Category: Food and Drink

NEWS!  BIG NEWS from Tocumbo, Michoacán!

Author Martín González de la Vara signs a copy of La Michoacana, Una Historia de los Paleteros de Tocumbo.

 To initiate the IV Encuentro de Cocina Tradicional Michoacana (the fourth annual Exposition of the Traditional Cooking of Michoacán, held in Morelia from December 6 through December 9, 2007), Martín González de la Vara introduced La Michoacana, Una Historia de los Paleteros de Tocumbo,
his glorious and important new book.  Its 236 pages are chock-a-block
with the regional, culinary, and cultural history of the región paletero, the area around Tocumbo.  The photos of paleteros (ice cream makers) and paleterías
(ice cream shops) from a bygone age are marvelous.  González weaves a
magnificent story, the much-amplified version of what's written here on
Mexico Cooks!

And poses  with a copy of the book while leaning on an old-fashioned paleta cart!  After the book presentation, there were paletas for everyone.

The recently-published book has already won an important prize,
awarded by INAH (the National Institute of Anthropology and History)
here in Mexico.

To read the June 2007 Mexico Cooks! article about the paleteros of Tocumbo, click here. 

Juan Manuel Ruíz manned the Panadería Martínez booth at the Michoacán bread festival.

Sometimes there’s a big payoff for reading the whole morning newspaper.  Last Saturday morning my companion and I lingered over a last cup of coffee while we enjoyed La Voz de Michoacán, Morelia’s excellent daily. "Wow!" jumped out of my mouth.  "There’s a statewide bread fair going on downtown today.  Let’s go!"  The article, in the financial section, mentioned that the good people of Michoacán consume a million pieces of artisanal bread per day, making the state one of the highest consumers in Mexico.

 
La Feria Estatal del Pan Tradicional took place in the shadow of colonial Templo San Francisco in Morelia.  Spanish Franciscans broke ground for the church in the early 16th Century.  The builders finished in 1610.

The festival, located in beautiful Morelia plaza San Francisco, presented more than 60 statewide bakeries and three separate bread-baking contests: one for artistic presentation, one for typical pan de sal (non-sweet breads such as bolillo, virote, and telera), and one for pan de muerto, or bread of the dead. 

I’m a big fan of Michoacán’s traditional breads.  There are more than 1200 different types of artisanal bread made in the state.

Francisco (Paco) Martínez Rivera wheels in fresh bread to the booth ‘El Buen Sabor’.

Traditionally, bread is delivered from the bakery to the store in canastos (large baskets) like these.  The center part of the basket (higher than the rest) fits on the deliveryman’s head so he can either walk or bicycle along his route.  These baskets belong to José Sánchez y Familia of Panadería Sánchez in Queréndaro, Michoacán.

A particularly beautiful entry in the artistic bread competition.

This entry represents Morelia’s famous aqueduct, built in the 4th quarter of the 18th Century.

This bread construction is Las Tarascas, one of Morelia’s much-visited symbols.  The bronze statue, which shows indigenous Pur’hepecha women holding a tray of fruits, is near the aqueduct.  It represents Michoacán’s fertility.

The Feria del Pan Tradicional de Michoacán takes place near the November dates of Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead).  Pan de muerto is an important component of the celebrations and the fair offers delicious and beautiful examples of several types of large and small pan de muerto.

In the first picture, the loaves are crusted with white sugar.  In the second picture, the bakers used pink sugar.  In the third picture, the loaves have no sugar.  In the fourth picture, the loaves are split open and stuffed with pineapple filling, then dusted with confectioners’ sugar.

Here’s a recipe for traditional pan de muerto (updated a bit with a bread machine), if you’d like to try your hand for this November 1:

Pan de Muerto Tradicional

Ingredients
1 1/4 pounds white flour
1/2 oz yeast
4 oz sugar
4 oz lard (buy it fresh from a butcher or render it yourself)
3 whole eggs
7 egg yolks
Pinch of salt
2 Tbsp orange blossom water
3 Tbsp strong anise tea
1 Tbsp grated orange rind

Method
Set your bread machine to the dough cycle and put in 3 whole eggs and 7 egg yolks.

Make the anise tea.  Put 3 Tbsp of anise seeds in 6 Tbsp of water and microwave for 30 seconds.  If the seeds soak up all the water, add 3 more Tbsp of water and microwave for another 30 seconds.
Add all the ingredients to the bread machine.  Mix according to machine instructions. 

Take the dough out of the machine and nip off approximately 1/8th and set aside.  Shape the larger amount of dough into two flattened rounds and place on a greased baking sheet. 

Using the set-aside dough, shape two long ‘femurs’ and two small knobs.  Arrange the ‘femurs’ in the shape of an ‘X’ and place the two small knobs in the center of each loaf.  Use beaten egg yolk to glue the bones and knobs to the loaves.  Allow to rise for two hours in a warm place. 

Preheat the oven to 250 degrees.  Bake the loaves for 30 minutes or until light golden brown.  Remove from the oven and allow to cool on metal racks.  This is a spectacularly light and flavorful bread.  It does stale quickly, so invite some friends for coffee and enjoy your bread just after baking. 

Provecho! 
_______________________________________________________

In Michoacán, the most typical pan de muerto has the shape of a human figure.  Note the arms, crossed at about waist level.  José Sánchez and his family of Panadería Sánchez created these breads.  Cempasúchiles (a kind of marigold), wild orchids, bananas and breads like this one are often hung on large cemetery ofrendas made to honor the deceased.

Watch here in the weeks to come for another pictorial about the special little sugar figures made for the Day of the Dead.

I planned to photograph some membrillo (quince) trees, but at the orchard entrance I found myself face to face with the guard goat.

No matter where you’re from, you’ve heard some interesting place
names.  In the United States, you’ll find Medicine Hat, Wounded Knee, and French Lick. You might even live
in a town called Eagle Knob, Summershade, or Telluride.  In Canada, Jerry’s Nose, Heart’s Desire, and Lower Economy are home to some brave souls.  We’re used to
the rhythms of our town names and they roll easily off the tongue.

South of the Border, it’s another story altogether. One of the
first challenges of an expatriate’s life is learning to pronounce local town names.

A town that’s often troublesome to pronounce is about 40 minutes south of Guadalajara, just north of Lake Chapala: Ixtlahuacán de los Membrillos (eeks-tlah-wah-KAHN de lohs mehm-BREE-yohs).  It’s a mouthful. It’s even difficult to write phonetically in a way
that makes sense. But whether you can pronounce it or not, it’s well
worth a visit right around this time of year.

Many towns and cities in Mexico are named for historical
figures or events. Ixtlahuacán de los Membrillos is named, oddly
enough, for a fruit. The membrillo
is known in English as a quince, and the municipality is renowned for
its quince orchards, its artesanal quince products, and the annual Fiestas del Membrillo that take place late each summer in Atotonilquillo (ah-toh-toh-neel-KEE-yoh), a village in the nearby municipality of Chapala.

Curious about production of the fruit, I made an appointment to meet
Ingeniero Jorge Alberto López Iglesias, head of agricultural
development in Ixtlahuacán, to talk about how the town became so well
known for quince production.

"In years gone by, there were enormous plots of land here devoted to growing huge orchards of membrillos.
The fruit actually came over from Europe in the middle 1500s, with the
missionary priests. At one time, this whole area was famous for the
quantity and variety of fruit it produced. Even today, there are plum
orchards on the hillsides. They’re visible from the highway.

"When the town was founded, back in the early 16th century, it was just
called Ixtlahuacán. After fruit production became really important
here, ??especially the production of membrillos, ??the
rest of the name was added. That happened around 1825. Since then, the
town has used its full name: Ixtlahuacán de los Membrillos.

The membrillo (quince) looks a lot like an apple.

"The climate here is perfect for growing membrillos because we have four seasons. The membrillo
needs heat, cold, light, and rain in order to produce well. Most of the
time we have just the right amount of each of those components. Just
think, the membrillo needs 100 to 500 hours of exactly the kind
of cold that we have on these hillsides in January and February in
order for the flowers and fruit to form. This year, though, the cold
stayed very late and a lot of the flowers fell off."

"And when the flowers fall off, the fruit doesn’t form, right?" I saw
that Ingeniero Jorge was quite concerned about this year’s fruit
production.

"That’s exactly what happens. Not only was it unusually cold for a long period of time this winter, the fruit also depends on las cabaañuelas
(the very short January rainy season) to begin to grow properly. This
year, we didn’t have any winter rain until February and that delay also
harmed the young fruit.

"Agriculture is always such a risky business, Ingeniero." I waited a moment for him to continue.

"Yes, even though technology has changed many aspects of
agriculture, there are still things we can’t control. For example, even
with new irrigation methods, new pesticides, and new products such as
shade cloth, we can’t control Mother Nature. This year’s summer rainy
season also started late, and so far there has been much less rain than
usual. There isn’t any real way to predict what the heavens will send
us.

"Now, unfortunately, the production of membrillos is
substantially less than it used to be in this area. A lot of the big
parcels of land have been divided into other uses." He held out his
hands and shrugged. "What can we do? Times change."

Ingeniero Jorge’s office mate, Verónica Zaragoza, chimed in from across the room. "But señora,the people here still use all the traditional ways of preparing membrillo, even if we have to bring some of the membrillo from somewhere else. We use several different kinds of the fruit: ??there’s the common white one that has green skin, and the membrillo melocotón, a yellow fruit that’s less acid than the white one, and the membrillo cristalino. The sweet flesh of the cristalino is almost transparent. And there’s one other, the membrillo mostrenco. It’s the first one of the season to ripen.

Verónica continued telling me that some of the fruit is sold raw, simply cut into pieces and topped with a squeeze of fresh jugo de limón (key lime juice), a dusting of powdered chile, and a pinch of salt. It’s eaten as a snack or as an appetizer before a meal. In addition, membrillo is made into several kinds of ates (thick, stiff jellies) which are then sold by the kilo.

"You should go to the entrance of town, where the membrillo
booths are, and talk to the vendors. They’ll show you all the products
and probably give you a taste of everything." Verónica smiled and she
and Ingeniero Jorge shook my hand as we parted.

"I’m on my way to visit the booths right now," I promised.

Sra. Marí­a Eugenia Zaragoza holds a jar of preserved membrillos.

Those of you who have been to the Lake Chapala area have undoubtedly
noticed the string of eight or ten booths along the east side of the
highway near the entrance to Ixtlahuacán. The vendors sell honey,
traditional candies, and other regional specialties in addition to the
famous ates, ponche (punch), and conservas (fruits in syrup) made from membrillo. I stopped to talk with Marí­a Eugenia Zaragoza and her family about their home made products.

Sra. Zaragoza pointed to each item as she told me about it. "We sell several kinds of ates. This rich-colored brown one is called martajada
(rough chopped) because the fruit isn’t ground up to a smooth paste.
There are fruit chunks and peels in it, along with sugar and a little
water. It sells for $30 pesos a kilo. Here, taste it." She cut a sliver
for me.

"That’s really delicious," I complimented her, wishing the sliver had
been a bit bigger. "And what’s that one over there, the rectangular
one?"

She held up the carefully wrapped package and explained that it was called molida (ground) because the quince is ground to a smooth paste prior to cooking. "This one is the same price as the martajada, $30 pesos a kilo. It’s all home made," she smiled. "Would you like to see part of the process?"

We walked into the rear of the booth where her husband was peeling what looked like a mountain of membrillos.
"This is Poli Herrera, and this is what he does. He’s in charge of
peeling all the fruit, cutting it in half, and taking out the heart,
where the seeds and their coarse coverings are." Poli held out his
wrist for me to shake: ??his hands were clean but damp from the fruit.

"After the fruit is peeled and cored, it’s washed well and put to
parboil so that all the juices start to flow. Then the sugar is added
and it’s all cooked until it turns that rich dark brown color and
thickens. We do the cooking in our kitchen at home. You have to be
really, really careful to make sure it doesn’t burn.

Next Sra. Zaragoza showed me a big crate filled with beautiful freshly made ates martajadas. I was amazed to watch her gently tip one of the ates out of a terra cotta mold. The mold was unglazed on the outside and glazed on the inside. Each ate had a raised design on its surface. Some were flowers, some were hearts, and some were wonderful roosters.

I stopped to talk with Alfredo Jiménez Garcí­a, who was busy wrapping the smooth bricks of membrillo in plastic wrap. He told me that he does a little of everything, from waiting on customers to working in the back room.

Back outside, Sra. Zaragoza showed me the neatly shelved bottles of ponche.
"It’s all natural. It only contains fruit, sugar, water, and alcohol.
We make it and bottle it at home. It costs $30 pesos for a liter. And
here is the conserva. The jars, ??about a kilo each, ??sell for $40
pesos." The color of the preserved fruits in syrup was beautifully dark
red. "And of course we also make empanadas (a sweet Mexican turnover) filled with ate." She pointed to the plastic-wrapped packages on the shelves. "They’re delicious for breakfast or dessert."

Ates de membrillo, fresh from the molds and just beautiful–and of course, delicious.

As I was preparing to leave, Sra. Zaragoza handed me a bag. "Take these
with you with our compliments," she smiled. "You and your friends will
enjoy our homemade ate martajada and our empanadas." I was delighted with her generous gift.

As I drove north toward Guadalajara, I decided to detour the short distance to Atotonilquillo to find out the dates of the Fiestas del Membrillo.
I kept my eye on the odometer and saw that it is only seven kilometers
from the La Barca exit off the Chapala/Guadalajara highway to the membrillo vendors’ booths along the main road in the little village.

I pulled up to the first booth along the road. The teenage boy behind
the counter squinted slightly and wrinkled his nose in thought when I
asked if he knew the dates for the quince festival. "Well, my uncle
wrote the song for it, and the song says it’s always on August 16. It
only lasts two days, but it’s a lot of fun. You should come."

"So it’s not a nine-day fiesta, like so many are?" I’d never heard of a two-day fiesta, but then it’s quite unusual to find a fiesta devoted to a fruit.

"Oh no, it’s only two days. Be sure you don’t miss it, and bring
all your friends. We’ll have a great time, and you can hear my uncle’s
song." He grinned proudly.

"You can count on it, son. I’ll look for you at the fiestas."
We shook hands and I drove back toward the Chapala/Guadalajara highway.
The package that Sra. Zaragoza had given me sent the tempting fragrance
of sweet membrillo wafting toward the driver’s seat, the vision of the fiesta
danced in my head, and the day was bright with promise.

Mexico celebrates its independence the entire month of September with parades, parties, and traditional food and drink in restaurants and at home.  The traditional festive dish during the weeks before and after the Independence Day holiday is chiles en nogada, a magnificent tribute to the seasonal availability of granadas (pomegranates) and walnuts. From late August till early October, fresh pomegranates and walnuts make chiles en nogada possible.  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.

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 on the streets bordering the markets, village women can
be seen sitting on blankets painstakingly peeling off the brown skin
from each individual walnut. It is important to use the freshest
walnuts possible, as they produce such a creamy, rich sauce that it is
worth the effort demanded to peel them.  Yes, the recipe is time-consuming…but you and your guests will jump up and shout "VIVA!" when you'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 Tablespoon sea salt

 

 For the Picadillo  

• 4 Tablespoons safflower or canola oil
• 1/3 cup chopped white onion
• 3 large cloves garlic, minced
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon 
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
• 3 heaping Tablespoons raisins
• 1 or 2 chiles serrano, finely minced
• 2 Tablespoons chopped walnuts or pecans
• 2 Tablespoons chopped candied pineapple
• 1 fresh pear, peeled and chopped
• 1 apple, peeled and chopped
• 1 large potato, peeled and diced
• 3 large, ripe tomatoes, roasted, peeled and chopped
• sea salt to taste

 

 

 

For the Chiles  

• 6 fresh chiles poblano, roasted, peeled, and seeded, leaving the stem intact 

 

 For the Walnut Sauce 

• 1 cup fresh walnuts 
• 6 ounces doble crema or 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 teaspoon sea salt 
• 1 Tablespoon sugar   
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon 
• 1/4 cup dry sherry (optional)

 

 

For the Garnish  

• 1 Tablespoon chopped flat-leaf parsley or cilantro leaves
• 1/2 cup fresh pomegranate seeds

 

Method

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.

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 5 minutes. Add the cinnamon, pepper, and cloves, then, stir in
the raisins, the 2 Tablespoons chopped walnuts. Add the chopped pear,
apple, and potato, 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 1 day in advance.

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 on absorbent paper until completely dry. Cover and set aside. The chiles may be prepared a day in advance.

At
least 3 hours in advance, place the 1 cup walnuts in a small pan of
boiling water. Remove from the heat and let them sit for 5 minutes.
Drain the nuts and, when cool, rub off as much of the dark skin as
possible. Chop 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, if using, 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 plump and just barely closed. Put the filled chiles, covered, to warm in the oven. After they are thoroughly heated, place the chiles
on a serving platter or on individual plates, cover with the chilled
walnut sauce, and sprinkle with the cilantro (or parsley) and
pomegranate seeds.

This dish may also be served at room temperature, or it may be served chilled.

Photo 1 courtesy of Larry Orinovsky, Guadalajara, Jalisco, México.  Thanks, Larry!

Photos 2, 3, 4, and 5 courtesy of Jesús Guzmán Moya, M.D., of Puebla, Puebla, México.  Enjoy more of Dr. Guzmán's lovely photos here.  Gracias, amigo Chucho!

 

For those of you who live in the most parts of the United States, the
burrito is a fast food fact of life. Southern California in particular
has its Mexican drive-through joints where the burrito is king. You can
order a burrito stuffed with everything from carnitas to lobster; some
burritos are advertised as being "as big as your head". Most are the
equivalent of an entire meal, frequently eaten from your hands,
dripping in the dubious safety and comfort of your car as you whiz
along a freeway.  One burrito that originated in San Francisco’s Mission District comes stuffed with all the usual items (a meat, rice, beans, guacamole) and adds french fries, fresh from the deep fat!

Here in Mexico, the burrito is a little more elusive. Not
a native of the central or southern part of Mexico, it’s been imported from the northern regions of
Mexico to fill a niche in some local menus.

Burritos (as food) are a relatively recent invention. The flour tortilla roll-ups are filled with meat, rice, frijoles refritos (refried beans), guacamole, and chile.

The Random House Unabridged Dictionary defines burrito as a Mexican
cooking term: a tortilla folded over a filling of ground meat, cheese,
or refried beans. [1940-45; derived from Mexican Spanish: stuffed taco,
Spanish: young donkey, foal, equivalent to burro or its diminutive, burr + ito]

In his book Chicano Folklore, Rafael Castro says that
the burrito (the food) probably originated in Northern Mexico and was
not known in other regions of Mexico. It may possibly have originated
in the American Southwest—Chicanos in Texas have been making them since
the 1920’s. The origin and first use of the word burrito for a special
type of taco is muddy, however. One story has it that the ‘new’ flour
tortilla and bean tacos were better suited than the crisper, more
fragile corn tortilla to withstand travel in the saddle bags of the vaqueros (cowboys).
Castro says they came to be called burritos because young donkeys were
often the "sidekick" of the vaquero’s horse. Another story says that
"burrito" comes from small children asking for a treat while their
mother was making tortillas. She would form the masa (dough) into a small tortilla, heat it on a comal,
smear it with beans, roll it up, and send each child away with one,
satisfying them until it was time to eat. Another tale thinks the term
came from a 1940’s restaurant in Ciudad Juárez (just across the Mexican border from El Paso, Texas) called Los Burritos that sold
these new flour tortilla creations.

Yet another theory says that the word burrito originated among migrant
workers in California’s Imperial Valley. The fields were often too far
from the lodgings provided for the workers for them to return home for
lunch, so their rice and beans were cooked up in the morning, portions
were wrapped in a large flour tortilla to carry them out to the fields.
Thus the tortilla more specifically was the "little burro" used to
carry the lunch, but the term burrito was understood to mean the whole
package.

Fonda Los Burritos de Moyahua
Out in the wilds of the state of Zacatecas, there is a little town
called Moyahua (moy-AH-wah), where the burrito has reigned supreme
since 1976, when the restaurant Fonda Los Burritos Moyahua opened. Now
world-renowned, the restaurant opened its branch on the
Chapala-Guadalajara highway (about half way between Chapala and the
Guadalajara airport) in 1989.

For 15 years Los Burritos has served burritos to hungry truckers, to
bus loads of travelers, to ravenous families, to workers taking a
break—to anyone who turns in off the highway, 24 hours a day, 7 days a
week, 365 days a year. On Sunday afternoons the line of folks waiting
to be fed often stretches down the entry stairs and all the way out to
the parking lot.

My friend Susan and I drove the 40 minutes from Guadalajara to Los Burritos
for lunch last February. The restaurant is essentially a cafeteria; we
each grabbed a tray and started down the line. The choices were
plentiful: the menu includes chiles rellenos, chicken, and a few other standard dishes as well as the famous burritos, which is what we were craving.

Every burrito is made in the same way: a freshly made flour tortilla about eight inches in diameter is smeared with a spoonful of frijoles refritos and filled with a good amount of your choice of eight to ten different guisados (stews). The day we were there, the guisados included cochinita pibil (pork cooked Yucatan style), tinga poblana (Puebla-style stew), carne de res a la mexicana (Mexican style beef, with tomatoes, onions, and chile), chicharrones con salsa verde (crispy fried pigskins with spicy green sauce), carne deshebrada (shredded beef cooked with tomatoes and spices), elote con rajas de chile (corn with green chile strips), and others, including my personal favorite, chilorio (cooked and shredded pork and diced potatoes, seasoned with chile and a variety of spices).

In addition to the burritos, you’ll be tempted by chunks of cheese (queso fresco or panela) to add to your plate and desserts such as arroz con leche (Mexican rice pudding), flan (Mexican caramel custard) ,and jericailla
(plain Mexican custard). Grab a soft drink or a beer, pay at
the end of the cafeteria line, and head for a table. Place an order for
quesadillas (and do order at least one; they’re the best I’ve
eaten in Mexico) and you’ll be given a number to place on your tray;
after you’re seated a waitress will bring the quesadillas to you at your table.

Expect to pay very little for your meal. Susan and I ordered two chilorio burritos, one burrito of cochinita pibil, two quesadillas, a chile relleno, two chunks of queso fresco, and two soft drinks. The total bill for the two of us was under 80 pesos (Less than $8 USD).

La Fonda Los Burritos has three large dining rooms, two huge indoor
rooms and another outdoors under a roof for shade. You’ll find
wonderful fresh salsas and pickled chiles jalapeños available on a
table in each dining room. In addition, there are posters in
hand-lettered Spanish hanging from the ceilings of all three areas. The
posters are changed from time to time; when Susan and I were there,
love poems by the romantic Spaniard, poet Gustavo Adolfo Becquer
(1836-1870), were hung in honor of February, the month of love.

La Fonda Los Burritos de Moyahua is located on the west side of
the Chapala-Guadalajara highway just past the exit for La Barca (as
you’re driving north), almost directly opposite Motel Eddie’s.

Burritos in the Home Kitchen
It’s simple and delicious to
make burritos at home-and they’re suitable for any meal from breakfast
to a midnight snack. I talked to a favorite chef, who gave me this recipe for:

Mexican Style Breakfast Burritos
(Serves 4)

4 flour tortillas, 7-8 inches in diameter
4 thick slices of bacon
1/2 white onion, chopped into 1/2-inch pieces
3/4 pound new potatoes, boiled and cut into 1/2-inch dice
1/8 teaspoon ground cumin
salt and fresh ground pepper
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup chopped canned green chiles
1/4 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese
1/2 ripe avocado, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch dice

Wrap the tortillas in foil and warm in a 250 degree oven.

Fry the bacon and remove from the skillet when crispy. Drain on
absorbent paper and crumble. Add the onion to the skillet and sauté
until softened. Stir in the potatoes and sprinkle with cumin, salt, and
pepper to taste. Fry until the potatoes are well-browned; you may need
to scrape the bottom of the skillet with a spatula so that the potatoes
don’t stick. Lower the heat and stir in the eggs and green chiles.
Scramble with a fork until the eggs are completely set but still moist.
Remove the skillet from the heat and stir in the cheese and the
crumbled bacon.

Spoon 1/4 of the mixture across the middle of each warmed
tortilla; be sure to leave room to fold the tortilla. Sprinkle on some
diced avocado. Fold two sides of the tortilla over the filling,
slightly overlapping. Fold up the bottom to cover more of the filling
and roll into a cylinder.

Buen provecho!

The typical Mexican tianguis (street market) is a
multi-layered event. It combines wonderful shopping with catching up on
friends and gossip. It’s a place to restock your larder and recharge
your spirit at the same time.  The tianguis is the perfect spot to buy lovely
and inexpensive flowers, delicious field-fresh produce, and succulently
sweet tropical fruits. I also buy all of my fresh fish,
chicken, cheese, and yoghurt right there at the tianguis.  When I tell them where I shop, many friends from North of the Border exclaim, "What! Aren’t you afraid of—afraid of—" and their questions fade into puzzled silence.

No, I am not afraid. Not of food poisoning, not of communicable
diseases, not of spoilage. After years of purchasing nearly all of my
produce, meats and dairy products at the tianguis, I believe that it’s just as safe and healthy to buy those items from the tianguis
vendors as it is to buy them from a supermarket refrigerator case. I’ve never been
sick nor had any sort of problem from any of the foods I buy from the
market vendors. The friends I’ve convinced to try the vendors report
the same thing: unequalled satisfaction and never a problem.

It took me some time to figure out not only what I needed but also where at the tianguis I
wanted to buy. You can figure it out, too. My main rule of thumb is to
buy where the crowds have gathered to shop and to make my purchases
where the fresh foods I want are clean and free of flies. I haven’t
been disappointed. The quality of meat (particularly chicken)
is far superior to anything I’ve bought from a butcher. The cheeses and yogurt are unbeatable. The fish is inevitably fresh and clean. Not
only are the eyes clear but the fish still smell of the ocean.

It’s always best to go to the tianguis early to buy products that need refrigeration.
During those first hours of the market, the meats, fish, and dairy
products are still chilled and the selection is good. Later in the day,
some items may not be available and what’s left might look a bit tired.

There are usually several fishmongers at any good-sized urban tianguis.  A fishmonger’s booth is usually large and
filled with a variety of fish. Dorado (mahi mahi),
huachinango (red snapper), lenguado (sole), robalo (sea bass), mackerel, crabs, shrimp, octopus, tilapia, and a
full assortment of others fresh from the sea compete for space on a bed
of ice. You can request your fish entero (whole), filete (filleted), or even molido (ground, for ceviche).
If the fish is small, expect to pay by weight for the whole fish even
if you ask for it filleted. If the fish is very large, like a dorado,
you’ll be charged only for the fillets. Occasionally it’s possible to
make a special request. I’ve asked for fresh sea
scallops when they’re in season. If you’re making a request for a party
menu, it’s always best to have an alternative in mind: sometimes the
special item you want isn’t available.

All of the fish sold by these vendors comes from the Atlantic or Pacific oceans to
the main fish market in Zapopan, a suburb of Guadalajara. The vendors
are at the market before dawn to purchase the freshest fish to sell in
the tianguis.

At some tianguis (but not all) you’ll find vendors selling pork and some beef from a tiny
table. The table is just big enough for a few large pieces of fresh
pork ready to be cut to order, a scale, and a roll of plastic bags. 
Some days they also have freshly rendered lard for sale.

I eyed the women lined up to buy, I peered at the meat, and I watched the carnicero (butcher) cutting orders for several weeks before I stepped up to the
table myself. It took that long for me to know what I wanted to
request: a half kilo (approximately one pound) of maciza so that I could prepare carne de puerco con chile verde. Maciza is the solid leg meat (fresh uncured ham) I used for cutting cubes of pork. You can also have maciza ground for albóndigas (Mexican meatballs) or to mix with ground beef for a meatloaf or Italian meatballs. While I was waiting for my maciza, I noticed the lomo (pork loin) and made a mental note to add it to my shopping list another week.

The butcher told me that he buys only first class hogs
and has them butchered at the municipal slaughterhouse. At
the tianguis, he and his mother sell either lomo or maciza
cut to your specifications. The price for either meat on the day that I
talked with Sra. Gómez was $60 pesos per kilo. The meat is not
refrigerated at the tianguis, but it is meat-locker cold when it is
placed in the cooler where it is kept until it’s sold out, usually by
10 AM.

A little over a year ago I noticed that a new chicken seller had set up shop at the tianguis.
When I prepared the first skinless, boneless chicken breast that I bought from
Guadalajara’s Jaime Ribera, I was hooked. Brought freshly killed
to the tianguis on Wednesday mornings, Jaime’s chicken is the freshest, pinkest, plumpest, most flavorful chicken I have eaten in my life. His chicken is immaculately clean, as is his booth.

The pallid birds of the USA grow even paler in comparison to these
glorious creatures. Chicken this good was not available even in the
markets I frequented during two months I recently spent in France.

Jaime sells his chicken any way you want it, from a whole bird to just
the feet. Breasts can be had with or without skin and bones. If I want
the nearly paper-thin breast meat that is used here for preparing milanesa de pollo
(breaded chicken), Jaime either has it ready or cuts it for me while I
wait. Although the livers are mixed with hearts, I always ask him to
sell me just the livers. He carefully picks the hearts out of the mix.
When I buy the golden yellow feet—I use them when preparing chicken
stock—he always makes sure the toenails are well-trimmed.

Chicken Part	Price In Pesos per kilo
Breast (skinless, boneless)	$56
Breast (with skin and bone)	$35
Leg (with thigh, back portion attached)	$22
Leg (with thigh, no back)	$25
Wings	$15
Whole chicken	$24
Chicken livers	$10
Chicken feet	$8

Like the rest of the vendors featured here, Jaime never touches money
with his bare hands. He takes your payment in a piece of plastic wrap
or in a plastic glove.

For me, it isn’t a successful trip to the tianguis without buying at
least one liter of yogurt. Homemade, the yogurt is creamy, sweet without being cloying, full of
natural fruits, vegetables, or nuts, and just right for breakfast. My
particular flavor is the zarzamora (blackberry), but some friends rarely buy anything but the durazno (peach) and others swear by the nuez
(pecan). You’ll also find liter jars of mango, celery, carrot, and beet—just about
any flavor yogurt you might want. At $15 pesos a liter, it’s a real
steal. The vendors also sell a variety of cheeses, thick crema (Mexican cream, similar to French creme fraiche), requesón (Mexican-style
cottage cheese, similar to Italian ricotta), and flour tortillas. All
of the dairy products are kept fresh and cold in coolers during the
selling day.

Products	Price in Pesos
Yogurt	$15/liter
Queso Panela (Mexican fresh cheese)	$24/per cheese 650-700 grams
Queso Oaxaca (Oaxaca-style cheese)	$50/kilo
Crema (Mexican thick cream)	$26/kilo
Queso Cotija (Mexican sharp cheese)	$48/kilo
Queso Adobera (Mexican melting cheese)	$22/half kilo
Requesón (Mexican cottage cheese)	$20/kilo
Flour Tortillas	$10/packet

My dairy product buying isn’t confined to just one vendor. I usually purchase cheeses from another booth.
Santiago and Ana Isabel Valdomillos specialize in cheeses, cream, yogurts, honey, and chicken nuggets, smoked pork chops, and other
easy-to-prepare meats. You’ll also see small bottles of Yakult, a
drinkable live-bacteria yogurt.

Products	Price in Pesos
Yogurt	$16/liter
Queso Panela (Mexican fresh cheese)	$36/kilo
Queso Oaxaca (Oaxaca-style cheese)	$48/kilo
Crema (Mexican thick cream)	$32/kilo
Queso Cotija (Mexican sharp cheese)	$50/kilo
Queso Adobera (Mexican melting cheese)	$40/kilo
Queso Gouda (Gouda-style cheese)	$60/kilo
Requesón (Mexican cottage cheese)	$22/kilo
Miel (Honey)	$25/small  $38/large
Flour Tortillas	$9/packet
Chuleta Ahumada (smoked pork chop)	$54/kilo

Santiago smiled when I asked how long he had been selling at the tianguis. "Altogether,
it’s been more than 28 years." He gestured with his index finger held
straight up to indicate the height of a small child. "I used to help my
Dad when I was no taller than this."

I’m particularly fond of Santiago’s queso cotija, a cheese named
for the town in Michoacán where it originated. It’s a sharp and fairly
dry cheese which crumbles easily. As it ages, it becomes drier and
sharper. It’s delicious crumbled over refried beans and enchiladas or
stirred into soups.

The dairy and other products are kept cold in coolers
throughout the day. The products kept out for sale on the tables are
also covered with cheesecloth to protect them from flies.

I think you’ll be wonderfully surprised by the freshness,
quality, and prices of the fish, meats, chicken, and dairy products
offered for sale by these vendors. There’s no reason to shop elsewhere
for what you’ll find on your regular outing to the tianguis.
   

 

Right about now, bounty from South of the Border is available on
your supermarket shelves. Fresh red raspberries and strawberries, grown just an hour south of Guadalajara on the shores of Lake Chapala, will give you the sweet taste
of Mexico’s sun and warmth.

When you go to your local super market, take a closer look at those
clear plastic containers (known in the trade as clamshells) full of red
raspberries. In the small print on the Driscoll label it says "Product
of Mexico". When I still lived in the States, I read that label and
imagined a gleaming white-tile packing factory. In my mind’s eye, I saw
employees in starched laboratory jackets, nurse-like white caps and
latex gloves, packing raspberries as the pink fruit came flying down an
assembly line. It was a fantasy worthy of Lucy and Ethel at the
chocolate factory in that famous episode of I Love Lucy.

The first time I visited the nearby red raspberry "packing factory" , I had to laugh at my own earlier ideas. This
packing operation was perfectly Mexican. Several clean-cut young men
with bandannas wrapped around their heads roamed up and down the rows
between lush raspberry canes. They hand-picked only the reddest, ripest
raspberries and gently placed them into small plastic buckets, the kind five-year-olds use at the beach.

Two young women dressed in blue jeans and caps stood at a long folding
table (the kind you’d find at a swap meet) and packed those perfectly
ripe red raspberries into flat after flat of Driscoll clamshells. They
packed the plastic boxes into case after case for shipping and then
rapidly started packing more.

Within 24 hours of picking, those berries are in the United
States, either in Miami or Los Angeles. A day later, they are heading
to stores across the United States. Red raspberries from the shores of
Lake Chapala are shipped not only to the United States but also to
Canada, to England, to all parts of Europe, and to Japan.

The half pint boxes sell for about $4.50 the box in grocery stores North of the Border.

Remember that raspberries are the most delicate fruits in the vast
berry family. Treat them with the softest touch, just like handling
like a newborn baby. Wash them gently (never allowing them to soak)
just before you serve them.

I prepared this wonderful recipe for guests just the other day. Not one single forkful was left over.

Raspberry Rosemary Sauce on Pork Medallions
1 medium or large orange
2 teaspoons vegetable oil
1/3 cup finely chopped onion or shallots
1/3 cup finely chopped carrot (1 small carrot)
1 large clove garlic, minced
1 1/4 teaspoons dried rosemary leaves, crushed
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme leaves, crushed
1 small bay leaf
1 package (6 ounces) red raspberries, divided
1/2 cup white wine
1 1/4 cups chicken broth
4 boneless center-cut pork chops
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1/4 cup flour
Shredded green onion tops for garnish

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
 

Sauce:
Using a vegetable peeler or zester, cut eight to ten thin
strips from only the outer orange portion of orange peel and reserve.
Squeeze the juice from the orange, reserving 1/4 cup juice.

Heat the two teaspoons oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add
onion, carrot, garlic, orange peel and herbs. Cook, stirring
occasionally, until vegetables are lightly brown and wilted, about five
minutes. Add 1/4 cup of the raspberries, the reserved 1/4 cup orange
juice and the white wine.

Increase heat to high and bring mixture to a boil. Boil, stirring
occasionally, until mixture is reduced to about two tablespoons (about
eight to ten minutes). Add chicken broth. Bring mixture to a boil
again. Reduce heat and simmer for five minutes. Turn off heat and set
sauce aside.

Note: Sauce can be prepared ahead of time to this stage. Cover and refrigerate until ready to finish.

Pork Medallions:
Pat pork dry with paper towels. In a large,
oven-proof skillet, heat the 1 tablespoon oil over high heat. While oil
is heating, dust the pork evenly on both sides with flour, patting off
any excess. When the oil is very hot, add pork medallions and cook
until well-browned on the first side, about three minutes. Turn the
medallions over, place the skillet in the preheated oven and cook until
pork is just cooked through, this will be quick, only about six to
seven minutes.

Remove medallions to heatproof platter or serving plate, cover loosely with aluminum foil and keep warm while finishing sauce.

Strain the sauce back into the same skillet in which the pork was
cooked, pressing the solids through the strainer with the back of a
spoon. Add any juices that may have collected on the serving platter. Over high heat, bring the mixture in the skillet to a boil. Continue to
boil, stirring occasionally, until lightly thickened, about six to
eight minutes. Taste and season with salt and pepper, if desired.

Spoon a tablespoon of the sauce in the center of each of the
four warmed dinner plates. Place each pork medallion on top of the
sauce. Top with one tablespoon sauce, about two tablespoons raspberries
and a few strips of diagonally shredded green onion tops. Serve at once.

Makes four servings.

In case any of you might have health concerns about Mexican-grown
produce, here’s what the Driscoll people themselves say about the
safety of their raspberries and strawberries:

"Driscoll’s farmers have been leaders in the practice of
Integrated Pest Management (IPM) which relies on a balanced method of
natural and inorganic means to reduce disease and control pests in the
field. To insure that Driscoll’s fruit is the safest possible,
Driscoll’s employs a company which conducts third-party independent
residue testing of fruit in every Driscoll cooler and facility every
week."

The fields near here are Mexican owned and leased to
Driscoll solely for growing raspberries and strawberries. The raspberry
crop is rotated annually and the packing operation is moved each year
to the fields most convenient to the highway.

Near the raspberry fields are far-flung fields of Driscoll’s
other delicious crop—strawberries. Red jewels lie close to the ground,
nestled in dark green leaves. The strawberries are ripe and luscious
this time of year, ready to be hand picked, packed, chilled, and
shipped to all parts of the world. You’ll find them, packaged in clear
plastic one-pound boxes so you can see exactly what you’re choosing, in
the produce section of your favorite hometown supermarket. North of the Border, the boxes sell for about $2.50 in season.

These are not those huge strawberries grown more for looks than for
flavor. Is there anything more disappointing than biting into a
beautiful berry and finding it white in the middle, dry, hard and
tasteless? These berries are mid-size and grown for their sweet
taste—the best possible flavor—as well as beauty. Ripened more fully
prior to picking than those grown elsewhere, these local strawberries are
simply perfect.

Always refrigerate berries immediately—move them from the shopping bag
to the refrigerator. Temperatures between 34 and 38 degrees F are best,
but be sure not to freeze them! Fresh berries are very sensitive to
freeze damage. Remember this general rule: for every hour your berries
are away from refrigeration, you’ll lose a whole day’s shelf life.

Do not wash your berries until you are ready to prepare and eat them.
Moisture will hasten decay of these fragile berries, so keep them dry as well as
cold until the last moment.

Shelf life varies between berries; however, under ideal conditions,
strawberries should keep for about two to five days in your
refrigerator and raspberries should keep for between one and three
days. For best results, consume your berries as soon after purchase as
possible.

Are you drooling yet? Let’s look at more wonderful recipes for raspberry and strawberry treats.

White Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake
For the ultimate in red raspberry decadence, try this cheesecake.

18 vanilla wafer cookies
1 cup macadamia nuts, toasted
4 1/2 tablespoons butter, melted
4 ounces white chocolate, chopped
16 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
2/3 cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoons lemon juice
2 large eggs
3/4 cup fresh raspberries
8 ounces sour cream
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Crust:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Finely grind cookies
and macadamias in food processor. Add butter and blend until mixture
forms very moist crumbs. Press crumbs firmly onto bottom and part of
sides of an eight inch spring-form pan. Bake until golden (10 minutes).

Filling:
Melt white chocolate in microwave, (about 1 1/2 minutes), stopping
every 30 seconds to stir and to make sure it doesn’t burn. Set aside.
In a large bowl, use your electric mixer to beat cream cheese, sugar,
vanilla extract, and lemon juice until smooth. Add eggs, one at a time,
beating after each addition, just until combined. Beat in white
chocolate.

Spoon half the batter into the crust. Top with berries. Top with
remaining batter. Bake for about 45 minutes or until cake is set around
the edges, but center jiggles slightly.

Let cool for about 20 minutes before adding the topping.

Topping:
In a medium bowl, whisk sour cream, sugar, and vanilla. Spoon over
cake, spreading the topping to the edge of the pan. Bake five minutes.
Allow cake to cool and then refrigerate overnight. Serve plain or
garnish with more berries.

Here are a few tips for handling red raspberries,
whether you buy them here at Lakeside at the farm or in your North of
the Border supermarket.

If you want to freeze red raspberries, spread them out in a single
layer on a cookie sheet with sides and place the uncovered cookie sheet
in the freezer. After the raspberries are well frozen, shake them
gently into a zip-lock bag and immediately put them back in the
freezer. Your raspberries, whole and beautiful, will be ready for
immediate use when you need them.

Try the following recipe when you want to serve an unusual
fruit treat for a Sunday party brunch. Your guests will love the
refreshing berries in a very unusual dressing.

Cristina’s Ginger Strawberries
This recipe is served cold with a hint of spice and always makes a hit at brunch.

2 pounds fresh ripe strawberries
1 orange
2 tablespoons pickled ginger, drained
1 cup unflavored yogurt
2 tablespoons orange marmalade
2 tablespoons sugar or 2 packets artificial sweetener (Splenda, Sweet’n’Low, Equal)
1/4 teaspoon salt

Remove green caps from strawberries and wash gently. Pat dry in
a large terry cloth towel. Cut the strawberries in half and place in a
large mixing bowl.

With a vegetable peeler or zester, cut thin strips of orange
peel (orange part only). Cut the orange peel strips into tiny
matchstick-size strips, no longer than 1" and no wider than 1/16".

Cut the pickled ginger to the same size as the orange strips. Mix the ginger and the orange strips together.

Add the ginger and orange strips mixture, orange marmalade,
sugar (or artificial sweetener) and salt to the yogurt. Stir until
well-mixed.

Pour yogurt mixture over strawberries and stir gently to coat all the strawberries.

Refrigerate until well chilled. Serve.

This sorbet is delicious served either at the end
of a meal or served (in a tiny cup) as a refreshing palate cleanser
between otherwise spicy courses. I’ve served it scooped into tiny
fluted foil cups meant for chocolate truffles. The tiny servings, piled
high on crushed ice in a giant brandy snifter, make a beautiful
presentation.

        Fresh Strawberry Sorbet
        During strawberry season and the warmer days of spring and early summer, this easy sorbet  is a           cooling favorite.

1 cup sugar
1 cup water
2 pints fresh ripe strawberries
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 to 3 tablespoons vodka

Makes 8 to 10 servings
   

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine sugar and water. Cook
and stir until mixture comes to a boil; reduce heat to low and simmer
five minutes. Remove from heat, cover, and let stand approximately 10
minutes.

Lightly rinse and dry the strawberries; hull and cut in halves. In a
food processor or blender, puree the strawberries with 1/4 cup of the
sugar syrup (sugar and water mixture). Add lemon juice, vodka, and
pureed strawberries to the remaining sugar syrup; stir until thoroughly
blended.

 
NOTE: The vodka (or any other type of alcohol) is the secret to
a soft sorbet. Alcohol itself does not freeze and adding a little bit
to the mixture keeps the sorbet from freezing. Vodka is an
excellent choice as it doesn’t change the flavor of the fruit.

Ice Cream Maker–Transfer mixture to ice cream maker, process according to manufacturer’s instructions.

Refrigerator Freezer Method–Pour into plastic container, cover,
and place mixture in the freezer. When it has frozen enough to be
semi-solid, mash it up with a fork and freeze again. When frozen, place
in a food processor or blender and process until smooth. Cover and
refreeze until serving time.

NOTE:Fresh strawberry sorbet can be prepared three days in advance. Cover and keep frozen.

Bringing fresh, ripe strawberries home from the field (or from the tianguis)
is tricky. It’s a good
practice to take a wicker basket or plastic container with you to put
your strawberries in for their trip home; like raspberries, they are
easily smashed and deteriorate quickly under their own weight in a
plastic bag.

If you buy either raspberries or strawberries in plastic clamshells,
save a clamshell or two for times when you might go to a pick-your-own
farm to protect the berries on the trip home. Bring your strawberries
home in the clamshells. You’ll be glad you did, when you realize your
freshly picked berries will arrive home in perfect condition.

Here are some fascinating statistics about strawberries: Canada imports all
of its fresh strawberries from either the United States or from Mexico.
The United States is the major importer of Mexican fresh strawberries.
Under NAFTA (the North American Free Trade Agreement), duty is no
longer charged on strawberry exports to either the USA or Canada.

Last, but certainly not least, let’s toast our local strawberries with a refreshing and beautiful strawberry margarita.

Strawberry Margaritas
The jewel of the season: try our fresh strawberry margarita recipe!

For two:
10 to 12 ripe strawberries
2 cups ice
2/3 cup prepared margarita mixer
1 tablespoon orange juice concentrate, thawed
2 teaspoons fresh key lime juice
Whole strawberries (for garnish)

Put strawberries in a blender with the ice, margarita mixer,
orange juice concentrate and lime juice. Blend until smooth
and slushy. Pour into two glasses and garnish with whole strawberries,
if desired.

Buen provecho!     

My friend Sra. Abundis prepared this clear gelatina.  It’s approximately 15" in diameter and stuffed with fresh red and green grapes, canned pineapple, and peaches.

Whether you’re having a midday meal at a traditional Mexican
restaurant anywhere in the República or celebrating at a private party at the home of Mexican friends, you can be almost 100% sure that a prominent item on
the dessert menu will be gelatins. As you browse the produce at any town’s tianguis
(street market) or elbow your way through the crowds at a fiesta patronal (patron saint’s celebration), you’ll see vendors selling plastic
cups and glasses of—you guessed it, jewel-colored gelatin desserts. Gelatina is a shimmering sweet fact of life in Mexico, popular with young and old alike.

What is this Mexican obsession with a food that smacks of 1950s Middle
America? Delight in gelatin desserts has been prevalent in Mexico for
years; marketing experts here report that it’s eaten daily in nearly
90% of Mexican homes. Mexicans consume more gelatin desserts than
nearly any other country in the world—three times the quantity of
gelatin consumed in the United States alone. In restaurants, the
dessert tray will almost always include a variety of gelatin desserts.
When Señora Fulana
(Mrs. So-and-So) is invited to a party at the home of her best friend,
it’s very traditional for her to take along a gelatin dessert, all
fancied-up and ready for the admiration of the rest of the attendees.
At a birthday party, the dessert of preference is rarely cake and ice
cream. It’s almost always a plate of cake and a jiggling serving of
gelatin, which requires no refrigeration to maintain its
shape.

There are far more ways to prepare gelatin desserts in Mexico than your
mother’s Jell-O mixed with fruit cocktail or shredded celery and carrots. Some of the desserts are
prepared with water, some with milk, and some are prepared as a layered
combination of both.  Some are major productions involving hours of labor intensive preparation time.

Sra. Abundis and Cristina prepared and painted this marvelous tiger gelatina for a child’s birthday party.

Several months ago it was my task to prepare individual serving cups of
gelatin for a two-year-old neighbor’s birthday party—it seemed like I
made hundreds. I thought it would be a complicated and difficult
project, but it turned out to be quite a lot of fun. After asking
another neighbor’s advice, I learned that it’s possible to buy powdered
gelatin at any dulcería (candy store) or grocery store.
The variety of available flavors is amazing: in addition to the
ordinary strawberry, lime, and orange, I also found pistachio, almond,
tamarindo, and peach.

While I could have kept my project simple, I decided to get
fancy. No single-flavor cups of gelatin for this party! I read the
directions printed on each bag and learned to prepare this flavor with
water, that one with milk. I combined a layer of strawberry (prepared
with water) with a layer of pistachio (prepared with milk). Recklessly,
I disregarded the instructions to use water to prepare the peach flavor
and used milk instead, combining an opaque peach-flavored layer with a
clear orange-flavored layer.

Commercially made in Guadalajara for sale in supermarkets, this three-layer single-serving gelatina includes a fruit layer (complete with a prune and its pit), a milk-based layer, and a clear layer.  The gelatina comes with its own tiny yellow plastic spoon.  These 200 gram gelatins are prepared with preservatives and artificial coloring.  Each one costs 7.1 pesos, or 65 cents US.

It’s so simple. Of course you can do this at home, even North of the
Border. Just buy two different flavors of your favorite brand of
gelatin dessert powder, some four-ounce plastic glasses, and have at
it. Prepare one flavor and fill each glass to the half-way point.
Refrigerate and allow that flavor to set. Prepare the second flavor,
using either milk or water, pour it on top of the already jelled flavor, and refrigerate until set.

One traditional recipe is for Mousse de Rompope (eggnog-flavored gelatin dessert). It is so delicious that it bears repeating now.

Rompope (rohm-POH-pay) Mousse with Strawberry Sauce

The mousse:
2 envelopes of unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup water
1 cup heavy cream
2 cups rompope (Mexican eggnog flavored liqueur)
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 egg whites

In a small bowl, sprinkle the gelatin onto the water and let stand
until absorbed, about five minutes. Meanwhile, heat the cream slightly
in a small saucepan. (Do not boil.) Remove from heat and stir in the
gelatin, mixing well to dissolve. Strain into a bowl; add the rompope and vanilla and mix well. Set aside.

In a large bowl, beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Fold
in the eggnog mixture, and then pour into a lightly greased 1.5 quart
ring-mold, bowl or specialty pan. Refrigerate at least four hours,
preferably overnight.

Strawberry Sauce:
1 pound strawberries, stems removed
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon almond extract, anisette or Frangelica (hazelnut flavored liqueur)

Place strawberries, sugar and flavoring in a bowl and let stand for two hours. Purée in a blender, strain and set aside.

Just before serving, remove the mousse from its mold and drizzle with
strawberry sauce. Garnish with slightly sweetened whipped cream. If
desired, the mousse can be molded with a graham cracker crust.

The preparation of gelatin desserts has been raised to a fine art in
Mexico. Special classes in gelatin preparation fascinate housewives and
give rise to thriving cottage industry here. Recipes metamorphose from
the relatively simple preparations in the preceding recipes to the most
elaborate of flavor and design combinations. Recently, the craze for
making individual clear gelatin desserts which contain flowers also
made of gelatin has hit Mexico like a bombshell.

Flower gelatins like this one, made and copywrited by the Abundis family, are called gelatinas encapsuladas.  The flowers are made with a syringe.  Neither Sra. Abundis nor Cristina took classes in making the flowers, although many handicrafts schools and individuals offer those courses.

This week I was fortunate to spend some time with Sra. Abundis and her daughter, Cristina, who operate a small home-based business in Guadalajara.  The Abundis family invited me to come watch and take pictures as they prepared special gelatinas for a child’s birthday party.   Mother and daughter have worked together for the last two to three years, preparing made-to-order gelatins for birthdays, baptisms, girls’ fifteenth birthday parties, baby showers, engagement parties, and weddings.

The gelatina personality of the day was Spiderman.  Cristina explained that the gelatin for the Spiderman mold and many more are milk-based, while other gelatins are water-based.  Milk gives the gelatina a more nutritious aspect than does plain water and also makes Spiderman’s features show up better after they’re painted.

In the Abundis kitchen, Spiderman is fresh out of the mold.  A selection of milk ingredients is lined up behind him, along with a small plate full of individual-serving Spiderman heads.

Sra. Abundis showed me the basic ingredients for the dessert; once the basics are assembled, they’re flavored with vanilla.  Spiderman is prepared with powdered milk.  Other gelatinas are made with sweetened condensed milk or with evaporated milk.  The Abundis family uses pure cane sugar and unflavored gelatin for its desserts.  No preservatives are added.  These home-prepared gelatinas must be consumed within 48 hours of their preparation.

Many fancy gelatinas are painted once they’re chilled and set.  Spiderman is no exception.  The paints are special vegetable food coloring gel, manufactured here in Guadalajara. 

Sra. Abundis watches closely as Cristina paints Spiderman’s red base coat.

While Cristina painted, Sra. Abundis told me that when her relatives moved from Mexico City to Guadalajara in 1940, there was no gelatina in the city.  Finally the relatives found a source–one stall at the Mercado Corona in Guadalajara’s Centro Histórico sold it.

Cristina starts the initial work with black gel food coloring, outlining Spiderman’s eyes.  She holds a licenciatura (bachelor of arts) in graphic design from the University of Guadalajara.

"The gelatina has to be very cold in order to paint it," Cristina commented.  "If it’s not as cold and firm as possible, the paint will run."  Spiderman stayed briefly in the freezer between coats of food coloring gel.

Spiderman’s intricate thread work is complete.

I asked Sra. Abundis and Cristina which molds are most popular for parties. "Right now, Spiderman is the one all the kids want.  Of course they also like Buzz Lightyear, Sponge Bob, all the Disney princesses, and Barbie.  The old favorites like Winnie the Pooh, Mickey Mouse, and Tweetie Bird are always popular."

Josua Isai
Abundis Linares, Cristina’s nearly six year old nephew, participated eagerly in the time I spent with his family.  He and I both anticipated our dessert: one of the individual Spiderman heads.

Cristina added, "For adult parties like weddings and baby showers, people want gelatinas encapsuladas, the ones with the flowers, to accompany their special cakes.  And it’s funny, the kids gobble down their gelatinas, but the adults want to save theirs.  The flowers are so beautiful."

Cristina shows off the finished product: Spiderman in person!  Sra. Abundis painted the blue base.  The cost of this fantastic super hero is 130 pesos, approximately $11.50 USD.

"The people who ordered this Spiderman for their child’s party will pick it up late this afternoon.  The party is tomorrow."  Cristina was happy that she finished the painting with no smears. 

For dessert after your midday meal, for a snack or for a light supper,
sweet wiggly gelatina satisfies every time. Cooling and slithery, a
gelatina is just the ticket when you need a little something, but you
don’t want too much.

They knew what they were talking about, way back then, when they said, "There’s always room for…"

If you happen to be in Guadalajara and need a gelatina for a special party, contact the Abundis family:

                Tiny Gelatinas
                Calle Ciprés #1819
                Colonia del Fresno
                Guadalajara, Jalisco
                Tel: 3812-8426 or 044-33-3815-1917

 

When I was a little girl, a Popsicle was a big deal. Summertime meant that the ice cream truck, bell tinkling, would trundle through the neighborhood where I lived. After a frantic plea to Mom for money, she counted out coins and I raced to the corner where the rest of the kids were already gathered, waiting for the vendor to dig through his icy case for cherry, lime, or the reviled banana. The odor of amyl acetate (the chemical used for artificial banana flavoring) remains cloyingly in my memory.

Remember? Hot summer days made those frozen snacks melt quickly, down childish fingers and the side of the hand, down the wrist and almost to the elbow in sticky trails of blood red and pale green. Nips of the cold treat slid in a chilly track from tongue to stomach, giving a few moments relief from childhood summers’ heat and humidity. We didn’t care that they were artificially flavored; Popsicles were a summer joy. Once I was an adult, I left them behind in favor of more sophisticated gelatos and sorbets.

Long before I dreamed of venturing to Mexico, Ignacio Alcázar of Tocumbo, Michoacán had a vision. Paletas—frozen treats similar to Popsicles—were on his mind. Tocumbo was a tiny village in the 1940s.  Life there was harsh and subsistence was difficult. Eking a hardscrabble living from the sugar cane fields of the region around Tocumbo depended as much on Mother Nature’s vagaries as on a farmer’s backbreaking work. In those days, the pay for peeling 2,000 pounds of sugar cane was two pesos. Campesinos (field workers) could expect to earn a maximum of three pesos a week.

But making a living selling paletas depended solely on creating a desire for something delicious and refreshing to satisfy someone’s antojo (whim). In the mid-1940s, Ignacio Alcázar, his brother Luis, and their friend Agustín Andrade left the misty mountains and pine forests of Michoacán and headed for Mexico City, the country’s burgeoning hustle-bustle capital. The men had made paletas in Tocumbo for several years, but it was time to try their hand in the big city.

In 1946, the three men, illiterate native sons of Tocumbo, established an ice cream shop in downtown Mexico City. The new paletería (paleta shop) wasn’t elegant, but it worked. People clamored for more and more paletas. The Alcázar brothers and Andrade expanded, and expanded again. They sold franchise after franchise of their paleta brainchild to their relatives, friends, and neighbors from Tocumbo. The single shop that the two men started became the most successful small-business idea in Mexico in the last half century, known across the country as La Michoacana. More than 15,000 La Michoacana outlets currently exist around Mexico, most of them owned by people from the town of Tocumbo.

Mexico City alone has more than 1,000 La Michoacana outlets. Usually the paleterías are called La Michoacana, La Flor de Michoacán or La Flor de Tocumbo.  No Mexican town with more than 1,000 residents is without one. Only Pemex, the nationalized petroleum company, has blanketed Mexico so completely.

When I moved to Mexico in 1981, a Mexican friend insisted that she was going to buy me a paleta. "A Popsicle?" I scoffed. She took me by the scruff of the neck and all but shoved me into the nearest La Michoacana. I peered into the freezer case and was amazed to see hundreds and hundreds of rectangular paletas, organized flavor by flavor, lined up in stacks in their protective plastic bags.

And what flavors! Mango (plain or with chile), blackberry, cantaloupe, coconut, guava, and guanábana (soursop) were arranged side by side with strawberry, vanilla, and—no, that brown one wasn’t chocolate, it was tamarindo. Some were made with a water base and some with a milk base. Every single paleta was loaded top to bottom with fresh fruit. There was nothing artificial about these. I was hard pressed to decide on just one flavor, but I finally bit into a paleta de mango and was an instant addict.

The story of the paleteros (paleta makers) from Tocumbo piqued my curiosity. For many years I’ve been determined to visit this out-of-the-way town. I finally made the trip to the place where it all started. Getting to Tocumbo isn’t simple, but driving the two-lane back roads winding along green mountains is lovely.

The names of the towns I passed through (Tarácuato, Tlazazalca, Chucuandirán, Tinguindín) roll off the tongue in the ancient rhythmic language of the Purhépecha (Michoacán’s indigenous people). Women, teenage girls, and children wear beautiful ropa típica (native dress) as they walk to market or gather wood in the hills. Fragrant wood smoke mixes in the air with the crisp scent of pine. Wildflowers dot the roadsides and mountains with purple, orange, yellow and blue.

The well-manicured entrance to the town of Tocumbo lets you know immediately that you have arrived. No statues of Miguel Hidalgo or Benito Juárez grace the junction, nor is there a proud plaque commemorating a favorite local hero. Instead, the townspeople have erected a two-story statue of (what else?) a paleta. I’d seen photos of the monument, but the actual sight of the huge frozen delight made me laugh out loud.

Carefully trimmed trees, flowers, and lawns edge both sides of the road into town. Large, well-appointed homes line the streets and the local trucks and cars are recent models and very well maintained. Tocumbo has one of the highest per capita incomes of any town in Mexico.

My first stop was at the Tocumbo parroquia (parish church). Named in honor of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the church is modern and beautifully adorned with stained glass. The architect who designed the church is Pedro Ramírez Vázquez.  Arquitecto Ramirez also designed some of Mexico’s most famous buildings, including the Basílica of our Lady of Guadalupe, the 1968 Olympic Games installations, Aztec Stadium, the National Anthropology Museum and the National Medical School buildings, all in Mexico City.

Arquitecto Ramírez is one of the most outstanding building designers in Mexico today. It’s particularly telling of the economic power of the town that the people of Tocumbo contracted with him to design their parish church.

As I sat for a bit in the town plaza, two local women strolled across the square eating paletas. After we greeted one another, I asked who the best person in town would be to give me local history. They directed me to the mayor’s office on the other side of the plaza.

I spent several hours at the Tocumbo mayor’s office talking with town official German Espinoza Barragán, who told me long stories of life and times in Tocumbo, and the history of the paleta.

Sr. Espinoza mentioned that many people erroneously believe that all La Michoacana stores throughout Mexico are owned by one family. "You already know that the founders were Ignacio Alcázar, his brother Luis, and their friend Agustín Andrade, and that they sold the first La Michoacana franchises to their relatives and friends. After that, the relatives and friends sold franchises to their relatives and friends, and the business just continued to spread. With a simple formula of handmade products produced every day and sold inexpensively, the business has produced hundreds of jobs as well as a high standard of living that’s different from any other town in the region."

Sr. Espinoza commented, "All of our streets are paved, and all have street lights. People live very well here, although it’s difficult to say how many actually do live here year round."

I looked up from my notes. "Why is that?"

"A lot of tourists from all over Mexico and many other countries pass through this town," he began. "Many see that our life here is peaceful, our climate perfect, and our town beautiful, so they ask about renting or buying a house here. Once they see Tocumbo, everyone wants to stay."

I nodded in agreement. The thought had occurred to me.

Sr. Espinoza nodded too. "People say, ‘Find me a house to rent.’ I just tell them to forget it, it’s hopeless. Then they tell me, ‘But so many of the houses here in town are vacant! Surely the owners would like to rent their houses.’ I shake my head, even though up to 75 per cent of the houses here in Tocumbo are vacant for eleven months of the year.

"The thing is, everyone comes home at Christmas. No matter whether so-and-so’s family lives all year round in Chiapas or Tijuana working in their La Michoacana store, in December everyone is here. Where would they stay, if their houses were rented?

"During the 1990 census, INEGI (the Mexican census bureau) tried to count the number of people in town. They counted about 2,400 people. But truly, triple that number call Tocumbo ‘home’. No one misses the holiday season here. They come home to tell their stories, to find out the last word in the business, to look for a girlfriend, to get married, to have quinceañeras (a girl’s15th birthday celebration), to baptize their babies. They put off all of these festivities for months, until the winter low season for selling paletas arrives and they can come home.

"This year, the Feria del Paletero (Fair of the Paleta Maker) starts on December 22 and ends on December 30. There will be sports events, free paletas, rides for kids and adults, and other things for everyone to do. You should come."

"The success of the Tocumbo paleta business must inspire people all over Mexico," I commented.

Once again Sr. Espinoza nodded. "It’s a kind of work that offers even the person with the least schooling a way to make a good living, without going to work in the United States and without getting involved in selling illegal drugs."

He returned to the history of the business. "Of course, word of the success of the new paleta business in Mexico City reached Tocumbo really fast. All Tocumbo packed its suitcases and went to get in on the gold mine. Everybody was buying paleta stores. And the best is, all the contracts were made on the solid word of the parties, without any paperwork, and all the loans to start the businesses were made between the buyers and the sellers. No banks were involved.

"This first generation of paleteros (paleta makers) felt the obligation to let everyone have a part of the success. Remember that Tocumbo is a very small town. Almost everyone is related to everyone else. Everyone of that generation had grown up together, and everyone shared just a few last names. The belief was ‘today it’s your turn, tomorrow it’s mine’. And everyone lived by that.

"Today, things are a little different, but only a little. There’s still room for all the paleterías in Mexico, and the majority belong to Tocumbans. Even though other ice cream stores like Bing and Dolphy have opened and there are even new brands coming in from the United States, there’s no other big success like we have had. To start with, the paleta is the people’s business, not corporate business. Other businesses might spend huge amounts of money on advertising and special wrappings, but we Tocumbans don’t run our businesses that way. We’re flexible, we save our money, and we work very hard. The paleterías are open from early in the morning till late at night, every day of the year. Even when the owners are home for the holidays, their employees are working in the stores. We make only as many paletas as we can sell each day. We don’t use chemicals in our paletas, and we adapt the flavors to the regions where our stores are."

Sr. Espinoza went on to tell me that the most popular flavor paleta is mango, because it’s the fruit that everyone in Mexico loves. He continued, "In the south of Mexico, we have to offer mamey, zapote, and plátano. Where people have more income, we can sell a paleta for seven pesos. Where income is lower, such as in the states of Chiapas and Oaxaca, we sell a paleta for five pesos. We keep our stores very simple, so everyone can feel comfortable to come inside. And we try to open our stores in places where lots of people congregate: near schools, near hospitals, and near sports facilities."

The story of this business amazed me. I shook my head and said, "What was the next step for the paleteros?"

"When we saw that so many Mexicans were living in the United States, the next logical move was to start stores there. We started moving there too, and opened the first shops in California, Texas, Arizona, and Florida. And now—now there are La Michoacana stores in Pennsylvania, in Chicago, and in New York. Next will be Central and South America, you’ll see.

"Did you look at the monument at the entrance to town?" Sr. Espinoza asked me.

"Of course! It’s wonderful," I exclaimed.

"On the way out of town, look at it again," he said. "Look, a little drawing of it is on my business card." He handed me the card. "See the blue ball of ice cream in the paleta? And see the paletas all over the ball?" I did see them. "The blue ball represents the earth, and the bright colored paletas cover it." He smiled at me. "And someday, paletas from Tocumbo, Michoacán will truly cover the globe."

I have absolute faith that he’s right.

NOTE:  Be sure to see the update to this post, published on December 19, 2007.