Category: Current Affairs

Caña Fest Morelia, in honor of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe :: Morenita, Protect Us Now More Than Ever

Everywhere in Mexico, so many events and traditions have been cancelled, postponed, or otherwise affected by the on-going worldwide pandemia. This article, originally published in 2010, is a look back on a Morelia, Michoacán, favorite: the annual month-long festival Caña Fest (the sugar cane festival), that normally begins in mid-November and continues for a month, through December 12, the feast day of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. Here's how Morelia's festival looked and sounded in 2018:

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=61lVnekLR1I&w=560&h=315]
Originally, the pandemia cancelled the fiesta for 2020. Recently, the government announced that due to public outcry, the festival would indeed take place, but not all in one spot as it is usually scheduled. Some stands will set up in one colonia (neighborhood), others will set up in another colonia, and still others will be relegated to other locations in the city. Will it be the same? No, of course not. Nevertheless, if only ONE case of COVID-19 is prevented, it's worth the change. Let's hope we can be back, business as usual, in 2021. Video courtesy Youtube.

Enjoy these photos and reflections on past Caña Fests!

Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe (Our Lady of Guadalupe, lovingly nicknamed La Morenita [the little brown woman]), caña (sugar cane), and fresh-roasted cacahuates (peanuts) are an annual combination in Morelia during the weeks from November 19 until the last minutes of the night of December 12, Our Lady of Guadalupe's feast day. The Fiesta de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe is one of the most important religious festivals in all of Mexico, celebrated in every home and every town, in every church and every heart.

Hundreds of tons of freshly in-season caña (sugar cane) are hand-peeled with flashing steel machetes for your eating pleasure. Every year, more than 400 vendors set up food stands, trinket stands, and booths filled with religious articles in Morelia's Jardín Morelos, on Avenida Tata Vasco, and along the Calzada Fray Antonio de San Miguel leading to the Santuario de Guadalupe. Brightly colored children's rides and games illuminate the evening hours in the park; the fragrance of grilling meat competes with the deep smell of roasting peanuts, and the whir of the cotton candy machine pairs up with the rhythmic whack-whack-whack of the caña-cutting knife.

Long sugar canes are fibrous and tough, but hand-chopped with a huge knife into bite-size pieces, caña is easy to chew. Munch a piece until the sweet juice is gone, then discard the mouthful of straw-like fibers that are left. Munch another, it's addictive.

A bed of freshly sliced oranges and a pile of sliced caña con chamoy make a mouth-puckering, refreshing snack. Chamoy is a sour fruit brine that's popular for its flavor combination of vinegar, salt, and sweet fruit.

This roaster toasts about seven kilos (15 pounds) of raw cacahuates (peanuts) at a time. The family that operates this stand had the roaster made from an oil drum, along with a metal box on legs to hold the fuel. One of the family members turns the handle (to the left in the photo) to make sure the peanuts toast evenly, without burning.

The heat for the peanut roaster comes from carbón, Mexico's real-wood charcoal–they're not "briquets" from commercial bags!

Raw habas (fava beans) are toasted by the same method. Roasted habas and cacahuates are sold unsalted.

Here's a juice extractor to make you a glass of super-fresh and sweetly delicious jugo de caña (sugar cane juice). One operator inserts the long sugar canes through the back of the dark metal rollers while another turns the handle on the wheel at the left of the photo.

The juice pours onto the slanted tray, down the spout, and into your waiting plastic cup. A 12-ounce cup of hand-squeezed juice costs ten pesos–less than one United States dollar.

Do you need some real food? Try made-to-order tacos at one of the stands in Plaza Morelos. The bottom pair are bistec (chopped grilled beef), the top two are carne de cerdo al pastor (marinated pork cooked on a vertical spit). A squeeze of lime, a pinch of salt, and a sprinkle of minced cilantro and onion (and of course a spoonful of the hottest salsa you can tolerate) make these tacos delicious.

Maybe pambazos, enchiladas placeras, or taquitos are more to your taste. Everything at this stand is cooked to order on an anafre (brazier). Mexico Cooks! is partial to a good pambazo: it's a sandwich made from an individual-sized loaf of dense white bread, sliced open and dipped in enchilada sauce, filled with picadillo (meat/potato/carrot hash), fried till the bread is just slightly crisp on the outside, and topped with shredded lettuce, diced fresh tomatoes, minced onions, grated Mexican cheese, and a salsa muy picante (really spicy salsa).

The sign asks, "What blankety-blank crisis?" The bags of caña that this dealer offered continued at the 2009 price: 10 pesos. The world economic situation in 2008-2009 deeply affected Mexico, but up until 2020, nothing stopped this party!

Mexico has a real 'thing' for corn dogs. Here in Mexico, they're fair (as in county fair!) food, just like they are in the United States. They make quite a switch from a traditional pambazo, no?

For dessert, local strawberries flash frozen in Zamora, Michoacán, are partially thawed and served with cream. You can see that the cartons are labeled both 'fresas' and 'strawberries' (for the English-language market; strawberry export is an enormous business in Michoacán. Duero is the name of the strawberry packing company, as well as the name of the Michoacán river that runs through Zamora. They're named for the Río Duero roars through western Spain and Portugal.

Take home a bag of candies. Pick the candy you prefer–pea-size chocoretas (mint chocolate balls), crisp-coated lunetas of chocolate, sweet and tart buttons, gummy worms or bears or frogs, and a dozen more choices– and buy as little or as much as you like.

It's traditional for both adults and children to dress in 16th Century indigenous clothing during these December fiestas. This beautiful baby wears painted bigotes (moustache), a tiny poncho, a sombrero de paja (straw hat), and a bright paliacate (handkerchief/scarf), all in honor of San Juan Diego, who first saw and talked with Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe in chilly mid-December of 1531.

I don't know about you, but I'm going to pray for the end of the pandemia and the return of Mexico's traditional festivities.

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

5 de December de 2020
Día y Noche de Muertos en Michoacán :: Day and Night of the Dead in Michoacán

Unfortunately, COVID-19, in addition to causing unprecedented worldwide death, has also separated us from publicly receiving the spirits of our departed loved one during the 2020 Day and Night of the Dead commemorations in most of Mexico. Cemeteries are closed, public spaces continue to be off-limits to the usual throngs of visitors to small town and large cities during this sacred time, and many usually highly tourisited areas in Michoacán, Oaxaca, and other areas of Mexico continue be closed to living visitors. The dead will come, expecting to be received, but our deceased friends and relatives will be welcomed in manners different from any other year in anyone's memory.

Because of inability to travel to the places I'd like to show you this year, Mexico Cooks! is simply reprinting this very popular Día y Noche de Muertos en Michoacán article from earlier times. Let's hope that in 2021 we will be able to once again enjoy the company of visitors from afar–including, first and foremost, our visitors from the más allá–the great beyond.

Remember me as you pass by,
As you are now, so once was I.
As I am now, so you will be,
Prepare for death and follow me.
…from a tombstone

What is death? We know its first symptoms: the heart stops pumping, breath and brain activity stop. We know death's look and feel: a still, cold body from which the spirit has fled. The orphan and widow know death's sorrow, the priest knows the liturgy of the departed and the prayers to assuage the pain of those left to mourn. But in most English-speaking countries, death and the living are not friends. We the living look away from our mortality, we talk of the terminally ill in terms of 'if anything happens', not 'when she dies'. We hang the crepe, we cover the mirrors, we say the beads, and some of us fling ourselves sobbing upon the carefully disguised casket as it is lowered into the Astroturf-lined grave.

Octavio Paz, Mexico City's Nobel Laureate poet and essayist who died in 1998, is famously quoted as saying, "In New York, Paris, and London, the word death is never mentioned, because it burns the lips."

Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán panteón (cemetery), Mexico Cooks! photo. These fellows sing to la Descarnada (the fleshless woman) on November 2, 2009.

In Mexico, on the contrary, every day is a dance with death. Death is a woman who has numerous affectionate and humorous nicknames: la Huesuda (the bony woman), la Seria (the serious woman), la Novia Fiel (the faithful bride), la Igualadora (the equalizer), la Dientona (the toothy woman), la Pelona (the bald woman), la Patrona (the boss lady), and a hundred more. She's always here, just around the next corner or maybe right over there, behind that pillar. She waits with patience, until later today or until twelve o'clock next Thursday, or until sometime next year–but when it's your time to go, she's right there, ready to dance away with you at her side.

November 2013 altar to La Santa Muerte (Holy Death), Sta. Ana Chapirito (near Pátzcuaro), Michoacán. Devotees of this deathly apparition say that her cult has existed since before the Spanish arrived in Mexico.

In Mexico, death is also in the midst of life. We see our dead, alive as you and me, each November, when we wait at our cemeteries for those who have gone before to come home, if only for a night. That, in a nutshell, is Noche de Muertos: the Night of the Dead.

In the lower center portion of this photograph, you can see the Quiroga, Michoacán, panteón municipal (town cemetery). Late in the afternoon of November 1, 2013, most townspeople had not yet gone to the cemetery with candles and flowers for their loved ones' graves. Click on any photograph for a larger view.

Over the course of the last nearly 40 years, Mexico Cooks! has been to countless Noche de Muertos events, but none as mystical, as spiritual, or as profoundly magical as that of 2013. Invited to accompany a very small group on a private tour in Michoacán, I looked forward to spending three days enjoying the company of old and new friends. I did all that, plus I came away with an extraordinarily privileged view of life and death.

A magnificent Purépecha ofrenda (in this case, an altar in the home of beloved friends) in the village of Santa Fe de la Laguna, Michoacán. This detailed and lovely ofrenda was created to the memory of the family's maiden aunt, who died at 74. Because she had never married, even at her advanced age she was considered to be an angelito (little angel)–like an innocent child–and her spirit was called back home to the family on November 1, the day of the angelitos. In Santa Fe de la Laguna, relatives, friends, and neighbors who arrive at the house to pay homage to a deceased person bring fresh fruit to place at the foot of the altar. This altar filled an entire room of my friends' home. Be sure to click on the photo to see the details of the altar. Fruits, breads, incense, salt, flowers, colors, and candles have particular symbolism and are necessary parts of the ofrenda.

Detail of the ofrenda casera (home altar) shown above. The altar included her favorite rebozo (shawl), placed just above her photograph. Several local people told Mexico Cooks! that the fruit piled on the altar tasted different from fruit from the same source that had not been used for the ofrenda. "Compramos por ejemplo plátanos y pusimos unos en el altar y otros en la cocina para comer. Ya para el día siguiente, los del altar pierden su sabor, no saben a nada," they said. 'We bought bananas, for example, and we put some on the ofrenda, and we put the rest in the kitchen to eat. The next day, the ones in the kitchen were perfectly normal, but the ones from the altar had no taste at all.'

Preparing a family member's ofrenda (altar) in the camposanto in a tiny village in Michoacán. The camposanto–literally, holy ground–is a cemetery contained within the walls of a churchyard. The candles used in this area of Michoacán are hand made in Ihuatzio and Santa Fe de la Laguna.

Come with me along the unlit road that skirts the Lago de Pátzcuaro: Lake Pátzcuaro. It's chilly, the puddles splash up as we drive, and the roadside weeds are damp with earlier rain, but for the moment the sky has cleared and filled with stars. Up the hill on the right and down the slope leading left toward the lake are tiny villages, dark but for the glow of tall candles lit one by one in the cemeteries. Tonight is November 1, the night silent souls wend their way home from Mictlán, the land beyond life.

At the grave: candlelight to illuminate the soul's way, cempazúchitl (deeply orange marigolds) for their distinctive fragrance required to open the path back home, smoldering copal (frankincense) to cleanse the earth and air of any remnants of evil, covered baskets of the deceased's favorite foods. And a low painted chair, where the living can rest through the night.

Watching through the night. This tumba (grave) refused to be photographed head-on. From an oblique angle, the tumba allowed its likeness to be made.

"Oh grave, where is thy victory? Oh death, where is thy sting?"

Noche de Muertos is not a costume party, although you may see it portrayed as such in the press. It is not a drunken brawl, although certain towns appear to welcome that sort of blast-of-banda-music reventón (big blow-out). It is not a tourist event, though strangers are certainly welcomed to these cemeteries. Noche de Muertos is a celebration of the spirit's life over the body's death, a festival of remembrance, a solemn passover. Years ago, in an interview published in the New York Times, Mexico Cooks! said, "Noche de Muertos is about mutual nostalgia. The living remember the dead, and the dead remember the taste of home."

One by one, grave by grave, golden cempazúchitles give shape to rock-bound tombs and long candles give light to what was a dark and lonely place, transforming the cemetery into a glowing garden. How could a soul resist this setting in its honor?

"Our hearts remember…" we promise the dead. Church bells toll slowly throughout the night, calling souls home with their distinctive clamor (death knell). Come…come home. Come…come home.

Waiting. Memories. Prayers. No te olvido, mi viejo amado. (I haven't forgotten you, my beloved old man.)

Next year, come with me.

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31 de October de 2020
Autumn in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán :: Wildflower Season and Sights at the Market

The area around Lake Pátzcuaro, in the state of Michoacán, bursts into wildflower bloom in late September, just as the rainy season is ending here. The flowers are naturalized wild cosmos, known here as mirasoles ("look-at-the-sun"). Entire fields fill with swaths of these delicate flowers, turning our green countryside into a temporary sea of pink. Behind the mirasoles is a milpa, a field of native Michoacán corn, beans, and squash.

These beautiful blossoms, selling now at the municipal market in Pátzcuaro, are called estrellas del campo (stars of the field). From the tops of the flowers to the bottom of their thin, tender stems, they measure about two and a half feet long. Each multi-petaled bloom measure about 1.5" in diameter. I've lived in Michoacán for a long time, but this is the first year I've seen these for sale. We took three large bunches as a gift to a friend–at 15 pesos the bunch. The total for a big armful of beauty was the Mexican peso equivalent of about $2.25 USD.

Available throughout the year, the native Mexican nanche fruit is in full-blown season right now, piled high on stands around the perimeter of the Pátzcuaro municipal market and on numerous street corners all over the town. Sold in clear plastic cups (as seen in the photo, courtesy of Healthline) or by the plastic bagful, the vendor will slather these 3/4" inch diameter fruits with jugo de limón (fresh-squeezed Key lime juice), a big sprinkle of salt, and as much highly spicy bottled salsa as your mouth can handle. The biological name of the nanche is Byrsonima crassifolia.  The fruit is slightly sweet and mildly musty-flavored, a combination that most people love and that I regret to say is not a taste I enjoy at all. Nanches are packed with nourishment, though–a half-cup of them will give you nearly 60% of your daily Vitamin C requirement, 41 calories, and only 9.5 grams of carbohydrates!

These are jocotes (native Mexican plums), also in season now in central Mexico. The fruit measures about two to three inches long; the flesh is bright orange and the flavor is marvelous. Unfortunately the stone of this plum is almost as big as the entire fruit, and although you could eat it out of hand, the delicious jocote is most often made into an agua fresca (fresh fruit water) that is only available for the fruit's short season. This little plum is replete with Vitamins A and C, phosphorous, iron, and calcium, and is said to work wonders with gum problems.

Who wants to take a guess at what each of the green herbs (and the vegetable) is? The elotes (tender fresh Pátzcuaro red corn) at the bottom of the photo were part of a small daily harvest brought to sell on the outdoor periphery of Pátzcuaro's market. Just to the left of the corn, at the bottom of the photo, are some mint branches that the same vendor brought for sale. But above the mint? Click on the photo to enlarge it and you'll be able to tell that these are home-grown spiny chayotes. You are probably familiar with the paler green smooth-skinned chayotes (mirliton in Louisiana, pear squash in other English-speaking locations). The chayote has an interesting growing habit: unlike most squash, which grows as a vine along the ground, the chayote is airborne–its vines grow on overhead trellises and remind me of grapevines; the small squash hangs down from the vines. It's an extremely versatile vegetable, taking on the flavors of what you cook it with. Be sure to eat the soft, tender, flat, white seed–it's considered to be the prize part and is as delicious as the chayote itself.

To the right of the chayotes is a big bunch of wild anise, known in Pátzcuaro as anisillo. Used to make the Pátzcuaro regional specialty atole de grano, this herb is tremendously flavorful. In case you find some anisillo where you are, here's a recipe for atole de grano.

Atole de Grano
(Fresh Anise-Flavored Corn Kernel Soup)

Ingredients
2 fresh ears of tender young corn
2 cups fresh corn, cut from the cob
1 bunch wild anisillo
3 liters water
2 whole chiles perón (or substitute chiles poblano)
1/2 pound recently ground corn masa (dough)–ask at the tortillería near you
Salt to taste

Garnishes
1/2 medium white onion, minced
Chile serrano or chile perón, minced
Fresh Key limes, cut in half
Sea salt

Preparation

1. Clean the ears of corn, remove the silk and cut off the ends. Cut each ear into three pieces.

2. Boil the corn on the cob AND the corn kernels in enough water, for an hour and a half or until the corn is tender.

3. Cut the stem away from the chiles, take out the seeds and veins. Cut the chiles into small pieces.

4. In the blender, liquify the chiles, the anisillo, and the masa with two cups of water. Strain and add to the pot where the corn on the cob is cooking.

5. Allow to boil for about 10 to 15 minutes, until the liquid is slightly thickened.

To serve
1. Place sections of the cooked corn ears into each of 2 bowls.

2. Ladle soup and corn kernels into the bowls.

3. Serve with the minced onion, minced chile to taste, sea salt, and Key lime halves to squeeze into the soup.

Serves 2 people as a main dish, 3 as a first course. This soup is both vegetarian and vegan, and gluten-free.

Atole de grano, made in a cazo (large copper kettle).

The vendor at this small booth at the Pátzcuaro market had an interesting variety of things for sale. Bottom right are fresh guavas, just now coming into season. To the left of the guavas are chiles perón (aka chiles manzano), arguably the most-used chile in this part of Michoacán. Above the chiles perón are fresh, green chiles de árbol. To the right are wild mushrooms known as patita de pájaro (little bird foot). These mushrooms, growing wild in Michoacán's woods and foraged during the rainy season, make a wonderful mushroom soup.

These are home-grown loquats, known in Mexico as nísperos (NEE-speh-rohs). Nísperos are local and are plentiful in markets right now.

Gelatin–this large cupful is called "mosaíco"–mosaic, because of its many colored cubes. More gelatin is eaten in Mexico than in any other country of the world! A cupful this size is usually an eat-while-you-walk snack food. This one was made and sold from a tiny cart with no name, just to one side of the Pátzcuaro market. The young woman selling the gelatins said her name was Yesi–I said her cart was now dubbed Gelatinas Yesi, and she laughed.

Just at the corner of the market, we bumped into don Rafael, who was selling–you guessed it–cotton candy. Cotton candy HAS no season, it's always available here. Get the blue, it will turn your lips and tongue blue as a blueberry, but just for a while.

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24 de October de 2020
Independence Day in Mexico :: History, Parades, and an All-Night Party

Street vendors hawk la bandera nacional (the Mexican flag) in dozens of forms for several weeks during August and right up to September 16, Mexico's Independence Day. It's always fun to see what's the latest item for sale in patriotic tchotchkes. In this photo, you see a vendor near the zócalo (Plaza de la Constitución) in Mexico City. Photo courtesy Starmedia.

Although the entire month of September is dedicated to Mexican independence from Spain, Mexico's official struggle for freedom from Spanish colonization began sometime between midnight and dawn on September 16, 1810, when Father Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla gave the Grito de Dolores (Cry of Dolores) from the parish bell tower in the town known today as Dolores Hidalgo, Guanajuato. Mexico celebrates its day of Fiestas Patrias (Patriotic Holidays) on September 16 with parades of school children and military battalions, politicians proclaiming speeches, and general festivity.

Another flag vendor, this time in Morelia, Michoacán. This man was already out selling flags and other Independence-related items just before the end of August 2019. All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Hundreds of books have been written about Mexico's break from Spain, millions of words have been dedicated to exploring the lives of the daring men and women who knew, more than 200 years ago, that the time had come for freedom. You can read some of the history on the Internet. Another excellent source for Mexican history is The Life and Times of Mexico, by Earl Shorris. You'll find that book available to order through Amazon.com, on the left-hand side of this page.

Jalisco town kiosko (bandstand) decorated for the Fiestas Patrias.

For years I've attended the September 15 celebrations in a variety of towns and cities. In Mexico City, the country's president leads hundreds of thousands of citizens in late-night celebrations in the zócalo, the enormous square surrounded by government buildings and the Metropolitan Cathedral. Every Mexican town big enough to have a mayor holds a reenactment of the Grito de Dolores, Hidalgo's cry for independence. The town square is decorated with flags, bunting, and ribbons. Cohetes (sky rockets) flare and bang. Sometime around eleven o'clock at night, the folks, assembled in the town plaza since nine or so, are restless for the celebration to begin. The mayor's secretary peeks out from the doorway of the government offices, the folkloric dancers file off the stage in the plaza, the band tunes up for the Himno Nacional (the national anthem), the crowd waves its flags and hushes its jostling. The president or the mayor steps out onto the balcony of the government building or onto the stage built just outside the building's front door to lead the singing of the Himno's emotional verses.

The bandera monumental (gigantic national flag) and celebratory fireworks in front of Mexico's Palacio Nacional, on the zócalo, Mexico City, September 15, 2015. Photo courtesy press.

Dressed in his finest and backed up by a military or police guard, the mayor clears his throat and loudly begins an Independence Day proclamation. He pulls a heavy rope to ring the Independence bell, then he waves a huge Mexican flag. Back and forth, back and forth! In every Mexican town, the proclamation ends with Hidalgo's 209-year-old exhortations: "Long live religion! Long live Our Lady of Guadalupe! Long live the Americas and death to the corrupt government! Long live the heroes of our Independence! Viva México! Qué viva!"

Father Hidalgo's 1810 banner, with an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe and the words, "Viva la Santísma de Guadalupe!". He carried this banner as his standard as a leader in the fight for Mexico's independence from Spain. Photo courtesy Pinterest.

The mayor and the crowd shout as one voice: "Viva México! Qué viva! Qué viva!" The mayor grins and waves as the fireworks begin, bursting huge green, white, and red chrysanthemums over the heads of the attendees.

Later there will be dancing and more music, and food, including traditional pozole, tostadas, mezcal, tequila and beer, and, in larger towns and cities, all-night revelry in the plaza, in private homes, and in hotels, restaurants, and events halls.

The best-kept secret in Mexico is the Independence Day party. No, the biggest deal is not on September 16th. Held every year on the night of September 15, the Gran Noche Mexicana (the Great Mexican Night), the real celebration of the revolutionary events in 1810, is a combination of New Year's Eve, your birthday, and your country's independence festivities.

Wouldn't you really rather hear about the party? I knew you would!

A number of years ago my friend, música ranchera singer Lupita Jiménez from Guadalajara, invited me to a Gran Noche Mexicana where she was performing. The event was scheduled to start at 9:30, but Mexican custom normally dictates late arrival. By ten o'clock I was on my way to the party. At the salón de eventos (events hall), the parking lot was already full, but a man was parking cars on the street just a block away. As I left my car, he said, "Could you pay me now for watching your car? It's 20 pesos. I'll be leaving a little early, probably before the event is over."

"How long will you be here?" I asked, a bit anxious about leaving the car unattended on this night of prodigious revelry.

Lupita Jiménez in performance at a Gran Noche Mexicana in Guadalajara.

"Till six o'clock." My jaw dropped and I handed him the 20 pesos. Six in the morning! Surely we wouldn't party quite so long as that!

The sad truth is that I didn't. I couldn't. My stamina flagged at about 3:00 AM, after dinner had been served at 10:30, a city politician had proclaimed the Grito, the Himno Nacional (national anthem) had been sung, and big noisy fireworks had been set off on the indoor stage (I swear to you, indoors) of the salón de eventos. Then the show started, a brief recapitulation in song and dance of Mexican history, starting with concheros (loincloth-and-feather-clad Aztec dancers) whirling around a fire-belching volcano, and ending with the glorious jarabe tapatía, the regional dance of Guadalajara that most English-speakers call the Mexican hat dance.

Danzante conchero (concha dancer). The dancers are called concheros because the lead dancer blows a conch (a large mollusk shell) to call spirits to the dance. Photo courtesy Dreamstime.com.

After innumerable trios, duets, and solo singers, the show paused for intermission at close to two in the morning. Several of my table-mates slipped away, but I thought I could make it to the end. The first half of the Gran Noche Mexicana had been invigorating and exciting and I loved it. During intermission, a wonderful Mexican comedian poked fun at politics, functionaries, and Mexican life in general. We were all roaring with laughter. When the comic left the stage, I realized that I was exhausted and needed to go home to bed. Just as the performers stepped onto the stage to begin the next round of song, I sneaked away.

When I called Lupita the next afternoon to congratulate her on the success of the event, she asked if I'd stayed for the last few costume changes. "Mija, I had to go home early. I lasted till three, but then I just couldn't stay awake. I'm so sorry I missed the end."

Lupita laughed. "I'm glad you lasted that long, but next time you have to stay for the whole night! You missed the best part!"

The Palacio Nacional (national office building complex, including the president's offices) on the Zócalo (Plaza de la Constitución) in Mexico City, all dressed up for the Fiestas Patrias.

Viva México! Qué viva!

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12 de September de 2020
One More Report About Chiles en Nogada, a Fleeting, Seasonal Joy of Mexico’s Kitchen
Azul Histórico, a star of the constellation of three restaurants that make up Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's Grupo Azul, has become one of Mexico Cooks!' favorite destinations for comida (Mexico's midday main meal). Nestled under a canopy of trees in the patio of a 17th century Mexican palace, the restaurant is among the most beautiful–and most delicious–in Mexico's capital city.

One year, we insisted that a good friend visiting from Texas accompany us to experience the once-a-year delight of chiles en nogada, stuffed with a special picadillo (meat, fruit, and vegetable hash) and then bathed with walnut sauce, as presented and served at Restaurante Azul Histórico. In last week's Mexico Cooks! article, we shared a terrific recipe for chiles en nogada with you. Today, we'll see the chiles, considered to be the king of Mexico's cuisine, and honored as such at table in the restaurant.

Our friend, who serves sopa de tortilla (tortilla soup) in his own restaurant, wanted to try the version served at Azul Histórico.

Four of us shared a small order of mildly spicy, delicious salpicón de venado (venison, cooked, seasoned with onion, pepper, vinegar, oil, and salt, and shredded).

Once we finished our appetizers, two of our extremely competent wait staff laid the table with a long black linen tablecloth, plus colorful appliquéd individual placemats and extra candles, all in honor of the king of chiles. The plates, also in special use for chiles en nogada, are talavera pottery from the city of Puebla, where chiles en nogada originated.

The serving platter of chiles. Each color ribbon indicates the type stuffing in each chile. The choices the day we were there included:
- red ribbons from Atlixco, Puebla. The filling is composed of a complex picadillo with quite a lot of fruit.
- green ribbons from Coxcatlán, Puebla. The filling is shredded pork, with more spices and less fruit than the first.
- silver ribbons from Puebla de los Ángeles, Puebla. The filling is beef with fruits and spices, for those who prefer not to eat pork.
I chose the chile from Atlixco, Puebla. At the Azul restaurants and at most others, the chile is roasted, peeled, and seeded prior to stuffing, but is not coated with a stiffly beaten egg coating. The significance of the colors of the chile en nogada is the vision of the Mexican flag on your plate: green, white, and red. Were it coated and fried, the green would not be visible. The chile's red ribbon (and yellow flower) are removable. The blue and white sphere with the red ribbon are part of the table decor that honors the chile.

Once the chile is on your plate, the waiter serves the nogada (walnut sauce). At the Azul restaurants, the diner may choose savory or sweet nogada, or a combination of the two. I chose the combination. The waiter poured the thicker nogada salada (savory) onto the half of the chile near the tip; he then poured smooth nogada dulce (sweet) onto the half closer to the stem. In the photo, you can easily see the dividing line between the two nogadas.

At Azul Histórico, the chiles en nogada are served without being capeados (covered with the egg batter that traditionally coats the chiles in Puebla). Many prefer them with the fried-batter coating; I prefer them without. After the waiter bathes the chile with its walnut sauce(s), he garnishes it with seasonal pomegranate seeds and then with a sprig of parsley. Voilà, presenting Su Majestad el Chile en Nogada!

You can see the rich filling inside the chile. Last week's Mexico Cooks! article gives you an excellent recipe to make your own chiles en nogada. If you try it, please let us know how delicious it was!

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8 de August de 2020
Seasonal Chiles en Nogada, Available NOW Through September In Mexico’s Homes and Restaurants
Beautifully home-prepared chiles en nogada, as presented several years ago at a traditional food exhibition in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

Freshly harvested and peeled nuez de castilla (a kind of walnut grown in Mexico), an essential for seasonal chiles en nogada.

Mexico celebrates its independence the entire month of September with parades, parties, and traditional food and drink, served in restaurants and at home. The traditional festive dish during the weeks just before and after the Independence Day holiday is chiles en nogada, a magnificent tribute to the seasonal availability of a certain kind of peach, the locally grown panochera apple, in-season granadas (pomegranates) and nuez de castilla (freshly harvested walnuts). From mid-July until the end of September (or occasionally early October), seasonal local fruits, fresh pomegranates, and newly harvested walnuts make chiles en nogada possible. Mildly spicy chiles poblano, stuffed with a fruity picadillo and topped with richly creamy walnut sauce, pomegranate seeds, and chopped parsley, flaunt the brilliant green, white and red of the Mexican flag.

The panochera apple, grown in the Mexican state of Puebla, and pera lechera (milky pear), also grown in the area, are two must-have ingredients for making chiles en nogada in Mexico. If you live outside Mexico, a small crisp apple and a very crisp pear (preferably Bosque or a distant second choice, d'Anjou) would substitute.

This festive dish is traditionally served on September 15 or 16 in honor of Mexico's Independence Day, though it is popular anytime in the late summer and fall. During August and September in the highlands of Mexico, particularly in Mexico City and Puebla, vendors wander tianguis (street markets) and other markets, selling the clean, white meats of nuez de castilla. It is important to use the freshest walnuts possible, as they produce such a creamy, rich sauce that it is worth the effort to buy them peeled or peel them oneself. Yes, the recipe is time-consuming…but you and your guests will jump up and shout "VIVA!" when they've licked the platters clean.

Ingredients

For the meat:
- 2 pounds beef brisket or other stew meat or 1 pound beef and 1 pound pork butt**
- 1 small white onion, quartered
- 2 large cloves garlic
- about 1 Tbsp sea salt
For the picadillo (filling):
- 4 Tbsp safflower or canola oil
- the shredded meat
- 1/3 cup chopped white onion
- 3 large cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
- 1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
- 1/8 tsp ground cloves
- pinch pimienta gorda (allspice)
- 1/2 plátano macho (plantain), chopped fine
- 1 or 2 chiles serrano, finely minced
- 4 Tbsp chopped fresh walnuts–this year's harvest, if you can find some at your local market
- 4 Tbsp slivered blanched almonds
- 2 Tbsp finely diced biznaga or acitrón (candied cactus, optional)
- 1 fresh pear, peeled and chopped
- 1 apple, peeled and chopped
- 4 ripe peaches, peeled and diced
- 3 Tbsp Mexican pink pine nuts. Don't substitute white ones if you aren't able to find pink. White pine nuts have a bitter aftertaste.
- 3 large, ripe tomatoes, roasted, peeled and chopped
- sea salt to taste
Fully mature chiles poblano, picked fresh and sold on the street in Tehuacán, Puebla.

Deep green chiles poblano are normally used for chiles en nogada. These measure as much as seven or eight inches long. If you click on the photo to make it larger, you can see that these chiles have deep, long grooves running down their sides. When I'm buying them, I choose chiles poblano that are as smooth as possible on their flat sides. The smoothness makes them easier to roast easily.

For the chiles:

–6 fresh chiles poblanos, roasted, peeled, slit open, and seeded, leaving the stem intact

For the nogada (walnut sauce):
- 1 cup freshly harvested nuez de castilla (walnuts), peeled of all brown membrane**
- 6 ounces queso de cabra (goat cheese), queso doble crema or standard cream cheese (not fat free) at room temperature
- 1-1/2 cups crema mexicana or 1-1/4 cups sour cream thinned with milk
- about 1/2 tsp sea salt or to taste
- 1 Tbsp sugar
- 1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
- 1/4 cup dry sherry (optional)
**Please note that this recipe is correctly made with walnuts, not pecans. Using pecans will give your sauce a non-traditional flavor and a beige color, rather than pure white.

Remove the arils (seeds) from a pomegranate. We who live in Mexico are fortunate to find pomegranate seeds ready to use, sold in plastic cups.

For the garnish

–1 Tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
–1/2 cup fresh pomegranate seeds

Preparation:

Cut the meat into large chunks, removing any excess fat. Place the meat into a large Dutch oven with the onion, garlic, and salt. Cover with cold water and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Skim off any foam that collects on the surface. Lower the heat and allow the water to simmer about 45 minutes, until the meat is just tender. Take the pot off the stove and let the meat cool in the broth. Remove the pieces of meat and finely shred them.

Candied biznaga (aka acitrón) cactus. Do try to find this ingredient in your local market. There isn't an adequate substitute, so if you don't find it, leave it out.

Mexican pink pine nuts. Their taste is sweeter than the standard white ones, and they leave no bitter aftertaste in your dish. If you can't find these pink pine nuts, it's better not to substitute the white ones.

Warm the oil in a large, heavy skillet and sauté the onion and garlic over medium heat until they turn a pale gold. Stir in the shredded meat and cook for five minutes. Add the cinnamon, pepper, and cloves, then, stir in the raisins and the two tablespoons of chopped walnuts. Add the chopped pear, apple, and finely diced biznaga cactus, and mix well. Add the tomatoes and salt to taste, and continue cooking over medium-high heat until most of the moisture has evaporated. Stir often so that the mixture doesn't stick. Let cool, cover, and set aside. The picadillo may be made and refrigerated a day or two in advance of final preparations.

Roasted chiles poblano, ready to peel, seed, and stuff. Photo courtesy Delicious Mexican Recipes.

Peel the chiles and make a slit down the side of each chile, just long enough to remove the seeds and veins. Keep the stem end intact. Drain the chiles, cut side down, on paper towels until completely dry. Cover and set aside. The chiles may be prepared a day in advance.

At least three hours in advance, put the walnuts in a small pan of boiling water. Remove from the heat and let them sit for five minutes. Drain the nuts and, when cool, rub off as much of the dark skin as possible. Chop the nuts into small pieces. Place the nuts, cream cheese, crema, and salt in a blender and purée thoroughly. Stir in the optional sugar, cinnamon, and sherry until thoroughly combined. Chill for several hours.

Preheat the oven to 250ºF. When ready to serve, reheat the meat filling and stuff the chiles until they are plump and just barely closed. Put the filled chiles, covered, to warm slightly in the oven. After they are thoroughly heated, place the chiles (cut side down) on a serving platter or on individual plates, cover with the chilled walnut sauce, and sprinkle with the chopped parsley and pomegranate seeds.

Chile en nogada as served at Restaurante Azul Histórico, Mexico City.

Chile en nogada at Beto Chef Michoacano, Morelia, Michoacán.

Chile en nogada as served at Restaurante Las Quince Letras, Centro Histórico, Oaxaca.

This dish may be served at room temperature, or it may be served slightly chilled. It is rarely if ever served hot.

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1 de August de 2020
Coronavirus (Covid-19) and What Sustains Us in Isolation

Because of the novel coronavirus, many of us in Mexico and around the world have been self-quarantined (bajo cuarentena, sheltered in place, or any of a number of English- and/or Spanish-language names) for two or more weeks. Many more of us are unable to keep a full-time quarantine–due to work requirements, income difficulties, and a number of other situations). That's me in my brand new cat mask, a gift from Luisa to help keep me from innocently spreading germs to the populace–and to keep me from breathing in others' germs. Remember that if you are wearing a mask, that it MUST cover both your mouth and your nose, the two most common places where germs, along with your breath, can flow out, and can flow in.

Mexico Cooks! has been out of the food loop for about two weeks. The 17th Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Michoacán just barely scooted in under the quarantine wire (it took place March 13-15, this year) and my favorite restaurants in Morelia are closed until further notice. I've tried to simplify food and household necessity shopping, most (but not all) of the items I've ordered are being delivered, and I'm preparing nourishing meals with fairly basic ingredients, as I'm sure most of you are, as well. Some items are hard to find here, just as they are hard to find in other countries. We who live in central Mexico are blessed by a continued proliferation of high-quality fresh fruits and vegetables, meats (particularly our beautiful chickens), and fresh fish and seafood.

We read so many opinions and ideas about how to live in newspapers, magazines, medical journals, and on social media. Do this, do that, don't do that, don't do this. Stay home, wear a mask, don't wear a mask, go out but not to big events, do what you want–pay no attention to any of it, hide under the bed…what's the answer, or is there an answer? Given quarantine, social distancing, and other situations to which no one is accustomed, what sustains us physically, psychologically, and intellectually–and in particular, because I have had almost no in-person contact with others, what sustains me during these unusually isolated days?

My personal answer is: my family of friends, the group of boon companions in my life whom I love intensely. Pretty much constantly available for a chat on Facebook or Whatsapp, through photos on Instagram and other social media, and privately available via photographs that I and others have taken all over Mexico, we are a family of choice. Most of us live distances apart from one another, but distance doesn't disrupt our deep caring for one another. I'd like you to meet a few of them, so that you know that the deep love that supports me comes from many sources.

Cynthia Martínez, chef/owner at Morelia's Restaurante y Cantina La Conspiración de 1809. Cynthia and her husband, Roberto González, have been a major source of love and care for me since–well, for almost 15 years, since I first moved to Morelia, Michoacán in 2007.


Rafael Mier is a mainstay in my life and has sustained me in every way possible since we began to form our friendship about five years ago. A close friend, a colleague, a teacher, a gentleman: what more could a person want in a friend?

Anita and Ken Caldwell, much-loved adopted family since at least 2002, when they still lived in Ohio and before their move to Mexico. We spent a glorious, loving time together at the end of February 2020, just prior to their move from Ajijic, Jalisco back to the USA. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Rose Calderone, the irreplaceable, irresistible, Wonder Woman of Morelia. We're sisters through good times and bad, it doesn't matter that we don't have the same Mom and Dad. Sistahs! I'm a lucky woman to have Rose in my life.

Rosalba Morales Bartolo, cocinera tradicional de Michoacán (traditional Michoacán cook). Rosalba is one of the wisest, deepest, most spiritual women I know, we have been friends for 10 years, and we have been there for one another through thick and thin. Photo courtesy Cynthia Martínez.

Alma Cervantes Cota. A pillar of strength in my life, we have been close friends since 2009, sharing joys and sorrows and so many of the puzzle-pieces of our lives. No matter what, I know that I can count on Alma–and she can count on me.

Darrell Schmidt. We've been friends for more than 20 years, sharing philosophies, ideas, commentary on our private and public lives, and many, many lengthy meals. We last spent time together in February 2020, snarking and complaining about growing old. But–in truth, there is nothing much better than being 'old' friends.

The ultimate Paco (Francisco de Santiago Lázaro), a renaissance man if there ever was one. Chess master, student of literature, literate in every respect, knows more Mexican slang than anyone else, and is truly the most knowledgeable person I know, about all things Mexico City and beyond. We're close friends, colleagues, and almost-but-not-quite siblings. I'd pick Paco for a brother any day. A tip of the hat to his wonderful wife, Lourdes Rosas, for letting me take so much of his time.

With (back L to R) Alam Méndez Florián (chef at Pasillo de Humo), Alondra Maldonado, Paco de Santiago and (front L to R) Cristina, Lourdes Rosas, and her daughter Monse. Rafa must have been taking the picture! At Restaurante Pasillo de Humo, Mexico City, doing what we do best together: eating and gossiping talking!

Pamela Gordon of Toronto. There's no one with whom I have shared deeper care, broader sharing, and talk that has ranged from the earliest memories of our lives to the latest news about our adventures in the kitchen ("Look at this recipe, let's both make it tomorrow!") and our (between us) many, many much-cherished cats.

Luisa Fernanda Ruiz Montiel, my nearest and dearest. Luisa is an enormous gift from the universe, beyond definition and beyond words.

My personal list of close companions, here in Morelia or at a distance, could go on for pages. Leslie Morrison, Claire Ramsey, Amaranta Santos, Lucero Soto Arriaga, Joaquín Bonilla, Evan Schoninger, Tonia Deetz Rock, Linda Katz Verdugo–I wouldn't know where to stop if I added every name and photo. Think about your own family–whether chosen family or family of origin–and give thanks that they are present to you in this time of separation. What we we do without them?

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4 de April de 2020
Volcanos and Politics: Dr. Atl, A Painter’s Eye, A Painter’s Passions

This article originally published in 2014. It's particularly pertinent right now because there is currently an enormous amount of seismic activity occurring in the same area where Paricutín, the world's youngest volcano, began to erupt in 1943–after a month of precisely this sort of constant seismic activity! Paricutín is located approximately 2 hours west of Morelia, Michoacán, the city where Mexico Cooks! lives. During the month of January 2020, seismologists recorded 1,265 small earthquakes in and around the area of Paricutín.

The painter's eye. Detail of Dr. Atl (Gerardo Murillo) 1962 self-portrait, oil on cardboard. Private collection.

Gerardo Murillo was born in 1875 in the San Juan de Dios neighborhood of Guadalajara, at the height of the Francophile rule of Mexican president/dictator Porfirio Díaz. He began studying painting at the age of 19. After studying in Italy in 1921, Gerardo Murillo became been better known as 'Dr. Atl' (atl is the Náhuatl word for water), as he was re-christened by Leopoldo Lugones, an Argentine writer and leftist political colleague. After his death in 1964, his ashes were interred in Guadalajara in what is known today as the Rotonda de Jaliscienses Ilustres (the Rotunda of Illustrious People of Jalisco). During his life, Dr. Atl was profoundly eccentric, his entire being immersed in his passions for painting, for politics, and particularly for volcanos.

Gerardo Murillo, self portrait 1899. All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

The Museo Colección Blaisten, part of Mexico City's Centro Cultural Universitario Tlatelolco (part of the UNAM, the huge multi-campus National Autonomous University of Mexico), mounted a December 2011 through April 2012 exhibition if 190 of Dr. Atl's masterworks. Dr. Atl, one of Mexico's most prominent 20th century painters, is actually very little known in the United States. Mexico Cooks! thought you might like once again to see a part of this exhibit.

Volcán Iztaccíhuatl (the Sleeping Woman volcano), 1916. Colleción Museo Regional de Guadalajara-INAH. Labels of this and many other paintings in the exhibit indicate that they were painted using Atl color (a type of paint created by the artist). Atl color is similar to Greek encaustic paint. It contains resins, wax, and dry pigment which are melted, mixed, and hardened to form a medium similar to oil pastel. Dr. Atl used his eponymous colors on paper, cardboard, rough fabric such as jute, wood, and other bases.

Although Dr. Atl is best-known as the passionate painter of volcanos, he also painted portraits. Nahui Ollín, pictured above in 1922, had a five-year romantic relationship with Dr. Atl. During the early part of her life, Nahui Ollín's name was Carmen Mondragón. Dr. Atl gave her the Náhuatl name to honor the date in the Aztec calendar that commemorates the renovation of the cosmic cycles. Private collection.

The Valley of Mexico from the South, 1931, oil on fabric. Private collection.

Dr. Atl's scholarly observation and study of Mexican geography (he was not only a painter, but also a volcanologist and writer) combined perfectly with his travels in Europe to give him the tools necessary to become one of the outstanding landscape painters of the 20th century. In 1897, then-Presidente Porfirio Díaz gave young Gerardo Murillo a scholarship to study in Europe. Murillo studied not only Italian frescoes but also philosophy and penal law. He involved himself ever more deeply with leftist, anarchist politics, a consequence of his studies that President Díaz probably did not anticipate.

Dr. Atl was also an exceptional painter of clouds. This painting is Nubes sobre el Valle de México (Clouds over the Valley of Mexico), 1933, Atl color on asbestos. Collection Museo Nacional de Arte INBA.

Detail mid-right side, Nubes sobre el Valle de México. Note the variety of brushstrokes used to create texture in the painting. Click on any photograph to enlarge the detail.

Dr. Atl began studying volcanoes during a trip to Italy in 1911. Beginning in 1925, he spent long periods of time at Mexican volcanoes such as Popocatépetl, Iztaccíhuatl, and the Pico de Orizaba. A tireless traveler, Dr. Atl climbed Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl. Later those volcanoes became an important theme in his body of work.

In 1943, he visited the site of Mexico's newborn volcano Paricutín in the state of Michoacán. He said, “…El espectáculo del cono ardiente vertiendo aludes de materia ígnea, bajo un cielo de guijarros incandescentes, en sí mismo tan fuera de lo común que toda invención sale sobrando…” 'The spectacle of the burning cone spewing avalanches of lava under a sky of incandescent ash was by itself so far out of the ordinary that every other invention became like something left over…'

Volcán en la Noche Estrellada (Volcano on a Starry Night), 1950 (Paricutín). Atl color on plywood. Collection UNAM. Dr. Atl was the first artist to paint what he called 'aeropaisajes' (landscapes from the air); he took to the skies in small airplanes, flying over various volcano sites to immortalize them from above.

Life imitates art. April 16, 2012 photo of volcano Popocatépetl spewing flame, ash, and smoke. Popocatépetl straddles the state line between the Mexican states of Puebla and Morelos, approximately 40 miles south of Mexico City. Photo courtesy Todo Oaxaca.

Dr. Atl, astonished and awed to see a volcano born in his lifetime, lived for approximately a year near still-erupting Paricutín. He observed, painted, and wrote for more than seven years about this majestic and completely unexpected young volcano. The volcano continued to erupt for nine full years.

Cráter y La Vía Láctea (Crater and the Milky Way), 1960. Oil and Atl color on masonite. Private collection, courtesy of Galería Arvil.

Detail, Cráter y La Vía Láctea.

For his entire life, Dr. Atl involved himself in left-wing political movements. In 1914, he allegedly was part of the plot to assassinate then-President Victoriano Huerta, because of which he was imprisoned briefly. After his release, he lived in Los Angeles, California until 1920. When he returned to Mexico, revolutionary leader and President Venustiano Carranza named him director of the Escuela de Bellas Artes (School of Fine Arts) and then Jefe de Propaganda e Información en Europa y América del Sur (Head of Promotion and Information in Europe and South America), a position he held for only a short time.

In 1956 Mexico awarded him the Medalla Belisario Domínguez and, in 1958, the Premio Nacional de las Artes.

Gerardo Murillo Pintando en el Valle de Pihuamo (Gerardo Murillo painting in the Valley of Pihuamo), 1952. Photo by Ricardo Salazar. Dr. Atl's right leg was amputated in 1949. Popular legend has it that the amputation was due to the inhalation of gases at Paricutín, but it was actually necessary because of complications of diabetes.

Mexico gave poet Carlos Pellicer the task of writing Dr. Atl's biography. Dr. Atl wrote to him, "Now it looks like a biography will really get off the ground! A couple, nearly human, came from Los Angeles as if they had fallen from heaven, to write a biography of me. Then I remembered that you were writing one. To make a long story short, I make the following proposal: you finish the biography that you already started. I enclose a slip of paper with some suggestions for organizing it in the most convenient way…I send you the most cordial handshake…" Some of the biographical material was printed in Carlos Pellicer en el Espacio de la Plástica, Volume 1, by Elisa Garcìa Barragán and Carlos Pellicer, UNAM 1997.

Dr. Atl died in Mexico City on August 15, 1964. His ashes are buried in the Rotonda de Jalisciences Ilustres in Guadalajara, where this statue is part of the site. Photo courtesy Rodrigo_gh, Flickr.

The five-month exhibition was an opportunity to see, through the eyes of this genius painter, the Valley of Mexico before Mexico City's explosion of population with its lava-like rivers of concrete swallowed nature whole. We had the chance to see the Valley and its volcanos when they ran with rivers, when the mountains burgeoned with trees and flowers.

Today, even though the exhibition has closed, we can see Dr. Atl's vision of the Valley of Mexico every time we visit the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City's Historic Center. His design, executed by the house of Louis Comfort Tiffany, is immortalized in the theater's million-piece stained glass curtain.

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8 de February de 2020
Mexico’s New Year Rituals Explained :: We Recommend Taking Your Suitcase for a Walk

In Mexico and other Latin American countries, women wear new yellow underwear on New Year's Eve to bring good luck and wealth in the year to come. Red underwear (this vendor has every size for sale on the tables behind her) indicates a New Year's wish for an exciting love interest! Just remember that whatever color underwear you choose, it has to be NEW.

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

As the clock strikes midnight, it's customary to eat twelve grapes–one at each ding, one at each dong of the clock. While eating the grapes, you make a personal wish for each grape you consume, welcoming the new year that's beginning. Mexico Cooks! finds that it's helpful to write down the twelve wishes so as not to forget one or choke in the rush to swallow the grapes before the clock finishes striking the New Year's earliest hour! Even the most elegant restaurants promise that along with your late-night New Year's Eve meal, they will provide the grapes and champagne.

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

Mexico Cooks! has often received a New Year's detallito (a little gift) of a tiny bottle like this, filled with layers of different kinds of seeds and grains. This gift represents the giver's wish for your New Year: abundance.

Sweep all the rooms of your house, your front steps, and the street in front of your house to remove all traces of the old year. Some people put 12 golden coins outside–to be swept into the house after the inside of the house is swept clean. The coins are to invite money and other abundance to come into the home. Photo courtesy Jeff Trotter.

Give someone a little woolly sheep as a New Year's gift–it too is a symbol of abundance! Why? In Mexico, a slang word for "money" is lana–that means wool, in English. And what's a sheep covered with? Lana–wool–for an abundance of money in the New Year. Photo courtesy Etsy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mexico Cooks! wishes all of you a muy próspero Año Nuevo–and whether you're an hombre or mujer, especially wishes that your red underwear brings you (or keeps you) the love of family, friends, and that special someone.

We'll see you right here in 2020!

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28 de December de 2019
Piñatas! More Piñatas! December in Mexico is Piñata Season

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

Among clean ollas de barro (clay pots), plastic receptacles filled with engrudo (flour/water paste), and colorful, neatly stacked rounds of papel de china (tissue paper), Sra. María Dolores Hernández (affectionately known in life as Doña Lolita) sat on an upturned bucket. She celebrated her birthday on December 24, and she lit up–just like a Christmas tree–when she talked about her business and her life. Doña Lolita passed away approximately four years ago.

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, more than 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 the piñata," 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 layers of newspaper.

"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, to teach the indigenous people about Christianity. The body of the piñata represented Satan; each of the seven points symbolized the seven deadly (capital) sins (pride, lust, gluttony, rage, greed, laziness, and envy). The blindfold worn by the child or adult trying to hit the piñata represents blind faith. Breaking the points of the piñata equated with the triumph of good over evil, overpowering Satan, overcoming sin, and finally enjoying the sweet delights of God's goodness when the clay pot (Satan) finally breaks and everything good pours out of the piñata. Doña Lolita's most sought-after piñatas continue to be the traditional style, with seven points, but she also creates piñatas shaped like roosters, peacocks, half-watermelons, deer, half moons, and once, an enormous octopus!

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 riding a live burro) and her husband Sr. San José (and a street procession 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) are in season now and are also used to stuff the piñata. The wooden box holding the peanuts is actually a measure, as is the oval metal sardine can next to it.

Fresh caña (sugar cane) is in season now in time for the posadas. Buy it in two-inch unpeeled sections for adding to the sweets in the piñata; buy it in 3" peeled thin sticks for adding to your hot ponche navideño (Christmas punch).

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 cinnamon 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 Baby 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.

These very large bags of individually wrapped candies are ready to use to fill any piñata. These are available at the Mercado Medellín in Colonia Roma, Mexico City, as well as at all other markets in Mexico.

Mandarinas (tangerines) are in season at Christmastime, as are tiny jícamas and fresh sugar cane, which 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 a purely temporary joy. Nevertheless, happy memories of childhood posadas with family and friends last a lifetime.

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14 de December de 2019