Category: Food and Drink

Special Lenten Foods in Mexico :: Lent (Cuaresma), March 6 Until April 18, 2019

One year during Lent in Chiapas, Mexico Cooks! ate tortitas de papa (potato croquettes, left) and frijoles negros (black beans, right), ideal for a Lenten meal.

Catholic Mexicans observe la Cuaresma (Lent), the 40-day (excluding Sundays) penitential season that precedes Easter, with special prayers, vigils, and with extraordinary meatless meals cooked only on Ash Wednesday and during Lent. Many Mexican dishes–seafood, vegetable, and egg–are normally prepared without meat, but some other meatless dishes are particular to Lent. Known as comida cuaresmeña, many of these delicious Lenten foods are little-known outside Mexico and some other parts of Latin America.

Many observant Catholics believe that the personal reflection and meditation demanded by Lenten practices are more fruitful if the individual refrains from heavy food indulgence and makes a promise to abstain from other common habits such as eating candy, smoking cigarettes, and drinking alcohol.

Atole de grano, a Michoacán specialty made of tender corn and licorice-scented anís, is a perfect cena (supper) for Lenten Fridays.

Lent began this year on Ash Wednesday, March 6. Shortly before, certain food specialties began to appear in local markets.Vendors are currently offering very large dried shrimp for caldos (broths) and tortitas (croquettes), perfect heads of cauliflower for tortitas de coliflor (cauliflower croquettes), seasonal romeritos, and thick, dried slices of bolillo (small loaves of white bread) for capirotada (a kind of bread pudding).

This common Lenten preparation is romeritos en mole.  Romeritos, an acidic green vegetable, are in season at this time of year. Although romeritos look a little like rosemary, their consistency is soft and their taste is relatively sour, more like verdolagas (purslane).

Here are raw romeritos that I saw recently at the Mercado de Jamaica in Mexico City.You can see that they do look like rosemary, but the thin leaves are soft, more like a succulent.

You'll usually see tortitas de camarón (dried shrimp croquettes) paired for a Friday comida (midday meal) with romeritos en mole, although they are sometimes bathed in a caldillo de jitomate (tomato broth) and served with sliced nopalitos (cactus paddles).

During Lent, the price of fish and seafood in Mexico goes through the roof due to the huge seasonal demand for meatless meals. These beautiful huachinango (red snapper) come from Mexico's Pacific coast.

Chef Martín Rafael Mendizabal of La Trucha Alegre in Zitacuaro, Michoacán, prepared trucha deshuesada con agridulce de guayaba (boned trout with guava sweet and sour sauce) for the V Encuentro de Cocina Tradicional de Michoacán held annually in Morelia. The dish would be ideal for an elegant Lenten dinner.

Capirotada (kah-pee-roh-TAH-dah, Lenten bread pudding) is almost unknown outside Mexico. Simple to prepare and absolutely delicious, it's hard to eat it sparingly if you're trying to keep a Lenten abstinence! This photo shows capirotada as served by Carmen Titita Ramírez Degollado at the El Bajío restaurants in Mexico City.

Every family makes a slightly different version of capirotada: a pinch more of this, leave out that, add such-and-such.  Mexico Cooks! prefers to leave out the apricots and add dried pineapple. Make it once and then tweak the recipe to your preference–but please do stick with traditional ingredients.

A huge pile of piloncillo for sale at the Mercado de Jamaica. On the left are large cones of light brown piloncillo, in the middle are small cones, and on the right are large cones of dark brown piloncillo. You choose which you want!

CAPIROTADA (Mexican Bread Pudding)

Ingredients

*4 bollilos, in 1" slices (small loaves of dense white bread)
5 stale tortillas
150 grams pecans
50 grams prunes
100 grams raisins
200 grams peanuts
100 grams dried apricots
1 large apple, peeled and sliced thin
100 grams grated Cotija cheese
Peel of one orange, divided for two uses
*3 cones piloncillo (Mexican brown sugar)
Four 3" pieces of Mexican stick cinnamon
2 cloves
Butter
Salt

*If you don't have bolillo, substitute slices of very dense French bread. If you don't have piloncillo, substitute 1/2 cup tightly packed brown sugar.

A large metal or clay baking dish.

Preparation

Preheat the oven to 300°F.

Toast the bread and spread with butter. Slightly overlap the tortillas in the bottom and along the sides of the baking dish to make a base for the capirotada. Prepare a thin syrup by boiling the piloncillo in 2 1/2 cups of water with a few shreds of cinnamon sticks, 2/3 of the orange peel, the cloves, and a pinch of salt.

Place the layers of bread rounds in the baking dish so as to allow for their expansion as the capirotada cooks. Lay down a layer of bread, then a layer of nuts, prunes, raisins, peanuts and apricots. Continue until all the bread is layered with the rest. For the final layer, sprinkle the capirotada with the grated Cotija cheese and the remaining third of the orange peel (grated). Add the syrup, moistening all the layers little by little. Reserve a portion of the syrup to add to the capirotada in case it becomes dry during baking.

Bake uncovered until the capirotada is golden brown and the syrup is absorbed. The bread will expand as it absorbs the syrup. Remember to add the rest of the syrup if the top of the capirotada looks dry, and reserve plenty of syrup to pour over each serving.

Cool the capirotada to room temperature. Do not cover until it is cool; even after it is cooled, leave the top ajar.

Try very hard not to eat the entire pan of capirotada at one sitting!

A positive thought for this Lent: give up discouragement, be an optimist.

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

9 de March de 2019
Joy from Pre-Hispanic Mexico :: Alegrías, An Ancient Treat for Today

Mexico Cooks!' homemade alegrías, freshly turned from the parchment-lined baking sheet onto the cutting board and ready to cut into pieces.

Lots of people are like Mexico Cooks! when it comes to cookbooks. We own hundreds of them, but actually cook from very few. For over a year, I've read and sighed with delight over the stories and recipes in Fany Gerson's My Sweet Mexico–and last week I finally prepared alegrías from her recipe. Fany calls them 'amaranth happiness candy'. Why? Happiness or joy are the English meanings of the Spanish word alegría.

A couple of weeks ago, friends at the superb web page Cocina al Natural invited Mexico Cooks! to a wonderful comida casera (main meal of the day at their home). For dessert, they proudly carried a big tray of alegrías to the table. "They're home made!" they proclaimed. "No way!" we remonstrated. Well, yes, güey, it was the absolute truth. The alegrías were beautiful, professional, delicious, and prepared from Fany Gerson's cookbook, which is actually in my kitchen library. We joyfully crunched these delicacies down.

According to Ricardo Muñoz Zurita, legendary Mexico City food historian, chef and author of the Diccionario Enciclopédico de Gastronomía Mexicana (Encyclopedic Dictionary of Mexican Gastronomy), among other books, alegrías are the oldest candy in Mexico. In pre-Hispanic times, before sugar cane had been introduced to New Spain (now Mexico), the amaranth candy was sweetened with maguey cactus syrup. In that long-ago era, this candy had a highly religious meaning. Shaped in the form of a cookie or cracker, it was utilized for communion in indigenous rituals and also was made into huge sculptures of pre-Christian gods. Because these god-figures appeared so horrible to the Spanish, they outlawed the use of this candy after the conquest. But in the 16th century, a Spanish monk had the idea to mix amaranth with bee honey. Rejoicing over the return of the right to eat this sweet treat, the ancient inhabitants of Mexico named it what they felt: 'alegría'–joy.

The topping mixture for the alegrías–raisins and lightly toasted pecans, peanuts, and pepitas (pumpkin seeds), spread onto the parchment-paper lined baking sheet.

The following week, Betty Fussell, my wonderful friend, invited us once again to visit her in Tepoztlán, just south of Mexico City. The light bulb went on: alegrías would make a great gift to take to Betty!

The recipe for alegrías is simplicity itself. Here's the recipe, taken straight from My Sweet Mexico.

Alegrías (Happiness Candy)

Ingredients
1/2 cup chopped toasted pecans
1/2 cup chopped toasted peanuts
1/2 cup toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds)
1/2 cup dark raisins
8 ounces chopped Mexican piloncillo (coarse brown sugar) or standard dark brown sugar, packed
1/2 cup honey
1/2 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon or lime juice
4 ounces puffed amaranth seeds

Equipment
Large bowl
Large spoon
15" X 10" X 1/2" baking sheet
Parchment paper
Medium sauce pan
Cutting board
Sharp knife

Preparation
Line the baking sheet with parchment paper. Combine the pecans, peanuts, pumpkin seeds, and raisins in a bowl and then spread them on the prepared pan.

Piloncillo, honey, and lemon juice in the pot.

Combine the piloncillo, honey, and lemon juice in a medium pot over medium heat and cook until the piloncillo has melted and the mixture has thickened slightly, about 5 to 10 minutes.

Squeezing the jugo de limón (lemon juice) into the mixture is simplicity itself if you are using a Mexican esprimador (lime squeezer). You can find one in metal or plastic at your local Latin market. The green fruit in the photo is a limón criollo (native limón)–you probably know it as Key lime. It's the most common lemon-limey citrus in Mexico, with a bright, acid taste. If you can find it in your market, try it rather than the ordinary yellow lemon. You'll love the extra tang. Just cut the limón in half, turn each cut side toward the holes in the squeezer, and squeeze the handles together.

Note to the cook: a plastic esprimador is probably cheaper to buy, but it will break. Metal will last forever. Mine–the one in the photo–is about 30 years old and going strong.

Remove the syrup from the heat and add the amaranth seeds, stirring quickly to mix everything well.

Mixing the cooked and thickened piloncillo, honey, and lemon juice mixture with the amaranth seeds.

The amaranth mixture, patted firmly into the parchment-lined baking sheet. Remember that the nuts and raisins are the topping–they're on the other side of the alegrías. Once this rectangle is completely cool, it will be firm and you will easily be able turn it over onto a cutting board.

Pour the amaranth mixture into the baking pan with the nuts, seeds, and raisins, and carefully press down with slightly dampened hands (so you don't burn yourself) to compact the mixture.

Allow to cool completely, 30 to 40 minutes at least, then invert onto a cutting board. Cut the mixture into the desired shapes with a sharp knife. If your mixture seems to be sticking to the knife, simply dip the knife into hot water, dry, and continue cutting.

Freshly made alegrías, ready to travel!

Mexico Cooks!' alegrías turned out overly crispy and difficult to cut, so instead of battling with the knife, I simply broke them into reasonable-size pieces and packed them in a tightly sealed container to travel the next day.

Were the alegrías a hit? They definitely were! Five of us crunched down almost all of them. We left all but a couple of the remaining pieces with Betty and her daughter, but we had to bring a little bit home. Minimal ingredients, minimal cooking, and maximal enjoyment: what more can you ask for from pre-conquest Mexico! Your family will love them and you can send a big thank you to Fany Gerson at My Sweet Mexico–and to Mexico Cooks!.

If you don't have your copy of the book yet, look over on the left-hand sidebar and just click on the book cover. That click will take you to My Sweet Mexico's Amazon.com page. Grab the book today and make your family a sweet Mexican treat as soon as it's in your kitchen.

And by all means visit our friends at Cocina al Natural. Their website and their videos are marvelous.

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

2 de March de 2019
Back to Restaurante Pasillo de Humo :: Two Years Old and Stronger Than Ever

Restaurante Pasillo de Humo, Mexico City: casa llena (full house) recently at midday. The name of the restaurant means "hall of smoke"; it's borrowed from the name of an iconic section of the 20 de noviembre market in the city of Oaxaca. In that section–the pasillo de humo–one chooses fresh meat from any of a number of butchers, who grill it for you on the spot, along with tail-and-all bulb onions. The "hall of smoke" is always smoky, and always delicious; vendors sell wonderful side dishes, the seating is in booths that line the hall's sides, and the diners' spirits are always alegre (joyful). The Mexico City restaurant, just over two years old, isn't filled with smoke, of course, but it's almost always filled with joyful eaters at every meal: desayuno (breakfast), comida (Mexico's midday main meal of the day), and cena (supper).

One butcher's grill in Oaxaca's Mercado 20 de noviembre, pasillo de humo.

Mexico Cooks! was at Restaurante Pasillo de Humo for comida with the above group on November 2018–easily the 50 or 60th meal I've eaten there during the year since the restaurant opened. Clockwise from bottom left: Mexico Cooks!, (standing) Rafael Mier, founder of the 330,000+ member strong Facebook group Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana, chef Alam Méndez Florián, Lourdes Rosas, and (seated) Alondra Maldonado, Nayarit-based author of the cookbook Sabores de Nayarit (Flavors of Nayarit) who also teaches Mexican cooking classes. The restaurant serves day in and day out what I consider to be the best food in Mexico City. Given that there are plus or minus 15,000 restaurants in this enormous city, that's really saying something.

Our group of four ordered four appetizers to share. The first to come to table were these Oaxacan molotes, small spheres of very ripe, sweet plantains, mashed and formed into spheres. The spheres are then stuffed with queso fresco (light, fresh cheese); the indentation for the cheese is covered with a smear of plantain pulp, and the spheres are fried until light golden brown, just as you see them in the photo. These are plated in a thin pool of delicious mole, scattered with queso fresco, and topped with thin watermelon radish slices and sprouts.

The second of our four appetizers: this is a fresh chile de agua ('water' chile, brought fresh from Oaxaca to Pasillo de Humo), slightly pickled, split open, and stuffed with marvelously seasoned shredded beef, then topped with pickled white onions.

Fresh chiles de agua for sale in a Oaxaca market. Their color range is from pale green to bright red, as you see in the photo.

Alam David Méndez Florián, the young chef at Pasillo de Humo, has been immersed since birth in a world of traditional Oaxacan cooks, their superb old-time recipes that continue to thrill our palates, and their determination to maintain the food legacy passed to them from their elders. His parents, Fidel Méndez Sosa and traditional cook Celia Florián, opened their family's restaurant Las 15 Letras in the city of Oaxaca more than 25 years ago, when little Alam was only two years old. He started helping in the restaurant when he was scarcely as tall as the broom he used to sweep and all but stood on a box to reach the sink where he washed dishes. He says, "When I was about 11 years old, I started doing more: I could make the agua fresca del día (the day's fresh fruit water) or a salsa. I realized then that I really, really liked the kitchen."

Mexico Cooks! with Celia Florián, chef Alam's mother and the inspiration for Restaurante Pasillo de Humo. Señora Florián is one of the most kind and loving people I know. Everyone who knows her considers her their dear friend, and I'm privileged to be in that group. She has two enormous gifts that anyone who knows her would tell you: that of truly being present to the person to whom she is speaking–and truly loving her native Oaxaca and its food and traditions.

Among other ingredients that grow or are made best in Oaxaca, chef Alam brings these jitomates riñon (kidney-shaped tomatoes), several kinds of special chiles, dried corn to be nixtamal-ized and made into tortillas in the restaurant, meats such as thinly sliced tasajo (seasoned beef) and cecina (seasoned pork) for tlayudas (large, thin Oaxaca corn tortillas stuffed with quesillo (Oaxaca cheese), made in Oaxaca, special herbs, asiento (a kind of deeply flavored pork lard that is smeared onto the tlayuda), and many other items that are impossible to find in Mexico City's markets–even those that carry the most exotic items. It's hard to write this paragraph–my mouth keeps watering!

We ordered four platillos fuertes (main dishes) to share. Delicious, tender, perfectly cooked roast chicken breast in a pool of el rey de los moles (the king of moles): Oaxaca mole negro (black mole), made with chile chilhuacle negro (dried black chile chilhuacle), brought to the restaurant from Oaxaca.

Premium first class chile chilhuacle in a Oaxaca market. The name on the sign is a spelling variation for this chile.

One of my very favorite dishes at Pasillo de Humo: the chef calls it an albóndiga, but meatball it's not. The crust is crushed corn and amaranth. Inside, it contains huahuazontle (a prehispanic vegetable similar to amaranth), quesillo (aka Oaxaca cheese), and slightly spicy chile. The almost tennis-ball size albóndiga is deep fried until golden and served in a dish of Oaxacan mole verde with fresh, still-crisp green beans, fresh snow peas, slices of chayote, and little edible sprouts. Be still my heart.

Third came pulpo en huaxmole (tender octopus in a chile costeño mole thickened with ground guaje seeds and served with tiny halved potatoes. Garnished with very thin watermelon radish slices and sprouts, this dish is perfectly prepared every time.

The long green pods are guajes (pronounced WAH-hehs), endemic to Oaxaca–and from which Oaxaca got its name. The seeds are removed for for thickening huaxmole. In the other dish? Tiny roasted chapulines (grasshoppers).

Chef Alam told me that in addition to his lifelong experience cooking with his mother, grandmother, and other family members, he studied professionally at the Instituto Culinario de México in Puebla, collaborating with chef Ángel Vázquez in the restaurant "Intro" for three years. Later, he competed as part of the National Junior Culinary Olympic Team, in Germany. When he finished his courses at the Instituto, he worked at the fabled two-Michelin-star restaurant Can Fabes in Barcelona, Spain and then at Arzak, in San Sebastian, which at the time had three Michelin stars.

In May 2014 chef Alam won "Most Promising Young Chef" in the competition Gastronómica Rivera del Duero, which took place in Mexico City. Later he worked as sous chef in the Hotel Santa Cruz Plaza in Chile. Sometime later he developed the kitchen and the menu for restaurant Don Porfirio in Guatemala and continued as its executive chef during its first year of operations. Following that, he was
production chef with Rosío Sánchez in her taco shop Hija de Sánchez in Copenhagen, just prior to starting Pasillo de Humo.

Just recently, he was nominated for "Most Promising Chef" in the 2017 Gourmet awards, as "up and coming chef" in Food & Travel México's 2017 Reader Awards, and as semifinalist in the San Pellegrino Young Chef 2018.

In addition to his work at Pasillo de Humo, chef Alam and a team of investors and assistants have just opened the new restaurant Urbano 116 in Alexandria, Virginia. But be assured that the deliciousness continues at Pasillo de Humo! Chef Alam and his mother, cocinera tradicional Celia Florián, are still "in the house" here in Mexico City: Alam one week, then a week of off-site supervision, then Sra. Florián for a week. I've been several times since mid-December and am here to tell you it's just as fantastic as always.

Chef Alam has become enormously accomplished in his relatively short career. It's a joy to see that he continues to credit his parents and his beginnings at home for so much of his success.

Some people say, "If it's dessert, it has to be chocolate." This tamal de chocolate definitely filled that bill. Plump and rich with Oaxacan chocolate, these tender, fluffy tamales are steamed in corn husks and served still hot. This was to have been our only shared dessert, paired with three flavors of house-made ice cream (a small scoop each of vanilla with chile, burned milk, and poleo (a Oaxacan herb), but suddenly the kitchen brought two extra desserts–oh, poor us!

Our second dessert: a traditional flan, about to be included in the menu at Pasillo de Humo. Creamy, made with cream cheese and not quite as light as the standard custard-style flan, this one knocked all our socks off.

This new dessert, coming soon to the menu at Pasillo de Humo, is an exquisite blend of crunchy, chewy, juicy, sweet, tart, and is fabulous. Chef Alam created it and named it xoconostle en tacha. He nixtamalizes the xoconostle, a tart and sour relative of Mexico's seasonal tuna (sweet cactus fruit), to firm up its texture; then he slowly cooks it in a piloncillo (Mexican raw sugar cones) and canela (cinnamon) flavored thick syrup until the sour fruit is permeated with the intensely sweet syrup. On the plate, he combines the now-sweet, slightly chewy xoconostle with juicy slices of pink and yellow grapefruit, crunchy "tierra" (the crumbly, buttery base), a bit of queso fresco, some crisp butter cookies, and a scoop of helado de guayaba (guava ice cream). Don't ask, okay? I could have licked the plate, and you'll want to as well.

Recently harvested xoconostles. You can easily see where the needle-sharp thorns have been removed from the fruit's skin.

In addition to wonderful food, Oaxaca (and Pasillo de Humo) are also renowned for mezcal, an alcoholic beverage distilled from earthen-oven baked maguey cactus. Before or after your meal, ask for the mezcal cart–a repurposed diablito (hand truck). Your server will pour you little sips of any mezcal you'd like to taste. When you choose the one you prefer, your serving will be bigger!

Provecho! You're going to fall in love with Restaurante Pasillo de Humo. Look around for me, it would be a pleasure to meet you.

Restaurante Pasillo de Humo
Upstairs at Parián Condesa
Av. Nuevo León 107, near the corner of Calle Michoacán
Colonia Hipódromo Condesa
Mexico City, Mexico
Telephone (from outside Mexico) 011-52-55-5211-7263
Reservations necessary and can only be made by phone.
Hours:
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday 9:00AM to 10:00PM
Thursday, Friday, Saturday 9:00AM to 11:00PM
Sunday: 9:00AM to 7:00PM

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

16 de February de 2019
The Traditional Mexican Kitchen :: Is It Authentic, or What?

I wrote and first published this article in 2010, in response to inquiries from readers who were confused about other authors' articles about "What is authentic Mexican food?" The subject has come up again and again, most recently in comments and queries from readers and food professionals about Mexican and other cuisines. I still stand behind what I wrote nearly 10 years ago.

"Real" Mexican chile relleno (stuffed, battered, and fried chile poblano), caldillo de jitomate (thin tomato broth), and frijoles negros (black beans). Notice that the chile is not suffocated with globs of melted cheese.

More and more people who want to experience "real" Mexican food are asking about the availability of authentic Mexican meals outside Mexico. Bloggers and posters on food-oriented websites have vociferously definite opinions on what constitutes authenticity. Writers' claims range from the uninformed (the fajitas at such-and-such a restaurant are totally authentic, just like in Mexico) to the ridiculous (Mexican cooks in Mexico can't get good ingredients, so Mexican meals prepared in the United States are superior to those in Mexico).

Much of what I read about authentic Mexican cooking reminds me of that old story of the blind men and the elephant. "Oh," says the first blind man, running his hands up and down the elephant's leg, "an elephant is exactly like a tree." "Aha," says the second, stroking the elephant's trunk, "the elephant is precisely like a hose." And so forth. I contend that if you haven't experienced what most writers persist in calling "authentic Mexican", then there's no way to compare any restaurant in the United States with anything that is prepared or served in Mexico. You're simply spinning your wheels.

It's my considered opinion that there is no such thing as one definition of authentic Mexican. Wait, before you start hopping up and down to refute that, consider that in my opinion, "authentic" is generally what you were raised to appreciate. Your mother's pot roast is authentic, but so is my mother's. Your aunt's tuna salad is the real deal, but so is my aunt's, and they're not the least bit similar. And Señora Martínez in Mexico makes yet another version of tuna salad, very different from any I've eaten in the USA.

Carne de puerco en salsa verde (pork meat in green sauce), a traditional recipe as served at the restaurant Fonda Margarita in Mexico City.

Carne de puerco en salsa verde from the Mexico Cooks! home kitchen. The preparation looks similar to that at Fonda Margarita, but I tweak a thing or two that make the recipe my personal tradition, different from the restaurant's.

As you can see, the descriptor I use for many dishes is 'traditional'. We can even argue about that adjective, but it serves to describe the traditional dish of–oh, say carne de puerco en chile verde–as served in the northern part of Mexico, in Mexico City, in the Central Highlands, or in the Yucatán. There may be big variations among the preparations of this dish, but each preparation is traditional and each is considered authentic in its region.

I think that in order to understand the cuisines of Mexico, we have to give up arguing about authenticity and concentrate on the reality of certain dishes.

A nearly 200-year-old tradition in Mexico that shows up every September: chiles en nogada (stuffed chiles poblano in a creamy sauce made with fresh (i.e., recently harvested) walnuts. It's the Mexican flag on your plate: green chile poblano, creamy white walnut sauce, and red pomegranate arils. But hoo boy–there are arguments to the death about the "authentic" way to prepare these chiles: battered or not battered? Put up your dukes! (I fall on the not-battered side, in case you wondered. God help me.)

Traditional Mexican cooking is not a hit-or-miss let's-make-something-for-dinner proposition based on "let's see what we have in the despensa (pantry)." Traditional Mexican cooking is as complicated and precise as traditional French cooking, with just as many hide-bound conventions as French cuisine imposes. You can't just throw some chiles and a glob of chocolate into a sauce and call it mole. You can't simply decide to call something "authentic" Mexican x, y, or z when it's not. There are specific recipes to follow, specific flavors and textures to expect, and specific results to attain. Yes, some liberties are taken, particularly in Mexico's new alta cocina mexicana (Mexican haute cuisine) and fusion restaurants, but even those liberties are based, we hope, on specific traditional recipes. As Alicia Gironella d'Angeli (a true grande dame of Mexico's kitchen) often said to me, "Cristina, you cannot de-construct a dish until you have learned to construct it." Amen.

In recent readings of food-oriented websites, I've noticed questions about what ingredients are available in Mexico. The posts have gone on to ask whether or not those ingredients are up to snuff when compared to what's available in what the writer believes to be more sophisticated food sources such as the United States.

Deep red, vine-ripened plum tomatoes, available all year long in central Mexico. The sign reads, "Don't think about it much–take home a little kilo!" At twelve pesos the kilo, these Mexico-grown tomatoes, brought to market red-ripe, cost approximately 75 cents USD for 2.2 pounds.

Surprise, surprise: most readily available fresh foods in Mexico's markets are even better than similar ingredients you find outside Mexico. Foreign chefs who tour with me to visit Mexico's stunning produce, fish, and meat markets are inevitably astonished to see that what is grown for the ordinary home-cook end user in Mexico is fresher, riper, more flavorful, more attractive, and much less costly than similar ingredients available in the United States.

Chicken, ready for the pot. The chickens raised in Mexico for our food are generally fed ground marigold petals mixed into their feed–that's why the flesh is so pink, the skin so yellow, and why the egg yolks are like big orange suns.

It's the same with most meats: pork and chicken are head and shoulders above what you find in North of the Border supermarkets. Fish and seafood are direct-from-the-sea fresh and distributed by air within just an hour or two from any of Mexico's long coastlines.

Look at the quality of Mexico's fresh, locally grown, seasonal strawberries–and the season starts right now, in February. Deep red to its center, a strawberry like this is hard to find in other countries.

Nevertheless, Mexican restaurants in the United States make do with the less-than-superior ingredients found outside Mexico. In fact, some downright delicious traditional Mexican meals can be had in some north of the border Mexican restaurants. Those restaurants are hard to find, though, because in the States, most of what has come to be known as Mexican cooking is actually Tex-Mex or Cal-Mex cooking. There's nothing wrong with Tex-Mex and Cal-Mex cooking, nothing at all. It's just not traditional Mexican cooking. Tex-Mex is great food from a particular region of the United States. Some of it is adapted from Mexican cooking and some is the invention of early Texas settlers. Some innovations are adapted from both of those points of origin. Fajitas, ubiquitous on Mexican restaurant menus all over the United States, are a typical Tex-Mex invention. Now available in some of Mexico's restaurants, fajitas are offered to the tourist trade as prototypically authentic.

Pozole blanco (white pozole) with delicious clear broth that starts with a a long-simmered whole pig's head, nixtamalized native white cacahuatzintle corn, and lots of tender, flavorful pork meat. Add to the pot some herbs and spices. Then add hunks of avocado at the table–along with a squeeze or two of limón criollo (you know it as Key lime), some crushed, dried Mexican oregano, crushed, dried chile de árbol, and, if you like, a tablespoon or two of mezcal. Traditional and heavenly!

You need to know that the best of Mexico's cuisines is not found in restaurants. It comes straight from somebody's mama's kitchen. Clearly not all Mexicans are good cooks, just as not all Chinese are good cooks, not all Italians are good cooks, and so forth. But the most traditional, the most (if you will) authentic Mexican meals are home prepared.

Diana Kennedy, UNAM 2011. Mrs. Kennedy was at the Mexican National Autonomous University to present her book, Oaxaca Al Gusto.

That reality is what made Diana Kennedy who she is today: she took the time to travel Mexico, searching for the best of the best of the traditional preparations. For the most part, she didn't find them in fancy restaurants, homey comedores (small commercial dining rooms) or fondas (tiny working-class restaurants). She found them as she stood facing the stove in a home kitchen, watching doña Fulana prepare desayuno (breakfast), comida (the midday main meal of the day), or cena (supper) for her family. Ms. Kennedy, an English woman, took the time to educate her palate, understand the ingredients, taste what was offered to her, and learn, learn, learn from home cooks before she started putting traditional recipes, techniques, and stories on paper. If we take the time to prepare recipes from any of Ms. Kennedy's many cookbooks, we too can take advantage of her wealth of experience and can come to understand what traditional Mexican cooking can be. Her books will bring Mexico's kitchens to you when you are not able to go to Mexico. But please: do follow the recipes, or your dish will come out different from what it is supposed to be.

My dear friend Abigail Mendoza, cocinera tradicional (traditional home cook) from Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca, prepares a vat of mole negro (black mole, the king of moles) for a large party she invited me to attend at her home.

In order to understand the cuisines of Mexico, we need to experience their riches. Until that time, we can argue till the cows come home and you'll still be just another blind guy patting the beast's side and exclaiming how the elephant is mighty like a wall.

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

9 de February de 2019
The Feast of La Candelaria :: Time for Tamales!

I wrote this article in February, 2014. Today I republish it in memory of my dear friend, Edmundo Escamilla Solis, so loved by so many, and whose knowledge of all things Mexico had no bounds. He lived and breathed the history of this country in all of its aspects, he was a magnificent and educated eater, and he went on before us on December 13, 2018. Missed beyond measure.

Mexico Cooks!' dear friends Edmundo Escamilla Solís (L) and Yuri de Gortari Krauss. Between them, Yuri and Mundo know more about Mexico's history and its cuisines than most of the rest of our friends put together. I can't imagine that anyone would disagree. Photo courtesy wradio.com.mx. All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

A number of years ago, mutual friends introduced Mexico Cooks! to Edmundo Escamilla and Yuri de Gortari. Within minutes, it was obvious that I was in the presence of two of Mexico's treasures. Far from being museum pieces or distant ruins, these men are a vibrant, living storehouse of this country's past and present. Today, I am honored to count Mundo and Yuri among my very good friends. We don't see one another as often as any of us would like–they're busy, I'm busy–but the moments we spend together are precious.

The double stairway into the Escuela de Gastronomía Mexicana (Esgamex, School of Mexican Gastronomy), Colonia Roma, Distrito Federal. Since 1990, Yuri and Mundo have dedicated themselves to an in-depth study of Mexico's gastronomy; after running a restaurant and catering company, they founded the school in 2007. Esgamex is unique among culinary schools in Mexico, teaching not only Mexico's regional and national cuisines, but also teaching Mexico's history, art, and culture. Although the school offers no program leading to a culinary degree, it continues to attract students who want to learn traditional recipes from the best teaching team in the city.

A few weeks ago, I received an invitation from Yuri and Mundo–please come share our tamaliza (tamales party) on the night of February 2, el Día de la Candelaria (Candlemas Day). An intimate circle of friends gathered in homage to a close friend of our hosts, who had passed away. In her honor, we ate tamales–and more tamales–five varieties in all.

First were tamales de cambray, from Chiapas. These corn masa (dough) tamales, wrapped in banana leaves and steamed, were savory and delicious.

Tamal de cambray unwrapped. Each tamal was small enough to leave us hungry for the ones that followed.

The tamal de cambray cut open to show its savory filling.

Why tamales on this particular date? Tradition in Mexico has it that if your slice of the rosca de reyes–Three Kings cake, eaten on January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany–has a wee Niño Dios (Baby Jesus) in it, you must give a party on February 2, the Feast of the Candelaría. On the menu? Tamales! Tamales for everyone who was at the party for the Kings, when you bit your slice of cake and oops! A mouth full of Baby Jesus!

This rectangular, flat tamal de cazón is filled with flaked and seasoned baby shark flesh. It's a specialty of the state of Campeche.

A marvelously spicy salsa made with chile habanero accompanied the tamal de cazón.

The next three varieties of tamales looked almost identical to one another. Each was wrapped in corn husks and steamed–but despite appearances, each was very different from the other. The first variety was a tamal de pollo, frutas, y verduras (chicken, fruit, and vegetables) from the state of Sinaloa. The second was our first sweet tamal of the evening. A tamal from the state of Colima, its masa is prepared with mixed corn and rice flours as well as dried coconut. The sweet filling is a mix of various dried and crystallized chopped fruits.

The last (but definitely not the least!) tamal was a tamal de almendra (almond). The masa contains not only corn and rice flours and sugar, but also blanched, peeled, and finely ground almonds. The almonds both sweeten and give texture to the masa. And sweet surprise!, the tamal is filled with sweet crema pastelera (pastry cream). If we had had one inch of space in our stomachs, we each would definitely have eaten two of these!

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HonJ3sz8HOw&w=420&h=220]
Here's Yuri de Gortari, teaching the proper way to prepare tamales de almendra. Even if you don't understand all of the Spanish-language instructions, you'll be fascinated by his teaching manner as well as his techniques. And his lovely speaking voice is simply hypnotizing.

When our group finished eating, we stayed for hours in the sobremesa–the after-dinner conversation that is frequently as delicious and nourishing as the food itself. What better way to enjoy an evening than in the company of precious friends, sharing ideas, feelings, and loving laughter? Next year, have a tamaliza at your home on February 2, invite your friends, and deepen your love and appreciation for one another–and of course for the marvelous cuisines of Mexico.

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

2 de February de 2019
Tachigual: Traditional Bread of the Riviera Chapala

Two days a week, José Manuel Mora Velásquez continues a tradition that has been part of his family for more than 80 years. Long before dawn, he begins preparations for baking pan de tachigual, a type of bread so distinctly regional that Sr. Mora says that as far as he knows, it has only been made in San Juan Cosalá and in Ajijic, (in the state of Jalisco, Mexico), although the bread is sold in other towns along the north shore of Lake Chapala.

In years gone by, natives of those two towns did not allow a wedding, baptism, First Communion or confirmation to pass without tachigual as part of the festivity rituals. Although times are changing, even today the most traditional celebrations of these life passages include the humble local loaves.

Sr. Mora showed me around the tiny bakery at his home in Ajijic. The ceiling is low and the only light comes from windows without glass. Loaves of freshly baked tachigual are piled high on a wooden shelf while dough rises in a warm corner, out of the way of any passing breeze.

Tachigual loaves stuffed with nuts and raisins rise on the bakery shelves.

"The oven is heated only by wood. It's not easy to keep a good supply of wood, but we collect it from all over the area. People usually tell me where a dry tree has fallen, or where someone has cut down a tree that will burn well when the wood is dry."

"Which days of the week do you bake?" I asked.

"Wednesdays, like today, and Saturdays. It's very time-consuming work and you have to pay very close attention to the masa (dough) or it won't turn out right." Sr. Mora turned to peer into the oven as he spoke to me.

"A full twenty-four hours before I bake, I have to prepare the harina fermentada (starter). It's a mixture of flour and water. I mix that, and then it sits in the warm bakery for a full day before I can use it for the bread.

"Early in the morning of the days I bake, I mix the dough. It's made with the starter dough I made the day before, plus additional flour, eggs, sugar, and lard. Some of the dough is made with whole wheat flour and some with white flour. The white flour dough has white sugar, raisins and toasted nuts blended into it. The whole wheat loaves are sweetened with piloncillo (cones of brown sugar)."

Sr. Mora showed me how he weighs each of the ingredients to make the bread. "I don't measure. The bread is better if each component is weighed. How many kilos of flour I use depends on how many loaves I need to bake on any given day. Usually I make enough dough to produce 400 loaves each baking day.

"Baking this traditional way is different from baking in a modern oven. The first difference, of course, is that the oven is made of bricks and clay. It's shaped like a beehive. And as I said before, I use wood fire for the heat. Temperature control is more difficult. I have to start the fire about three hours before the dough starts to bake. That's so the oven will reach the right temperature. It takes two hours for the coals to be at the right stage, then another hour for the temperature to go down enough so the bread will bake in the right amount of time."

Tachigual bakes right on the floor of the brick beehive oven.

I looked into the oven, which has no door, and saw that the baking bread was beginning to turn golden brown. "I don't see a thermometer, Sr. Mora. How do you know when the oven has reached the right temperature to begin baking?"

Sr. Mora checks the oven to make sure the temperature is right.

He laughed. "I put one loaf in to bake. It should be ready in about 30 to 40 minutes. If it takes longer than that, I put more wood on the fire. If it bakes too quickly, I wait a bit for the temperature to go down. Then I try again. Of course I've been doing this for so long that I can almost always tell when the temperature is right, but I still bake a trial loaf to be sure."

I asked Sr. Mora if there were other tachigual bakers in Ajijic. "Yes, my cousin still makes this bread the old way. She lives on Calle Constitución and bakes on Tuesday and Thursday. I think we're the only two left in Ajijic who bake this bread. There is a family in San Juan Cosalá that still has a bakery, but I don't know them personally."

Ojitos (little eyes) rise near the warmth of the oven.

An article about the San Juan Cosalá bakers appeared several years ago in El Charal, a Lake Chapala Spanish-language weekly newspaper. At that time, Sra. Margarita Villalobos and one of her daughters were baking pan de tachigual for distribution and sale in San Juan, in Nestipac, and in Jocotepec. Sra. Villalobos told El Charal that as a young girl, she had learned to make tachigual from her mother. Her methods hadn't changed over the years, she said, because making the bread in the traditional way gives it the delicious flavor that people want. Sra. Villalobos said that someone had offered her an electric mixer to help beat the dough, but she was not interested in changing her style of preparation. "Other bakers make it using the same recipe I do, but they don't mix it by hand. Their results aren't the same," she reported.

Sr. Mora's baking sheet is made of a flattened 5-gallon square tin can.

Sr. Mora tells a similar story. "A woman named Teresa taught my aunt how to make tachigual, and my aunt taught me," he reminisced. "And now there's no one left to teach. My children don't want to be bakers. It's sad to think that I might be the last in the family to keep this tradition alive."

Although Sr. Mora graciously told me about his work and the traditions of the bread he makes, there was never a time when he was not also paying strict attention to the rising loaves, the bread baking in the oven, and the bread that was cooling on primitive wooden shelves along three walls of the bakery. I watched quietly for a while as Sr. Mora worked.

With one eye on the oven, he picked up an escobilla (double-ended straw brush) and started rhythmically sweeping the wood ash from each cool loaf of tachigual. As he cleaned each loaf, he placed it in a pile.

When he noticed that the bread inside the oven had turned a deep golden brown, he set aside the escobilla and picked up a pala (literally a shovel, but in this case it resembled a long-handled wooden pizza peel). He used the pala to remove a metal tray holding the ojitos from the oven and placed it on a table near where I was standing. In one experienced and skillful motion, he scooped up as many small panes de tachigual as the pala would hold and transferred them from the oven to a shelf for cooling. With a similar movement, he loaded the pala with unbaked loaves of tachigual. Gently shoving the pala as far into the oven as he knew it needed to go so that the bread would bake evenly, he snapped his elbow back and the raw loaves landed evenly spaced on the oven floor. In just a few minutes he demonstrated skills he had acquired over his 22 years as a baker.

The sweet smell of baking tachigual was making me very hungry. "Sr. Mora, do you take all of the bread to be sold at stores here in town?" I was hoping he'd say no, and I was not disappointed.

"A lot of people come here to the bakery to buy bread. And the boys take some to be sold out on the streets in that washtub…" he gestured to a galvanized metal tub in the corner by the oven. "And of course some does go to stores around town."

"What does the tachigual cost?" I was fingering some coins in my pocket.

"The small loaves are four pesos, the big ones are ten pesos. And those mini-loaves are two pesos apiece. I sell the miniatures to mothers for little kids."

I bought four loaves, one large and three small. The large one came home with me and I took the three small ones to share with my neighbors. My car held the tantalizing scent of the fresh-baked bread for two days.

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

26 de January de 2019
The Native Corns of Mexico :: Prehistoric Ancestors in Danger of Disappearance

In 2016, my dear friend and colleague Maestro Rafael Mier were invited to give conferences in the Mexican state of Puebla. After our conferences, we visited the Biosphere Tehuacán-Cuicatlán, important to the world for numerous reasons. Mexico Cooks! wrote then about the discovery of corn, the reason most important to Mstro. Rafael and to me–a reason important to you, as well.

At first glance, these appear to be flowers–but look closely: they're actually cross-sections of different varieties, sizes and colors of maíces nativos (native corn), grown continuously in Mexico for many thousands of years, right up to the present time. They're so beautiful–and delicious! Photo courtesy Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana.

A few weeks ago, CONACULTA (Mexico's ministry of culture) invited Maestro Rafael Mier and Mexico Cooks! to speak about the preservation of traditional tortillas and about the milpa (millennia-old sustainable agricultural method still used in Mexico) at the Second Annual Festival Universo de la Milpa, held this year in Santa María Coapan, Puebla. Santa María Coapan, a part of the municipality of Tehuacán, is at the epicenter of the documented-to-date 11,000 year history of corn.

Left to right in the photo: Maestra Teresa de la Luz Hilario, Regidora de Educación y Cultura de Santa María Coapan; Maestro Rafael Mier of Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana; Mexico Cooks!; (speaking) the humanitarian and life-long human rights abogada del pueblo (advocate for the people) Concepción Hernández Méndez; and at far right, Lic. Roberto G. Quintero Nava, Director General de Culturas Populares of Puebla, CONACULTA. It was an honor to be part of this event and to meet its outstanding participants in this center of Mexican corn production. Photo courtesy Rafael Mier.

In tiny Coxcatlán, Puebla (just down the highway on the road south out of Tehuacán), a main attraction is the monument to corn. The legend at the base of the recently refurbished monument reads, "Coxcatlán, Cuna del Maíz (Cradle of Corn)". All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

From the small town of Coxcatlán, our driver took us about five kilometers further, south toward the Oaxaca border; there's a turnoff onto a dirt road at the Tehuacán-Cuicatlán Biosphere Reserve. The September 24, 2016 Mexico Cooks! article offers some fascinating general information about the biosphere.

If you didn't know to turn onto that poorly marked, narrow, and winding dirt road, you'd just keep whizzing along the highway, saying, "Nothing to see here, just a lot of big cactus and scrub trees. The Oaxaca border is only 30 kilometers away, let's hurry so we get there before dark." But this humble dirt road twists through a portion of an internationally important site marking the origin and development of agriculture in Mesoamerica and the world. Archeological research here has provided key information regarding the domestication of various species such as corn (Zea mays sp.), chile (Capsicum annuum), amaranth (Amaranthus sp.), avocado (Persea americana), squash (Cucurbita sp.), bean (Phaseolus sp.), and numerous other plants that are with us still in the modern era. This biosphere is home to just under 3000 kinds of native flora plus the largest collection of columnar cacti in the world. In addition, the biosphere contains approximately 600 species of vertebrate animals. Let's not hurry–let's spend some time here.

Archeologist Richard S. MacNeish (April 29, 1918-January 16, 2001). In 1965, Dr. MacNeish and a group of his colleagues first uncovered the agricultural treasures in the Tehuacán-Cuicatlán biosphere. Their excavation resulted in some of the most significant agricultural finds in the world. A statue in his memory is prominent today in Tehuacán. Dr. MacNeish, one of the most outstanding archaeologists of the Americas, developed innovative field methods that allowed him and his teams of co-archaeologists, anthropologists, sociologists, agronomists, and others to use science rather than educated guesswork to locate potentially important sites for excavation. Other than his discoveries in this biosphere, which are crucial to our understanding of Mesoamerican agriculture and settlement, his greatest legacy is probably his influence on and encouragement of students, other archaeologists, and the multitude of scientific professionals with whom he worked. Photo of Dr. MacNeish courtesy LibraryThing.

My good friend and colleague Rafael Mier, founder of Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana (by all means join the Facebook group), had talked a good while with me about his desire to visit the site where, over 50 years ago, Dr. MacNeish documented the remains of ancient corn. The more we talked about going to the cave, the more my heart raced: We were going to visit one of the places in Mexico where corn was born. Where corn was born. I felt that the trip would be much more than a Sunday drive in the country: it felt like a pilgrimage, to the most basic food destination in Mexico. To the origin of everything.

The extremely ancient peoples of what is now Mexico domesticated a native wild-growing plant called teocintle, which over the course of many years became what we know today as corn. Teocintle–the photo above is a seed head of the plant, harvested in 2015 in the State of Mexico and framed in sterling silver–is a grass similar to rice in that the grains grow and mature as a cluster of individuals, on a stalk. A mazorca (seed head) of teocintle has no center structure; no cob, if you will. One of the primary features that distinguishes corn from teocintle is the cob. Scientists tracked the domestication of teocintle from the wild grain to its semi-domesticated state, and from semi-domestication to the incredible variety of native Mexican corns that we know today. The actual teocintle seed head in the photo measures approximately three inches long. What you see in my hand is the million-times-over great-grandfather, the ancient ancestor of corn.

The mouth of la Cuna del Maíz Mexicano (the cradle of Mexican corn). I grew up in the southern United States, where I knew a few caves. I had expected to see a cave along the lines of Wyandotte Caves in Indiana, or Mammoth Cave in Kentucky: huge, multi-room caverns in which a person can walk along seeing rivers, stalagmites, stalactites, and other underground cave formations. Not here; this cave is simply what you see in the photograph, a sheltering karst-formation in the limestone, a pre-historic bubble. Standing in this spot gave me chills, and simply thinking about it while looking at the photograph now makes a shiver run up my spine. Out here in the vastness of this ancient natural world, in some ways so similar to the primitive world into which corn was born, one forgets about the crowded city, one forgets about modern problems, and one returns both mentally and spiritually to another time and to a connection with those Stone Age people who gave us the gift of corn, the true staff of life in much of today's world.

This shelter, according to years-long archeological research by Dr. MacNeish and others, was used as a camp, as a shelter during the rainy season for as many as 25 to 30 people, and as a post-harvest storage place for corn and other native vegetables (corn, beans, chiles, etc). Families, bands of families, and tribes living in or traveling through the Coxcatlán area used this type shelter for 10,000 years or more, primarily during the time in Mesoamerica that is analogous to the Archaic archeological period: approximately 5000 to 3400 BCE. Dr. MacNeish's extensive research showed more than 42 separate occupations, 28 habitation zones, and seven cultural phases in this cave.

At the Museo del Maíz (Corn Museum) in Tehuacán, there is a small display of the original dehydrated corn cobs as well as some utensils found in the cave in the biosphere. This tiny cob measures less than one inch long.

These dehydrated cobs, also found in the cave, are quite a bit larger and probably somewhat younger than the tiny one in the photo above. They measure between 2 and 3 inches long. Some ancient fingers plucked this corn from its stalk, some long-ago woman–she must have been a woman–removed the kernels from the cobs and prepared food. How similar the growing methods, how similar what they ate, those people who created corn from a wild plant. Corn, beans, chiles, squash, amaranth, avocado: all served up in some way for millennia-past meals, and all available in Mexico's markets today. What foods do you eat that nourished your Stone Age forebears? How precious it is to know and taste the flavors of 7 to 10 thousand years worth of comidas (Mexico's main meal of the day)!

In addition to the important finding of dehydrated corn cob specimens (nearly 25,000 samples) and other kinds of vegetables in the substrata of the Tehuacán cave, Dr. MacNeish and subsequent archeologists found a large number of ancient tools such as chipped-flint darts used for hunting, grinding stones, and coas (pointed sticks used for planting). The investigators also found approximately 100 samples of human feces, which were examined to document the human diet of those long-ago days. Thanks to carbon dating, a method of determining the age of organic objects which was developed in the 1940s, scientists were and continue to be able to assign dates to ancient artifacts.

Part of a mural found in ruins dating to 650-900 AD in Cacaxtla, Tlaxcala. Click on the photograph to enlarge it; you'll see that what initially appear to be ears of corn are in fact a part of Mexico's creation myth: humankind is born of corn, and corn is born of humankind. Corn, which humankind created in the domestication process, cannot in fact exist without a human helping hand to husk it, take the dried kernels from the cob, and plant those kernels for subsequent harvest. Above even wheat and rice, corn is the single-most planted grain in the world; there are countries and regions where humans could not exist without corn.

This tiny mazorca (dried ear of corn) is maíz palomero: (popcorn, scientific name Zaya mays everta), native to Mexico, the only kind of corn in the world that pops. Maíz palomero is believed by many scientists to have been the first corn. Today, this original corn is tragically all but extinct in Mexico. My colleague Maestro Rafael Mier, who lives in Mexico City, wanted to plant it; he contacted a number of possible sources without locating any seed at all. He ultimately called a seed bank in a nearby Mexican state to see if they had some. They did, and they took seeds out of their freezer bank so that he could sow them on his property. His goal is to begin the reversal of the extinction of this original Mexican corn. This wee ear of popcorn, the standard size for this variety, is just about four inches long. Look how beautiful it is, with its crystalline white and golden triangular kernels.

Mexico still grows and cooks with 59 different varieties of native corns, corns that are essential to the regions in which they grow. A type of native corn that grows well in the state of Tamaulipas, for example, will probably not produce as well in Oaxaca. Nor will a native corn that is easily produced in the west-central state of Guerrero grow well in the north-eastern Mexico state of Coahuila. Climates differ, altitudes differ, soils differ: all impact Mexico's native corns. If you click on the poster to enlarge it, you'll see how very, very different Mexico's 59 corn varieties are from one another. Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better view. Photo courtesy CIMMYT.

These multi-colored mazorcas are native to the Mexican state of Tlaxcala, the smallest state in the República.

These elotes (ears of freshly harvested young corn) are native to the state of Michoacán.

These large fresh ears are elotes of maíz cacahuatzintle, from the State of México, for sale earlier this summer at Mexico City's Mercado de Jamaica. This type corn is processed naturally so it can be used to make pozole, a pork (or chicken) soup with deliciously spicy broth.

A bowl of pozole on a chilly night at the Mercado Medellín, Mexico City, a few Decembers ago.

And finally, these mazorcas are native to the far-southern state of Chiapas.

Mexico knows itself as 'the people of the corn'. Mexico knows that sin maíz no hay país–without corn, there is no country. Right now, Mexico is at a crisis point, the point of preserving its heritage of corn–or allowing that heritage to be lost to the transnational producers of uniform, high-yielding, genetically modified corn that is not Mexico's corn. The Chinese characters in the photo mean crisis, defined as both danger and opportunity. Which word will Mexico choose to safeguard its heritage and frame its future? I take my stand on the side of the 11,000 year history that defines us.

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

19 de January de 2019
Ambling Around With Mexico Cooks!, the Second Half of 2018

Celebrating the first of June–with a taco made with a real tortilla: freshly nixtamalize-d native Mexican dried corn ground into damp masa (corn dough), patted or pressed out, and cooked on a comal (griddle) at Tortillería Ichuskata, in Morelia, Michoacán. I had been to a food event in the city and brought a half-kilo home with me–they're so delicious, it didn't even matter what was in the taco–the tortilla was just perfect! If you've never eaten a real tortilla–not from a plastic package, not even from the general run of tortillerías–you haven't enjoyed one of life's greatest pleasures. Anything else just isn't worth it.

In Mexico, our presidential election is held every six years on July 1. Just after casting the ballot, your thumb is stamped to show that you voted. Every election since 2006, I've voted for the candidate who won the presidency this year: Andrés Manuel López Obrador. I'm so thrilled and proud that he won! That's my thumb, hiding my grin!

Pesca del día–catch of the day on July 28–at Restaurante Pasillo de Humo, Mexico City. The robalo (Centropomus mexicanus), cooked perfectly and with a crisp, delicious skin, is served over a heap of freshly cooked vegetables. In this case, there were fresh fava beans, fresh peas, fresh corn, and the tiniest whole fresh carrots. Pasillo de Humo is consistently marvelous, and this fish preparation is no exception.

Mexico Cooks! spent the first two weeks of August leading two back-to-back tours in Oaxaca. One of the must-do markets in Oaxaca is in Tlacolula, south of Oaxaca City, where my early-August group exclaimed over everything they saw, including the gorgeous rambutan displays. The rambutan, an Asian fruit grown extensively in Mexico's southernmost state of Chiapas, is similar to the lychee, but as you can, see the red skin has long red feelers–well, maybe not quite feelers, but don't they look like feelers? Inside the flesh is white, like the lychee, with a similar texture, flavor and a similar stone.

You can find just about anything you need at Mexico's markets, including household goods, fruits and vegetables, and brassieres of uplifting colors.

In Tlacolula this past August, we also saw wheelbarrows full of beautifully ripe, Oaxaca-grown melón (cantaloupe). The deep orange flesh is perfect, slightly tender, running with sweet juices, and ready for your table at any meal of the day. Mexican home and restaurant cooks also make an agua fresca (fresh fruit water) with melón; it's one of my favorites.
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Photo courtesy Mi Mero Mole.

Agua Fresca de Melón
Fresh Cantaloupe Water

1/2 ripe cantaloupe, peeled and with seeds removed
1/2 cup sugar
6 cups water

Cut the peeled cantaloupe into chunks.

Put the chunks of fruit, the sugar, and 2 cups of water in a blender. Blend for 30 seconds. Add another cup of water and blend for an additional 30 seconds.

Pour the blended mixture into a pitcher and add the remaining 3 cups of water. Stir until completely mixed.

The cantaloupe water should be chilled before serving. Just prior to serving, stir the pitcherful again, with a large spoon.

**Note: if you prefer this agua fresca a bit sweeter, add more sugar to taste. You can also replace all of the sugar with an equal amount of Splenda granulated no-calorie sweetener.

Serves 6
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My second August tour group was invited to a private traditional cooks' event, organized just for us by Srta. Petra Cruz González, the president of the Unión de Palmeadoras (Tortilla Makers' Union) in Tlaxiaco, Oaxaca. Tlaxiaco is located high in the Mixteca Alta about 2.5 hours north of the city of Oaxaca. Several of the union members demonstrated how Oaxaca-style tortillas are made, and then invited us to partake of a comida (main meal of the day) that the women had prepared for us. In the photograph, you see a freshly made blue corn tortilla filled with requesón (a spreadable white cheese similar to ricotta), delicious frijoles de la olla (whole beans just out of the cooking pot), a bit of chicharrón (fried pork skin, the light brown square at the top left), and spicy salsa, made in a molcajete (volcanic stone grinding bowl).

Was it good? Yes it was! The home made food, cooked over wood fires, was simple, heart-warming, and exactly what we needed. We ate and drank and chatted with the cocineras traditionales (traditional cooks), enjoying their company as much as we enjoyed their food.

After the tours in Oaxaca, I came home to Mexico City to this new member of the family. When I picked her up mid-August from her rescuer, Pili was a tiny eight weeks old. Today, she's six months old and is fully integrated into the group the boss of the bunch–and certainly MY boss. Neither the three other cats in my household nor I stand a chance against Her Highness.

Above, a quesadilla sin queso (quesadilla without cheese). "With or without cheese" is a perpetual discussion among people who live in Mexico City. One faction says, "A quesadilla doesn't need cheese." The other side says, "It has to have cheese, why else is it called quesadilla?" The one in the photograph, prepared with chicharrón prensado (the pressed-together ends and various leavings in a pot used to fry pig skins) at a Sunday flea market just north of Mexico City's Centro Histórico, has no cheese. Regardless of which side of the cheese/no cheese argument you're on, you'd love to have this for breakfast.

In central highlands of Mexico, September is the middle of the rainy season, when nearly daily rains wet our mountainous oak and pine forests. Beneath the trees, many varieties of wild mushrooms spring up each night, to be harvested in the morning and brought to market. The bounty of the nightly harvests grace both home and restaurant tables; Mexico Cooks! buys setas and oyster mushrooms like those in the photograph, as well as many other wild varieties. Photo courtesy Rafael Mier.

Meet Sra. Georgina Gómez Mejía, who sells wild mushrooms during their season at the Mercado de Jamaica in Mexico City. Depending on what she finds in the forests near her home in the neighboring State of Mexico, she brings lobster mushrooms, oyster mushrooms, hens and chickens mushrooms, chanterelles, and morels, the king of wild mushrooms. In mid-September, I bought two kilos (about 4.5 pounds) of enormous wild mushrooms from her and made enough mushroom soup to eat, to freeze, and to give to friends.

Here, the October setting for a private dinner for 100 people in Morelia, to which I was invited by city government. The dinner, prepared and mounted by Restaurante La Conspiración de 1809, took place in the Palacio Municipal de Morelia in the Centro Histórico of that city. The building dates to the late 18th century and was the perfect location for the event, which included not only a multi-course meal, wines and other drinks, but also a play, presented on the stairway in the photo and throughout the entire room. It was an evening of tremendous excitement and delight, in every respect.

Mid-Fall, we begin to see romeritos (in English, the awful name seepweed) in our Mexico City markets. Romeritos are a leafy herb that looks somewhat like a softer, non-woody version of rosemary. The long, skinny leaves look similar to the thin needles of the rosemary plant, growing like feathers along a central stem. Unlike the stiff stems and needles of rosemary, romeritos are soft and floppy, more like a succulent, with a slightly acidic taste. Generally eaten at Christmastime, they are cooked in mole and accompanied by patties of dried shrimp.

In November I was surprised to see these enormous yaca (jackfruit) in a Mexico City supermarket. The biggest ones in the photo are about 24" long! Usually the fruit is opened and sold in segments, by weight. Inside, the orange-colored flesh is encapsulated into small pieces. It grows on Mexico's coasts. To the right of the yacas is a bin of tunas–in English, they're known as prickly pear cactus fruit.

Making longaniza, a spicy sausage very similar to chorizo, at the Mercado de Jamaica. November 2018.

The first week of December, a young friend in Baltimore and I had a ball with a long-distance bakeoff, each of us preparing the same recipe for blueberry coffee cake, at the same time, but she in Baltimore and I in Mexico City. It was enormously fun to do this! If you have teenage grandchildren in a city far from where you live, I think this would be wonderful to give you something to do together–choose a simple recipe that you would both enjoy, send one another photos of the process as you're doing it, and take the first bite at the same time. I know my friend Bea and I felt that we were doing something together despite the physical distance between us.

Later in December, a visiting friend from Oaxaca and I enjoyed wandering around Mexico City to see some sights:

Sunshine and shadows at the Casa Museo Friday Kahlo, in beautiful Coyoacán.

Stairway at the Palacio de Correos de México (Mexico's main post office), Centro Histórico. The first stone was laid in 1902, the building was finished in 1907, and was almost destroyed in Mexico City's September 1985 earthquake. The building was restored in the 1990s.

Pozole at the Mercado Navideño (Christmas market) at the Mercado Medellín, Colonia Roma.

Finally, an arbolito de navidad (Christmas tree) at the Mercado de Jamaica. Decorated with tiny lights and ornaments, the owner of this market booth also hung the tree with the product he makes and sells: crisp corn t
ostadas! Adorable!

Mexico Cooks! hopes that 2019 brings all of you the best of everything throughout the year. Come along with us as we see more of Mexico, her cultures and her cuisines–see you next Saturday!

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12 de January de 2019
The Feast of the Three Kings on January 6 :: Rosca and Reyes and the Journey to La Candelaria

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

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

Typically, Mexican families celebrate the festival with a rosca de reyes (Three Kings' Bread). The size of the family's rosca varies according to the size of the family, but everybody gets a slice, from the littlest toddler to great-grandpa. Accompanied by a cup of chocolate caliente (hot chocolate) or an atole (a corn masa (dough) thickened, hot and often fruit-flavored drink), it's a great winter treat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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5 de January de 2019
Get Out Your New Undies, Your Old Suitcase: Mexico’s New Year’s Rituals Explained

In Mexico and other Latin American countries, women wear yellow underwear on New Year's Eve to bring good luck and wealth in the year to come. Red underwear (this vendor has a lot on her tables for sale) indicates a New Year's wish for an exciting love interest! Just remember that the underwear 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 common to eat twelve grapes–one at each ding, one at each dong of the bell. While eating the grapes, you make a personal wish for each grape you consume, welcoming the new year that's beginning. Mexico Cooks! finds that it's helpful to write down the twelve wishes so as not to forget one or choke in the rush to swallow the grapes before the clock finishes striking the New Year's earliest hour! 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 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 toy sheep as a New Year's gift–it too is a symbol of abundance! Why? In Mexico, a slang word for "money" is lana–wool, in English. And what's a sheep covered with? Lana–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, have some bills in your hand or in your pocket to welcome the arrival of the New Year. Some people fold up the money and put it in their shoes!

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

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

We'll see you right here in 2019!

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29 de December de 2018