Category: Food and Drink

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mexico has been cooking head-to-tail since long before that notion came into international vogue.  Pig tails are used here for roasting–look for recipes for rabo de cerdo asado (roast pig tail).|

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

Chicharrón (fried pig skin), just pulled from the cauldron where it was prepared, is made fresh every day by butchers whose specialty is pork.  The darker brown squares are meat that has been left on the skin and scored.  In my opinion, it's the best part of chicharrón.  Nothing goes to waste.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adobo huasteco, another deliciously spicy pork dish.  It's been a while since this last appeared on our table–and it's high time I prepared it again.  I'll post the recipe for you next week (June 5, 2021).

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

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If you've been reading Mexico Cooks! for long, you know that I photograph a lot of ripe and colorful fruits, vegetables, and other edibles in Mexico's markets. This gorgeous turkey, for example, was tethered with some others at the Thursday weekly market in Zaachila, Oaxaca.  He didn't know it, of course, but he would soon be purchased and…well, you can imagine. This is a food market, after all.

In the interest of early and full disclosure, the rest of the photos in this article might just gross you out.  It turns out that for reasons unknown even to myself, I have, in addition to taking lots of market photos of benign and lovely fruits and vegetables, made lots of head shots. Disembodied heads of animals, and mostly heads of pigs. Be warned.

This Mexico City butcher saw me approaching with the camera and obligingly sat the pig head up straight for a portrait.  He's shaving the head, which was to be sold either whole or in parts for making Jalisco-style pozole. Better he should shave it than you should have to do it!

That's a goat head at the left of the photo.  To the right is a container of chinicuiles (red maguey worms).  The goat head is for preparing birria, the chinicuiles are for roasting and eating as a snack.  It took me years to get up the gumption to try one, but I swear to you that they are delicious.

I think this is the first pig head picture I took, years ago at Guadalajara's Mercado Libertad.  All the pigs' heads I've seen have had that same charming little smile.

See what I mean?  This fellow looks downright happy to have given his all for your bowl of Guerrero-style pozole.

Doña Martha has taken a cooked pig head out of the broth to remove its bones and teeth.  At this point, the pozole is almost-but-not-quite ready to serve.

Admit it, you would have taken this picture, too.  How could I resist?

You might want to click on this photo to enlarge it, for a better view.  It's barbacoa de res (beef barbecue, Mexican style), wrapped in penca de maguey (cactus leaves) and cooked for hours in a pit.  You can still see the teeth in the jaw (center).

A raw beef head, hung upside down in the butcher shop.

Here's another beef head with the skin and fur removed from the top of the head.  The butcher's gloved thumb is just about to pull the skin off the nose.

Anyone for bouillabaise?  It's been a long time since I prepared this delicious French fish stew, but Mexican markets always have the ingredients.  Like pozole, bouillabaise starts its broth with heads–in this case, fish heads.

Chicken heads.  I don't have a recipe nor do I know of a recipe, but someone must: here is a bowlful for sale in the Mercado de San Juan, Morelia, Michoacán.  If you do have a recipe, please let me know!

You'll be glad to know that this is the last pig head for this article.  This one, thoroughly cleaned, shaven, and ready for the pot, is merely waiting for a customer. The ears, snout, and tongue are delicacies in Mexico.  If that's how you like your pozole–with a little of everything–ask for your serving surtido–with an assortment of meats–as opposed to maciza, which includes only leg meat.

Has this photo essay driven any of you into the vegetarian camp?  Here's a vegetarian head: cabbage, of course.  

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Sign in front of a Mexican welding shop: "We weld everything except a broken heart. For that we have mezcal."

In case it hasn't hit your town quite yet, a tsunami is on its way from Mexico to you. Get ready: mezcal is on the roll!  Here in Michoacán, in Oaxaca, and in many other areas of the country, recently ho-hum tequila is being replaced by this high-powered delight of the hundreds-of-years-old wave of the future.  Many of you may already know mezcal as that bottle from Oaxaca with the worm in it, but Oaxaca is just one of the Mexican states where mezcal is produced. And just an aside: 99.999% of the time, that bottle with the worm in it is for tourists and other rank neophytes: it's usually rotgut.

An agave atrovirens cactus–the same photo Mexico Cooks! published last week–that is used to make pulque. The maguey cactus is also the base for mezcal.  

Although there are upwards of 200 varieties of maguey, relatively few of those make up the majority of mezcales.  Those few are: espadín (used for 90% of all mezcal production), tobala, tobasiche, tepeztate, arroqueño, and the maguey pictured above–the cupreata which grows in Michoacán and several other states. 

Mezcal is produced for personal use and for sale in all of Mexico's 31 states, but only eight of those states have received the prized Denominación de Origen (abbreviated DO: certification of geographic origin).  The largest mezcal production in the country is in the state of Oaxaca, which in 1994 was the first Mexican state to receive its Denominación de Origen. Today, seven other states have the certification.  Most recently (in November 2012), the state of Michoacán received its DO status.

Cupreata maguey cactus in flower, near Etúcuaro, Michoacán.  The flowering spike of the maguey is the quiote. A cupreata maguey plant needs eight to ten years to mature; like its cousin the common century plant, the entire plant begins to wither and die once the cupreata flowers.   By day, birds pollinate the maguey. By night, bats do the same. Once the flower dies, the plant produces runners that grow into baby plants–and the life cycle of the maguey begins again.

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbQBbqjUyvE&w=420&h=236] 
Rocío Díaz of Morelia, Michoacán, creator of the acclaimed and prize-winning video Documezcal, has graciously given Mexico Cooks! permission to use her video as a learning tool in this article.  In a way that words cannot, the video gives you direct insight into artisan production of mezcal.

Mexico Cooks! recently hopped on a guajolotero (what you might think of as a "chicken bus" is actually a turkey bus) to meet some new friends who promised to take me to meet an artisanal mezcal producer in Michoacán (west-central Mexico), where mezcal and its production are a way of life.  

Every small town has at least one mezcal producer and frequently more than one; some small producers have been distilling the drink for private use for 70 or 80 years or more.  Commercial production of mezcal is relatively recent; many connoisseurs consider commercial mezcales to be inferior.  The good news?  The best mezcal is the one you like, not the one someone–even if that someone is me–tells you to like. 

Among people who drink mezcal and study its history, origins, and traditions, there is a good bit of controversy regarding its production and destinations. Until next week, I leave you with your homework: read the linked article so that you will know what the controversies are. Whether or not these matter to you is entirely up to you. Remember that the article is strictly about the mezcales of Oaxaca. Photo and article (click the link here) courtesy MezcalPhD. 

Next week, we will talk about a particular mezcal from Michoacán.

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The agave atrovirens cactus.  This enormous gray-green plant, native to the ancient land which became Mexico, continues to provide us with pulque (POOL-keh), a naturally fermented alcoholic beverage.  The maguey, with pencas (thick, succulent leaves) which can grow to a height of seven to eight feet, matures in ten to twelve years.  At maturity, the plant can begin to produce liquor.

Pulque, native to Mexico, is suddenly all the rage in countries far from its origin.  Folks who have never seen a maguey cactus 'on the hoof' argue the relative merits of natural versus flavored pulques, canned versus straight from the barrel, and so forth.  Mayahuel, the goddess of the maguey, is laughing up her sleeve at this current rash of pulque aficionados: pulque has been well-loved in what is now Mexico for longer than humankind can remember. 

Legend has it that a thousand years ago and more, Sr. Tlacuache (Mr. Opossum) scraped his sharp claws through the heart of the maguey and slurped down the world's first taste of pulque–and then another, and another, until he had a snoot full.  His meandering drunken ramble allegedly traced the path of Mexico's rivers.

A drawing from the Codice Borbónico (1530s Spanish calendar and outline of life in the New World) shows Mayahuel, goddess of the maguey, with a mature cactus and a pot of fermented pulque.  The first liquid that pours into the heart of the maguey is called aguamiel (literally, honey water); legend says that aguamiel is Mayahuel's blood.

Aguamiel actually comes from the pencas (leaves) of the cactus.  In order to start the flow of liquid into the heart of the plant, the yema (yolk) of the plant is removed from the heart and the heart's walls, connected to the leaves, are scraped until only a cavity remains.  Within a few days, the aguamiel begins to flow into the cavity in the heart of the plant.  The flow of aguamiel can last anywhere from three to six months.  Today, the men who work the maguey to produce pulque are still called tlaquicheros.  The word is derived from the same Nahuatl origin as the name for the original tlaquichero: Sr. Tlacuache, Mr. Opossum.

An early tlaquichero removes aguamiel from the heart of the maguey by sucking it out with a long gourd.  Today, workers use a steel scoop to remove up to six liters of aguamiel per day from a single plant.  Aguamiel is not an alcoholic beverage.  Rather, it is a soft drink, sweet, transparent, and refreshing.  Once it ferments, however, it becomes the alcoholic drink pulque, also known as octli.

The fermentation of pulque can start in the plant itself.  Aguamiel, left in the plant's heart to 'ripen' for a few days, begins to ferment.  For the commercial production which began in the 19th century, tlaquicheros remove aguamiel from the maguey and transfer it to huge steel tanks, where it ferments.

The heart of the maguey, full of aguamiel.  The tool balanced in the liquid is the same type gourd that is pictured in the early drawing seen above.  Between extractions of aguamiel, the leaves of the maguey are folded over the cavity where the liquid collects to prevent insects and plant debris from falling into the heart.

Mexican photographic postcard dating to the 1940s or 1950s.  The women and children pose in front of huge maguey plants.

By the end of the 19th century, pulque was enormously popular among Mexico's very rich and very poor.  Weary travelers in the early 20th century could find stands selling pulque–just for a pickmeup–alongside rural byways.  Travelers riding Mexico's railroads bought pulque at booths along the tracks.  Pulquerías (bars specializing in pulque) were in every town, however small or large.  In Puebla and Mexico City, legendary pulquerías abounded.    

Italian expatriate Tina Modotti, a member of the Diego Rivera/Frida Kahlo artists' circle, photographed Mexico City's pulquería La Palanca in 1926.

This common image hung in pulquerías all over Mexico.  Clients could order the amount of pulque they wanted according to the drawings–and be reminded of what they had ordered when the pulque had laid them low.  Image courtesy of La Voz de Michoacán.

In the foreground are the actual pitchers and glasses used in Mexico's pulquerías.  Compare them with the vessels in the drawing.  Image courtesy of Museo del Arte Popular (DF).

Pulque lovers spent long evenings in their favorite pulquerías in an alcoholic haze of music, dancing, laughter and delight.  Far less expensive than other hard liquors, pulque carries with it the romance of ancient legend, the tradition of a nation, and the approbation of the gods.

Edward Weston, American photographer, immortalized Mexico City's pulquería El Charrito, also in 1926.

Natural pulque is a pale white, semi-viscous, liquid with a slick, thick feel in the mouth; many people are put off by that feel, as well as by its slightly sour taste.  Even for those who dislike natural pulque, another kind of pulque–called curado (in this instance, flavored)–is delicious.  Natural pulque, combined with blended fresh fruit, vegetables, or ground nuts, becomes a completely different drink.   Bananas, guavas, strawberries, and the tuna (fruit of the nopal cactus) are particular favorites.  

Feria de Pulque (Pulque Fair) in the State of Mexico.  Each of the jars holds pulque curado, each flavored with a different fresh fruit, vegetable, or type of nut.

Mexico Cooks! first tasted pulque about 30 years ago, in Huixquilucan, in the State of Mexico.  Huixquilucan, known to its inhabitants as Huixqui (pronounced whiskey), used to be a small town, and Mexican friends took me to its small-town fair where home-made pulque was for sale in what seemed like every booth offering food and drink.  "Try it, you'll like it a lot!" my friends giggled.  "Just a little taste!  C'mon!"  I was nervous: I'd heard about pulque and its slippery slimy-ness and its inebriating qualities.  Finally we stood in front of a booth offering pulque curado con fresas: pulque flavored with fresh strawberries.  "Okay, okay, I can try this."  And I liked it!  The first small cupful was a delicious, refreshing, slightly bubbly surprise.  The second small cupful went down even more easily than the first.  And then–well, let it be said that I had to sit down on the sidewalk for a bit.  I truly understood about pulque. 

Try it, you'll like it a lot…c'mon, just a little taste!

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Back by popular demand!  So many Mexico Cooks! fans ask questions about what we eat at mealtimes–and when exactly DO we eat?  Last week, this week and next week, we'll take a close look at what's to be found on the Mexican table, and at what time of day.

In Mexico, a complete main meal will most often start with an entrada (appetizer).  This dish of guacamole is meant to be scooped up with its garnish, crispy chicharrón (fried pork skin).

Mexico's main meal of the day is comida, which is eaten sometime between two and five o'clock in the afternoon.  Prime time for comida is three o'clock; in many places all over the República, businesses still respect the old-time rule that closes business doors during mid-afternoon meal time.  In fact, unless the business mentions that it observes horario corrido (continuous work day) you can assume that from two until at least four in the afternoon, its doors are closed to business.  Its workday is from 10:00AM to 2:00PM and from 4:00PM to 8:00PM.

Crema de cilantro (cream of cilantro soup).  The soup course, which can be a caldo (clear broth), a consomé (another kind of clear broth, usually chicken), or a crema (cream soup), comes after the entrada. 

In cities and towns all over Mexico, you'll find fondas, comida económica, and comida corrida restaurants.  All of these small, usually family-run restaurants specialize in full meals that stoke your furnace for the rest of your workday and beyond.  In addition, in many cities there are high-end restaurants that specialize in comidas for professional and business lunches, others that are designed for the ladies-who-lunch trade, and still other, family-style restaurants that invite everyone from the oldest great-grandpa to the newest newborn to enjoy time together.

A variety of prepared salads for sale in a market.  Sold by the kilo or portion of a kilo, these salads are meant to be taken home and eaten along with your comida.

Mexico's signature mole con pollo (mole with chicken) is popular for the platillo fuerte (main dish) at a comida, whether served at home or in a restaurant.  Many regions of the country have special mole recipes; some, like those found in Puebla or Oaxaca, are very well known.  Others, especially some from the state of Michoacán, are less well known but equally delicious.

These Jalisco-style albóndigas (meatballs) are traditional and typically served as a platillo fuerte for comida, along with their delicious sauce, a big helping of steamed white rice, a garnish of avocado, and a tall stack of tortillas.

Many soon-to-be-visitors to Mexico write to me saying something like this: "I want to plan for breakfast in the hotel and a meal in such-and-such a restaurant at lunchtime.  Then we want to go for dinner at such-and-such restaurant."  Unless you are a professional eater–and I know that some of you are!–it's difficult to fit all of that food into one day, given the times of day that meals are usually eaten here.  If you're having breakfast at your hotel, many of the available dishes will look like those featured here last week.  They're very, very filling.  Just a few hours later, it's time for comida, an even more filling meal when eaten in a restaurant.

Carne de cerdo en salsa verde (pork in green sauce) is a typical home-style dish (in this instance, just being put into the Mexico Cooks! oven) often served for comida.  Of course it is preceded by an appetizer, a soup, and perhaps a salad; it's accompanied by red or white rice, refried beans, and a stack of tortillas–and followed by dessert!

Lonche de pechuga de pollo (cold chicken breast sandwich, garnished with lettuce, tomato, and pickled chiles jalapeños).  This kind of sandwich is neither lunch nor comida.  Photo courtesy Big Sky Southern Sky.

"Lunch" as it is eaten in the United States or elsewhere does not exist in Mexico.  You might see a restaurant sign reading "LONCHERÍA", but it refers to a kind of cold sandwich known as a 'lonche', not to a place where you can have lunch.  A lonche can be eaten at any old time–between meals, instead of meals, before or after a movie, and so on.

This is a boiling pot of Michoacán carnitas–huge chunks of lean pork, boiled in freshly rendered lard until the pork is fork-tender with crisp, chewy outsides.  Coarsely chopped and served by the platter, ready to stuff into hot-off-the-fire tortillas and top with minced onions, chopped cilantro, super-spicy salsa, a sprinkle of sea salt and a squeeze of lime, carnitas can be a rustic and delicious comida all on their own.

Gelatina is a common light dessert following a heavy comida. 

On the other hand, you will almost always have room for a slice of old-fashioned creamy flan.

Next week, we finish our day of Mexico's meals with cena–supper!

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Back by popular demand!  So many Mexico Cooks! fans ask questions about what we eat at mealtimes–and when exactly DO we eat?  This week and for the next two weeks, we'll take a close look at what's to be found on the Mexican table, and at what time of day.

A classic quick breakfast in the USA, circa 1950s: cold unsweetened cereal, a banana (sliced), milk, and sugar.

Several times a month, Mexico Cooks! receives queries from folks in the United States about mealtimes and what's eaten when in Mexico.  It can be challenging to plan a trip to any country, including Mexico, where mealtimes are different from what you might think of as 'normal'.  This week and for the next two weeks here at Mexico Cooks!, you'll learn more about meals and mealtimes.  

In Mexico, a huge variety of pan dulce (sweet bread) is available for breakfast.  These are conchas (shells), so-called because of the design impressed into their sugared tops. Have your pan dulce with either hot chocolate, coffee, or a steaming cup of atole (a corn-based hot beverage).

It can be even more challenging for anyone raised in one frame of reference to understand that breakfast isn't always about what you have always thought of as your earliest meal of the day.  Many years ago, when I was first living in Mexico, the light bulb came on for me: breakfast food is whatever you happen to eat for breakfast.  You know how leftover pizza straight from the refrigerator is a guilty breakfast for a lot of people in the States?  A slice is really a perfectly adequate breakfast.  Lots of Mexican breakfasts are just like that: whatever food is available at the moment.

The corunda is a regional tamal from Michoacán.  This corunda, filled with cream cheese and topped with Mexican table cream and a sauce made of roasted tomate verde (known in the USA as tomatillo), chile perón (a Michoacán-grown chile), makes a great desayuno when accompanied by a cup of hot locally-grown blackberry atole.

People in Mexico frequently eat two morning meals. The first is desayuno, which comes from the root word ayunar, to fast.  Desayuno literally means "I un-fast" and is ordinarily eaten first thing in the morning, maybe before work while you are standing in the pre-dawn kitchen thinking about the coming day on the job or gobbled while you are hurrying the kids into their school uniforms.  This breakfast consists of something quick and simple or a smear of yesterday's frijolitos refritos on a leftover tortilla, washed down with a glass of fresh orange juice; a pan dulce still hot from the corner bakery, accompanied by a cup of té de manzanillo (Mexico's ubiquitous chamomile tea).  It's just enough to help your brain kick into gear.

This Mexico Cooks! desayuno includes home-made calabaza en tacha bathed in hot milk plus a slice of pan relleno con chilacayote (bread filled with sweetened chilacayote squash paste), served with fresh juice or coffee.

At home, Mexico Cooks! occasionally prepares molletes, an old-time family favorite.  I butter and grill a bolillo (a dense-textured and crusty white bread roll), add a thick smear of chile-spiced refried beans, and top them with huevos volteados (over-easy eggs) and salsa cruda (raw salsa).  With a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and a big mug of coffee, this almuerzo is really stick-to-your-ribs.

Around 10.30 or eleven o'clock in the morning, when the stomach starts to require something more substantial to keep the body going, many people take a break for almuerzo.  There really is no adequate word in English for this meal.  It's not breakfast and it's not a snack.  Almuerzo is typically a larger meal than desayuno.  Workers on a construction job, for example, often stop work, build a little fire, and heat up yesterday's leftover main meal of the day that they've brought along in a 'tupper'–the generic word for a covered plastic container.  Warmed-up leftovers, a stack of tortillas, and a fresh-made pot of coffee keep the girders going up. 

Another really hearty almuerzo: a plateful of enchiladas verdes con pollo deshebrado (enchiladas with shredded chicken in green sauce) topped with finely grated white cheese and minced onion, accompanied by a guarnición (side) of refried beans.

Here's another typical almuerzo in Mexico: chilaquiles verdes (fried tortilla strips simmered in green sauce), topped with grated white cheese and thinly sliced white onions, then crowned with huevos a gusto (eggs however you like them).  Add a side of frijolitos refritos, a plate of ripe papaya, a warm-from-the-oven bolillo, either salsa or butter for the bread, and a great cappuchino, all served on a sunny terrace.  Heaven…

Next week, next meal!  We'll save your place at the table. 

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