched 20-30 minute time that the corn simmers over a slow wood fire. She emphasized the yellow color that the corn takes on during its cooking and the importance of washing, rinsing, and overnight soaking of the finished nixtamal to remove all traces of both cal and wood ash.

Maestra Juanita mentioned that five liters of prepared nixtamal renders approximately 100 small corundas. In advance of weddings and other important fiestas, townswomen gather and together prepare many hundreds of corundas.

As part of her talk, Maestra Juanita shared some of her experiences in Nairobi, Kenya, during November 2010, when Mexico was a contender for the UNESCO Intangible cultural heritage designation. She talked about how difficult it was for her to leave her home and family and travel halfway around the world to a place she had never seen and had barely heard about. She said, "I hated to leave my family behind. I knew that there would be very few of us Mexicans at the event in Africa, and I knew I would not be able to understand much of the language used there. I was nervous about flying all that distance. But I wanted to be there, in case my country received the prize. So I set aside my fears and took the chance.

"I was standing with a group of people, trying to figure out what the dignitaries were saying–but I couldn't hear much or understand what was going on. Suddenly I heard a huge shout, people were screaming and clapping. 'What? What happened?' I kept asking." Finally someone who spoke Spanish said, 'You won the award! Mexico WON!' And then I felt so proud, so happy to be part of it all. It was a joyous day and I was so happy to be there, representing my town, my state, and my country in Africa."

Next week, we'll continue our exploration and celebration at the XIº Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Michoacán. There are many stories left to tell and a lot more to enjoy.

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3 de May de 2014
Abigail Mendoza Ruiz and Restaurante Tlamanalli: Food for the Gods in Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca

Emblematic of Oaxaca: chocolate caliente (hot and foamy hand-ground hot chocolate) prepared in water and served in a bowl. Zaachila market, Oaxaca.

There's much more to Oaxaca's magic than simply its capital city, which is of course fantastic in its own right. Driving in any direction from the city, twisting two-lane roads lead to small towns; each town has a weekly market, and each market has beauties of its own.

At the Zaachila Friday market, a vendor sold calabaza en tacha (squash cooked in brown sugar syrup) covered with a leaf to keep insects away and maintain the squash fresh and ready to eat.

Another vendor offered flor de frijolón (the red flowers of a large, black, local bean known elsewhere as ayocote negro).

Tejate, Oaxaca's emblematic cold, foamy, and refreshing chocolate beverage, scooped out of this clay bowl with a red-lacquered jícara into the size cup you prefer: small, medium, or large.

When Mexico Cooks! traveled recently to Oaxaca, joyous anticipation and a letter of introduction were stowed among my baggage. For years I had read about and admired (albeit from afar) Abigail Mendoza Ruiz and her sisters, but we had never met. This trip would fix that: two days after my scheduled arrival, we had an appointment for comida (Mexico's main meal of the day) at the Mendoza sisters' Restaurante Tlamanalli in Teotitlán del Valle. The restaurant's name, a Náhuatl word, means several things: it's the name of the Zapotec kitchen god, it means abundance, and it means offering. For me, newly arrived in Teotitlán del Valle, the word Tlamanalli meant, 'you are about to have the experience of a lifetime'.

Teotitlán del Valle is best known as the principal Oaxaca rug-weavers' town. Among its five to six thousand inhabitants, the majority weaves wool to make lovely rugs and also combines the weaver's tasks with agricultural work, growing both marketable and personal-use corn and other vegetables plus raising poultry for personal use.

Detail of the rustic wooden rueca (spinning wheel) used by the Teotitlán del Valle rugmakers for spinning fine wool yarns.

Shown in this group of Oaxaca-made baskets: a flat double comb for carding wool, a pointed spindle, and various natural coloring agents, along with hanks of wool which demonstrate just a few of the colors used in Oaxacan wool rugs.

Not only are the Mendoza Ruiz sisters extraordinary regional cooks, they and their siblings are also well-known rug weavers. Their parents, Sra. Clara Ruiz and don Emilio Mendoza (QEPD), gave this world a group of supremely gifted artisans, all of whom learned the weavers' traditions at their parents' knees.

Abigail Mendoza started learning kitchen traditions as a five-year-old, as the first daughter of the family, watching her mother grind nixtamal (dried native corn soaked and prepared for masa (dough). In the postcard above, the little girl (who is not Abigail) watches seriously as the woman we imagine to be her mother pats a tortilla into its round shape.

By the time she was six years old, Abigail was in charge of sweeping the kitchen's dirt floor, gathering firewood, and making the kitchen fire. At age seven, she told her mother, "I'm ready to grind corn on the metate," (volcanic rock grinding stone, seen in the center of the photograph above), but she wasn't yet strong enough to use her mother's large stone. She was barely able to lift its metapil (stone rolling pin). She eagerly awaited the purchase of a metate small enough for her use. Doña Clara taught her to grind the home-prepared nixtamal, pat-pat-pat the tortilla dough into perfect thin rounds, and bake them on the comal (wood-fired griddle made of clay).

Abigaíl Mendoza Ruiz, the internationally known and much-traveled Zapoteca cook, best loves preparing meals in her home kitchen and her restaurant kitchen in Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca. Here, she's pictured in the beautiful open kitchen of Tlamanalli, the restaurant where she and her sisters Rufina and Marcelina (pictured above) create their culinary alchemy.

Abigail Mendoza is at once filled with light and filled with mystery. Luminous as her joy-filled personality, her smile lights up any room she enters. She is a woman of deep faith, a subscriber to the mysteries of dreams, a believer in spirit worlds both before and after life, a strong believer both in human relationships along life's horizontal and the vertical relationship of God with humanity. Formally educated only through primary school, she holds intense wisdom borne of deep meditation on the nature of life, both spiritual and physical.

In her extraordinary book Dishdaa'w, Abigail reveals her life story, her philosophies, and a good part of her soul. The Zapotec title of her biography (transcribed and organized by Concepción Silvia Núñez Miranda) means "the word woven into the infinite meal". And what does that mean? Food itself has a soul, the soul is transmitted in food's preparation and its ingestion. We are all part of the whole, and the whole is part of each of us.

In her restaurant's large kitchen, Abigail is the sun itself. Hair braided with traditional Zapotec ribbons into a royal crown, she's holding a fistful of freshly picked flor de calabaza (squash flowers).

What did we do, Señorita Abigail and I? We talked, we laughed, we discovered who our many friends in common are, we swapped kitchen lore and recipes, we gossiped (just a little, and in the best possible way), and we each felt like we had met yet another sister, a sister of the kitchen.

And then she asked what we would like to eat. After stumbling around in a maze of I-don't-know-what-to-request, I suggested that she simply bring us her personal choices from the day's menu.

Menu for the day, Restaurante Tlamanalli. The dishes are not inexpensive, but ye gods: save up, if you must, and go. You will never regret it.

First came made-on-the-spot creamy guacamole, in tiny turkey-shaped clay dishes and accompanied by a small bottle of local mezcal amd a wee dish of roasted, seasoned pepitas (squash seeds).

Mole zapoteco con pollo (Zapotec-style mole with chicken). Each of our dishes was accompanied by freshly made tortillas, hot from the comal (griddle).

Pre-hispanic segueza de pollo (breast of chicken in tomato and chile sauce with dried corn and hoja santa). If I should ever be in Oaxaca and in a position to choose one last meal, this would be it.

The herb hoja santa is added to the sauce just before serving and gives a delicate anise flavor to the segueza de pollo.

Oaxaca's heirloom jitomate riñón (kidney-shaped tomatoes) is used for creating the intense and deeply tomato-flavored sauce for the segueza.

When we finished our meal, the Mendoza sisters and doña Clara invited Mexico Cooks! to visit their private kitchen altar, devoted to the Preciosa Sangre de Cristo (Precious Blood of Christ), whose feast day is a major holiday in Teotitlán del Valle and for whom the parish church is named. The home altar has offerings of seasonal fruits as well as perpetually-burning candles.

Mexico Cooks! will go back to Oaxaca, back to Teotitlán del Valle, and back to Restaurante Tlamanalli. After all, I want to visit my new sister–she's a constant inspiration and the best Oaxacan cook I know.

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12 de April de 2014
Oaxaca De Mis Amores :: Mexico Cooks! (Finally) Falls in Love

La bella Lula'a…beautiful Oaxaca, as said in the indigenous Zapotec language. You are looking through a window toward the Capilla del Rosario (Chapel of the Rosary) dome and bell tower, part of the Templo Santo Domingo.

This image of St. Peter (easy to identify because he is almost always depicted holding the keys of the kingdom) in Oaxaca's Templo Santo Domingo wears a tiny but knowing smile: he gets to live in Oaxaca!

Mexico Cooks! has visited Oaxaca and written several times about the city and its attractions, about the interesting differences of the city's markets from those of long-familiar central Mexico, the palate-tease of regional foods, a dream made real in another Oaxaca town. I had a good time, several times. But it didn't hit me, the loving lightning bolt of Oaxaca didn't strike me, until my most recent (notice I don't say last) trip to the city.

Winter is mandarina (tangerine) season in Mexico. These, vendor-stacked in pyramids outside Oaxaca's Mercado 20 de noviembre, caught late January light and presto! they turned into still life magic.

Those non-descript nouns and pallid adjectives (attractions, interesting) in the first paragraph tell the tale of how I felt about Oaxaca, until now. Where's the punch? The truth is, I just didn't get the thrill of Oaxaca, no matter how many visits I made. And then this time: YOWZA! I got it–or better said, it got me. Oaxaca, how could I have been so blind?

Templo Santa María de la Asunción (Church of St. Mary of the Assumption), the town parish in Santa María del Tule, just outside the city of Oaxaca. A small part of the famous ahuehuete tree, more than 2,000 years old, is visible on the left side of the photo.

The photo shows a knot more than five feet in diameter on the trunk of the ancient and enormous ahuehuete tree at the town Santa María de Tule. The knots have names–they're called everything from 'the elephant' to 'Carlos Salinas's ears'. At one time people believed that this behemoth was actually several trees, but it has been proven to be only one trunk measuring more than 30 feet in diameter.

What I once thought about Oaxaca has always been like at first sight, and second sight, and third, and so on. It's been similar to going to the movies with a friend and then POW, out of the blue, right between the eyes, it's so long just friends, you're panting for a goodnight kiss.

This woman, who sells dried chiles, beans, and spices at Oaxaca's Mercado 20 de noviembre, is cleaning frijol (dried black beans). You can see the white costal (large bag) at the left side of the photo. She picks out as many stones and twigs as she can find, but once you get the beans home, you'll need to sort through them again. Note: dried beans of any kind for sale in a market are called frijol. Once you cook them, they are frijoles.

These stones and pieces of debris are typical of what you might find in any kind of newly purchased beans, whether from a bag you bought at a supermarket or bulk beans from a market. The beans in the photograph above are peruanos (so-called Peruvian beans).

This market stand is loaded with chapulines (grasshoppers), an iconic snack from Oaxaca. Seasoned with garlic or chile, these are really delicious. Mexico Cooks! prefers the tiny ones (at the top of the photo) to the larger sizes.

What changed? Not the city, surely. Oaxaca is a timeless glory. This trip, for reasons I can't explain, my heart and mind were entirely open to receive the city's gifts.

Wall of bas relief vegetables at my friend Pilar Cabrera's Restaurante La Olla, Calle de la Reforma 402, Col. Centro.

One stand in the famous callejón (alley) of carne asada (grilled meat) at Mercado 20 de noviembre. From the late afternoon moment that we saw this long hallway, lined as it was on both sides with carne asada stands and tables filled with ravenous carnivores, we knew this would be the spot for comida (Mexico's midday meal) the next afternoon.

Our basket of tender grilled beef, hot tortillas, and a spritely salad. The side dishes we ordered–nopales, guacamole, grilled onions, the salad pictured above, and several others–disappeared just as fast as the kilo of carne asada and the pile of tortillas. Three of us ate and drank our fill for just about $20.00 USD.

One of my personal favorite Oaxaca restaurants is the Istmo de Tehuantepec's La Teca, owned by the marvelous Sra. Deyanira Aquino. As part of another day's many-course main meal, friends and I shared these four molotes de plátano macho (small, sweetly ripe plantain croquettes) topped with crema de mesa (table cream) and queso fresco (fresh cheese), dividing the last one into smaller and smaller pieces so that one of us did not hog the whole thing–although each of us would have!

Paletas (in this case, lollipops) stand ready to welcome you to Oaxaca. For me, just for today, these represent the sweetness, color, variety, and delight that Oaxaca have to offer.

Come with me next week as we journey just outside the city of Oaxaca to make a new friend, a sister-soul of the cocina mexicana (the Mexican kitchen). I can't wait to introduce you; you'll love her just as much as I do.

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5 de April de 2014
Witness to Life: The Rebozo in Mexico :: El Rebozo en México, Testigo de la Vida

Lovely young Agustina in her pink silk rebozo (long rectangular shawl).

A friend recently gave me a copy of an old and anonymous Mexican poem, written in Spanish, in homage to the rebozo. The rebozo's importance to Mexican women cannot be exaggerated: from swaddled infancy to shrouded death, a rebozo accompanies our women throughout their days. It is at once warmth, shade, infant's cradle, cargo-bearer, fancy dress, screen for delicious flirtation, and a sanctuary from prying eyes.

I hope you enjoy my translation.

Michoacán-made rebozos and guitar, on exhibit in Morelia. Note the elaborate fringes on both rebozos.

My Rebozo

Rummaging through my closet one fine day
I found this garment—my old rebozo!
How long had it been resting there?
Even I can’t say exactly.
But seeing it brought back so many memories
Tears clouded my eyes and fell one by one as I held
My beloved rebozo!

Mother and infant daughter wear matching rebozos, Fiesta de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, Morelia, Michoacán 2010.

What a faithful friend you have been.
Shall we relive just an instant of that far-distant past?
When I first showed you off, you were so beautiful, so new,
With your lively color and flowing fringe
Your reflection gleamed in the mirror like the morning star!

Fine lace rebozo still on the loom, from the Reboceros de Aranza (Aranza Rebozo Weavers Cooperative).

Come on, come on, let me fling you over my heart
The way I did in bygone years,
Next to this heart that disappointment has turned to ash!
Don’t you remember that beautiful blouse I wore,
Embroidered with poppies and carnations?
Don’t you remember all my triumphs and successes,
And my flounced skirt, so full of its pretty sequins, beads, and glitter?

Lavender and white rebozo with elaborate fringe.

See, tightened to the span of my narrow waist and
Crossed just so over my straight young back
Showing off my fresh round breasts,
With two vertical parallel lines.
We stepped out to the beat of those long-ago songs,
That dance that determined my life.
Your fringes hung down just so!
And the two of us formed one soul.

Finely woven black and red rebozo.

How was it that I wanted him? You know!
Rebozo, you heard first how I loved him!
Your fringes were hopeful prisoners of my teeth
While I heard the soft slow songs of love
Oh perverse rebozo, unfaithful friend!
You were my confidante and my hiding place
You pushed me, burning, into romance
Wrapped in your fringes as if they were cherished arms.

Intricately patterned deep red rebozo.

But what’s this I see!
An ugly hole
That looks like a toothless mouth
Bursting out into furious laughter.
You laugh at my romantic memories?
You make fun of my long gone triumphs?
You know that the one who loved me has forgotten me
And that my soul, just like my love, is sacked and plundered?

Two elderly women share a secret joke in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

And you—you aren’t even a shadow of what you were
And because we don’t remember what we have been
We are betrayed! Old! Faded!
I’ll throw you in a box with other trash—
You, who are a traitor and so worn out!
How strange and how complicated
Just like you, I also betrayed—sometimes–in little ways!
Those sweet lies and silly nonsense
That made so many of my yesterdays happy.

White and black rebozo fringed with feathers.

Laugh, rebozo! Don’t you see that I’m laughing–not angry?
The tears that spring from these eyes
Are just laughter, nothing more. I’m not crying, I’m laughing!
But how can I be laughing, when I hate you so?
Let your mantel cover my head
The way it did in days long past, when I was possessed
By a kiss so strong, so violent.

Gold and salmon rebozo de gala (fancy dress).

No! I will not throw you away, old rebozo!
You have a soul like mine
A Mexican woman's soul, wild, unmanageable
That will not bend even when faced with death itself!
I will fold you up and keep you in the closet
And there, like a holy relic,
My heart will once again put on
Your flowing fringe.

Elderly flower seller, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

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29 de March de 2014
Stencil Graffiti: Art and Politics on Mexico’s Walls

"Bush Eats Mexico's S**T". San Cristóbal, Chiapas, 2006. All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Looking around–really observing the flow of life–in Mexico, it's easy to see that the times, they are a-changing. Whether you're watching the wall of a farmer's field or suddenly spying an all-but-hidden wall around an obscure corner in Mexico City, you become aware that art, both art-for-art's-sake and political art, is everywhere. These days, street art is sometimes hand-painted but more often than not, it's a stencil.

Delicately painted by hand, this peaceful, charmingly rendered bluebird (undoubtedly the bluebird of happiness) perches quietly on a light switch at Restaurante Rosetta. Mexico City, 2013.

The chapulín (grasshopper) is an icon not only of Oaxaca's gastronomy, but also of the state's cultural identity. It's about who we are, not simply what we eat. "Made in Oaxaca" is the slogan's translation. Oaxaca de Juárez, 2013.

Another icon: in this case, art imitates art. José María Hernández Urbina's original Art Deco-era statue, Fuente de los Cántaros (Water Jars Fountain), still graces the Teatro al Aire Libre Lindbergh (Lindbergh Open Air Theatre) wall in Parque México, Colonia La Condesa. This stencilled grafito graces the same wall. Mexico City, November, 2013.

The actual fountain in Parque México. Photo courtesy Judith McKnight.

Advertising Banda El Recodo (one of Mexico's most popular), this wall and others of its genre are hand-painted calls to party hearty. These hand-painted advertisements are ubiquitous in every Mexican state, whether in huge cities or tiny villages. The highly skilled but minimally paid graphics artists paint these signs freehand. Photo courtesy theatlantic.com.

Mexico is a country of enormous and frequently surrealistic differences. The stereotypical meek and humble Mexican contrasts sharply with the equally stereotypical highly politicized and revolution-hungry Mexican; the polemic is often contained in the self-same individual's mind and body. These blood-red words read, "Mexico is no longer a country for cowards." Mexico City, April 2013.

This wall in the State of Mexico originally held a no-nonsense civic-minded slogan: No Tirar Basura (Don't Throw Your Garbage Here). One or two waggish political commentators superimposed stencils of (top, blue) former Mexican president Carlos Salina de Gortari kissing 2012 presidential candidate Enrique Peña Nieto and (bottom, black) 2012 presidential candidate Andrés Manuel López Obrador. No Tirar Basura, indeed. Estado de México, 2012. Photo courtesy hazmeelchinagdofavor.com.

Garage door, Mexico City, March 2014.

Calls to political action are common representations in urban street art. At the end of 2013, Mexico's federal government voted to change the Constitution to allow some privatization of Mexico's petroleum industry. That change has been argued all along the political spectrum. Is it good for Mexico? Is it bad for Mexico? This stencilled poster falls into the 'bad for' column. The bureaucratic rats have parachuted onto our oil derricks, the police show up as granaderos (shield and truncheon-bearing 'crowd control' officers), and the poster calls for revolutionary action against so-called energy reform. Oaxaca de Juárez, January 2014.

Spirited. Alive. That's Mexico's graffiti, summed up in a single word on a tangerine wall. Oaxaca de Juárez, January 2014.

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15 de March de 2014