Category: Arts and Crafts

Espíritu de Michoacán en Ajijic: Festival de Pueblos Unidos (Festival of People United)

Ajijic, Jalisco is not your typical Mexican pueblito (small town). Although the town has existed for almost 500 years, early in the 20th century it began to be a destination for foreigners. Today, a good-size community of people from many places lives there. The majority are retired English-speakers from the USA and Canada, although some foreign residents come from as many as 60 different countries. Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better view. Photo courtesy Skyscrapercity.

Looking south on Calle Morelos in Ajijic. The arched ironwork sign reads Puerta del Lago, Corazón de Ajijic (Gateway to the Lake, Heart of Ajijic). Photo courtesy Panoramio.

Photographer Jesús Alejandre (and his friend el torito (the bull, danced by famed Michoacán mask maker Felipe Horta, right), with one of Jesús's large photos, on the town plaza in Ajijic, Jalisco. Photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

In mid-2013, a group of Mexicans and foreigners devoted to Michoacán met in Morelia to create the Espíritu de Michoacán (Spirit of Michoacán) foundation. The mission of the foundation is the promotion and preservation of Michoacán's arts and artesanías (crafts). The impulse to form the foundation grew out of our deep concern over the lack of tourism–both national and international–in Michoacán, which has severely limited the sales of the state's fine artesanías. Because previously tourist-driven sales have fallen drastically during the last eight years, many artisans have been forced to cease or limit their production and have sought employment in other endeavors.

Floreros (vases) from Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán. The people of the state of Michoacán, especially those who live in the regions around Lake Pátzcuaro and the Meseta Purépecha, have been skilled artisans for hundreds of years. Current conditions in Michoacán have substantially reduced the ability of the artisan population to earn a living.

Shortly after the creation of the foundation, Mexico Cooks! contacted photographer Xill Fessenden of Ajijic, who organizes an annual festival of Michoacán artisans in her adopted town. These artisans journey to Ajijic for the exhibition and sale of their wares, and the Espíritu de Michoacán foundation wanted to be part of their celebration. Ten years ago, photographer Jesús Alejandre began his photo project, titled Espíritu de Michoacán, and hoped to take his large-format photo exhibition to Ajijic in conjunction with Ms Fessenden's 2013 festival.

The photographs are designed to be exhibited outside, as public art. At night, the photos' illumination makes the pictures glow as if they were lit from inside the scenes. Photo courtesy Espíritu de Michoacán.

The photographs have been exhibited in 20 cities and towns in the state of Michoacán. Just prior to the Ajijic exhibition, the city of Morelia invited photographer Alejandre to mount 22 of the enormous photographs in the Plaza de Armas (the principal plaza) in that city. The photos measure 2.5 meters by 2.10 meters and are designed to be exhibited in outdoor, public spaces. This photograph, taken in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, in 2013, is the final photo in Jesus Alejandre's 10-year project. Photo courtesy Espíritu de Michoacán.

The excitement about this exhibit and sale was contagious. Mexico Cooks! snapped Marion de Koning, a visitor from San Diego, California, as she got close to el torito (the bull). Felipe Horta, mask maker from Tócuaro, carved and painted the mask he is wearing.

The torito spreads his cape before dancing. The typical Purépecha dance called El Torito (The Little Bull) is common throughout the Zona Lacustre (lake region) and the Meseta Purépecha (Purépecha tablelands).

Teofila Servín Barriga, an extraordinary Purépecha embroidery artist from Sanabria, Michoacán, dances El Torito for the opening ceremonies of the 2013 Festival de Pueblos Unidos in Ajijic.

Rose Calderone of La Casona Rosa, Morelia, founder and guiding light behind El Espíritu de Michoacán, narrates a video about the photographs and the mission of the foundation; the festival showed the video, created by Andrea Gudiño Sosa, on the Ajijic plaza during the festival's opening night celebrations.

The exhibition and sale in Ajijic was an enormous success for the artisans and for the Espíritu de Michoacán Foundation. This festival offered a platform for the photos to be shown for the first time outside Michoacán; the exhibit travels next to Guadalajara, Jalisco, followed by a showing in León and San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato and another in Mexico City. In the future, we hope to present Jesus Alejandre's paean to the artisans of Michoacán in various cities in the United States, Canada, and Europe. Photo courtesy Espíritu de Michoacán.

If you or someone you know would be interested in hosting this intensely beautiful photo exhibition, please contact Mexico Cooks! to begin making the arrangements. You are welcome to view more of the photographs at the website for Espíritu de Michoacan.

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18 de January de 2014
Creche, Manger Scene, Nacimiento: The Central Focus of Christmas in Mexico

A Christmas tree may 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 on 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 30 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 four inches high) comes out of yearlong 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: el 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 150.

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 Satan, 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.

Some new figures for our 2013 nacimiento. More than a dozen 3" high paper maché musicians (we think they're from India) make up this little band–and they have a little dog to lead them. Size and scale don't matter: you'll find crocodiles the size of your little finger and elephants as big as 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 booth at the Guadalajara tianguis navideño 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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21 de December de 2013
Christmas Piñatas :: Piñatas Navideñas

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

Among unadorned, new 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 84th 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 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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14 de December de 2013
Cuanajo, Michoacán: Cradle of Hand-Carved and Painted Furniture

The mid-autumn landscape is lovely along the road to Cuanajo, Michoacán. Sun-struck shocks of corn stand out against the patchwork of fields and mountains.

During September and October, expanses of mirasoles (wild cosmos) grace every open field.

The MIchoacán hillside near Pátzcuaro cradles Cuanajo, an entirely Purhépecha town of about 12,000 souls. The Purhépecha are the largest group of indigenous people in Michoacán. Nearly 500 years ago, when the Spaniards first traveled through this part of Mexico, the settlement lay some two kilometers south of its current location. The Purhépecha covered their yácatas (pyramids) with earth to prevent their takeover by the conquistadores and the town moved north.

The Casa de Artesanías (Artisans' Center) in Cuanajo is the home of artisan-carved wood furniture, textiles, and decorative items.

Just before this article was originally published in November 2008, Mexico Cooks! had the opportunity to talk with Emilio García Zirangua, the then-head of government in Cuanajo. Sr. García expressed deep concern about the future of centuries-old wood crafting in his town. "The Purhépecha of Cuanajo began carving wood when Don Vasco de Quiroga, the first bishop of Michoacán, brought Spanish artisans to teach us their methods in the 15th century. Now, we don't know what our future holds. So much wood has been taken from our mountains, legally and illegally, and even though the government makes promises about reforestation, we don't see the results of those promises."

Furniture factories are often just one small room.

"Cuanajo is part of the municipio (similar to a county in the United States) of Pátzcuaro. Actually, next to Pátzcuaro, we're the largest town in the municipio. We're working on gaining standing as a separate municipio because our needs here are so different from Pátzcuaro's needs. Our town is very rural, not so modern as that town."

Colorful Mexican themes decorate this queen-size hand-carved and hand-painted headboard. You'll find this one or others that are similar at Fábrica de Muebles Buenos Aires, at the corner of Guadalupe Victoria and Lázaro Cárdenas in Cuanajo.

Soft pastels decorate hand-carved larger than life size alcatraces (calla lilies) on this double bed headboard. It was also made at Fábrica de Muebles Buenos Aires.

Sr. García continued, "Not too many years ago, everyone in Cuanajo spoke Purhépecha. Today, few of the young people bother to learn the language. It's a huge loss. In that way, it seems as if our heritage is disappearing. What will be the next to go?"

One corner detail of a finely carved and painted dish cupboard from Cuanajo.

"At least we still take pride in our heritage of working with wood. Nearly everyone here knows wood carving and painting, and most of us earn our living from those things. We have an international reputation for making beautiful furniture and decorative items for the home."

This gorgeous bench from Cuanajo, hand-carved and hand-painted with images of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, is for sale at the Casa de Artesanía, Morelia.

This Cuanajo chair, one of a set of four painted with images of figures from the 1810 Mexican revolution, is also for sale at the Casa de Artesanía, Morelia.

This is just one detailed scene from a Cuanajo-made table top.

Cuanajo is substantially off the beaten tourist track but well worth the time and effort to get there. If you're looking for highly detailed painted furniture or other home decoration, it's the best place in Michoacán to find what you want. Please contact Mexico Cooks! if you'd like a guided tour.

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30 de November de 2013
Flaneur Part Four: Shopping, Cooking, Eating in Mexico City and Beyond

Calabaza de Castilla on display at the Mercado Medellín, Colonia Roma, Mexico City, October 2013. A winter squash (this particular example measured 16" or more in diameter), it has the hardest shell imaginable. I suspect that it had been cut in half using a band saw; no ordinary knife could have sliced through it so beautifully.

Ah, Michoacán, how I miss your flavors! This enormous taco de carnitas from Quiroga (with a slice of brilliant yellow pickled chile perón on the side) went a long way toward being just the 'fix' I needed in early November. True confession: I ate two of them. Michoacán's carnitas (huge hunks of pork, long-cooked in boiling lard) really can't be replicated at home. Although you might find some recipes on the Internet that will try to tell you how to make a small batch, you really need to come with me to Michoacán to eat the real thing.

From the sublimely traditional taco de carnitas to the equally sublime but completely modern star menu item at Hamburguesas Richard's in Morelia. Just looking at this photo makes my mouth water: Richard's prepares hamburgers just right: this one is a double, with two freshly made beef patties, a slice of melting yellow cheese, a slice of gooey white cheese, fresh chopped tomatoes, thinly sliced grilled onions, a touch of mustard, and condiments to add at table–including chiles toreados (chiles serrano, sautéed in oil along with finely sliced white onion until the chiles' skin blisters) and meant to be eaten on the side, bite by bite till smoke comes out your ears. Add to your hamburger: mayonnaise, crema de mesa (Mexican table cream), chile Valentina (Mexico's ubiquitous bottled red salsa), more mustard, or a shot of catsup, and WOW. A side of fries (ask for them bien doradas (crispy-fried) and eat them like I do: dipped in a squeeze of chile Valentina that you've mixed into mayonnaise.

Currently in season at Mexico City's Mercado San Juan: percebes (goose barnacle). These strangely beautiful crustaceans are hugely popular in Spain and Portugal, but this was the first I'd seen them in the market. Here's a recipe, if goose barnacles are available where you shop: percebes.

Bright red maguey cactus worms. These creatures, known here in Mexico as chinicuiles, are a pre-Hispanic delicacy that's still popular today. They are the inch-and-a-half-to-two-inch long larvae of a type of butterfly that lives in the leaves, heart, and roots of the maguey cactus; typically, the larvae are in season from May until the end of October–approximately the rainy season in central Mexico. More true confessions: although chef-friends have tried to convince me of the delicious flavor of these worms, I have never eaten one; it's impossible for me to get past the…well, enough said. I have never eaten one.

More from the Mercado San Juan! These are pichones (squabs), with part of their plumage intact. Pichón is the word used for young pigeons; it's also used in its diminutive (pichoncito) to refer to someone who is (or who wants to appear) still young. "Tengo 84 años ya." "Tú? No puede ser! Sigues de pichoncito!" 'I'm 84 years old.' 'You? That can't be! You're still just barely hatched!'

A beguiling trompe l'oeil bluebird, perched on a light switch at Rosetta, the popular and elegant northern Italian restaurant in Colonia Roma.

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23 de November de 2013
Mercado 20 de noviembre, Oaxaca: Shop the 20 de noviembre Market with Mexico Cooks!

For the next two or three weeks, Mexico Cooks! will take you on a virtual trip to Oaxaca. Enjoy!

Emblematic of Oaxaca and its mezcal culture, sal de gusano (worm salt) and a wedge of fresh orange are the truly Oaxacan accompaniments to a shot of what Mexicans call la bebida de los dioses (the drink of the gods). And yes, sal de gusano is made with sea salt, ground chile, and dried, toasted and ground maguey worms. I promise you that it is delicious.

The last morning of Mexico Cooks!' recent stay in Oaxaca, I grabbed a friend and headed off to the city's famous Mercado Benito Juárez. The market is in many ways similar to but in many ways different from those that Mexico Cooks! knows best, the traditional markets of Mexico's Central Highlands. Both my friend and I were fascinated by what we saw and learned while we were poking around among the stalls.

The large carved bowls at the top of the basket and several of the smaller carved bowls to the lower right–including the laquered red ones–are actually jícaras (dried gourds). Jícaras are traditionally used for drinking mezcal. Around the edge of the basket you see sonajas (rattles), in this case whole dried gourds on sticks. The seeds dry inside the gourds to provide the sound effects when you shake the stick.

Rural Oaxaca grows chiles of all kinds, including some that are unique to the state. These are dried chile chilhuacle negro, arguably the most expensive chile in Mexico. Retail price? Eight hundred pesos the kilo–about $75 USD for 2.2 pounds, at today's exchange rate.

Bags, bags, and more bags–all plastic–sell at two adjacent market stands. The bolsas (bags) range from the little zipper change purses in the basket at lower right to the big woven market bags on the left and at the rear. Mexico Cooks! came home with two of the big ones.

Mexican chile terminology is filled with contradictions. These are chiles pasillas oaxaqueños (Oaxacan pasilla chiles). Chiles pasillas are different sizes, shapes, colors, and flavors depending on where you are in Mexico, but these are unique to Oaxaca.

Moronga is pork blood sausage. The blood is heavily seasoned with ruda (rue), oregano, fresh mint, onions and chile and then stuffed into pigs' intestines and boiled for as much as several hours.

Chile de agua (literally, water chile) is another specialty pepper from Oaxaca. Some folks say its heat is medium, some folks swear it's hot as hell, and everyone agrees that it's very difficult to find outside Oaxaca. Look back a few weeks on Mexico Cooks! to see a wonderful use for these small chiles. I loved the flavor and the picor (heat factor).

Three of Oaxaca's famous moles. These are sold as pastes, by weight. You simply reconstitute them with chicken broth at home and serve them with the meat of your choice. Mexico Cooks! is crazy about carne de cerdo con mole negro (pork with black mole).

We'll come back to Oaxaca, just to give you a sample of marvelous food and drink–next Saturday morning, right here at Mexico Cooks!. Be ready for more regional Oaxacan specialties.

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17 de August de 2013
On the Table: Mexico Cooks! Dines Out and Dines at Home

A whole frog, battered, deep fried and served with chiles toreados (chile serrano, rolled in oil and grilled or sautéed until soft), cebolla blanca (white onion, in this case caramelized), and limón to squeeze all over it. Deep fried frogs are a specialty of Queréndaro, Michoacán. It's a truly graphic presentation, but you only eat the legs–unless you care to nibble on other parts.

A Sunday afternoon on the trajineras (boats) in Xochimilco requires a refueling stop at a 'restaurant' trajinera. In this case, our midday meal was juicy carne asada (grilled meat) and quesadillas cooked to order, guacamole and tortilla chips, rice, beans, and hot-off-the griddle tortillas. Delicious!

Mexico Cooks! discovered Panadería Manduca at Av. Nuevo León #125-B during the November Col. Condesa bakery crawl and hasn't stopped buying their marvelous made-on-site pretzel bread. The bread is dense, extremely flavorful, and just the way we like it.

Still on the bread theme, here's the pan de romero (rosemary bread) from Rosetta, a lovely Italian restaurant at Calle Colima 166, Col. Roma Sur, Mexico City. Next time we eat there, I promise you a report on London-trained chef Elena Reygada's wonderful food.

Home cooking: Mexico Cooks! prepared the hot, fennel-y Italian sausage and then created sausage, peppers, and onion sandwiches for a recent meal at home.

Another home-cooked meal: eggplant parmagiana. Peter Francis Battaglia, an Italian-American friend in New Jersey, keeps me inspired to try his recipes. Once you've read his web page and seen his photos, you'll be equally inspired.

Once every six weeks or so, Azul/Condesa or Azul/Histórico call out to us. It's difficult for me to resist the pechuga de pollo en mole negro (chicken breast in black mole). For me, Chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's mole negro recipe continues to be the gold standard for this dish.

To end on a sweet note: these buñuelos–foot-in-diameter deep-fried flour pastry, finished with a dash of granulated sugar and cinnamon, broken onto a plate or into a bowl and bathed with syrup made of piloncillo–were on the fonda table (small family food booth or restaurant) next to me the last time I was in Morelia, Michoacán. Could you resist? I couldn't.

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20 de July de 2013
Passion and Metamorphosis: Travis Whitehead, Artisans of Michoacán

Painted children's chairs from Quiroga, Michoacán. All photographs by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Today's Mexico Cooks! article celebrates the artisans, ancient traditions, and glorious representation of the state of Michoacán. It also celebrates the recent publication of Artisans of Michoacán: By Their Hands, my friend Travis Whitehead's several-year-long project of interviews and photographs of Michoacán's artisans at work. Rather than express my thoughts about Travis's passion and dedication to his work, Mexico Cooks! prefers to let him tell his own story. He generously allows me to publish the text of the speech he gave earlier this year in Morelia, Michoacán. I give you Travis Whitehead:
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Working copper, Santa Clara del Cobre, Michoacán.

Forty-five years ago, I saw something that grabbed my attention and never let go: a caterpiller evolving into an elegant monarch butterfly. Witnessing this display of metamorphosis would leave a lasting impression on me, one that would eventually lead me on an odyssey of change, of release, and of the discovery of identity.

Rolling hand-ground clay for high-fired ceramics in Patamban, Michoacán.

The journey toward that odyssey began the day my mother showed me how to remove a monarch caterpillar from the milkweed plant outside my Texas house, place it in a jar with plenty of leaves, and watch it grow. Soon it would wrap itself into a green chrysalis, and I would wait anxiously for it to emerge into an entirely different form of life. My curiosity was forever ignited by this process of change, and I kept a close eye on the milkweed plants so I could capture more caterpillers and observe this process again.

Hand-painted batea (wooden tray), state of Michoacán.

When the butterflies finally emerged, I would take them outside and watch as they flew into the blue sky. I didn't know then what we all know now: they were headed for Michoacán. I wonder if perhaps the butterflies I released took a part of me with them, bringing a trace of myself into an enchanting place. I wonder if perhaps that part of my soul born on the wings of the monarchs hibernated, even gestated, in the magical wonderland of Michoacán, awaiting my arrival when I would regain part of myself, taking full possession of my poetic voice.

Weaving a huinumo (pine needle) hot pad, Paracho, Michoacán.

I found the place I'd been seeking my whole life quite by accident, stumbling across it while working on another project. That project failed to materialize, but by then I had become intoxicated by the state's metamorphic personality. That metamorphosis was everywhere, in the food, the language of the Purépecha indians, the crafts, and even the very landscape. The state, I learned, even has two local varieties of the tamal–the corunda and the uchepo–and I discovered that in the Meseta Purépecha, even these and other regional recipes vary from one village to the next, and that the language has slight changes in communities only a short distance from each other: a metamorphosis taking place in food and words. The very landscape itself is a metamorphic experience, ranging from pine-covered hills to stark deserts, from winding rocky shoreline to tropical jungles.

Spoon rack on red door, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

So strong was Michoacán's power over me that I felt compelled to spend an extended amount of time with her, so I moved there in 2008 and spent eight months visiting artisans in their homes and workshops. I was quickly charmed by the way they welcomed me into their lives. I was a stranger who came knocking on their doors, and they quickly extended their friendship to me. They allowed me to observe them practicing their crafts and take as many pictures as I wanted. They patiently answered my endless questions. I was intrigued to discover that even their crafts were continuously evolving into innovative forms, revealing still another experience of metamorphosis. With every Michoacán experience, my artistic life constantly split and then coalesced into an ever-evolving consciousness. It was a revolving kaleidoscopic experience of dissonance and resolution, crescendo and diminuendo, soaring to enormous heights and then crashing miserably so that I would have to hibernate for a while until my previous perspective acquiesced to the new insights I had achieved.

Several types of hand-made, hand-painted clay tableware, Capula, Michoacán.

However, as my poetic voice matured, so did my perspective about culture. Initially, my experiences with the artisans were conduits through which I could communicate my ever-changing poetic voice. The artisans, though, offered me genuine friendship and even a chance to participate in their daily lives. I sat with them around their hearth fires; they shared their meals with me. I took them to a cornfield so they could pick loads of corn; then I helped shuck that corn to make uchepos. I watched with delight as their children laughed and played together, sneaking up behind me with their toy pistols–BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!–before giggling and running away. I participated in one of their festivals, and soon 'my' project became less about me and more about giving them a voice to the rest of the world, sharing the story behind the crafts for which they are so famous.

Counting threads while weaving a fine rebozo (shawl) from Aranza, Michoacán.

As I observed the pace of their daily lives and the way they related to one another, I began to wonder if the crafts, the festivals, and dances are really what define a culture. Are those the things that really define culture, or are they merely details? I'm not so sure. Perhaps the real cultural experience is the way a group of people relates to one another and interacts with each other. It's a question I still ask myself.

Seventeenth century Michoacán Cristo (Christ) made of pasta de caña.

The crafts and artisans and the metamorphic life of Michoacán still have a hold on me. But I think that Michoacán has taught me a much greater lesson: the value of life and the way people experience that life, and the warmth and friendship people extend toward one another–and even to strangers who come knocking on their doors. This was truly the greatest of my metamorphic experiences in Michoacán.

Hand cross-stitched guayanga (blouse), Pichátaro, Michoacán.
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Juego de Huarukua (ancient Purépecha fireball game), Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán. Photo courtesy Jesús Alejandre G., Uruapan.

On June 27, 2013, Travis Whitehead will present Artisans of Michoacán: By Their Hands at Pátzcuaro's Museo Regional de Artes Populares, in conjunction with an important exhibit of new photographs of Michoacán by Uruapan native Jesús Alejandre. The opening of photographer Alejandre's exhibition and the presentation of Whitehead's book will be June 27, 2013 at 5:00PM.

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22 de June de 2013
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 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.

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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8 de June de 2013
Food Fair in Uruapan, Michoacán: Una Muestra de Gastronomía

The Purhépecha woman in the foreground pats out tortillas while her companion sorts through a plate of golden, freshly cut flor de calabaza (squash blossoms).

The first two mornings of the huge annual artisans' crafts fair in Michoacán begin with a food fair: la Muestra de Gastronomía.
Fifteen or so outdoor kitchens, set up around a charming plaza just a
block from the crafts booths, offer cooking demonstrations and
inexpensive meals of representative Purhépecha dishes. The food, rustic
and rarely seen outside a Purhépecha home kitchen, is, in a word,
heavenly. The Mexico Cooks! group trooped
into the food fair just in time for Saturday breakfast. The crowd could have
known who we were by the way our mouths were watering with
anticipation.

Corn is the basis for the indigenous Mexican kitchen, and the
tortilla is the lowest common denominator. On the table in front of
this woman, you can see the metate (three-legged rectangular grinding stone) and the metapil (similar to a rolling pin) resting on it, along with the prepared masa from which tortillas are made. Both the metate and the metapil are hand-carved from volcanic rock.

To the left of the table is the clay comal (similar to a
griddle) that in this instance rests loosely on top of a metal drum in
which the wood cook fire is built. Prior to use, the comal is cured with cal (builders' lime). The cal serves two purposes: it gives the comal a non-stick surface and it adds nutrients to the masa as it toasts.

In the past, all of Mexico's women prepared dried corn for masa by soaking and simmering it in a solution of water and cal. The name of the prepared corn is nixtamal. Once it's processed, it's ready to be ground into masa for tortillas, tamales, and other corn-dough preparations. Some rural women still grind nixtamal-ized corn by hand using the metate and metapil. Some take the prepared corn to their neighborhood tortillería (tortilla vendor's shop) for grinding, and some prepare their masa
using commercial dried corn flour. In urban areas, the majority of
Mexican families buy tortillas hot off the tortilla baker at the tortillería and carry them home, wrapped in a special towel, just in time for a meal.

This woman prepares her stove, made of part of a metal drum with an
opening cut away for firewood. She's spreading a paste made of wood
ash and cal on and around the top of the the drum to hold the comal in place. The white streaks on the red clay comal are cal. The volcanic rock metate and mano are on the bench in the background. Her well-used clay cooking pot is visible to your left.

This joyous woman is patting out blue corn tortillas. The masa and metapil are on the metate in front of her. She's toasting the tortillas and roasting tomatoes and chiles on her clay comal. The comal is set into a clay stove fired by wood. The haze that you see is woodsmoke.

The Purhépecha kitchen repertoire includes numerous atápakuas (literally, a type of thick, soup-like salsa served plentifully over prepared food). The Purhépecha word atápakua has meaning deeper than its simple definition. Its connotation is food that is picante (spicy), nutritious, and life-sustaining in a spiritual sense. Mexican culinary historians agree that the preparation of atápakuas
dates from as long as 400 years before the Spanish Conquest, around
1100 AD, when the Purhépecha were strong rulers in the area of Mexico
that is now Michoacán.

An atápakua can be made from the ingredients that are easily
found in the region. The specialty of one tiny village of the Meseta
Purhépecha is atápakua del talpanal (wasp larvae). Another town's specialty is xururi atápakua, the principal ingredient of which is cotton seeds. More commonly, indigenous cooks prepare their atápakuas of seasonal and readily available vegetables along with a bit of meat, poultry, or fish.

We of Mexico Cooks! didn't eat wasp larvae or cotton seeds. We inhaled bowls of atápakua de flor de calabaza (thick, soupy salsa served over squash flowers, fresh corn kernels, and chunks of corundas de ceniza (unfilled tamales made with masa and wood ash).

In the closeup of the atápakua you can clearly see the corn kernels (closest to the bowl of the spoon), small pieces of calabacita (similar to zucchini), orange squash flowers, and a piece of white corunda. For flavor and color, chiles serrano and cilantro are blended into the cooking liquid. The thin, soupy salsa is then thickened by blending a small ball of masa into the hot liquid. This atápakua is deliciously spicy and tastes as fresh as the garden. I finished my portion and wanted another bowl.

Photo by Steve Sando, www.ranchogordo.com

Churipo, shown above, is one of my favorite Purhépecha specialties. Churipo is a hearty soup, the delicious broth flavored by long cooking with beef, cabbage, calabacitas, xoconostle (the sour fruit of a specific nopal cactus), onion, chile, and other ingredients. Served with a squeeze of limón (Mexican lime), a sprinkle of coarse sea salt, tortillas hot off the comal and corundas de ceniza broken up in the bowl, it's a wonderful meal in one dish. If your palate will take the heat, eat some raw chiles serrano along with your bowl of churipo. Remember that the tip of any chile is less picante than the stem end, where most of the seeds are.

Late in the afternoon, after we'd investigated as many of the crafts
booths as we could, we were all in need of something very light and
fresh for our comida (middday meal). We ordered a fruit plate and a plate of guacamole with totopos (triangular fried tortilla chips) at a local restaurant.

For dessert we found limones, with the pulp scraped away, candied and stuffed with cocada (coconut candy). Half of one of these is plenty!

This was such a sweet finish to a fascinating day in Michoacán. If
you'd like to travel to this event in 2014, be sure to email Mexico Cooks! in time to save your place for adventure.

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13 de April de 2013