Category: Food and Drink

Many collectors hunt for fine Mexican textiles.  These are hand-embroidered Purépecha huipiles (blouses).

Mexico Cooks! reads a lot of blogs, some about Mexico, some specifically about Mexican culinary affairs, some about photography, and some of general interest.  Once in a while, a particular blog post jogs some deep connection and keeps us pondering the subject for days.  When I read the April 6, 2008, post on Billie Mercer's Billieblog (written from San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato), I was stopped in my tracks.

Billie had read and linked to this article about the psychology of collecting.  I'm not so sure I buy the various theories that the article discusses, but the topic really pushed my buttons.

When I was a very small child, my family lived next door to the Fords.  The Ford family included Mr. and Mrs. Ford, their my-age son, and Mrs. Ford's mother, who seemed from my six-year-old perspective to be very, very old.   She was tiny, her face creased with age, and her white hair was wound into a bun high on her head. 

Once a week, Mrs. Ford washed her mother's hair.  I often sat chatting with her mother while Mrs. Ford brushed and brushed the long white hair until it was dry. While we chatted, Mrs. Ford's mother let me hold a little doll that she had owned since her own long-ago childhood.  Unlike my own hard plastic Madame Alexander dolls or my nearly-real Baby Newborn, the old doll was made of what I learned to call bisque.  She had real hair and  open/shut eyes made of glass!  She had four teeny-tiny china teeth!  Her wee blue shoes and white socks were also bisque, part of the mold that made her legs.  Her hand-sewn clothing (including an apron) was from another time, not from the 1950s.  Mrs. Ford's mother knew that the little bisque doll was from Germany and that she had received it as a birthday present when she turned seven–the very same age that I was about to be!  That small doll fascinated me.  It seemed to hold clues to a life not my own and a time I did not understand.

Dolls like these intrigued me throughout my childhood.

When the week of my birthday arrived, Mrs. Ford and her mother presented me with a small ribbon-tied box.  The doll!  They gave me the doll!  She sat in a place of honor on my bookshelf, her tiny white teeth gleaming, and she went with me every time I visited Mrs. Ford's mother.  When my family moved away, my hardest loss was those weekly visits to another childhood far removed from my own.

That little doll, so special to me, started my collection.  My parents and my grandparents began giving me other antique dolls on big-gift occasions: birthdays and Christmas often brought a new addition to my doll family.  Soon my father's antique glass-doored bookcase moved into my bedroom to house my own books along with these antique children.

I loved my 1920s Grace Storey Putnam bisque Bye-Lo Baby, originally modeled in clay, from the head of a sleeping three-day-old infant.

For me, the fascination of collecting antique dolls was in large part about the mystery: whose dolls had they been originally, where had they traveled, what happened to the little girl who first treasured them?  The mystery also included the information treasure hunt: who made the doll, and when, and where?  How much did it cost when it was first made, and what was its value today, and why?

As a young adult, I lost interest in my dolls and eventually sold the collection.  During the following years, I occasionally experienced what I think of as 'collector's lust', the hunger for a roomful of this or that.  In my case, I lusted for one-of-a-kind early American folk art.  The idiosyncratic, the outsider, the slightly off-kilter intrigued and beckoned to me.  Beloved pieces still decorate my house in Mexico.

A handmade mid-19th century black walnut fretless banjo, a country Hepplewhite table, and a home-made Mexican shooting gallery dog target are among the items that decorate my Morelia entry hall.

Later, I learned about late 19th and early 20th century Mexican arte popular (folk art) and began to accumulate a few examples.  A friend of mine says, "Two of anything is just a pair, but three is a collection."  My collection, then, is primarily of old Mexican folk art.  Newly made pieces do occasionally creep into the house, but I prefer to find little treasures that verge on the antique.

In my office, a new papel maché (paper maché) Judas reclines next to an early 20th century Balbino Lucano-style jarra (pitcher) from Tonalá, Jalisco.

The blue-and-yellow Mexican fantasía plate dates to the 1920s.  The painted Lake Pátzcuaro box was made in the late 19th century and has its original key.  My partner and I commissioned the calabaza de barro (clay squash) from the artist.

Why do I collect?  It's all about Mrs. Ford's mother, that German bisque doll and the fascination that hooked me at age seven.  Why do certain things grab my attention and others leave me cold?  The jury is still out on that one.

So I wonder: what do you collect?  And why do you collect it?   Please leave your comments, I'm collecting those, too!

Como México, no hay dos…there’s no other place like Mexico!

That old saying, ‘Como México, no hay dos’, is so true.  It’s used with enormous pride, it’s used ironically, it’s used with colors-flying patriotic fervor.  In the photo above, for example, the signs at these Mexico City outdoor fondas (food booths) read (left to right):  Soft Drinks, Beer, and Fruit Drinks.  Chicken Soup.  We Repair Baby Jesuses.  Only in Mexico can you find such wonderfully surrealistic juxtapositions.  Como México, no hay dos.

This handy key chain with an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe comes complete with a bottle opener.  Judy shook her head and rolled her eyes, but ended up buying this memento of the Basílica for her son.

Mexico Cooks! tacked four days in Mexico City onto the end of our February trip to Chiapas.  We’d been invited to stay at the home of our dear friend Ruth Alegría (Alegria in Mexico) and didn’t want to pass up the chance to comadrear tantito (to gossip a little bit) about the Distrito Federal food world.  Our time with Ruth was a fast-forward speed combination of eating, yakking, and running around the city.  Boy, did we have fun!

Frida Kahlo’s bedroom with her death mask.

Among our muchos recorridos (lots of running around), we visited the Museo Frida Kahlo (La Casa Azul) and the central plaza of Colonia Coyoacán.

The coyote fountain in the plaza principal of Colonia Coyoacán.

One of the best times was a pozole outing with Ruth and another couple, Jim Johnston and Nick Gilman.  Jim is the author of Mexico City: An Opinionated Guide for the Curious Traveler; Nick wrote Good Food in Mexico City: A Guide to Food Stalls, Fondas, and Fine Dining.  (Look over on the left-hand side of this page for Amazon links to those two books–they’re both well worth buying!  Mexico Cooks! wouldn’t shill for them…umm…well, or maybe we would!)

Who would know the best pozolería in Mexico City better than a passel of foodies?  Ruth drove; she’s intrepid behind the wheel, even in this city of nearly 30,000,000 souls.  We voyaged north from our digs in south central Colonia Condesa, heading for Colonia Santa María La Ribera, near Alameda Norte.  Mexico Cooks! has spent a lot of time in the Distrito Federal, but this was our first time in Colonia Santa María La Ribera.  Nick assured us that we would love the pozolería.

The back of our waiter’s shirt at La Casa de Toño!

Nick was right.  La Casa de Toño is sheer heaven, from the salsas to the postres.  The restaurant has been a Mexico City stronghold forever.  It’s open every day of the year, including Christmas.  You can pay a virtual visit to La Casa de Toño here.  We had a blast eating our way through a goodly part of the menu.  We know we’ll go back again next time we’re in the city.

A night view of one of the patios at La Casa de Toño.  The restaurant is housed in a converted mansion.

Of course we ordered pozole, the specialty of the house, but we also tried a quesadilla or two, a tostada de tinga, and some flautas.  Four of us ordered pozole con maciza de puerco, the white meat of the pig.   Jim ordered the pozole vegetariano, made with squash blossoms, mushrooms, and corn.  I’m a confirmed meat-eater, but Jim’s vegetarian pozole was just as delicious as the meat-filled bowl I ate. 

Pozole con tostadas, the traditional combo.

Condiments for pozole: minced onion, thinly sliced radishes, shredded lettuce, and a variety of salsas.  We also crumbled dried orégano into the bowl, along with powdered chile and sea salt.

We’re waiting for our cena (supper): Judy, Jim, Nick, and Ruth.

The kitchen at La Casa de Toño is a hive of buzzing cooks, waiters, and busboys.

Next week: Let’s Make Pozole.

Fancy trimmings and even fancier names grace many truck tops in San Cristóbal.

Hammocks hang from this store’s ceiling like graceful butterflies.

Naptime at the mercado de artesanía.

Piñatas for sale in the market, including orange and pink rose blossoms.

Niño Dios with basket of flowers, Templo Santo Domingo, San Cristóbal.

February peach blossoms, San Cristóbal.

Lunch.

The Maya used the cross as a religious symbol before the arrival of the Spanish Dominican priests. The Mayan interpretation is different from the Christian interpretation.  Mayans believe that the four points of the cross symbolize the sun, the earth, the moon and the people. The crosses usually appear in sets of three, symbolizing the three holy mountains of this area. Maya consider mountains to be gateways into Heaven.

The Maya believe that the First Father propped up the sky with huge ceiba (kapok) trees at its four corners (north, south, east and west) as well as in the center of the world. The crosses are normally green and are the symbol of the ceiba tree, the Mayan “World Tree”. They are decorated with carvings of bromeliads and pine boughs and are sometimes adorned with real flowers and pine boughs.  Crosses like the one above are also found inside churches.  The indoor crosses are often dressed in velvet casings.

Sunshine and shadow, San Cristóbal de las Casas.

Wrought iron roof crosses are traditional in San Cristóbal.  This cross includes two angels, two pitchers, and other elements.  More often, the crosses include the symbols of Christ’s passion: a ladder, a rooster, a lance, a pair of dice, the crown of thorns, and others.

Juegos pirotécnicos (fireworks) for sale at the market.  The tall ones are small cohetes, like bottle rockets.

Anti-US graffito spray-stenciled on a wall in San Cristóbal de las Casas.  Click on the photo to enlarge it.  Can you read it?

Beaded key chains from the Santo Domingo artisans’ market.  We brought back several for little gifts, and we’ve already given them all away!

Artisans from San Cristóbal de las Casas hand roll these glorious candles, available in the market.  The flowers as well as the candles themselves are made of wax.  They’re almost impossible to transport.  The last time Mexico Cooks! tried to bring some home to Michoacán, all of the flowers broke in transit despite their packing materials.

When I saw this tray of pastries in the market, I stopped dead in my tracks. Could they be cream puffs, here at the indigenous market?  Indeed they were.   Called mocas, these delicacies are prepared exactly as cream puffs are and are filled with a custard similar to creme patissiere.  The little cups with pink spoons contain just the custard, with a raisin on top.

Called xuti, shuti, or zoque, these large (2-3" long) freshwater snails come to market in San Cristóbal de las Casas during the first few weeks of Lent.  They’re purged and prepared as caldo de xuti (snail soup), seasoned during cooking with tomato, onion, garlic, and hoja santa.

The red spiky blossoms on the left are flores de colorín (flowers from the coral tree).  They’re prepared in pipián and seasoned with epazote.

Flores de Colorín en Pipián

Ingredients:

1/2 pound pumpkin seeds
3 chiles anchos
1/2 pound flores de colorín
Sea salt to taste
1 stem epazote

Preparation:

Over a low fire, toast the pumpkin seeds hull and all.  Remove the seeds and grind with the chiles until the mixture is like a paste.

Remove any seeds from the colorín flowers and bring them to a boil in enough water to cover.  Allow them to boil until the flowers are cooked.  Take them off the heat.

Heat the water again with a pinch of sea salt and add the flowers.  Incorporate the pumpkin seed/chile mixture until it is the consistency of a soup.  Allow the soup to rest for a bit so the flavors can marry.  Add sea salt to taste and flavor with the epazote.

Prepared blue and yellow corn masa.

Chicken heads!

The brilliant jade green and cream squash skin contrasts beautifully with the pale yellow interior.  These calabaza amarilla (yellow squash) are about five to seven inches in diameter.  When I asked the proprietor of the booth how he prepares them, he shrugged and said, "Se pelan y se ponen a cocer en agua.  Después se guisan, con cebolla, chile y jitomate." (‘Peel them, boil them, and just cook them, with onion, chile, and tomato.’)

Trenzas (braids) of recently harvested garlic.

I loved this market puesto (booth) for its colorful symmetry.  On the left are fresh strawberries.  At the middle on the bottom are containers of ground pumpkin seeds for pipián.  Fiery hot dried chiles de árbol are in the bowls in the upper right hand corner.  The tiny green balls are miltomate, small tomate verde  grown in the milpas (corn fields) and known in English as tomatillos.  On the right are bowls of zarzamora (fresh blackberries).  The yellow objects in the bottom right corner are chiles manzano.  To the right of the zarzamora are bowls of small chiles blanco.

A young woman’s booth offered small (5 pesos) and large (10 pesos) packets of soft, freshly made achiote.  The achiote is a tropical shrub or small tree (the word comes from the Nauhatl for bush). The inedible fruits are heart-shaped, brown or
reddish brown at maturity, and are covered with short stiff hairs. When
fully mature the fruits split open, exposing the numerous seeds.
Although the fruit is inedible, the achiote is widely
grown for the orange-red pulp that covers the seeds.  The pulp is prepared as a fresh or dried paste which is used as a coloring and flavoring condiment in southern Mexico and other parts of the Americas.

Black beans are a staple on the table all over southern Mexico.  Mexico Cooks! ate sopa de frijol negro (black bean soup) prepared with the following ingredients:

Sopa de Frijol Negro Estilo San Cristóbal de las Casas

Ingredients
Cooked black beans
Chicken broth
Garlic cloves
Fresh tomatoes
Onion
Oregano
Salt

Preparation:
Sauté the garlic, tomato, and onion together until the tomato gives up its juices.  Blend  until well puréed and strain.  Add oregano and salt to taste.

Heat the soup.  Serve in flat soup plates garnished with a swirl of crema mexicana or creme fraiche.

The person who gave me the recipe was unable to give the proportions of ingredients, but the soup is simple to prepare.

Guajes (Leucaena leucocephala) for sale in bunches.  Guaje pods contain tiny bean-like legumes which are prepared as tortitas (little fritters).

If you have not yet read Parts One and Two of Mexico Cooks! visit to San Lorenzo Zinacantán, Chiapas, please see the articles dated March 1 and March 8, 2008.

Restaurant J’Totik Lol, San Lorenzo Zinacantán, Chiapas

As we walked through the Templo San Lorenzo atrium to the main streets of Zinacantán, our stomachs grumbling for food, we noticed that the first three cocinas económicas (cheap-eats restaurants) were closed.  At three o’clock in the afternoon–time for the main meal of the day–we couldn’t understand what was (or better said, what wasn’t) cooking.  Then light dawned: it was a Lenten Friday.  In Mexico, many restaurants serving primarily meat or chicken close on Fridays in Lent.  It appeared that none of the restaurants around the plaza chose to offer a menú cuaresmeño (meat-free Lenten menu).  Even though we were considerably past ready for lunch, we weren’t ready to leave Zinacantán and head back to San Cristóbal de las Casas to find food.  What to do!

"Look!"  My partner pointed to a sign: Centro de Artesanía y Restaurantes.  An arrow directed us to a short flight of steps carved into the hillside.  We crossed our fingers and started up.  At the top of the steps was Restaurant J’Totik Lol, jam-packed with San Cristóbal secundaria (middle school) kids on a field trip.  We felt sure that unless the ravening teenage hordes had eaten all that there was to be had, we would soon have lunch. 

The school group filled every table inside the restaurant and overflowed into the yard.  We settled ourselves outside at the single remaining table and gratefully received menus from the wait staff.  Would it be the menú del día or something a la carta?  Our choice is usually the menú, and today was no exception.  The menú at a home-style restaurant in Mexico is nearly always a treat.  It normally includes a choice of two or three sopas aguadas (soups), choice of sopa seca (rice or pasta), choice of several guisados (main dishes), frijoles, tortillas, and dessert.  Judy picked asado de puerco estilo chiapaneco as her main course and, at the waitress’s recommendation, I asked for the menú con carne asada.   

Restaurant J’Totik Lol interior with clay and brick oven.

The asado de puerco estilo chiapaneco was definitely the pick of the day.  Fork-tender chunks of pork covered with a deep-brown sauce redolent of chiles filled Judy’s plate, the thick sauce running gently into her rice.  She tasted it and I knew from the ecstatic look on her face that I wasn’t going to finagle more than a nibble.  Yes, my carne asada was delicious.  But after I snagged a shred of her pork and a bit of sauce, it was obvious that she had bet on the winner. 

Both of us ate fresh tortilla after fresh tortilla as we enjoyed our meal.  We were joined at table by a middle-size dog which had apparently recently delivered a litter of pups.  Her beguilingly silent pleas for a snack resulted in a bone or two from Judy’s asado and the crusty ends of my carne asada.

We all ate well.  You will, too.

Asado de Puerco Estilo Chiapaneco

Ingredients
1/2 kilo (1 pound) fresh pork                    1 onion, quartered
1 kilo (2.2 pounds) small pork ribs             1 corn tortilla
2 cloves garlic                                          Thyme to taste
2 chiles cascabel                                      Oregano to taste
2 chiles pasilla                                         Salt and pepper to taste
1 large or two small tomatillos                  Oil

Procedure
Cut the meat into 2" cubes.  Cut the ribs into 2" sections.  Salt and pepper well.  Using a frying pan, sauté in hot oil until well-browned, adding the quartered onion to the meat.  Reserve the meat and onion in the frying pan.

In another pan, carefully toast the garlic, the chiles cascabel and pasilla.  Don’t let them become too dark or they will be bitter.  Reserve the mix in a separate bowl.  In the same frying pan, sauté the corn tortilla.  When all the ingredients are well-toasted, put them in the blender, add a bit of water, and blend until the ingredients are well blended.  Add the blended mixture to the meat in its frying pan.  Add the thyme and oregano to taste. 

Allow to cook over a very low flame for about an hour, adding water little by little as needed so that the meat and sauce do not dry out.

Serves 4-6, accompanied by arroz a la mexicana (Mexican-style rice), frijolitos negros (black beans), and plenty of freshly made hot tortillas.

Provecho!