Category: Food and Drink

Frijoles Refritos Estilo Mexico Cooks! :: Refried Beans, Mexico Cooks! Style

Some of the many varieties of beans for sale at the daily indigenous market in San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas. The metal cup measures one kilo (2.2 pounds).

The Spanish word frijol is a bastardization of ancient Spanish frisol, which itself is a rendering of the Catalán word fesol–which comes from the Latin scientific name–are you still with me?–phaseolus vulgaris. Is that more than you wanted to know about bean nomenclature?

Here's yet another little bit of Mexican bean esoterica: in Mexico, when you go to the store or the tianguis (street market) to buy beans, you are buying frijol. When you prepare the frijol at home, the cooked beans become frijoles. That's right: raw dried beans in any quantity: frijol. Cooked beans, frijoles. If you ask a tianguis vendor for a kilo of frijoles, he could rightfully send you to a restaurant to make your purchase.

The simple utensils you need to cook dried beans: an olla de barro (clay pot) and a strainer. You can also use a heavy metal pot, or a pressure cooker, but the clay pot adds special flavor to the cooked beans. These pale yellow, long-oval beans are frijol peruano (Peruvian beans, or phaseolus vulgaris), the most commonly used bean in the Central Highlands of Mexico. A clay bean pot has been fired at a temperature substantially higher than the heat of your stove burner, so there's no need to worry about it breaking when you use it to cook.

Mexico Cooks! loves beans. In our kitchen, we prepare about a pound of dried beans at a time. After cooking, this is enough frijoles de la olla (cooked-in-the-pot beans) to serve, freshly cooked, for a meal or two, with plenty left over to freeze. We freeze the rest of the cooked beans in five or six two-portion size plastic sandwich bags. Cooked beans and their pot liquor freeze very well.

I found this little batch of rocks, discolored or very wrinkled beans, and other garbage in the half-kilo of frijol that I cooked yesterday.

Beans are very easy to cook. First, pick carefully through your beans. Even if you buy bulk beans or commercially packaged dry beans at a modern supermarket, be certain to pick through them and discard any beans that look badly broken, discolored, or wizened, as well as any small rocks. You may also find pieces of straw, pieces of paper, and other detritus in any purchase of beans. Put the cleaned beans in a strainer and wash well under running water.

To soak, or not to soak? Some folks recommend soaking beans for up to 24 hours to shorten their cooking time, but Mexico Cooks! has tried both soaking and not soaking and has noticed that the cooking time is about the same either way. We never soak. You try it both ways, too, and report back with your findings.

Epazote (wormweed) grown in a maceta (flower pot) on my terrace. Just before turning on the fire to cook the beans, Mexico Cooks! adds two sprigs of epazote, just about this size, to the pot of beans and water. The strong, resinous odor of the herb absorbs almost entirely into the beans, giving them a mild flavor punch and, some say, diminishing flatulence.

My olla de barrlo (clay bean pot) holds about a half kilo of frijol plus enough water to cook them. You can see the light glinting off the water line, just below the top part of the handle. If you don't have an olla de barro, a heavy metal soup pot will do almost as well. The clay does impart a subtle, earthy flavor to beans as they cook.

Over a high flame, bring the pot of beans to a full, rolling boil. Turn the flame to a medium simmer and cover the pot. Allow the beans to cook for about an hour. At the end of an hour, check the water level. If you need to add more water, be sure that it is boiling before you pour it into the bean pot; adding cold water lowers the cooking temperature and can cause the beans to toughen. Continue to cook the beans at a medium simmer until, when you bite into one, it is soft and creamy. The pot liquor will thicken slightly.

Now's the time to salt your beans–after cooking, not before and not during. We use Espuma del Mar (Mexican sea salt from the state of Colima) for its wonderful sweetly salty flavor, but any salt will do. Add a little less salt than you think is correct–you can always add more later, and you don't want to oversalt your beans.

If you live in the United States or Canada, you'll want to order the fabulous heritage dried beans sold by Rancho Gordo. Rancho Gordo's owner, my friend Steve Sando, has nearly single-handedly brought delicious old-style beans to new popularity in home and restaurant kitchens. If you've tasted ordinary beans and said, "So what?", try Rancho Gordo beans for a huge WOW! of an eye opener.

Mexico Cooks! likes frijoles de la olla (freshly cooked beans, straight from the pot) with a big spoonful of salsa fresca (chopped tomato, minced onion, minced chile serrano, salt, and roughly chopped cilantro). Sometimes we steam white rice, fill a bowl with it, add frijoles de la olla and salsa fresca, and call it comida (main meal of the day).

Chiles serranos and manteca (lard)for frijoles refritos estilo Mexico Cooks!.

For breakfast, Mexico Cooks! prepares frijoles refritos (refried beans). Served with scrambled eggs, some sliced avocado, and a stack of hot tortillas, they're a great way to start the morning. A dear friend from Michoacán taught me her way of preparing refried beans and I have never changed it; people who say they don't care for refried beans eat a bite, finish their portion, and ask for seconds. They're that good.

Here's some more bean trivia: frijoles refritos doesn't really mean 'refried' beans. Mexican Spanish often uses the prefix 're-' to describe something exceptional. 'Rebueno' means 'really, really good'. 'Refrito' means–you guessed it–well-fried.

Melt about a tablespoon of manteca (lard) in an 8" frying pan. Split the chiles from the tip almost to the stem end. Fry the chiles until they are blistered and dark brown, almost blackened. To prevent a million splatters, allow to cool a bit before you add the beans to the pan.

Frijoles Refritos Estilo Mexico Cooks! (Refried Beans, Mexico Cooks! Style)
Serves six as a side dish

3 cups recently-cooked frijoles peruanos
1 or 2 chiles serrano, depending on your heat tolerance
1 or 2 Tbsp lard or vegetable oil—preferably lard and definitely NOT olive oil
Bean cooking liquid
Sea salt to taste

Melt the lard in an 8-inch skillet. Split the chile(s) from the tip almost to the stem end and add to the melted lard. Sauté over a medium flame until the chile is dark brown, almost black.

Lower the flame and add the beans and a little bean liquid. When the beans begin to simmer, mash them and the chile with a potato or bean masher until they are smooth. Add more liquid if necessary to give the beans the consistency you prefer. Add sea salt to taste and stir well.

Leave the melted lard and the chiles in the frying pan and add the beans and some pot liquor. Bring to a simmer over low heat. When the beans are hot, start mashing them with a potato or bean masher. Mash the chiles, too.

These beans are about half mashed.

Mexico Cooks! prefers that frijoles refritos have a little texture. These are just right for us, but you might prefer yours perfectly smooth. If you like them smoother, keep mashing! Either way, the beans should be thickly liquid. If the consistency is too thick, add more pot liquor. If the beans are too thin, add a few more whole beans to mash.

For a wonderful breakfast or supper treat, try making molletes estilo Mexico Cooks!. This is real Mexican home cooking; Mexico Cooks! has never seen this style molletes served in a restaurant. A wonderful Michoacán cook taught me how to prepare this easy meal.

Start with fresh pan bolillo (individual-size loaf of dense white bread), split in half lengthwise. Butter the cut bolillo halves and grill them on a comal (griddle) or hot skillet till they're golden brown. If you aren't able to buy bolillos where you live, use a dense French-style bread instead.

Spread each half bolillo with a thick coat–two tablespoons or more–of frijoles refritos.

Top the beans with a freshly fried egg and your favorite bottled or home-made salsa.

Salsa cruda (also known as pico de gallo) is the home-made salsa that I prefer with molletes. Use finely diced perfectly ripe tomatoes, just a bit of minced white onion, as much minced chile serrano as you prefer, a lot of coarsely chopped cilantro, and salt to taste: voilà! Photo courtesy A Bit of Saffron.

Breakfast, estilo Mexico Cooks!, will keep you going strong till time for comida. You're going to love these beans!

¡Provecho!

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8 de September de 2018
Chiles en Nogada at Restaurante Azul Histórico :: El Rey de los Chiles (the King of Chiles)
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.

We recently insisted that a dear 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 are:
- 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.
- grey 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.

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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25 de August de 2018
‘Tis The Season :: Chiles en Nogada, Available Now 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 (walnuts), 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 early October, seasonal local fruits, fresh pomegranates, and newly harvested walnuts make chiles en nogada possible. Mildly spicy chiles poblano, stuffed with picadillo and topped with richly creamy walnut sauce and pomegranate seeds, 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 (Bosque or 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
- 4 Tbsp slivered blanched almonds
- 2 Tbsp finely diced biznaga (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 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 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 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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18 de August de 2018
Everything But the Squeal :: Mexico Eats Pork, Nose to Tail

Cochinita pibil from the Yucatán (seasoned pork, slow-cooked and then shredded), a specialty of Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's Restaurante Azul/Condesa. Served in a banana leaf with a topping of pickled red onion, it's delicious.

Mexico is one of the largest producers and consumers of pork in the world, second only to China. In spite of the 'swine flu' crisis several years ago, Mexico continues to eat pork at a record-breaking pace and, every year, to export millions of tons of pork to other countries. (FIRA)

From the growers' farms to a rastro (slaughterhouse) is a speedy ride along one of Mexico's super-highways. A truck like this one, loaded with pigs, is an everyday sight throughout Mexico. Photo courtesy ROTOV.

Mexico is not nearly as squeamish as the United States in seeing where its carne de cerdo (pork meat) comes from. In fact, a stroll through just about any city market or tianguis (street market) will give ample evidence that meat–including pork meat–comes from an animal, not from a sterile, platic-wrapped styrofoam meat tray at a supermarket.

Every part of the pig is used in Mexico's kitchens. The head is ordinarily used to make pozole, a rich stew of pork meat, reconstituted dried corn, spices, and condiments.

No pork existed in Mexico until after the Spanish conquest; in fact, no domestic animals other than the xoloitzcuintle dog were used for food. The sources of animal protein were fish, frogs, and other water creatures, wild Muscovy-type ducks, the javalí (wild boar), about 200 varieties of edible insects, doves and the turkey, all native to what is now Mexico.

Mexico has been cooking head-to-tail since long before that notion came into international vogue.  Pig tails are used here for roasting–look for recipes for rabo de cerdo asado (roast pig tail). In addition, when a butcher is preparing pork carnitas, tails, ears, snouts, tongues, and indeed, everything but the squeal goes into the cazo (enormous cooking cauldron used to boil carnitas in lard).

A carnitas taco from Quiroga, Michoacán.

No matter that just below these jolly mariachi pigs at Mexico City's Mercado de Jamaica, their once-live counterparts lie ready for the butcher's knife. These fellows play on!

Chicharrón (fried pig skin) is prepared fresh every day by butchers whose specialty is pork. Nothing goes to waste. In fact, about 75% of the pig skins used to make chicharrón are imported to Mexico from the United States, where the market for pig skin is relatively small.

Just about any Mexican butcher worth his stripes can custom-cut whatever portion of the pig you need for meal preparation. In case you're not 100% familiar with the names of Mexican cuts, here are two pork cut charts, first in English and then in Spanish for comparison.

Pork cuts chart in English. Click to enlarge the image for better viewing.

Pork cuts chart in Spanish. Even in Spanish, many cuts have different names depending on which country names them. Again, click to enlarge the image for a better view.

These suckling pigs were butchered at 6 weeks to 3 months old. Known in Mexico as lechón, roast suckling pig is a delicacy by any name. Many restaurants in Mexico specialize in its preparation.

One of the most common and popular (and really delicious) kinds of street taco is tacos al pastor (shepherd style tacos). This preparation comes from Mexico City. Marinate thinly sliced pork meat in a sauce made of chiles guajillo, vinegar, and tomato. Next, layer the slices on a vertical spit so that they form the shape of a spinning top. At the top of the meat, place a pineapple without skin. Light the fire in the grate behind the spit and allow a portion of the meat to cook until slightly caramelized on the edges and tender within. Slice into very thin pieces, using them to fill a tortilla warmed on the flattop. With your sharp knife, flick a small section of the pineapple into the taco. Add the salsa you prefer, some minced onion and cilantro, and ahhhhh…the taste of Mexico!

Pozole can be red, white, or green. In this case, it's green, a specialty of the state of Guerrero. This pozole is made with pork, the broth is thickened with ground pepitas (pumpkin seeds), and you'll find a wonderful amount of maíz para pozole (nixtamal-ized dried corn) in every spoonful. That's not broccoli in the broth–it's a big chunk of avocado! On the side of the bowl at center is a piece of chicharrón (fried pork skin) and next to it at the left, a crisp tostada smeared with delicious crema (Mexican table cream).

Manitas de cerdo: pickled pigs' feet. The well-scrubbed feet are cooked in salted water, then added to vegetables cooked in a pickling solution of vinegar, chile, vegetables, and herbs. In Mexico, manitas de cerdo can be eaten as either a botana (snack) or a main dish.

One of my personal favorite pork dishes: carnitas from Michoacán! These carnitas in particular are the best I've ever eaten: large hunks of pork are boiled in lard until crispy on the outside, succulent and juicy on the inside. Chopped roughly and served with various salsas, they make the best tacos I know. Find these at Carnitas Aeropuerto, in Zamora, Michoacán.

Adobo huasteco, another deliciously spicy pork dish. It's been a while since this last appeared on my table–and it's high time I prepared it again. Click on the link for the recipe.

Last but not least, here's a rosy bouquet of pig heads for sale at the Mercado de Jamaica in Mexico City.

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

11 de August de 2018
Bazar Sábado (Saturday Arts and Crafts Market) in San Ángel, Mexico City

Sun-and-shade dappled Plaza San Jacinto, Colonia San Ángel, in the southern part of Mexico City, hosts Bazar Sábado. Open only on Saturdays, the hours are 10:00AM until 7:00PM.

So many people who tour with me want to shop for high-quality small items to take home as souvenirs or as gifts for relatives and friends. The only place to go? Bazar Sábado, the huge artisans' market held every week in gorgeous Colonia San Ángel in the southern sector of Mexico City. The market includes both indoor and outdoor shops and booths. What's to be had? Just about anything!

These tenangos (hand-embroidered textiles) are made in the state of Guerrero. We saw full-size table cloths, napkins, table runners, and place mats. We bought a dozen or two fabric coasters hand-embroidered with birds, fish, and flowers.

Napkin rings to match any decorator's color combination.

Crowds at Bazar Sábado tend to be large and shoppers are fairly aggressive. Lots of tourists go: you'll hear Japanese, French, English, German, and a slew of other languages on the pathways of Plaza San Jacinto. Be prepared to spend a little more money than you might in some other markets, but the atmosphere and the enormous selection of goods will give you great stories to tell back home. Bazar Sábado is so well worth attending!

Wooden boxes, the tops decorated with icons ranging from the sacred to the profane. Frida Kahlo, Che Guevara, and Mexico's lucha libre (wrestling) stars are among the most popular secular images.

Children's toys made of wood. A million years ago, Mexico Cooks! knew these toys as Jacob's ladders. Remember the sound they make? Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack–now turn it over and start again.

While you're at Bazar Sábado, do go into Museo Casa Risco–at Plaza Jacinto #5–to see this glorious fountain. It's entirely made of old dish ware and shells and fills one entire wall. The building is off the beaten tourist path and definitely worth a look. The museum also has both permanent and temporary exhibits that you'll enjoy.

Woven straw soft baskets to match your napkin rings. These are perfect for serving bread at your dinner table. We loved them.

Mexico Cooks!' antique painted box from Olinalá, Guerrero may well have been sold originally at Bazar Sábado. Booths there still sell similar examples–new, of course.

Both on Plaza Jacinto you'll find restaurants and snacks of almost any kind, from this sort of traditional Mexican breakfast to pizza to a burger or even Chinese food.

Mira, los títeres! He's still young enough for the excitement of these simple fantasy-animal marionettes.

Maestro Enrique Segarra López, one of Mexico's most famous mid-20th Century photographers, holds court on Saturdays at his booth. It was always a joy to spend some time with him. He passed away a few years ago.

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

4 de August de 2018
Newest Kid on the Block For Tortillas :: Molino El Pujol

Enrique Olvera, creator of Restaurante Pujol, has recently opened a tortillería (a place to make tortillas) cum snack shop, right in the smack-dab middle of ever-trendy Colonia Condesa. At Molino "El Pujol", a lot goes on in a tiny space: nixtamaliz-ation of native corns, chocolate-making, mole-making, preparation of a few other items, and some on-the-spot eating, both inside and outside the shop.

I was quite happy to be invited to visit Molino (it means 'mill') "El Pujol". A young chef friend who has been working with the establishment as a freelancer offered to talk to chef Jorge León, the in-charge person at the tortillería, to see if he could receive me a couple of weeks ago. "Sure, tell her to come on over on Monday around three o'clock." Ooooh, by all means.

Chef Jorge is a native of the Mixteca Alta, Oaxaca, a rural area approximately two and a half hours into the mountains northwest of Oaxaca city. He got his start in the kitchen when he applied for a job as dishwasher at Casa Oaxaca (in Oaxaca city). He told me, "I started working in the kitchen out of necessity, not because I knew I loved the kitchen. My family needed income–I had no idea what Casa Oaxaca was, or what working there implied. I was washing dishes, I could give my family income: that's what I knew. Little by little I learned my way around and discovered my passion." He's 32 years old, worked at Casa Oaxaca for three years and has now worked for chef Enrique Olvera for five years.

Interior at Molino "El Pujol". In addition to selling tortillas, masa (corn dough) and a few other items para llevar (to go), the little shop also sells a few vegetables to use at home, and a few menu items to eat on the premises or take out. All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Jitomates riñón (kidney shaped tomatoes) are endemic to the state of Oaxaca; the tortillería brings them from there to Mexico City. They are an heirloom fruit, one of the very few heirlooms cultivated in Mexico, with a deep tomato taste that brings unique flavor to whatever recipe requires it. They're very hard to find outside Oaxaca.

It's likely that these miltomates (tiny tomate verde–what you might know in a larger size as tomatillos) are brought from the state of Oaxaca, although they grow and are eaten all over Mexico in sauces, green moles, and other prepared dishes that require them. The wee miltomate (it measures about 2cm in diameter) is a more flavorful variety of the larger tomate verde; it grows among the corn, squash, and beans in the milpa, the ancient farming method of Mexico, still used today
.

Molino "El Pujol" nixtamal-izes corn for its tortillas. The shop nixtamal-izes a new pot of dried corn every day. The huge kettle of corn for this day was a black corn from southern Oaxaca. All of the corn for "El Pujol" is sourced by don Amado Ramírez, a Oaxaca-based specialist in the biodiversity of corn.

Nixtamaliz-ation of corn involves simmering it for approximately 30 minutes in a large amount of water mixed with a small amount of cal (calcium hydroxide) and allowing the corn to rest overnight in the water mixture. After its overnight rest, the corn is washed thoroughly in several waters and drained, removing all of the cal cooking water. The prepared corn is then ready to be ground for making masa (in this case, corn dough) for tortillas, tamales, and other corn-based products.

Traditionally, corn masa is ground on a hand-made volcanic stone metate while kneeling on the floor or the ground. Enlarge the photo to see that this Purépecha indigenous woman has placed a petate (hand-woven reed mat) in the place where she is kneeling. She's kneading the blue corn dough on her metate; the long stone object just in front of the masa is the metlapil, a volcanic stone rolling pin used to grind corn that she nixtamal-ized the previou
s night. Molino "El Pujol" uses a mechanized grinding system in order to maintain the correct masa consistency and texture.

The finished product: fresh-off-the-comal (griddle) tortillas, both black and white, being wrapped in chef Enrique's invention: a 'newspaper" called totomoxtle (the word means corn husk) that offers information about corn as well as protection for one's tortillas. Tortillas at Molino Pujol are offered (as of this writing) at 21 pesos for 12. They're totally natural, traditionally made, and really delicious. Tortillas from a standard neighborhood tortillería usually sell for between 13-14 pesos a kilo, but these days aren't often made the old-fashioned way, with nixtamaliz-ed corn. Photo courtesy Eater.

The day that I visited Molino "El Pujol", chef Jorge 'El Moles' León told me that a team of young chefs would be preparing mole after the shop closed for the day. I was astonished to see the sheer quantity of each of so many ingredients involved in producing what turned out to be 40 kilos–nearly 100 pounds–of mole paste that would be used for the several of Enrique Olvera's restaurants where mole is served. This photo is a tiny glimpse of the huge tub of tomatoes ready to be incorporated into the mole. Huge, you can't even imagine.

Here, an enormous pot of peanuts, some with and some without skin, turning golden over the fire before being used to make the mole.

Here, a wide, wide pot containing about 18 inches of dried, reconstituted chiles, including chile ancho. The two young chefs who prepared the mole worked from 5:00PM on Monday until 4:00AM on Tuesday to complete the job.

A tiny portion of the enormous quantity of plátano macho (plantain) used to give both sweetness and consistency to the mole.

Mole madre/mole nuevo, as served at Restaurante Pujol. I took the photo during a meal there in January 2015, when the mole madre was about 600 days old. Chef Jorge explained mole madre to me by saying, "It's like what happens when you have leftovers after a big family meal or a party. You don't want anything to go to waste, so you add a little of this and that and invite people to finish it up the next day. Or the next day." The mole madre is currently nearly 2000 days old.

Chef Jorge brought me this really unusual (and really delicious) taco to try. The dark green on the outside of the tortilla is hoja santa, an herb that when cooked tastes like anise. The tortilla on the inside of the hoja santa is black corn, the same corn that is in the photo of nixtamaliz-ation. Toasting the two together on the comal (griddle), the flavors combine to create a marvelous taste. And inside the taco is a thick slice of perfectly ripe avocado, served with a white salsa that El Molino Pujol calls "guacachile". In fact, it's made of onion, chile serrano, and a bit of oil, blended together with some kind of secret Pujol alchemy. In the glass, the white liquid is agua de maíz: a fantastically refreshing agua fresca made with corn. Wonderful.

Chef Jorge also brought me this tamal de huitlacoche (a tamal [remember: one tamal, two or more, tamales] filled with corn smut). I would happily eat another one right this minute.

A view of the tamal filling. The black/beige-y part is the huitlacoche, the reddish part around that is a spicy, rich sauce that perfectly complements the corn fungus and the surrounding masa is of course house-nixtamaliz-ed corn. Now se me truenan las tripas–my stomach is growling!

The menu board at Molino El Pujol. Prices effective July 2018 and subject to change without notice.

My young friend with the fire in his hair, chef Eríc Martínez, who asked chef Jorge if I could visit Molino El Pujol. Eríc is pictured in my kitchen, making his own mouth-watering version of mole for my birthday dinner this year. Write down his name, remember his face. The culinary world is going to hear from this young man. You deserve it all, amigo.

A huge shout-out to chef Jorge 'El Moles' León, for kindness, generosity, and information–and for taking so much time to talk with me at Molino El Pujol. I asked him for a photo, but no, thanks.

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

28 de July de 2018
You Can’t Go Home Again :: Restaurante Teocintle Maíz :: Ajijic, Jalisco

Restaurante Teocintle Maíz, at the corner of Calle Miguel Blanco and Calle Constitución, Ajijic, Jalisco. You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather. This charming restaurant is about three doors from where I once lived, more than 15 years ago. Back then, the location was called La Frontera, a tiny corner grocery store, owned by my wonderful neighbors don Alfredo Villaseñor and his wife, doña Simona Pineda (may they rest in peace). Today, Gloria Rodríguez Villaseñor, a delightful young woman and granddaughter of my longtime friends the grocers, operates Restaurante Teocintle Maíz together with her business partner, Ricardo Robles.

A couple of memories:

The wall of the house where I lived on Calle Miguel Blanco. The wall is all that one one sees from the street–a Mexican street-side wall is usually very plain, giving away nothing of what might be just inside the door. When I lived in the house, it was simple but comfortable, with lots of character. Now–I don't know what the house behind the wall looks like.

Open the street door and here's the lovely garden. My gardener and friend, Jorge Velázquez (RIP), worked with me to make barren ground into a showcase in the late 1990s. The current owner has made a few changes–the old orange tree is gone, the gazebo at the back left used to be a fountain–but the form is pretty much what Jorge and I created.

Fast forward to July 6, 2018:

Where there once were shelves filled with cans of chiles and soups, boxes of laundry detergent, crates of eggs sold by weight, bottled soft drinks, boxes of juice, infant formula and disposable diapers, and doña Simona reading a book on her stool behind the counter, we have the cozy interior of Restaurante Teocintle Maíz. The rooms were beautifully created on a shoestring by Gloria and Ricardo, and the restaurant opened just over 18 months ago.

Today, Teocintle Maíz is listed on TripAdvisor as the #1 restaurant in Ajijic. Here, it's casa llena–full house–and it's almost always like that. If you want a reservation, call ahead–way ahead! It's that popular, both with Mexican locals, with the large expatriate community in Ajijc, and with visitors to the area.

Ricardo Robles manages Teocintle Maíz, works the front of the house, and is an excellent host. He has also built a great deal of the furniture in the restaurant, including this beautiful table. The table was delivered the day I was there.

Ajijic is a picturesque little town on the north shore of Lake Chapala, about an hour south of Guadalajara. The town is filled with life-long Mexican residents, a large quantity of gentrified shops and galleries, 164+ restaurants and innumerable street food stands. It suffers from horrendous traffic and boasts a population of foreign retirees who are alway looking for the next good place to eat. Several friends had told me about this delightful restaurant, and a few weeks ago, I was able to sneak in without a reservation, just before closing time, to see what all the buzz was about. I was, quite frankly, as dubious as I usually am about reportedly great restaurants, especially in the hinterlands.

Chef Gloria
Rodríguez Villaseñor, in charge of the kitchen at Teocintle Maíz. We chatted for a few minutes and she asked if I'd had supper. No… She sat me at a little table by a window and gave me the menu. Ricardo came to take my order, and I asked him to choose something for me. "I prefer traditional Mexican food over modern Mexican food, and I leave myself in your hands."

My magnificent supper: one of the most traditional meals from Jalisco, the chamorro (pork shank), accompanied by superb, lardy, frijolitos refritos, arroz a la mexicana, avocado slices, and house-made corn tortillas. Chamorro is cooked over very low heat in a spicy red sauce until it is fall-off-the-bone tender. This one was perfect–no ifs, ands, or buts, perfect–and I ate the whole enormous thing. When you go, order it–and you'll eat the whole enormous thing, too. And the beans! It's extraordinary to be served beans of this quality: home-style, smooth and well-fried in just enough lard to make you think you've gone to what I've heard called 'hog heaven'. The tortillas were corny and delicious, and wrapped in a napkin as God intended. To drink, I had a refreshing house-made, just-sweet-enough agua fresca de jamaica ('fresh water', made from roselle, a type of hibiscus).

Chef Gloria studied at the acclaimed Centro Educativo Jaltepec and now gives courses at that culinary school. Her resumé shows tremendous drive and direction; she is extremely accomplished in all facets of a person moving toward a specific goal: owning a restaurant of her own. She has worked with the most outstanding and talented chefs in the Lake Chapala and Guadalajara area, and always with the goal to succeed and move forward. It's a joy to see that she absolutely knows what she's doing, both in the kitchen and in the front of the house, and yet is very humble about her accomplishments and her talents.

My dessert: house-made pastel de elote (a sweet fresh corn cake) and coconut ice cream, with locally grown fresh blueberries and a coulis of red fruits. Look behind the ice cream: it's a little square of corn kernels, carefully sliced from the cob. The bill for my meal, everything included, was under $200 pesos.

The restaurant's multiple uses of corn bring me to the name of the restaurant: why Teocintle Maíz? It's not an easy name for Ajijic's foreign community to pronounce, many Mexicans have no idea what it means, and the evening I was there Ricardo and chef Gloria called the kitchen staff into the dining room to talk about teocintle–and to show them what it is. What you see in the photo above is my 'trademark'–an actual mazorca (ear) of the ancient grain that was domesticated approximately 8,000 to 11,000 years ago by Mexico's Stone Age people to become what we know today as corn. Teocintle the grain still exists in Mexico; several years ago, a friend of mine cultivated quite a lot of it and was able to harvest a zillion seeds and 10 whole ears. He framed those 10 whole ears in silver, and I wear mine as a necklace every day–first, because I love it, and second, because it is a teaching tool about corn's domestication. I was touched to the heart to know that this small restaurant in this tiny town is named for the thousands of years old grain that became Mexico's heritage food and gift to the entire world. You can read more about that here.

At the end of the evening, Ricardo, Mexico Cooks!, and chef Gloria posed for posterity. We had a wonderful time together.

A menu board announces each day's offerings. Clients truly rave about everything, and I need to go back soon to try some other dishes. Meantime, until I can get there, you go. Tell them Mexico Cooks! sent you. You'll be so glad you went.

Restaurante Teocintle Maíz
Constitución 52, at the corner of Miguel Blanco
Ajijic, Jalisco
01 33 1547 8968 for hours and reservations

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21 de July de 2018
Matatlán and Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca :: Mezcal and Traditional Cooking on the Road Home

The Ilegal mezcal palenque (in a big stretch of translation, it's a mezcal distillery) is right on the road between Tlacolula and Teotitlán del Valle, in the little town which is arguably the mezcal capital of Oaxaca: Santiago de Matatlán. The animal's job is to keep that stone wheel moving over wood-fire roasted maguey fibers, crushing them to prepare them for the fermentation and subsequent distillation process.

The first week of May, 2018, Chef Silvana Salcido Esparza (Barrio Cafe Phoenix) and I were on the last leg of our Oaxaca trip, driving north from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec to Oaxaca City, when we saw a sign on the side of the road for ILEGAL (in Spanish 'illegal' has just one 'L') mezcal. She braked and swerved into the parking lot: "I can't believe we found this! It's one of the best mezcales that we serve at the Cafe!" We spent about an hour, fascinated, talking with an Ilegal mezcalero about its production.

From the Ilegal building's porch, I took this photo of the company's espadín maguey cactus fields. Maguey grew as far as the eye could see. This maguey is cultivated, not wild, and each plant takes between seven and ten years to mature enough to harvest. Ilegal's joven (literally 'young', it means un-aged) mezcal gives you full-bodied espadín agave flavor. Barely smokey, its gently lemony flavors leave a slightly peppery sensation on your palate. Ilegal also produces a reposado (briefly aged) mezcal as well as an añejo (longer aged) mezcal.

Founded in approximately 2002-2003 by an American expatriate, John Brexer, in just 15 years the Ilegal brand has become one of the best-quality mezcales from Oaxaca. Because our time was so short at the palenque, we had little time to talk at depth with the producer. Click on this link to read the full story of the brand: ILEGAL MEZCAL. Nonetheless, we took a lot of pictures and it's fun to share them with you here.

"Working from sun-up to sundown, life goes by this way in my village. MATATLÁN the steam from your factories is the hope of all of us poor."

Just-filled bottles of Ilegal mezcal, sealed by hand-dipping each bottle top in emerald green wax.

View from inside the Ilegal building.

Antique sea-green glass garrafones (20-liter bottles, about five US gallons), used for holding water–or for bulk mezcal! Today, it's difficult to find a garrafón like these; nearly all are now made of plastic.

Do you know what the Spanish word 'pendejo' means? If not, here's your Spanish vocabulary lesson for today, just click here: not for children.

After our relámpago (lightning strike–i.e., really quick) stop at Ilegal, we headed for our much anticipated time prior to Oaxaca's airport: my dear friends Carina Santiago Bautista and her husband, Pedro Montaño, both soon to be equally dear to chef Silvana, had invited us to go to Tierra Antigua, their restaurant and gallery in Teotitlán del Valle, for a private comida with them. Carina is a celebrated cocinera tradicional, and Pedro is a prize-winning Zapotec master weaver. Silvana and I had been looking forward for days to being with them.

Tierra Antigua Restaurant and Gallery, Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca, exterior. Photo courtesy TripAdvisor.

Carina and Pedro and their family have been working for years to build the complex of restaurant, gallery, and bungalows for visitors. The installations are beautiful; prior to our meal, Carina gave Silvana and me a tour of their beautifully designed and constructed buildings. The interiors are modern and charming, the outdoor kitchen is rustic and traditional and designed for cooking classes. And the restaurant/gallery! Every wall shows off Pedro's extraordinary textiles (primarily wool rugs and wall hangings), all of which are for sale. Their talented son, Diego Montaño, is also a weaver and is represented in the gallery. His weaving incorporates whimsy and beauty into his designs.

This small rug/wall hanging, woven by young Diego Montaño, represents the symbolism and traditions of the milpa, the ancient farming system of Mexico which is still used today. Click on the link for information about that. Chef Silvana bought this marvelous weaving for her home.

The completely delightful Carina Santiago in her outdoor kitchen, standing at the stove. Those are clay comales (comparable to griddles) coated with cal, the white substance on each comal's surface. It's put there to make the comal non-stick! If you're thinking of going to Oaxaca, schedule a cooking class with her. She is fluently bilingual (Spanish/English) and will teach you Zapotec food preparation methods and flavors that go back hundreds of years.

First thing at the table: home-made Oaxaca-style blue corn tortillas and salsa verde cruda–raw green salsa. This salsa is so bright, so vibrant in one's mouth, and so wonderfully delicious that it awakened our palates for the rest of our meal to come. Carina and her assistants prepare dried corn in the evening for grinding into masa (dough) the following day.

What's on the plate? Hoja santa leaf, with its light anise flavor, and quesillo (Oaxaca cheese), melted together with toasted chapulines (limón and chile-flavored grasshoppers). A squeeze of limón and wow!

Mole negro (black mole), the king of Oaxaca's moles. Prepared with more than 30 ingredients, the intense flavors of this dish become more complex and more developed as one continues eating it. The component that gives mole negro on of its most distinctive tastes is dried and reconstituted chile chilhuacle negro, a rare Oaxacan chile.

First quality chile chilhuacle negro, for sale at the Mercado 20 de noviembre, Oaxaca City. The sign shows an interesting and uncommon spelling.

Chiles rellenos Oaxaca style: a fresh chile jalapeño, in this case seeded and stuffed with picadillo (a kind of Mexican hash), then covered with an egg batter and fried. I'll be seeing Carina in a few weeks and would love to eat this again–and everything else, too! Carina

It's obligatory in Mexico to have a photo taken for posterity. From left, chef Silvana, cocinera tradicional Carina, Mexico Cooks!, and weaver Pedro Montaño. Behind us are two of Pedro's gorgeous rugs. If you're anywhere near San Diego, California, you'll find him and his wonderful work at Bazaar del Mundo's annual Latin American Festival, August 3-5, 2018. Click on the link for more information!

On the way out of town, we stopped for ice cold bottled water in a tiny grocery store across the street from the church. This is the Mexico I've known since 1981: a little bit of this, a little bit of that, just what you need when you need it, and the friendliest owner in town. I know I'll go back in August to say hello.

Tierra Antigua Restaurante y Galería
Benito Juárez 175 (left-hand side of the street)
Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca
Telephone from the USA: 011-52-951-166-6160 for reservations, cooking classes or to eat at the restaurant.
Spanish and English spoken
Tell them Mexico Cooks! sent you!

Next week: where to next? It's going to be as much a surprise to me as it is to you! I hope you've enjoyed coming along as chef Silvana and I traveled through one small part of wonderful Oaxaca. I'd be happy to take you touring there–in real life. Let me know if you'd like to schedule a trip!

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

14 de July de 2018
Salina Cruz, San Blas Atempa, and San Mateo del Mar :: Traveling in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, Oaxaca

As we drove through Tehuantepec, we were looking for a nearby comida of fresh seafood and had no idea where to go; we stopped to ask a taxi driver and he led us to Salina Cruz, to a beach restaurant that was his favorite. Salina Cruz, Oaxaca: wide open beaches, surfing, seafood! This seaside city of approximately 24,000 people is only about half an hour south and west of Tehuantepec. Salina Cruz is the third largest city in Oaxaca and is a major port in southern Mexico. Its main industry is the enormous oil refinery that one can see from almost everywhere in the area.

He led us to Restaurante Delicias del Mar (Delicacies from the Sea), right on the beach in an area called Las Escolleras (the breakwaters). That's chef Silvana Salcido Esparza (Barrio Cafe Phoenix) at the restaurant doorway, and you can see the incredible stretch of beach behind her–and beyond the beach, the open sea. And may I say that it was hot, hot, hot–around 108ºF–and intensely humid. Salina Cruz is known for its frequently high winds, though, and a stiff breeze helped the comfort level. Inside the restaurant the high, shady palapa roof kept the breeze flowing.

At the right of the plate is the kind of clawless langosta (lobster) caught in the Salina Cruz area. To the left of the lobster (which we ordered) are four cucarachas de mar (sea cockroaches), which we ordered despite their completely unappealing name and appearance. The lobster was excellent and the flesh of the cucarachas was delicious; after cooking, the texture as well as the flavor are similar to those of lobster tail. Who knew!

"Silvana, hold up the huachinango (red snapper) so I can take a picture of it!" I thought she'd hold it up on the plate, but this was far more fun. Whole, slashed, and fried till the skin is crispy and the flesh is moist and delicious–my favorite preparation of red snapper. We left only the skeleton.

The word "salina" means salt lagoon. High tides bring abundant sea water into marked-off areas like the one you see in the photograph, and the intense sunlight dries the water, leaving salt that workers harvest from any remaining water. For many generations, the entire region around Salina Cruz has benefited economically from the salt. After I took this photo, I was amazed to see the clear reflection of the hill in the water. Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better view.

The motocarro (three-wheeled taxi) transportation in San Blas Atempa, where we went after we finished our comida in Salina Cruz. The piles of sand are building materials for earthquake damage repairs.

Daily dress, daily life in San Blas Atempa. The town, founded in 1530, feels like a trip to Oaxaca's past. The community speaks Zapotec; the population is descended from a warrior race that takes much pride in preserving its traditions, customs, and language. The townswomen received us with great good humor and much shared laughter. We were sent to a street party down the street and around the block, sponsored by DIF (Desarrollo Integral de la Familia, Mexico's state and national social service agency). It was el Día del Niño (Children's Day) in Mexico, celebrated to the max all over the country. How could we resist!

Of course we went! The party vibrated with music, dancing, a funny clown, games and prizes for all of the many children, babies to nuzzle–we had a great time. Chef Silvana saw to it that every child in our proximity received a big cold glass of home-made agua fresca made with fresh fruit: healthy, refreshing, and delicious.

Home-made aguas frescas at the DIF party. Left to right: guayaba (guava), limón (Key lime), and wow, ciruela criolla (native wild plum)! It's my all-time favorite, only available during the short wild plum season in the spring. See the plastic bag between the jar of agua de limón and the jar of plum (orange ladle)? The bag is filled with my serving of agua fresca de ciruela, a straw is stuck into the bag, and the opening of the bag is twisted and tied tightly around the straw. It's the typical Mexican way of sending you off with any kind of soft drink to go.

A bucket of agua fresca de ciruela criolla, to replenish the vitrolero (large glass jar) as needed. The plums are about two inches long, and inch and a half in diameter. The pulp is minimal but delicious. The stone is almost as big as the entire plum.

Oxcart is another much-used mode of transportation in San Blas Atempa. We saw probably 20 of these, always with the driver standing up. Occasionally other workmen w
ere riding on the tail end.

There was a time when most signage in Mexico (if it existed at all) looked just like this, or was hidden behind a tree, or obscured behind a billboard, or was broken in half. Chef Silvana and I are old Mexico hands and immediately recognized that we were on the right track for San Mateo del Mar. We didn't know how many kilometers away it was, though. Turns out that it wasn't far at all, just a few minutes from where we saw the sign.

Parroquia de San Mateo Apóstol, San Mateo del Mar, Oaxaca. The brown part of the facade is a design, but much of the church was damaged in the September 7, 2018 earthquake. If you click on the photo to enlarge it, you'll be able to see how the facade continues to be propped up and where there is other damage.

San Mateo Apóstol with flowers and a candle, patron saint of San Mateo del Mar, in a niche in the market.

Doña Agustina Sánchez, who sells a little bit of everything in the San Mateo del Mar market. Chef Silvana and I spent a long time talking with her. Hearing her wisdom was a particularly wonderful part of our day. We laughed a lot, cried a little, and loved being there with her. Doña Agustina gave each of us a shell necklace and her blessing when we left.

We happened to be in San Mateo for its día de plaza (market day). The market is broken up into several sections because of earthquake damage to streets and homes; you can see the piles of both rubble (bottom right) and sand for new construction (middle left). There was produce and other food available for purchase, but many, many of the community's houses were destroyed by the earthquake and many people continue to be without a place to live and a fixed place and way to cook.

Earthquake damage in San Mateo del Mar. Photo courtesy Oaxaca news sources.

The Huave indigenous population of San Mateo del Mar and its surrounding region is known in the community's own language as ikoots (it means "us"), and in Spanish the people often call themselves mareños, or people of the sea. They have lived in this tiny area of Oaxaca for more than 3000 years, predating the Zapotec population and obviously predating the arrival of the Spanish. Men of the community have always been fishermen, and many of the women have been weavers since pre-hispanic times. The Huave speak four distinct varieties of their language in their various communities; some of their Huave languages aren't understood by other Huave-speakers. The total population of this ethnicity is approximately 29,000, divided into five towns: San Mateo del Mar, San Dionisio del Mar, San Francisco del Mar, and Santa María del Mar. All are seaside villages or small towns; San Mateo del Mar has the largest population, with about 12,000 people.

Most of these typical Huave homes were destroyed by the September 7, 2017 earthquake. Many other homes, with stick walls made of carrizo (similar to bamboo) and thatched roofs, were also either flattened or otherwise made uninhabitable. Chef Silvana and I had the privilege of being invited into one of the carrizo homes and could see first hand the living conditions caused by the quake.

As we drove into San Mateo del Mar, a tiny black sign with white lettering, above the door of a house, caught my eye. In Spanish, it read: "Woven things sold here." We braked fast and backed up to the corner to park. As we walked through sand to the house, a very young woman with a baby on her hip came out to greet us. "Buscan tejidos?" (
'Are you looking for weavings?') She got in the car with the baby and guided us a few hundred feet down the road, where we parked in front of another house, built of sticks and with a thatched roof. You can see part of the inside in the video below.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UkxPawYhN0&w=400&h=315]
In the video, the woman weaving with a back strap loom is Elena Villaseñor Rangel, a daughter of Sra. Justina Oviedo Rangel. Doña Justina passed away in September 2013; her three daughters (Cristina, Victoria, and Elena Villaseñor Rangel) are carrying on her weaving tradition. You can see parts of the house, as well as our young 'guide', taking various types of textiles from a bag.

We were extremely fortunate to have found Doña Justina's relatives, who told us a little of her story. Born in 1938 and raised in San Mateo del Mar, she–like all the girls of her village–wasn't encouraged to go to school. She started weaving when she was just eight years old, initially practicing with palm leaves and soon picking up any bits of thread she could find to use for her child-like projects. She wasn't formally taught to weave; she learned by observing the women of her family. She became more and more proficient at her craft and gained some recognition as a weaver. Years of weaving later, she began to think about the "blank" side of a napkin; the design was always woven onto the front, and the reverse was blank. She announced to her daughters that she was going to figure out a way to weave a design on both sides of a single layer. Her daughters pretty much said, "Yeah right." It seemed like an impossible task, and was something that had never been thought of, much less done. Doña Justina kept trying until she figured it out.

In those days, there was very little market outside San Mateo del Mar for ikoots textiles. Doña Justina sold the textiles she wove then to women in the town. Today, the servilletas (cloths for wrapping tortillas), rebozos (long rectangular "shawls" used for everything from carrying babies to carrying wood), and  huipiles (traditional women's blouses and dresses) made in the village are coveted by museums, individual collectors, and just about anyone who sees them. Doña Justina has been honored many, many times for her fine work and for her impact on the town and its weavers.

Chef Silvana standing next to a poster for an homenaje (homage) that was to be given in honor of doña Justina the day after we had to leave Oaxaca. We were so disappointed not to be able to go. Silvana is wearing a just-purchased huipil made from a fabric very similar to the fabric that you saw being woven in the video above.

Poster in San Mateo del Mar promoting breastfeeding. "Amamantar Compromiso de Todos" (Breastfeeding is a Commitment for All).

Next week, Silvana and I head back to the city of Oaxaca to catch a plane back to Mexico City. On the way to the city, we get to have two more wonderful experiences: a visit to the Ilegal mezcal operations in Matatlán, and comida at the home of cocinera tradicional Carina Santiago Bautista and her husband, extraordinary weaver Pedro Moreno, in Teotitlán del Valle. Come with us!

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

7 de July de 2018
Juchitán, Capital of the Istmo of Tehuantepec

Typical public transportation in Juchitán de Zaragoza (also known as Juchitán de las Mujeres). These three-wheeled vehicles, some covered like this one and some open to the air, buzzed around everywhere in the city, taking people wherever they needed to go.

Our last day in the Istmo, chef Silvana hired a mototaxi driver to give us a tour around the area. Look at its wonderful roof–an old-fashioned fabric for just the right touch. We whipped along having a fantastic time, waving at pedestrians and being waved at, people laughing with us as we tooled along.

Juchitán, the largest city on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, Oaxaca, (population about 100,000), prides itself on its culture and its traditions. The iconic statue at the entrance to town is based on a photograph taken by one of Mexico's most outstanding photographers, Graciela Iturbide. To quote the Getty Museum, "Between 1979 and 1988, Iturbide (b. 1942) made a series of visits to Juchitán, Mexico, where—in her words—she photographed the way of life there "in complicity with the people." Located in the state of Oaxaca, Juchitán is an ancient, communal, matriarchal society. It is also an open, fiercely independent, fiesta-loving city. Since the early twentieth century, the women of Juchitán—their dress and manner—have been national symbols, and Iturbide's photographs capture them in public and in private as they conduct their lives in this ancient city in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec."

The 1979 Iturbide photograph, called "Nuestra Señora de las Iguanas" ('Our Lady of the Iguanas'), shows the power and dignity of a Zapotec woman, who carries on her head live iguanas that form a bizarre crown.

In the Juchitán municipal market, we were talking about iguanas with a young muxe who sells ropa típica (regional clothing) of the area. He pointed across the aisle to a booth where the owner prepares licuados (smoothies, more or less) and lo and behold, we saw this big black iguana, tethered to a tree branch. It's the Ctenosaura similis, native to the region and the most common iguana found (and hunted for food) in the Istmo. In theory, the iguana is protected by law–but in practice, it and its eggs are much eaten in Mexico. The meat is truly delicious, I didn't care for the leathery eggs.

In the Juchitán market, a vendor offered iguana eggs, cooked in caldillo de jitomate (thin tomato broth) with green chiles. The eggs are about 1.5" long. I tried to eat one, but I really didn't like the texture or the flavor. Imagine that, something I didn't like!

We devoured several of these delicious fresh chiles jalapeño, roasted and stuffed with picadillo (a hash made of beef or pork plus chopped vegetables and fruits), then battered in beaten egg, fried, and served with delicious caldillo (thin tomato broth).

I've eaten various kinds of smoked fish–whitefish, salmon, and others in the USA, marlin in Mexico–but I had never seen smoked tuna until chef Silvana and I went to the Juchitán market. The vendor at this stand gave me a little chunk to taste. Out of this world! Smoked tuna, meaty and completely delicious, is now on my have-to-have-it-again list. This pile of tuna pieces was about 18" high.

Meet the Chrysobalanus icaco, a fruit endemic to the Istmo and known at least in Juchitán as jicaco–they're the rosy pink ones. One name for them in English is the cocoplum. As you can see in this week's photos, in Juchitán we saw several things that were brand new to us. The jicaco fruit is prepared as a tea to combat diarrhea, and people cook and grind the leaves and stems to combat dysentery. The seeds can be toasted and ground and prepared as an atole (thick drink usually served warm) to provoke vomiting. Chef Silvana and I ate part of one raw fruit; it isn't at all sweet, hasn't a lot of taste, and is very astringent and medicinal. It makes you pucker up and not in a good way!

Flower seller, Juchitán market. In this part of the Istmo, it's crucial to find and take advantage of shade wherever possible, and equally crucial to drink lots of water. The time in late April-early May that we were in the Istmo, the daily temperatures climbed to well above 100ºF, with 100% percent humidity. Thinking about climate change, I asked a young man in the market if this year's temperature and humidity were unusually high; he said, no, they were normal for the time of year.

We bought several necklaces made of plumeria flowers (aka frangipani) at the Juchitán market. The plant is named for French botanist Charles Plumier, who traveled to what is now Mexico and found it. Described by Charles Linnaeus in 1753, it's called flor de mayo (May flower) in the Istmo. I'd always thought it was native to Hawaii, but no: it's Mexican. In the market, we saw many young women wearing these necklaces, saints' images were draped with them, and the flowers' sweet fragrance wafted through the air.

The Juchitán market sets up every day on the streets, around a park and spread out to another close-by area as well. We peered into the back of the city's municipal building to see what remains of the market where it was set up in the past. Why? Close to midnight on September 7, 2017, an extremely strong earthquake (8.1 on the Richter scale, said to have been the heaviest Mexico earthquake in over 100 years), with its epicenter just off the coast of Oaxaca's neighboring state Chiapas, hit the Istmo. Juchitán, a city of well over 100,000 people, suffered severe damage, including to its municipal building.

Photo above: the municipal building in Juchitán, the morning after the September 7, 2018 earthquake.

We were deeply disturbed to see how little recovery has been possible, and we later learned that there is no plan to rebuild the municipal building. Its offices and the market have been relocated, the daily market now sets up outdoors, in a park near the destroyed building. Wherever we looked in the city, huge piles of rubble left from damaged or demolished buildings (homes and businesses alike) remained in the streets and on the sidewalks. People told us that there is no place to put the rubble, so it simply sits there, a constant reminder of the disaster. Many people told us that none of the funds collected by the government and by other agencies have reached them; people continue to live in the streets, some under tarps and some with nothing to protect them from either the intense heat or the intense nightly rains.

Just one of hundreds of destroyed homes and businesses in Juchitán.

Another. Of course Juchitán was not the only place seriously affected by the earthquake. All of the towns in the area show similar damage. You might well ask why few repairs have been made, why the funds collected and designated for direct assistance to the Istmo–estimated to be $45 million U.S. dollars–haven't been disbursed. The answer: government corruption. Sadly enough, it is all too common for donated funds to end up in someone's pocket rather than in the hands of those for whom it was destined. Should there be another devastation of this type anywhere in Mexico, please ask me about alternate ways to donate money so that it will actually get to those who need it.

Next week: a trip to several small towns in the Istmo. Despite the shock of seeing so much earthquake damage, we loved the rest of what we saw and did and want to share it with you. See you next week!

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30 de June de 2018