Category: Food and Drink

Three Traveling Kings, Tamales, and Traditions: The *Rest* of Christmas in Mexico

Most Mexicans eat traditional rosca de reyes (Three Kings' Bread) on January 6, the Feast of the Three Kings. Its usual accompaniment is chocolate caliente (hot chocolate). The rosca in the photo is normal size for a family–about 18" long.

This is the rosca monumental–humongous rosca–as served in Mexico City's Plaza de la Constitución (better known as the Zócalo). For the 2018 celebration, the rosca will contain 7,720 kilos of wheat flour, 2,000 kilos of sugar, 52,200 eggs (!), over 3,000 kilos of butter, 253 kilos of yeast, and all the rest of the ingredients necessary to accomplish a baking feat of this magnitude. Over 2,000 bakers and other personnel will participate in its preparation. Miguel Ángel Mancera, Mexico City's head of government, will once again preside over its slicing and serving–portions enough for approximately 250,000 hungry people.

One of the many Three Kings traditions in Mexico City is having one's photograph made with them, either just before or on their feast day. The photo above, taken at least 15 years ago in the city's Parque Alameda Sur, includes the Kings, some real live lambs, and (left to right), my friends Claire and Fabiola, and me.

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

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), it's a great winter treat.

In this photo (click on it to enlarge it for a better view), the Reyes Magos arrive by boat in Cajititlán, Jalisco, where there is a large lake.

My friend, Chef Arturo Camacho Domínguez, recently wrote a bit for me 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 the infinity of heaven–which of course is the home of the Niño Dios." Furthermore, the dried-fruit decoration (figs, ate [similar to fruit leather], and acitrón [candied cactus flesh]) represent the crowns of the Reyes Magos (the Three Wise Men).

The plastic muñequito (little doll) baked into my most recent rosca measured less than 2" tall. The figures were originally dried habas (fava beans), then were 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 muñequito; larger roscas can hold two, three, or more. Mexico City's giant rosca normally contains 10,000 of these tiny figures.

Tamaleras (special pots to steam tamales) do extra duty on February 2–the Feast of la Candelaria, when literally millions of tamales are devoured at seasonal parties all over Mexico.

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, February, 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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6 de January de 2018
Have A Happy New Year, Mexican Style!

In Mexico, we throw a "Fin del Año" party–to celebrate the end of the old year, as well as the beginning of the new year. The photo shows you fireworks behind the Ángel de la Independencia (Angel of Independence) in Mexico City, at the end of 2016. There are lots of other customs here as well!

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 indicates a New Year's wish for an exciting love interest!

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!

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–to family and friends with the same wish.

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 gold 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.

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, and 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 in 2018!

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30 de December de 2017
Restaurante Pasillo de Humo with Chef Alam Méndez Florián :: Make Reservations NOW For Your Winter Trip to Mexico City

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). This one-year-old Mexico City restaurant 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 27, 2017–easily the 40th meal I've eaten there during the year since the restaurant opened. Clockwise from bottom left: Rafael Mier, founder of the 300,000+ member strong Facebook group Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana, Mexico Cooks!, Alondra Maldonado, Nayarit-based author of the cookbook Sabores de Nayarit (Flavors of Nayarit) who teaches Mexican cooking classes, (standing) chef Alam Méndez Florián, and (seated) Francisco Santiago Lázaro, the most knowledgeable central Mexico tour guide I know. The restaurant is just a few blocks from my home, easy walking distance to Pasillo de Humo, serving 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!

Next 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.

Our next main course was mollejas–veal sweetbreads served with a mole called chichilo, in a deep bowl and accompanied by typical Oaxaca chochoyotes (delicious little blue corn dumplings with a finger-poke of a belly button). It's quite unusual to find sweetbreads on a restaurant menu these days, and at Pasillo de Humo they are one of my favorite dishes. Crisp on the outside, tender on the inside, enormously flavorful…don't hesitate!

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 e
xecutive 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.

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 only 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.

2 de December de 2017
What’ll You Have? Mexico’s Most Popular Drink :: The Michelada
A perfect michelada, rimmed with Tajín and topped with crunchy fresh cucumber. Spicy, salty, beery, umami-rich, and completely refreshing.

Here in Mexico–everywhere in Mexico!–the single most popular beer drink is the michelada. Its ingredients, always based on beer, depend on the bartender, the part of the country one is in, or on one's personal taste. A michelada is an any-time, any-season drink.

We see fútbol (soccer) stadiums full of people slugging down liters of stadium-prepared micheladas, parties at home where no other alcoholic beverage is served, and restaurant tables full of people slurping them down along with their barbacoa, carne asada, or pozole–or accompanying a hamburger and fries, or a salad. The michelada goes with just about any sort of food. Popular wisdom also knows it as a super hangover cure, so hey–beer for breakfast in your hour of need? Why not, just this once?

The primary ingredient of any michelada is beer. Most people prefer a light-colored lager, but once in a while someone will order a michelada made with dark beer. Corona is just one option; any light-colored lager will do. First and foremost is to use the lager you prefer: Corona, Pacifico, Modelo, or any other. And your beer doesn't even have to be made in Mexico; use whatever country's beer you like best. Photo courtesy Corona.

The seasonings in a michelada typically include either Clamato, V8, or plain tomato juice, plus Worcestershire sauce, a very hot bottled salsa like Valentina, Cholula, Yucateca, or any of dozens on the grocer's shelf, salt—lots of salt—powdered chile, the umami-heavy seasoning liquid called Maggi, and freshly-squeezed jugo de limón (the juice of a key lime).

Rim a frosted pint mug or glass with powdered Tajín (a commercial mix of powdered dry chile, limón flavoring, and salt). You can find Tajín in almost any supermarket. There are imitators, but if you can find Tajín, it's the best. Photo courtesy Tajín.

Now add the rest of the ingredients. Here's a recipe to get you started; experiment with micheladas till the flavor blend is exactly the way you like it.

Micheladas a la mexicana
- light-colored lager beer of your choice
- Clamato or V8 or tomato juice
- 3 or 4 splashes hot sauce, more or less to taste. Try Valentina, or Cholula, or use your favorite.
- 2 splashes of Worcestershire sauce
- 2 splashes of Maggi sauce
- Juice of one lime
  Fill the glass about ¼ to ? with the Clamato juice. Add the hot sauce, the lime juice, the Worcestershire sauce, and the soy sauce. If you used Tajín to salt the rim, pour any excess from the plate into the glass. Fill the rest with cold beer and top off your micheladas with sticks of celery or jícama, skewers of shrimp or olives, half-moons of cucumber, freshly-cooked octopus–really, anything within the limits of your imagination. And for good measure, add another splash of Maggi.
Clamato contains water, tomato concentrate, high fructose corn syrup, MSG, salt, citric acid, onion powder, celery seed, garlic powder, dried clam broth, unspecified spices, vinegar, natural flavors, food coloring, and ascorbic acid to maintain color. Photo courtesy Clamato.

V8 juice contains a blend of reconstituted vegetable juices including tomatoes, carrots, celery, beets, parsley, lettuce, watercress, and spinach, plus a tiny percentage of salt, ascorbic acid, citric acid, and natural flavoring. Photo courtesy V8.

Campbell's tomato juice contains tomato juice from concentrate, potassium chloride, ascorbic acid, citric acid, salt, malic acid, and other flavorings. Photo courtesy Campbell's.

In the United States, the ingredients in Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce are: distilled white vinegar, molasses, sugar, water, salt, onions, anchovies, garlic, cloves, tamarind extract, natural flavorings, and chili pepper extract. Anchovies–did you know that? Photo courtesy Lee & Perrins.

Valentina is arguably Mexico's best-known bottled salsa. The photo shows the four liter bottle–nearly a gallon! That size should keep you in micheladas for quite a while. If you'd prefer a smaller bottle, you can buy Valentina, either hot or extra-hot, in a 12.5 ounce size. The ingredients are water, chile peppers, vinegar, salt, spices and sodium benzoate (as a preservative). The taste can be described as a citrus flavor, with a nicely spicy aftertaste. Photo courtesy Valentina.

If you're not already using Maggi for cooking, look for it until you find it for your micheladas. Of Swiss origin, Maggi is ubiquitous, literally a global phenomenon, used all over the world to add an extra touch of taste to savory recipes. It's indispensable in a michelada, bringing the utmost in umami to the drink. Your micheladas will be pale in flavor without it. Ingredients vary by country; if you have an MSG sensitivity, be sure to look for it in the ingredients list. Some countries' Maggi have it, some don't. Photo courtesy Maggi.

Finally, the taste of freshly squeezed jugo de limón (juice from the key lime) will brighten up your michelada in a way that regular lime juice won't. You'll find limones in many supermarkets and Latin specialty markets. The juice of one limón per liter of michelada is the ratio you want. Mexico Cooks! photo.

The name michelada is said to be made of three words: 'mi' (my) 'chela' (a popular nickname for any beer) and 'helada' (icy cold). How many micheladas are consumed in Mexico every year? Untold millions! Do your part to keep the numbers up!

Salud! (To your health!)

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25 de November de 2017
Delicious Winter Squash, Mexican Style, for Your Thanksgiving Table :: Calabaza en Tacha

Looking for something different to serve for Thanksgiving? How about calabaza en tacha–winter squash cooked in a deliciously sweet syrup? As a side dish instead of sweet potatoes–or in addition to sweet potatoes!–this Mexican-style squash is sure to be a hit with your family and guests.

Mari, the woman who at one time spoiled Mexico Cooks! by doing all of my housework, gave me a squash. She brought two home from her rancho (the family farm) out in the country, one for her and one for me. The 8" diameter squash wasn't very big, as winter squash go, but it was plenty for me. Mari's first question, after I had happily accepted her gift, was whether or not I knew how to cook it. "Con piloncillo y canela, sí?" (With cones of brown sugar and cinnamon, right?)

Even though I knew how to spice the squash and knew how to cut it apart, knowing and doing these things turned out to be worlds apart. Faced with the project, I waffled and hesitated, intimidated by a large vegetable. The squash sat on the counter for several days, daring me to cook it before it molded. Then one of the cats toppled it over and rolled it around the counter, so I moved the squash outside onto the terrace table and gathered my nerve.

On Sunday, I finally decided it was Cook the Squash day. Mari was due to arrive early on Monday morning and it had to be done before she scolded me for letting it sit for so long. I chose pots, knives, and gathered the rest of the simple ingredients for a mise en place.

The squash with the first section cut out.

Cutting the squash in sections was the only difficult part of preparing it. The shell of the squash is hard. Hard. HARD. I was careful to keep the knife pointed toward the wall, not toward my body. With the force I needed to cut the squash open, one slip of the knife could have meant instant and deep penetration of my innards. Later that night, my friend Araceli told us that her mother usually breaks a squash apart by throwing it from her home's second floor balcony onto the concrete patio! The next morning, Mari told us that her husband had cut their squash apart with a machete. I felt really tough, knowing that I'd been able to cut it open with just a big knife and a few pointed words. (That's shorthand for 'the air turned blue above my counter').

The squash, cut into sections and ready for the pot. On the counter behind the squash is a 1930's Mexican covered cazuela (casserole), the top in the form of a turkey.

Once I had the (few pointed words) squash cut open, I scooped out the seeds and goop and cut it into sections more or less 4" long by 3" wide. I did not remove the hard shell, nor should you.

Piloncillo cones in two sizes. The large one weighs 210 grams; the small one weighs 35 grams. I use the small ones in the recipe below.

Meantime, I had prepared the ingredients for the almíbar (thick syrup) that the squash would cook in. Mexican stick cinnamon, granulated sugar, and piloncillo (cones of brown sugar) went into a pot of water. I added a big pinch of salt, tied anise seed and cloves into a square of cheesecloth and tossed the little bundle into the water. The pot needed to simmer for at least three hours, until the syrup was thick and well-flavored.

Clockwise from left: Mexican stick cinnamon, anise seed, piloncillo, and cloves.

Several hours later (after the syrup thickened well), I added the pieces of squash to the pot. Cooking time for this very hard squash was approximately an hour and a half over a low-medium flame.

As the squash cooks in the syrup, it softens and takes on a very appetizing dark brown color. Calabaza en tacha is one of the most typically homey Mexican dishes for desayuno (breakfast) or cena (supper). Well heated and served in a bowl with hot milk and a little of its own syrup, the squash is both nutritious and filling.

Squash for breakfast! On Monday morning, Mexico Cooks! served up a bowl of squash with hot milk, along with a slice of pan relleno con chilacayote (bread filled with sweetened chilacayote squash paste). Mari thought my squash was almost–almost–as good as hers.

Calabaza en Tacha estilo Mexico Cooks!

Ingredients
One medium-size hard shell winter squash (about 8" high)
6 cups water
14 small cones of dark piloncillo (coarse brown sugar)
2 cups granulated sugar
4 Mexican cinnamon sticks about 2.5" long
1 Tbsp anise seed
1 tsp cloves

Preparation
Heat the water in a large pot. Add the piloncillo, the granulated sugar, and the cinnamon sticks. Tie the anise seed and the cloves into a cheesecloth square and add it to the pot. Cook over a slow flame until the liquid is thick and syrupy, approximately three hours.

While the syrup is cooking, prepare the squash. Cut it into serving-size pieces as described above. If the squash shell is very hard, take adequate precautions so that you do not hurt yourself as you cut it in sections. You can always throw it from your second-floor window onto the patio!

Add the squash pieces to the thickened syrup and simmer until the squash is soft and takes on a deep brown color. Cool for 15 minutes or so before serving. Re-heat for desayuno (breakfast) or cena (supper). Serve with hot milk poured over it.

Makes about 16 servings.

¡Provecho!

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18 de November de 2017
Corn Travels In Baja California :: From Tijuana to Tecate, From Ensenada to Valle de Guadalupe and More!

Tijuana boasts an extraordinary school of culinary arts. We were privileged to be invited to present Mexico's maíces nativos (native corns) to a full auditorium of faculty, students, and the interested public. After the presentation, it was enormously gratifying to hear so many questions: "How and where do we start to promote and preserve this ancient corn?" "What can we do here in Baja California?" "How do we get seeds and how do we plant them here?" The audience truly understood and shared our preoccupation for these grains.

Left to right in the front row: W. Scott Koenig of A Gringo in Mexico, friend of maíces nativos Kalisa Wells, freelance writer Jackie Bryant, who spent the day with us, and Jennifer Kramer/Chris Mejia of Baja Test Kitchen, all of whom supported the corn project in Baja California. Seated above Scott at the far left of the photograph is Javier González Vizcaino, the director of Tijuana's Culinary Arts School, who was responsible for our invitation to speak there. The very fine culinary school recently celebrated its fourteenth anniversary.

Director Javier Gónzalez, head of the Culinary Arts School, makes a comment about a question asked after the presentation. Meeting Sr. González was a tremendous privilege for all of us involved with the Baja California corn project. We so appreciate his cheerleading!

The quintessential Baja California fish taco, delicious and endemic to the region. Think 'good-sized piece of battered and deep-fried fresh fish–often cazón–topped with salsa cruda (raw sauce–often erroneously called pico de gallo), finely shredded raw cabbage, drizzled with Mexican table cream and sprinkled with fresh cilantro. The outdoor stand offers other salsas as well, which we also slathered on our tacos. Our Baja Test Kitchen guides recommended this particular spot in the small town of Valle de Guadalupe; I'm not going to give away their secrets, but it's one of the many wonderful places they know in the in that part of the world. They'd be happy to schedule a trip for you.

This tejuino stand was one of my favorite stops. Rafael Mier's smile should tell you the story: so refreshing, so cold on a hot day–I could have drunk at least two cups, but we were on our way to eat elsewhere and tejuino is quite filling. The drink is a mixture of fresh masa (corn dough), piloncillo (Mexico's raw brown sugar), water, lemon juice, salt to taste, and ice. Everything but the ice is allowed to ferment for two or three days prior to chilling and serving. Many times your glass of tejuino will come topped with a small scoop of nieve de limón (lemon ice). The recipe comes from the state of Jalisco and the drink is served from carts all over the city of Guadalajara. I asked the man who served us our tejuino in Valle de Guadalupe where he was from–Guadalajara, of course!

We thought we'd just stop by to say hello to doña Sabina Bandera (La Guerrerense) at her carreta (street stand), but of course we stayed for some of her famous seafood tostadas. Since she was a newlywed in 1961, doña Sabina has been selling her incredibly fresh seafood preparations from a cart at the corner of Av. López Mateos and Calle Alvarado in downtown Ensenada. In addition, she recently opened a sit-down restaurant just across the street. Ensenada has always known and loved her and her wonderful seafood, but in 2012 Anthony Bourdain featured her on his show "No Reservations" and La Guerrerense became a legend and a Baja California food destination. In the coming year, La Guerrerense's seafood tostadas and jars of her dozen-plus different salsas will be available at Bourdain's new market in New York–and in another world-class city that I'm not quite allowed to mention yet. You'll read it here on Mexico Cooks! just as soon as my friend doña Sabina gives me the go-ahead.

Maíces nativos meet tostadas La Guerrerense! The tostada on the left is pulpo (octopus); the one on the right is caracol del mar (sea snail). Both are lip-smackingly good. Doña Sabina, the Guerrero-born daughter of campesinos (farmers), had a lot to talk about with Rafael Mier. He was thrilled to find out that she is 100% supportive of the work being done by the non-profit foundation Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana, and of course he is now one of her big supporters.

The serve-yourself array of salsas at doña Sabina's new cafeteria-style sit-down restaurant across from her street cart. The restaurant, simplicity itself and filled with the joy of good eating, shows the world just who doña Sabina is: no pretensions, straightforward this is who I am. You can't help but love her and the food she prepares. I certainly do.

Meet chef Omar Armas of Restaurante Mantou, Ensenada. The maíces nativos group presented these native corns to the restaurant cooks and wait staff while we were in Ensenada. The restaurant closed permanently on September 3, 2017, but chef Omar is keeping on with his culinary projects and plans to keep his career close to home. Our time at Mantou was so productive–not to mention so tasty–that it seems wise to put the news out that his culinary skills will continue to be available.

Rafael Mier talked about ancient and modern corn to the entire kitchen and front-of-the-house crew; more than triple this number was in attendance. Few had ever seen the variety of Mexico's native corns, and until hearing the talk, few understood the reasons for preserving these national treasures. Seated opposite Rafael, chef Omar listened deeply to the themes of the presentation. Above the heads of the group, you can see the final image of the Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana's slide show. The caption says, "El destino del maíz está en tus manos." 'Corn's destiny is in your hands.'

After the presentation, Restaurante Mantou hosted a dinner for us, at which we drank Henri Lurton wines. At the head of the table, Lourdes Martínez Ojeda, the head winemaker at Henri Lurton's winery (with a branch settled just over a year ago in Valle de Guadalupe) talks with everyone about why and how Henri Lurton, owner of the Château Brane-Cantenac winery in Margaux, Bordeaux, France and current head of the Lurton wine dynasties, chose Baja California for a second outpost. In addition to her work as the winemaker at Henri Lurton Baja California, Lourdes is also chef Omar's wife.

The menu we oohed and aahed over at Mantou was almost entirely vegetarian. This extraordinary salad consisted of sautéed shiitake mushrooms, verdolagas (purslane), locally made Parmesan cheese, and raspberry vinegar which had been fermented for six months. With the salad, we drank Henri Lurton Chenin Blanc Centenario. The pairing was perfect.

Pasta al dente with a sauce of calabacitas, a small squash similar to zucchini, with cherry tomatoes and gorgonzola cheese. The restaurant paired the pasta course with Henri Lurton Nebbiolo.

If you're in the Ensenada area, look for any events featuring chef Omar Armas. You won't be disappointed.

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11 de November de 2017
Noche de Muertos (Night of the Dead) in Michoacán :: Mutual Nostalgia

Mexico Cooks!' full body bone scan, 2009.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Over the course of the last 30-plus years, Mexico Cooks! has been to countless Noche de Muertos events, but none as mystical, as spiritual, or as profoundly magical as in 2013. Invited to accompany a very small group on a private tour in Michoacán, I looked forward to spending three days enjoying the company of old and new friends. I did all that, plus I came away with an extraordinarily privileged view of life and death.

A magnificent Purépecha ofrenda (in this case, a home altar) in one of Michoacán's villages. This detailed and lovely ofrenda was created to the memory of the family's maiden aunt, who died at 74. Because she had never married, even at her advanced age she was considered to be an angelito (little angel)–like an innocent child–and her spirit was called back home to the family on November 1, the day of the angelitos. Be sure to click on the photo to see the details of the altar. Fruits, breads, incense, salt, flowers, colors, and candles have particular symbolism and are necessary parts of the ofrenda.

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

Preparing a family member's ofrenda (altar) in the camposanto in another village's cemetery in Michoacán. The camposanto–literally, holy ground–is a cemetery contained within the walls of a churchyard. The candles used in this area of Michoacán are hand made in artisans' homes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Watching. Prayers. No me olvido de ti, mi viejo amado. (I haven't forgotten you, my dear old man.)

Next year, come with me.

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28 de October de 2017
Vena Cava Winery, Restaurante Fuego, and Restaurante Corazón de Tierra ALL IN ONE DAY :: Valle de Guadalupe Beginnings

At Restaurante Corazón de Tierra, Valle de Guadalupe, Baja California. Headed up by renowned chef Diego Hernández Baquedano, Corazón de Tierra was named number 39 out of 50 on the San Pellegrino 50 Best Latin American restaurants list for 2016. Rafael Mier gave a presentation about Mexico's native corns to chef Diego and the restaurant's entire kitchen crew and wait staff. Chef Diego closed the restaurant for two prime evening hours so that he and his staff could take part in the class; we felt very honored. Left to right: Rafael Mier, founder of the non-profit foundation Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana, Mexico Cooks!, and extraordinary chef Diego Hernández.

Unlike the lush central and southern areas of Mexico, Baja California grows almost no corn. Most of Baja California is arid, the mountains are rugged and barren, and the temperatures are extreme–the state capital, Mexicali, can have mid-summer temperatures as high as 110ºF and winter lows in the low 40ºs. Because there is little to no rainfall over much of the state, many of its successful crops (wheat, red tomatoes, and onions are the principal products, followed by strawberries and cotton) are grown using irrigation. Very few farmers grow native corns, and very few people in cities such as Mexicali, Tijuana, and Ensenada are familiar with them. It was particularly thrilling to see Baja California's younger cooks and and restaurant staffs light up when they learned first-hand about their corn heritage.

Not everybody listened all the way through the corn presentations, but everybody loved the corn! This little black cat at the Corazón de Tierra gardens pooped out about halfway through a talk and made himself comfortable for a snooze.

Vena Cava and Corazón de Tierra co-owner Eileen Gregory joined us for the corn presentation given to the gardening team.

Master Gardener Claire Acosta showed us around the gardens. Here, a long row of organic acelgas (swiss chard). All of the produce from the garden is destined for the restaurant tables. Ms. Acosta tells chef Diego what the gardeners can pick today and he plans his menu around those vegetables.

Late in the morning, we went to Vena Cava (Phil and Eileen Gregory's beautiful winery) for one of Phil's delightful wine tastings and many stories about the Gregorys' arrival in Valle de Guadalupe. Here, native corn meets Baja wine!

Would you believe this trip was called "work"? Nah, me either! Our next stop was at Restaurante Fuego Cocina del Valle, a short distance from the Vena Cava winery. Headed by executive chef Mario Peralta, Fuego is part of Hotel Boutique, in the heart of Baja California's wine country. Chef Mario, a contender on the 2016 season of Top Chef Mexico, is part of the new generation of cooks who carry the banner of Baja California-style cuisine, which is best known for making use of the region's seasonal ingredients.

Chef Mario's chileagua, plated in a clam shell on a bed of coarse sea salt. The dish is based on the almeja reina (queen clam), which is joined by pear tomatoes, red zebra tomatoes, avocado, cucumber, chile serrano, cilantro flowers, and cempasúchil (marigold) flowers. On this hot, dry winter day, we couldn't have eaten anything more refreshing. Four or five small courses followed this appetizer, but this chileagua was my favorite.

Our final corn stop of the day was back at Corazón de Tierra, for the maíces nativos presentation and then dinner at the restaurant. Here, master gardener Claire Acosta and chef Diego Hernández enjoy looking at the two baskets of native corns.

The menu for dinner at Corazón de Tierra consisted of eight courses, the last of which was a series of three desserts. Fortunately (or not) the portions were served to be shared per three diners. The three tiny kumamoto oysters in the photo above, each as big as the end of my thumb, were meant to be one per person. They were so intensely delicious I would have eaten not only these three, but the three meant for the three people sitting next to me. Everything was delicious, but these oysters in hazelnut butter were my favorite course.

Our Corazón de Tierra courses:
Smoked fish tostada
Kumamoto oysters in hazelnut butter
Salad of tomatoes and tomato water, all from the restaurant's organic garden
Roast beets with two types of smoked garlic, borage, and aged cheese
Lamb taco with stewed swiss chard stems, black radish, and blue corn tortilla
Sea bass with dashi and zucchini-type squash
Potatoes from the organic gardens with chile padrón and 5-year-aged salsa madre

Desserts:
Nopal ice cream with a ginger cookie
Sesame seed ice cream with cilantro cream
Mix of truffles and panacotta

Chef Diego's lovely and refreshing tomato salad, topped with edible flower petals. The dining room at Corazón de Tierra was quite dark, giving a dark, dream-like quality to the dishes we ate–and to the photos I took.

Tiny potatoes, deeply flavorful, coupled with mildly spicy chiles padrón, and tender leaves of various colors, all served with deliberately aged five-year-old salad dressing.

The presentation of sesame seed ice cream with cilantro cream, served on a bed of crunchy, sweet crumble was perfectly beautiful, but was my least favorite item on the menu. Others raved about it.

This fantastic dinner at Corazón de Tierra ended as the moon rose over the restaurant in Valle de Guadalupe. The trek back to our Rosarito condo was quiet and reflexive after our long and wonderful day.

Special thanks to Cintia Soto for taking menu notes in the dark!

Next week: we'll take a short break from Baja California for a special trip to Michoacán, for Noche de Muertos (Night of the Dead). On November 4, we'll go to Ensenada for Baja California street food, and a surprise! Don't miss either one.

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21 de October de 2017
La Cocina de Doña Esthela :: Doña Esthela’s Kitchen, Valle de Guadalupe, Baja California

Señora Blanca Estela Martínez Bueno–known to the world as doña Esthela–along with her husband, don José, in the white hat–converse with Rafael Mier about some of Mexico's native corns.

Doña Esthela and her husband, both of whom were born and raised in farming families from the state of Sinaloa, Mexico, know corn inside and out. They had a lot to talk about with Rafael Mier and were thrilled that he'd brought the mazorcas (dried ears of corn) with him to the restaurant. The visit we made to their Valle de Guadalupe restaurant, La Cocina de Doña Esthela, was exciting for all of us. Watching the way these three people enjoyed touching these old-time ears of corn, listening to the stories they swapped about planting, raising, harvesting, storing, and cooking with the grains, inspired me deeply.

Doña Esthela and don José (doña and don are honorifics in Mexico, prefixes to a respected woman or man's first name) moved from Sinaloa to Baja California over 20 years ago. To do her part to support their family, doña Esthela took in washing and ironing. Shortly after, she began selling home-baked cookies–and not just any cookies: she was making and selling coricos from the state of Sinaloa, the curled-up cookies on the right in the photo. Coricos are made with lard, corn masa (dough), a little sugar, and some baking powder: simple ingredients with fabulous flavor.

Pretty soon her coricos, burritos, and whatever else she could prepare to sell outside the employee entrances to maquiladores (trans-border factories) and outside local schools was in hot demand among the workers and students in her Mexican neighborhood, and before much longer, other people got wind of the fact that she was a terrific cook. Soon after that, the actors and crew from a popular Mexican telenovela (soap opera), filming in the area, showed up asking to be fed, and the rest is history. She started restaurant life in her home kitchen, with one table, cooking whatever ingredients she could afford to purchase. Over the years, she and her family have expanded the restaurant over and over again–today, La Cocina de Doña Esthela can seat up to 160 diners at a time.

A simple sign, nothing fancy–but on weekends, the wait to be seated can be as much as three hours. If you're in Baja California and want to have breakfast at Doña Esthela's on Saturday or Sunday–or during a puente (holiday weekend)–a word to the wise: the restaurant opens at 8:30 AM. Be there early so you don't have to stand in line forever. On the other hand, if there is a line ahead of you, wait. Breakfast is worth it and you'll thank me.

Let's get to the point: what did we eat?

The star of the restaurant is the barbacoa de borrego tatemado (pit-cooked mutton). Doña Esthela gets up long before dawn to put the mutton and its seasonings into the underground cooking pit–it has to be ready when she opens the doors to customers at 8:30AM. Fall off the bone tender, the meat is served with a bowl of consomé, the liquid in which the meat was cooked. I've eaten delicious barbacoa in a lot of places, and I swear to you that this is the best I've ever tried. Anywhere. Ever.

Big platters started coming quickly out of the kitchen. These are gorditas, thick corn tortillas, split in half and stuffed with spinach, with machaca, with nopales, or with chicharrón, all served with frijoles refritos, Sinaloa style.

Machaca (shredded, seasoned dried beef), scrambled into eggs. Doña Esthela prepares everything herself, with some other staff in the kitchen to help.

I put a spoonful of the machaca into one of her house-made corn tortillas and bit into it, and I think my eyeballs rolled back in my head with joy. If you don't eat anything else at La Cocina de Doña Esthela, you must have the machaca. In 2015, the British food website Foodie Hub named Doña Esthela's breakfasts–with special attention given to the machaca–the tastiest in the world. It's certainly far and away the best machaca Mexico Cooks! has ever tasted.

To the right in the photo is the completely merited Foodie Hub trophy, awarded to Doña Esthela for her breakfasts. In the middle, one of the reed baskets filled with Mexico's colorful native corn. To the left, the clay bowl holds little balls of what I know as azafrán de bolita (little saffron balls). I was so surprised to see them in Baja California; a friend from the state of Jalisco gave me some several years ago and told me that they were only known in that state. His grandmother used them for giving a deep saffron yellow-orange color to a recipe that she made for potatoes and onions.

Here is some of the azafrán de bolita that my Jalisco friend gave me, in a dish that measures about two and a half inches in diameter. The little balls are about the same size as whole allspice. I split a couple open so that you could see their interior color.

Doña Esthela's hot-off-the-comal (griddle) corn tortillas. The incredibly rich flavors of every dish on the table were only enhanced by the pure, delicious taste of home-nixtamal-ized corn masa, pressed into tortillas and toasted on the comal until just right. The tortillas just kept coming–and not only these marvelous corn tortillas, but also doña Esthela's addictive flour tortillas! Which to choose! Easy–have both!

Just when we thought we were finished with breakfast (i.e., ready to burst from having eaten our weight in everything but the actual clay plates, which we politely refrained from licking), doña Esthela brought us a couple of platters of her corn hotcakes and maple syrup. Somehow these, too, disappeared. Our 9-year-old companion, Wolf Koenig, said these were the best pancakes he'd ever tasted. Seems like there's a "best" theme happening here–and honestly, everything we ate WAS the best of whatever it was.

Wolf's dad, W. Scott Koenig, snarfing down a flour tortilla filled with frijolitos refritos (refried beans). The plate at the bottom of the photo holds what's left of just one of the platters of those beans.

Our group, just barely willing to turn away from their plates to look at me as I took the picture. The shutter clicked and we all went right back to mmm-ing and oooh-ing and chewing and enjoying the best (there it is again!) breakfast ever. Clockwise from the left side of the photo: Chris Mejia of Baja Test Kitchen, W. Scott Koenig of A Gringo in Mexico, Wolf Koenig of corn hotcake fame, Ursula Koenig, Jennifer Kramer of Baja Test Kitchen, and just a sliver of Rafael Mier of the Facebook group Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana–which if you haven't yet joined, you definitely should.

One last shot of our crew, with its stars of the day: the maíces mexicanos nativos that were the reason for our trip to Baja California, and to the far right, our incredible breakfast hosts, don José and doña Esthela. From left to right, the rest of us: Mexico Cooks!, Jennifer Kramer, Rafael Mier, and Chris Mejia.

The best way to rescue Mexico's at-risk native corns is by eating them, as we did and you will at La Cocina de Doña Esthela. It's urgent that we promote Mexico's high-quality native corns and at the same time, Mexican farming.

Mexico's two most precious resources: the campesino and the native corn.

If you are ever in the vicinity of Valle de Guadalupe, Baja California, do not miss breakfast with doña Esthela. Go early, but if there's a line, don't be discouraged. Breakfast is so worth the wait.

La Cocina de Doña Esthela
Highway from El Tigre to Guadalupe S/N
Valle de Guadalupe, Baja California
Open daily from 8:30 AM
Telephone: 01-646-156-8453

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14 de October de 2017
Native Corns in Valle de Guadalupe, Baja California, Mexico :: The Delights of Lechuza Vineyards and Viñas Pijoan

Here we go! These two shallow baskets, packed into the trunk of our vehicle, are overflowing with 50 or more different regional varieties of maíces mexicanos nativos (native Mexican corns), ready to head out for wine country: Valle de Guadalupe, Baja California. In the center of the basket on the right, you can see what looks almost like a hot dog. It's actually a mazorca (dried ear of corn): white corn with a few rows of dried kernels removed to expose its red cob! All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise credited.

You might well ask about the point, the vision, the purpose of this corn journey. You can read here Corn: Mexico's Gift to the World, for a quickie refresher about the thousands of years of history of the corn we know today, corn domesticated in what is now Mexico. That long heritage of Mexico's corn is in jeopardy today; Rafael Mier and I were invited to take corn and its crucial importance to the chefs and cooks in Baja California, where little corn is grown and few ancient corns are known.

The Pacific coast, from an overlook near Ensenada, Baja California. Those rings in the water to the far right in the photo? Tuna farms; this offshore area is dotted with them. All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

During the last 20 or so years, Valle de Guadalupe and the Ensenada area of Baja California have become a Mexican wine and culinary destination, recognized world-wide. With over 100 commercial vineyards, an extraordinary number of high-end restaurants, and the nearby Pacific Ocean, tourism in this part of Baja California is booming. We travelled to this part of Mexico in the interest of educating area chefs, kitchen staffs, and the students at Tijuana's excellent Culinary Arts School about Mexico's ancient history of corn as well as the need to preserve and protect our native grain.

The backstory is that about six months ago, Chris Mejia and Jennifer Kramer of Baja Test Kitchen visited me in Mexico City, saying that they were neophytes to the world of corn and asking for specific information about Mexico's original corns. I gave them a teaching tour through the temporary exhibit called La Milpa at the Museo Nacional de Culturas Populares in Coyoacán, in the southern part of Mexico City (on view until November 5, 2017). I also arranged for Chris, Jen, and me to have comida (Mexico's main meal of the day) with my good friend, colleague, and extraordinary corn expert, Rafael Mier. The four of us talked for several hours over comida about Mexico's native corn, about the urgent need to expose the person on the street, the chef in his or her kitchen, and the world in general to the distinct possibility that native corns, first domesticated thousands of years ago in what is now Mexico, are in danger of extinction. Chris and Jen, who live in both Baja California and in San Diego, were truly fascinated with corn's ancient history, with its current danger from hybrids and genetically modified corns, and with the possibility of taking the corn show on the road, as it were, to inform Baja California–where corn has been cultivated very little–about the prospect of losing Mexico's original corns. Within a short time after his and Jen's return to the West Coast, Chris called me to get the ball rolling: "Set some dates when you can come, we're ready to invite restaurant owners, chefs, students, and anyone interested in heirloom corn to meet with Rafa and you in Baja." We arrived in Tijuana on July 22, 2017, knowing that Chris, Jen, and our friend W. Scott Koenig, who was helping them with the planning, had a packed 10-day agenda for us to follow. Ten days, many of them sixteen hours long! At the end, were thrilled, inspired, and exhausted.

First stop, Lechuza Vineyard, Valle de Guadalupe.

Founded in 2003 by Ray and Patty Magnussen, Lechuza’s origin stems from the Valle’s verdant fields, fertile soil, and culture. The desire to share the Valle’s remarkable abundance and warmth is the driving principle behind Lechuza’s winemaking philosophy: to consistently produce top tier wines while promoting sustainability and regional stewardship. Lechuza’s wines strive to reveal the story of its grapes, under the meticulous care of the Magnussen family. Mexico Cooks! met the Magnussen family at Lechuza (the name is that of a local burrowing owl) in February 2017 and felt a strong connection to them and to their work. In mid-March, Ray's family and friends were saddened to our core by the news of his sudden and unexpected death. Ray's daughter, Kris Magnussen, will continue her father's work; the family, the winery, the entire Valle de Guadalupe, and Lechuza's many fans are heartened that she's taking charge.

Grapes at Lechuza Vineyard were just beginning to take on color when we were there near the end of July.

Rafa explains the origin of Mexican regional corns as well as their historic and culinary importance to Ray's wife, Angela (Paty) Magnussen and a number of the staff at Lechuza.

After a few very emotional hours at Lechuza, we once again packed up the corn (you're going to see that phrase a lot during the next month or so) and traveled a short distance to our next stop, Viñas Pijoan.

In the cava at Viñas Pijoan.

Viñas Pijoan is a family-run business, founded in 1999. In that year, Pau Pijoan, a long-time veterinarian, took a course in winemaking that changed not only his life but the lives of his family members. What might simply have been a hobby became a passion, and in 2001, Pijoan's Leonora red placed fifth in a Mexican national wine competition. From then until now, the winery–although still small compared to many in the area–has continued to produce ever-increasing amounts of wine. The number of barrels produced rose 600% between 2005 and 2011!

Maíces nativos mexicanos (Mexico's native corn) on the sun-dappled terrace at Viñas Pijoan.

We and the Pijoan family were enormously excited by our time spent together. Paula Pijoan, Sr. Pijoan's daughter, who heads up the family vineyard's gardening and other botanical needs and is an active plant preservationist, was thrilled to have the native corns visit the winery. I'm sure the corns were as happy as we were to be there!

Corn, the star of the show! Left to right around the table: Paula Pijoan, Mexico Cooks!, Jennifer Kramer, chef Diana Kusters, Chris Mejia, the lovely and laughing Leonora Pijoan, Pau Pijoan, Rafael Mier and at the far right…oh no! I've forgotten his name. I'm sorry!

Diana Kusters, chef at Salvia at Viñas Pijoan, with Mexico Cooks!.

During the course of a long, leisurely afternoon, of course there was food. Viñas Pijoan is the site of Salvia, a charming outdoor restaurant, named for a Baja California variety of sage. Chef Diana Kusters is in charge of the kitchen.

Heavenly bruschetta, with crusty, dense bread, Baja California grown and pressed olive oil and tomatoes grown in the Viñas Pijoan garden.

Tostada de atún (fresh Baja California tuna) with chile serrano, broccoli sprouts, and chile de árbol. Really spectacular!

Salmas (see recommendation below) with fresh Baja California tuna and sprouts.

If you haven't yet tried Salmas, oven-baked corn crackers topped with a sprinkle of sea salt, look for them in your local supermarket. They're better-tasting and healthier than any corn chip you've ever eaten. (This is not a paid advertisement–Mexico Cooks! does not accept advertising. This is just my personal recommendation, I've been eating Salmas for years.)

Portobello mushroom ceviche with avocados, sprouts, thinly sliced radishes, and calabacitas (squash similar to zucchini).

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RteZiJ8bjgk&w=350&h=215]
Enjoy this short interview with Pau Pijoan as he talks about Baja California, his wines, and his winery. Video courtesy Grape Collective.

Next week, we return to Valley de Guadalupe to have breakfast at La Cocina de Doña Esthela. Doña Esthela is legendary–you'll love meeting her and seeing the photos of the incredible breakfast we ate. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water!

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7 de October de 2017