Category: Gardening

Autumn in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán :: Wildflower Season and Sights at the Market

The area around Lake Pátzcuaro, in the state of Michoacán, bursts into wildflower bloom in late September, just as the rainy season is ending here. The flowers are naturalized wild cosmos, known here as mirasoles ("look-at-the-sun"). Entire fields fill with swaths of these delicate flowers, turning our green countryside into a temporary sea of pink. Behind the mirasoles is a milpa, a field of native Michoacán corn, beans, and squash.

These beautiful blossoms, selling now at the municipal market in Pátzcuaro, are called estrellas del campo (stars of the field). From the tops of the flowers to the bottom of their thin, tender stems, they measure about two and a half feet long. Each multi-petaled bloom measure about 1.5" in diameter. I've lived in Michoacán for a long time, but this is the first year I've seen these for sale. We took three large bunches as a gift to a friend–at 15 pesos the bunch. The total for a big armful of beauty was the Mexican peso equivalent of about $2.25 USD.

Available throughout the year, the native Mexican nanche fruit is in full-blown season right now, piled high on stands around the perimeter of the Pátzcuaro municipal market and on numerous street corners all over the town. Sold in clear plastic cups (as seen in the photo, courtesy of Healthline) or by the plastic bagful, the vendor will slather these 3/4" inch diameter fruits with jugo de limón (fresh-squeezed Key lime juice), a big sprinkle of salt, and as much highly spicy bottled salsa as your mouth can handle. The biological name of the nanche is Byrsonima crassifolia.  The fruit is slightly sweet and mildly musty-flavored, a combination that most people love and that I regret to say is not a taste I enjoy at all. Nanches are packed with nourishment, though–a half-cup of them will give you nearly 60% of your daily Vitamin C requirement, 41 calories, and only 9.5 grams of carbohydrates!

These are jocotes (native Mexican plums), also in season now in central Mexico. The fruit measures about two to three inches long; the flesh is bright orange and the flavor is marvelous. Unfortunately the stone of this plum is almost as big as the entire fruit, and although you could eat it out of hand, the delicious jocote is most often made into an agua fresca (fresh fruit water) that is only available for the fruit's short season. This little plum is replete with Vitamins A and C, phosphorous, iron, and calcium, and is said to work wonders with gum problems.

Who wants to take a guess at what each of the green herbs (and the vegetable) is? The elotes (tender fresh Pátzcuaro red corn) at the bottom of the photo were part of a small daily harvest brought to sell on the outdoor periphery of Pátzcuaro's market. Just to the left of the corn, at the bottom of the photo, are some mint branches that the same vendor brought for sale. But above the mint? Click on the photo to enlarge it and you'll be able to tell that these are home-grown spiny chayotes. You are probably familiar with the paler green smooth-skinned chayotes (mirliton in Louisiana, pear squash in other English-speaking locations). The chayote has an interesting growing habit: unlike most squash, which grows as a vine along the ground, the chayote is airborne–its vines grow on overhead trellises and remind me of grapevines; the small squash hangs down from the vines. It's an extremely versatile vegetable, taking on the flavors of what you cook it with. Be sure to eat the soft, tender, flat, white seed–it's considered to be the prize part and is as delicious as the chayote itself.

To the right of the chayotes is a big bunch of wild anise, known in Pátzcuaro as anisillo. Used to make the Pátzcuaro regional specialty atole de grano, this herb is tremendously flavorful. In case you find some anisillo where you are, here's a recipe for atole de grano.

Atole de Grano
(Fresh Anise-Flavored Corn Kernel Soup)

Ingredients
2 fresh ears of tender young corn
2 cups fresh corn, cut from the cob
1 bunch wild anisillo
3 liters water
2 whole chiles perón (or substitute chiles poblano)
1/2 pound recently ground corn masa (dough)–ask at the tortillería near you
Salt to taste

Garnishes
1/2 medium white onion, minced
Chile serrano or chile perón, minced
Fresh Key limes, cut in half
Sea salt

Preparation

1. Clean the ears of corn, remove the silk and cut off the ends. Cut each ear into three pieces.

2. Boil the corn on the cob AND the corn kernels in enough water, for an hour and a half or until the corn is tender.

3. Cut the stem away from the chiles, take out the seeds and veins. Cut the chiles into small pieces.

4. In the blender, liquify the chiles, the anisillo, and the masa with two cups of water. Strain and add to the pot where the corn on the cob is cooking.

5. Allow to boil for about 10 to 15 minutes, until the liquid is slightly thickened.

To serve
1. Place sections of the cooked corn ears into each of 2 bowls.

2. Ladle soup and corn kernels into the bowls.

3. Serve with the minced onion, minced chile to taste, sea salt, and Key lime halves to squeeze into the soup.

Serves 2 people as a main dish, 3 as a first course. This soup is both vegetarian and vegan, and gluten-free.

Atole de grano, made in a cazo (large copper kettle).

The vendor at this small booth at the Pátzcuaro market had an interesting variety of things for sale. Bottom right are fresh guavas, just now coming into season. To the left of the guavas are chiles perón (aka chiles manzano), arguably the most-used chile in this part of Michoacán. Above the chiles perón are fresh, green chiles de árbol. To the right are wild mushrooms known as patita de pájaro (little bird foot). These mushrooms, growing wild in Michoacán's woods and foraged during the rainy season, make a wonderful mushroom soup.

These are home-grown loquats, known in Mexico as nísperos (NEE-speh-rohs). Nísperos are local and are plentiful in markets right now.

Gelatin–this large cupful is called "mosaíco"–mosaic, because of its many colored cubes. More gelatin is eaten in Mexico than in any other country of the world! A cupful this size is usually an eat-while-you-walk snack food. This one was made and sold from a tiny cart with no name, just to one side of the Pátzcuaro market. The young woman selling the gelatins said her name was Yesi–I said her cart was now dubbed Gelatinas Yesi, and she laughed.

Just at the corner of the market, we bumped into don Rafael, who was selling–you guessed it–cotton candy. Cotton candy HAS no season, it's always available here. Get the blue, it will turn your lips and tongue blue as a blueberry, but just for a while.

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

24 de October de 2020
Vanilla :: Its Origins and Its Production in Papantla, Veracruz, Mexico

Did you know that vanilla–that leathery, wrinkled, don't-know-what-to-do-with-it, dark-brown bean in the back of your pantry, that bottle of extract in your cupboard, the ice cream that drips from your cone–is the pod of an orchid that originally grew only in Mexico? Since long prior to Spain's arrival in what we know today as Mexico, Vanilla planifolia (flat-leafed vanilla) grew in the cool forests of the low easternmost mountains near the Gulf of Mexico–specifically, in and around Papantla, Veracruz. Today, the area produces about 80% of the vanilla grown in Mexico. The orchids were not in bloom while we were there; hence this photo, courtesy Wikipedia.com.

In our search for Veracruz vanilla, we stopped here: Vainilla Gaya, one of the original Italian vanilla growers in Mexico. I had made an appointment for a tour, but we arrived late after erroneously going to another of Gaya's locations. Nevertheless, we were well-attended and able to see–albeit quickly–the areas of 'beneficio' (betterment), where green vanilla pods, newly harvested from vines in commercial production rooms, are cured and fermented both in ovens and in the open air. All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

One of the growing rooms at Vainilla Gaya. Vanilla is a vine that requires the support of jungle trees, of individual limbs, or, in this case, of metal and bamboo supports. Click on any photo to enlarge it.

Trays of vanilla pods curing at Gaya. Of the three vanilla businesses that we visited, Gaya appears to be the most like a modern laboratory. If you're looking for jungle-grown vanilla, it's not at Gaya.

You might well ask, "How did vanilla get its name?" It was originally called xánat, by the Totonacos; the name in Náhuatl is tlilxóchitl. The Spanish name is vainilla, the diminutive of vaina, a pod. So vainilla–vanilla, in English–is a little pod. Even though most of us call it a vanilla bean, it is in no way related to phaseolus vulgaris, the common bean–pinto, black, navy, kidney, or any other you can think of, none of them and none of their relatives are related to vanilla. If you're asking for a vanilla bean in Spanish, the commonly used phrase is "ejote de vainilla". "Ejote" translates literally to "green bean", the ordinary vegetable on your table.

The store at Gaya. The company produces and sells the pods, natural vanilla extract, vanilla saborizante (flavoring), vanilla powder, sugar flavored with vanilla, coffee flavored with vanilla, vanilla liqueur, and some other products. We bought a few pods and some vanilla extract.

Our tour guide at Gaya gave us a good deal of information about what the vanilla vine requires to prosper, flower, and produce pods. Among the various details were:

–a warm, humid, tropical climate with temperatures ranging from 71 - 90 degrees Fahrenheit.
–more than 80% humidity.
–annual rainfall of 48 to 118 inches.
–location at zero to 600 meters above sea level.
–light at 80%.
–well-drained soil with pH between 6 and 7.
–plenty of organic material as its main nutrients.

March, April, and May are the time when new vanilla plants are cut and planted from older vines. From planting to first flowering, vanilla normally requires three years of growth. From pollination to harvest, each pod requires nine months to the day.

After visiting the installations at Gaya, we moved on to meet José Luis Hernández Decuir, of Eco-Park Xanath near Papantla. Sr. Hernández is a learned and really fascinating tour guide in all aspects of the traditional cultivation of vanilla. In the photo, he's sitting in the doorway to the temazcal (ancestral, spiritual sweat lodge) on his property.

One of the most interesting facts about vanilla is its pollination. The early Spanish were fascinated with the plant, its flowers and pods, and its flavor. Of course they wanted to cultivate vanilla in Europe; Hernán Cortés introduced the plants there in the 1520s. The orchid plants grew and flowered, but produced no vanilla pods.

Sr. Hernández explains pollination of the vanilla orchid by the melipona bee. The clay pots in the photo are two tiers of bee hives balanced on bamboo shelves; the dark round spot on the top and bottom hives closest to Sr. Hernández are the tiny entryways to the hives.

Vanilla vines grow naturally in the jungles of Veracruz. Here, you can see two vanilla pods among the larger flat leaves of a tree-supported vine.

The Spaniards and other Europeans didn't know that in New Spain, the flower had a symbiotic relationship with the tiny, native melipona (stingless) bee. Only that bee is small enough to creep into the tiny hermaphroditic sex organs of the vanilla orchid and carry the pollen from the male to the female part of the flower; the melipona bee did not exist in Europe, although growers made efforts to import it. Outside Mexico, for three centuries no one could pollinate the orchid blooms and vanilla pods grew only in their country of origin.

The melipona stingless bee is tiny, measuring between approximately .07" and .5" in length. Photo courtesy Backyardnature.net.

In 1841, a simple and efficient artificial hand-pollination method was developed by a 12-year-old illiterate slave named Edmond Albius, who lived and worked in vanilla production on Réunion Island in the French Indian Ocean. His method is still used today. Using a beveled sliver of bamboo, an agricultural worker lifts the membrane separating the anther and the stigma inside the orchid flower; then, using his thumb, he transfers the pollen from the anther to the stigma. The flower will then produce a fruit. The vanilla flower lasts about one day, sometimes less, so growers and their assistants have to inspect their plantations every day for open flowers, an extremely labor-intensive task. Today, vanilla is almost entirely pollinated by hand, still using this nearly 200-year-old method. Photo courtesy Vintage News.

Our last specifically vanilla-related stop in Papantla was at the offices of the Consejo Estatal de Productores de Vainilla Veracruzana (the Veracruz State Council of Vanilla Producers), where Council President don Crispín Pérez García toured us through the state vanilla cooperative. Above, don Crispín talks with us about some of vanilla's characteristics. The various people who educated us about many of the historic data about vanilla agreed on those points, but on other points there was tremendous disagreement. Legend and myth mixed with statistics and theories to the point that it was difficult to sort out truth from fiction. Everyone agreed, though, that vanilla is a marvelous pod with many, many uses. Don Crispín answered one of my questions about the facts and myths about vanilla by saying, "Ay señora, la vainilla es…pues, es…supernatural!" ("Vanilla is…well, it's…supernatural!")

Every year, more than 1,500 Veracruz vanilla producers from the municipalities of Misantla, San Rafael, Tecolutla, Gutiérrez Zamora, Coatzintla, Coyutla, Zozocolco de Hidalgo, Tihuatlan and Papantla bring 450 to 500 tons (that's between 90,000 and 100,000 pounds per year) of freshly harvested, green vanilla pods to the Council offices to be cured by traditional heat and sun methods. All of the vanilla that will be produced each year in Veracruz is sold prior to its harvest, as buyers are willing to pay almost any price to ensure that they get what they need. Don Crispín told us, "Now that we have the Denominación de Origen (similar to the Appellation d'Origine, the certification granted to certain French geographical indications for wines, cheeses, butters, and other agricultural products), it's very easy for us to export vanilla. Mexican vanilla is the best, and not just because I say so. Those who buy from us say that it is, and with the price we sell it for, no one is complaining." The price varies from year to year, depending on weather conditions and the projected harvest. This year (2020), the price per kilogram (2.2 pounds) of vanilla was set at 17,000 Mexican pesos (approximately $775.00 USD). Ninety percent of Papantla´s vanilla buyers are the countries France, Germany, Poland, the United States, Canada, and Japan. This year (2020), the Covid-19 virus has virtually halted the exportation from Mexico to those and other countries. Foreign buyers are currently willing to pay approximately half the predicted price–and have no assurance that shipment can be fulfilled.

Vanilla curing in the light and air of the afternoon. Consejo Estatal de Productores de Vainilla, Papantla, Veracruz. Photo courtesy Pamela Gordon.

Another tiny section of the many, many racks of curing vanilla at the Vanilla Council offices. Vanilla isn't dried; it's cured until it is fragrant and leathery. If you find some pods to buy, make certain that they aren't brittle. They should be quite flexible. Don Crispín told us that a ready-for-use vanilla pod can be used over and over again; he suggested using a whole pod to stir our morning coffee–and then he said, "Wipe it off and put it away to use again. It won't go bad and it will last a long time." He also mentioned putting a vanilla pod into a canister of sugar; left in the sugar for just a short time, the vanilla will flavor the entire contents of the canister–and again, it's reusable.

A close-up of some of the vanilla pods at the Council offices. These are nearly finished with the curing process. You can see that the pods are shiny and wrinkled, exactly the state you want for your own home use. Click on any photo for a larger view.

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

11 de July de 2020
The Native Corns of Mexico :: Prehistoric Ancestors in Danger of Disappearance

In 2016, my dear friend and colleague Maestro Rafael Mier were invited to give conferences in the Mexican state of Puebla. After our conferences, we visited the Biosphere Tehuacán-Cuicatlán, important to the world for numerous reasons. Mexico Cooks! wrote then about the discovery of corn, the reason most important to Mstro. Rafael and to me–a reason important to you, as well.

At first glance, these appear to be flowers–but look closely: they're actually cross-sections of different varieties, sizes and colors of maíces nativos (native corn), grown continuously in Mexico for many thousands of years, right up to the present time. They're so beautiful–and delicious! Photo courtesy Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana.

A few weeks ago, CONACULTA (Mexico's ministry of culture) invited Maestro Rafael Mier and Mexico Cooks! to speak about the preservation of traditional tortillas and about the milpa (millennia-old sustainable agricultural method still used in Mexico) at the Second Annual Festival Universo de la Milpa, held this year in Santa María Coapan, Puebla. Santa María Coapan, a part of the municipality of Tehuacán, is at the epicenter of the documented-to-date 11,000 year history of corn.

Left to right in the photo: Maestra Teresa de la Luz Hilario, Regidora de Educación y Cultura de Santa María Coapan; Maestro Rafael Mier of Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana; Mexico Cooks!; (speaking) the humanitarian and life-long human rights abogada del pueblo (advocate for the people) Concepción Hernández Méndez; and at far right, Lic. Roberto G. Quintero Nava, Director General de Culturas Populares of Puebla, CONACULTA. It was an honor to be part of this event and to meet its outstanding participants in this center of Mexican corn production. Photo courtesy Rafael Mier.

In tiny Coxcatlán, Puebla (just down the highway on the road south out of Tehuacán), a main attraction is the monument to corn. The legend at the base of the recently refurbished monument reads, "Coxcatlán, Cuna del Maíz (Cradle of Corn)". All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

From the small town of Coxcatlán, our driver took us about five kilometers further, south toward the Oaxaca border; there's a turnoff onto a dirt road at the Tehuacán-Cuicatlán Biosphere Reserve. The September 24, 2016 Mexico Cooks! article offers some fascinating general information about the biosphere.

If you didn't know to turn onto that poorly marked, narrow, and winding dirt road, you'd just keep whizzing along the highway, saying, "Nothing to see here, just a lot of big cactus and scrub trees. The Oaxaca border is only 30 kilometers away, let's hurry so we get there before dark." But this humble dirt road twists through a portion of an internationally important site marking the origin and development of agriculture in Mesoamerica and the world. Archeological research here has provided key information regarding the domestication of various species such as corn (Zea mays sp.), chile (Capsicum annuum), amaranth (Amaranthus sp.), avocado (Persea americana), squash (Cucurbita sp.), bean (Phaseolus sp.), and numerous other plants that are with us still in the modern era. This biosphere is home to just under 3000 kinds of native flora plus the largest collection of columnar cacti in the world. In addition, the biosphere contains approximately 600 species of vertebrate animals. Let's not hurry–let's spend some time here.

Archeologist Richard S. MacNeish (April 29, 1918-January 16, 2001). In 1965, Dr. MacNeish and a group of his colleagues first uncovered the agricultural treasures in the Tehuacán-Cuicatlán biosphere. Their excavation resulted in some of the most significant agricultural finds in the world. A statue in his memory is prominent today in Tehuacán. Dr. MacNeish, one of the most outstanding archaeologists of the Americas, developed innovative field methods that allowed him and his teams of co-archaeologists, anthropologists, sociologists, agronomists, and others to use science rather than educated guesswork to locate potentially important sites for excavation. Other than his discoveries in this biosphere, which are crucial to our understanding of Mesoamerican agriculture and settlement, his greatest legacy is probably his influence on and encouragement of students, other archaeologists, and the multitude of scientific professionals with whom he worked. Photo of Dr. MacNeish courtesy LibraryThing.

My good friend and colleague Rafael Mier, founder of Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana (by all means join the Facebook group), had talked a good while with me about his desire to visit the site where, over 50 years ago, Dr. MacNeish documented the remains of ancient corn. The more we talked about going to the cave, the more my heart raced: We were going to visit one of the places in Mexico where corn was born. Where corn was born. I felt that the trip would be much more than a Sunday drive in the country: it felt like a pilgrimage, to the most basic food destination in Mexico. To the origin of everything.

The extremely ancient peoples of what is now Mexico domesticated a native wild-growing plant called teocintle, which over the course of many years became what we know today as corn. Teocintle–the photo above is a seed head of the plant, harvested in 2015 in the State of Mexico and framed in sterling silver–is a grass similar to rice in that the grains grow and mature as a cluster of individuals, on a stalk. A mazorca (seed head) of teocintle has no center structure; no cob, if you will. One of the primary features that distinguishes corn from teocintle is the cob. Scientists tracked the domestication of teocintle from the wild grain to its semi-domesticated state, and from semi-domestication to the incredible variety of native Mexican corns that we know today. The actual teocintle seed head in the photo measures approximately three inches long. What you see in my hand is the million-times-over great-grandfather, the ancient ancestor of corn.

The mouth of la Cuna del Maíz Mexicano (the cradle of Mexican corn). I grew up in the southern United States, where I knew a few caves. I had expected to see a cave along the lines of Wyandotte Caves in Indiana, or Mammoth Cave in Kentucky: huge, multi-room caverns in which a person can walk along seeing rivers, stalagmites, stalactites, and other underground cave formations. Not here; this cave is simply what you see in the photograph, a sheltering karst-formation in the limestone, a pre-historic bubble. Standing in this spot gave me chills, and simply thinking about it while looking at the photograph now makes a shiver run up my spine. Out here in the vastness of this ancient natural world, in some ways so similar to the primitive world into which corn was born, one forgets about the crowded city, one forgets about modern problems, and one returns both mentally and spiritually to another time and to a connection with those Stone Age people who gave us the gift of corn, the true staff of life in much of today's world.

This shelter, according to years-long archeological research by Dr. MacNeish and others, was used as a camp, as a shelter during the rainy season for as many as 25 to 30 people, and as a post-harvest storage place for corn and other native vegetables (corn, beans, chiles, etc). Families, bands of families, and tribes living in or traveling through the Coxcatlán area used this type shelter for 10,000 years or more, primarily during the time in Mesoamerica that is analogous to the Archaic archeological period: approximately 5000 to 3400 BCE. Dr. MacNeish's extensive research showed more than 42 separate occupations, 28 habitation zones, and seven cultural phases in this cave.

At the Museo del Maíz (Corn Museum) in Tehuacán, there is a small display of the original dehydrated corn cobs as well as some utensils found in the cave in the biosphere. This tiny cob measures less than one inch long.

These dehydrated cobs, also found in the cave, are quite a bit larger and probably somewhat younger than the tiny one in the photo above. They measure between 2 and 3 inches long. Some ancient fingers plucked this corn from its stalk, some long-ago woman–she must have been a woman–removed the kernels from the cobs and prepared food. How similar the growing methods, how similar what they ate, those people who created corn from a wild plant. Corn, beans, chiles, squash, amaranth, avocado: all served up in some way for millennia-past meals, and all available in Mexico's markets today. What foods do you eat that nourished your Stone Age forebears? How precious it is to know and taste the flavors of 7 to 10 thousand years worth of comidas (Mexico's main meal of the day)!

In addition to the important finding of dehydrated corn cob specimens (nearly 25,000 samples) and other kinds of vegetables in the substrata of the Tehuacán cave, Dr. MacNeish and subsequent archeologists found a large number of ancient tools such as chipped-flint darts used for hunting, grinding stones, and coas (pointed sticks used for planting). The investigators also found approximately 100 samples of human feces, which were examined to document the human diet of those long-ago days. Thanks to carbon dating, a method of determining the age of organic objects which was developed in the 1940s, scientists were and continue to be able to assign dates to ancient artifacts.

Part of a mural found in ruins dating to 650-900 AD in Cacaxtla, Tlaxcala. Click on the photograph to enlarge it; you'll see that what initially appear to be ears of corn are in fact a part of Mexico's creation myth: humankind is born of corn, and corn is born of humankind. Corn, which humankind created in the domestication process, cannot in fact exist without a human helping hand to husk it, take the dried kernels from the cob, and plant those kernels for subsequent harvest. Above even wheat and rice, corn is the single-most planted grain in the world; there are countries and regions where humans could not exist without corn.

This tiny mazorca (dried ear of corn) is maíz palomero: (popcorn, scientific name Zaya mays everta), native to Mexico, the only kind of corn in the world that pops. Maíz palomero is believed by many scientists to have been the first corn. Today, this original corn is tragically all but extinct in Mexico. My colleague Maestro Rafael Mier, who lives in Mexico City, wanted to plant it; he contacted a number of possible sources without locating any seed at all. He ultimately called a seed bank in a nearby Mexican state to see if they had some. They did, and they took seeds out of their freezer bank so that he could sow them on his property. His goal is to begin the reversal of the extinction of this original Mexican corn. This wee ear of popcorn, the standard size for this variety, is just about four inches long. Look how beautiful it is, with its crystalline white and golden triangular kernels.

Mexico still grows and cooks with 59 different varieties of native corns, corns that are essential to the regions in which they grow. A type of native corn that grows well in the state of Tamaulipas, for example, will probably not produce as well in Oaxaca. Nor will a native corn that is easily produced in the west-central state of Guerrero grow well in the north-eastern Mexico state of Coahuila. Climates differ, altitudes differ, soils differ: all impact Mexico's native corns. If you click on the poster to enlarge it, you'll see how very, very different Mexico's 59 corn varieties are from one another. Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better view. Photo courtesy CIMMYT.

These multi-colored mazorcas are native to the Mexican state of Tlaxcala, the smallest state in the República.

These elotes (ears of freshly harvested young corn) are native to the state of Michoacán.

These large fresh ears are elotes of maíz cacahuatzintle, from the State of México, for sale earlier this summer at Mexico City's Mercado de Jamaica. This type corn is processed naturally so it can be used to make pozole, a pork (or chicken) soup with deliciously spicy broth.

A bowl of pozole on a chilly night at the Mercado Medellín, Mexico City, a few Decembers ago.

And finally, these mazorcas are native to the far-southern state of Chiapas.

Mexico knows itself as 'the people of the corn'. Mexico knows that sin maíz no hay país–without corn, there is no country. Right now, Mexico is at a crisis point, the point of preserving its heritage of corn–or allowing that heritage to be lost to the transnational producers of uniform, high-yielding, genetically modified corn that is not Mexico's corn. The Chinese characters in the photo mean crisis, defined as both danger and opportunity. Which word will Mexico choose to safeguard its heritage and frame its future? I take my stand on the side of the 11,000 year history that defines us.

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

19 de January de 2019
Frijoles Refritos Estilo Mexico Cooks! :: Refried Beans, Mexico Cooks! Style

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

These beans are about half mashed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

¡Provecho!

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

8 de September de 2018
An Overview of Some of Mexico’s Dried Chiles

These bright-red dried chile de árbol (tree chile) are slender, pointed, and about four inches long. These chiles are really–but really–picante. Soak, toast and liquefy them to use in salsas, or dry-grind them to powder, then dust the chile, along with a pinch of salt and a squeeze of jugo de limón (lemon juice) onto raw fruits and vegetables. Start with just a little, though, till you know how much heat your palate will tolerate.

Generally when I see dried chiles in the United States or in Canada, they're packaged in sealed plastic bags and are not only dry, they're downright crisp and crunchy. They crackle when you touch them through the plastic. When you're buying dried chiles, try to buy them at a Latin market near you. If you're lucky, you'll be able to buy them in bulk–just the quantity you need for the recipe you're preparing–and they'll still be leathery and flexible. That's exactly how you want them to be. Those crisp, crackly chiles are old–who knows how old!–and completely past their prime.

Left on the plant to ripen to a deep mahogany red, then dried and smoked, the chile jalapeño becomes the chile chipotle. It's one of the spiciest of Mexico's dried chiles, and one of the most flavorful. Buy it at a market as you see it in the photo, or buy it canned en adobo (a delicious, dark, spicy sauce). You'll find canned chile chipotle at most Latin markets. If you can find La Morena brand, they're fantastic.

The chile morita will remind you of the chipotle because of its smoky fragrance and very spicy but sweetish taste. Some say the morita is the last of the mature jalapeño crop to be harvested (and therefore smaller than the earlier harvest); others say it's actually a smaller variety of chile jalapeño.

Chile cascabel (bell chile) has a mildly spicy, nutty flavor. It's the dried version of the fresh, red chile bola. Cascabel means "bell"–the sort of bell you might see on a cat's collar. Hold it by the stem, shake it, and you'll understand its name: the rattle of the dried seeds inside gives the name away.

Reconstituted by soaking and toasting, the familiar chile ancho is used for preparing salsas and many other common dishes. The mature fresh chile poblano, left on the plant to ripen to a deep, dark red, becomes the dried ancho. To make sure you are buying chile ancho and not chile mulato–the two are often confused and/or mislabeled–slice open one of the chiles and hold it up to the light. As the light shines through the chile, the ancho glows red, the mulato is mid-range brown.

The beautiful stained-glass-red of the chile ancho, held up to the light.

Chile guajillo, reddish-brown, flat, and about six or seven inches long, is one of the most commonly used Mexican dried chiles. Indispensable for preparing Jalisco's signature pozole rojo, the guajillo is also an ingredient in moles, adobos, and salsa picante. Here's a recipe for Mexico Cooks!' favorite mushroom appetizer, champiñones al ajillo:

Champiñones al Ajillo estilo Mexico Cooks!
Mushrooms in Garlic/Guajillo Sauce, Mexico Cooks! Style

1 lb good-size fresh white mushrooms
4-6 chiles guajillos, leathery and flexible
4-6 large cloves of garlic
Minced flat leaf parsley
Olive oil as needed
Sea salt to taste

Remove the stems from the chiles. Shake the seeds out through the stem opening and save them for another use in the future. Bring the chiles just to a boil in a pan of water. Turn off the heat and soak for about 30 minutes.

While the chiles are soaking, clean the mushrooms and cut the stems off, even with the caps.

Drain the chiles and pat dry. Cut them into 1/8" slices across their width.

Mince the garlic.

In a 12" skillet over medium heat, sauté the garlic in oil just until it begins to soften. Add the chile strips and sauté for a few minutes more. Add the mushrooms and sauté until tender. Sprinkle with minced parsley, add sea salt to taste, and toss very briefly. Plate and serve.

Serves 3-4 as an appetizer.

Provecho!

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

28 de April de 2018
Fresh Chiles Common in Mexico and Beyond

The ubiquitous chile jalapeño is popular all over Mexico and the world, at points north, south, east, and west. The jalapeño measures anywhere from 2" to 3" long and rates between 10,000 and 20,000 units on the Scoville scale. We usually see it in markets when it's green, but in some markets we also see it red–like the one on the bottom left of the photo. The jalapeño is the chile most people outside Mexico think of when they think of what we use to prepare Mexican food.

Chile–hot, savory, wonderful chile–has been part of Mexico's food culture for literally thousands of years. The Nahuatl name is chilli. Chile, corn, squash, avocado and beans formed the indigenous dietary base for thousands of years before the Spanish first sailed into the bays of what they called the New World–it was, of course, a new world only in their eyes. The earliest chiles in Mexico have been carbon-dated to approximately 11,000 years ago!

Here in Mexico, we've learned to distinguish the qualities of different types of chile not only by their colors and forms but also by the degree of heat they impart to our foods and palates. Picor (heat), as subjective an experience in the mouth as one's experience of sweetness or sourness, ranges from a disappointed shrug to holy Moses, bring the fire hose!

Chile poblano, usually mildly picante (heat-producing), has a distinctive, rich flavor to match its deep inky-green color. The poblano usually measures about 6" to 7" long, 1,000 to 2,000 Scoville units, and is most commonly used to prepare chiles rellenos. Once in a while a poblano will surprise you with more heat than you expect! One of the most delicious preparations using chiles poblanos is the seasonal Chile En Nogada–stuffed chiles poblanos in walnut sauce.

Wilbur Scoville, an early 20th Century American chemist, quantified the heat factor of various chiles and left us all with an approach to picor more scientific than simple subjectivity. His objective scale of heat ranges from 1 (the sweet red bell pepper) to a possible 325,000 (the chile habanero). What Scoville didn't quantify was flavor; chile is substantially more than a mere fire in your mouth.

Chile güero (blond chile, about the size of a jalapeño) is only slightly higher on the Scoville scale than chile poblano. These chiles, like jalapeños or serranos, are often hand-rubbed to loosen the seeds, oiled, grilled, and served as chiles toreados, alongside an order of tacos.

Chile chilaca, grown extensively in Queréndaro, Michoacán, is widely used in Michoacán but is not quite as well-known outside this region. It measures between 8 and 10 inches long and is 2,500-5,000 Scoville units. In color and flavor–and heat–it is very similar to the poblano.

Chile de árbol (tree chile, although it's not grown on a tree) is picked green to use as a fresh chile and allowed to mature to bright red for different uses as a dried chile. It's usually 3" to 4" long. It's a good bit hotter on the Scoville scale than previous chiles: 15,000-30,000 units.

Chile manzano (aka chile perón), a bit bigger than a golf ball, packs a punch: 30,000-60,000 on the Scoville scale. The manzano is hot, but also very floral in flavor. It's usually used in encurtidos (pickled vegetables with chiles) and salsas, but also seasons broths and other dishes.

Known in parts of Michoacán as chile chiltepiquín, this little orange devil is only about 1.5" long but measures 50,000-100,000 Scoville units.

The small but infamous chile habanero (Havana chile) is arguably the hottest fresh chile grown in Mexico, ranking as high as 350,000 Scoville units. Merely slit open and passed through some salsas, the habanero leaves just a hint of its tremendous heat after it's removed from the salsa. In spite of its name, this chile originated in southeastern Mexico, not in Cuba.

This is the latest wrinkle in chile habañero: the very small chile habañero chocolate. It's named, as you might guess, for its deep brown color, and cultivated in the state of Michoacán. The flavor, on the other hand, has nothing to do with chocolate. It's hot. Fiery hot. MORE than fiery hot. Go here with caution, unless you really love heat.

Chile serrano, about 3" long, is not the hottest chile in Mexico (Scoville ranks it just a tiny bit hotter than the jalapeño), but it may well be the most-used. The serrano is known by other names: chile verde is the most common of these. Generally it's eaten green; the red ones have been left to mature on the bush.

Next week in Mexico Cooks!: a collection of dried chiles you'll want to know!

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

21 de April de 2018
La Cocina de Doña Esthela :: Doña Esthela’s Kitchen, Valle de Guadalupe, Baja California

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

14 de October de 2017
Mexico’s Native Corns, On Tour in Baja California :: Maíces Nativos de México, de Gira en Baja California, México

When Chris Mejia and Jennifer Kramer (founders of Baja California specialist tour company Baja Test Kitchen) invited us to take Mexico's native corns on the road, Tortilla de Maíz Mexicana's founder Rafael Mier and Mexico Cooks! were thrilled. You think taking a suitcase loaded with mazorcas (ears of dried corn) from Mexico City to Baja California is easy? Each ear required the protection of bubble wrap and plenty of coddling. We could easily have filled this steamer trunk to the brim, but we made do with an extra-large suitcase to get the beautiful ears safely to their (and our) destination. Photo courtesy Pinterest.

In the photo, you see just a few of the many colorful mazorcas we carried to Tijuana–and beyond. Photo courtesy Josué Castro, friend of Mexico's maíces nativos (native corns) and a tremendous support to all of us in the project.

From the plane, July 22, 2017: over the mainland with a view of el Golfo de California (the Sea of Cortez). Very shortly after I took this picture, we and our personal luggage, plus the big suitcase full of corn, arrived in Tijuana, where Chris and Jen met us at the airport.

First stop? We were ravenous, as if we'd flapped our wings ourselves to fly us to Tijuana! We swooped from the airport directly into Tacos El Franc, one of Tijuana's large number of fantastic taquerías (places to eat tacos). From the time I first lived in Tijuana, in the early 1980s, my opinion has been that Tijuana is Mexico's taco central. The delicious tacos at Tacos El Franc truly confirmed that for me.

Dos de pastor, por favor, con todo…two tacos al pastor, please, with everything. "Everything" includes minced onion, chopped cilantro, freshly made guacamole, and as much house-made salsa as you want. Word to the wise: green salsa is almost always spicier than red.

So what does 'al pastor' mean? Allegedly invented in Mexico City and based on Middle Eastern shawarma, tacos al pastor are now hugely popular all over Mexico. Al pastor simply means 'shepherd style', grilled on a trompo (vertical spit). The metal contraption behind the trompo is the vertical gas grill. The trompo, loaded with thinly sliced marinated pork, turns to grill the outside of the meat–roasted through and crisped on the outside at the moment you order your tacos. The slightly charred edge bits, combined with the tender meat just underneath the surface, combine to make your taco dreams come true.

Two tacos are never enough. My next order was uno de asada, porfas…(one of thinly sliced grilled beef, please). The toppings for this one are minced onion, chopped cilantro, frijoles de la olla (freshly cooked beans direct from the pot), and guacamole–plus as much of your favorite salsa as you like. Is your mouth watering yet? Mine is!

Freshly-toasted house-made tortillas heat on a slightly greased flat top griddle (rear) while roasted chiles güero ('blond' chiles) wait for you to eat: ask for one or simply take one by the stem. This chile, about two to three inches long, broad at the stem end and pointed at the tip, can range in spiciness from mild to yikes, and you can't tell which it's going to be until you bite into it. Some (including me) like it on the yikes side of hot.

Last taco for today: suadero, a very thin cut of beef from just under the skin, cut from the section between the belly and the leg of the animal. Again, I topped this taco with onion and cilantro, plus guacamole and green salsa, which is almost always what I prefer.

Raw suadero looks like the meat in the photo above. You'll probably be able to find the cut at a Mexican butcher shop, if there is one near you. Photo courtesy Chedraui.

In Mexico, there's a saying: panza llena, corazón contento (full stomach, happy heart). Here we all are, full of tacos and the living examples of that saying. From the left: Jennifer Kramer, Mexico Cooks!, Rafael Mier, and Chris Mejia.

Just in time for our first Pacific Coast sunset, Chris and Jen took us to the Rosarito condo where we would spend the next 10 nights. Tacos El Franc and a view like this from the balcony? Who needs anything more!

Grateful for the generosity of our hosts, we went happily to our comfortable rooms and dreamed of the next morning, when we would take the corn for the first time to Valle de Guadalupe, the wine country of Baja California.

Next week: A day with the corn at two spectacular wineries. Don't miss a minute of this marvelous tour.

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

23 de September de 2017
What’s in Season in July at Mexico City’s Markets?

At the Mercado de Sonora, this gigantic freshly cut squash looks more like a huge flower. The squash, an extremely hard-shelled variety known as calabaza de Castilla (Castilian squash), was approximately two feet in diameter! Behind it are plátanos machos (plaintains). The squash, carefully cut in half to show its beautiful flesh and seeds, is resting on taro root rhizomes.

Those of you who live somewhere outside Mexico and are enjoying seasonal fresh fruits and vegetables right now might be surprised to learn that even in Mexico, where the growing season can be year-round, there are times when it's the season for (insert name of item here) and we all rush to buy what's new in our markets. Whether Mexico Cooks! shops at a tianguis (street market), at an enclosed municipal market, or at a modern supermarket, seasonal fruits and vegetables are must-haves–otherwise, they won't be back in the markets till next year.

The most recent seasonal fruit for summer 2017 is the tuna (prickly pear cactus fruit). Available by the ton from late June until sometime in September, the tuna is considered to be Mexico's national fruit. It even appears on Mexican flag! You can see how it grows: that's a nopal cactus paddle, with tunas growing around the outside edge. More are piled up in the boxes. The spiny, thick green peel encloses a marvelous fruit.

Here's a tuna that I just peeled. Peel-and-eat, seeds and all. Cut the ends from the tuna, make a lengthwise slit down one side of the skin, and with your fingers, simply pull the skin away from the flesh. Chilled, the sweet, crisp tuna flesh is as refreshing as watermelon–and similarly textured.

Can you even believe it? The cool, refreshing rainy season in central Mexico means wild mushrooms! The season is just beginning. I bought these glorious fresh morels at a municipal market where I often take touring foodies. Women from small towns in mountainous areas around Mexico City forage for these and other mushrooms (chanterelles and lobster mushrooms, anyone?) and sell them at local markets. These morels were so inexpensive that I bought a kilo (2.2 pounds) and gave half to my neighbor.

What you may know as lobster mushrooms (Hypomyces lactifluorum) are called trompa de puerco (pig snout) here in central Mexico. Contrary to its mushroom name, this is actually a fungus that attacks a kind of wild white mushroom, deforming it into the delicacy you see in the picture. These do sometimes appear at farmers' markets in the USA, but prepare to pay through the snout for them: upwards of $30.00USD per pound. Here, they're a tenth that price.

These enormous just-cut flores de calabaza (squash blossoms) appear in Mexico's markets as the plants are setting their fruit. The Purépecha indigenous woman in the photo has brought her flowers to sell on the street in Paracho, Michoacán. Tidbit of information: only the male blossoms are cut; the female flowers, notable by the spherical beginning of a squash at the base of each flower, are left on the vine to bear fruit.

Mangos! It's still mango season in Mexico, and the varieties are many. These are Paraíso: about five inches long and plump as can be, the flesh is tender, sweet, and incredibly popular as a snack. Mangos are the most cultivated fruit in the world!

Here's a ready-to-eat mango-on-a-stick, offered by a street vendor in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán. Spritzed with a little jugo de limón (juice of the Key lime), sprinkled with a big pinch of salt, and dusted with crushed, dried, red chile–absolutely marvelous. People in Mexico look forward all year long to the several months of mango season!

July is also papaya season. This variety, the usual one that we see in Mexico, is the Carica papaya–otherwise known as the Maradol. Ranging in size from about eight inches long to a jumbo-size foot and a half, the Maradol papaya has very thin orange skin, meaty, deep orange flesh and usually a zillion firm black seeds, each smaller than a pea. Eat this fruit any time: diced for breakfast, in a smoothie, or accompany your comida (main meal at midday) with a refreshing agua fresca de papaya–a papaya fruit water.

Limón criollo: Mexico's small spherical 'native' limones are known in the United States as Key limes. These limones aren't really native to Mexico; they originated in Asia and were brought here by the Spanish nearly 500 years ago. Available all year and used ubiquitously for everything from squeezing onto fresh fruit to squeezing into your bowl of caldo de pollo (chicken soup) to spritzing onto your hands for slicking down unruly hair, these green to greenish-yellow limones are available all year long. July is their peak season, though. Their flavor is completely different from either the lime OR the lemon; oddly enough, neither Persian limes (the large oval green ones) nor Eureka lemons (the large oval yellow ones) are grown for the fresh fruit market in Mexico.

Last, the sandía (watermelon). Available all over Mexico and in season right this minute, the sweetness of the fruit is as refreshing as a cool shower. Native to somewhere in Africa–there's lots of controversy about where–and over 5000 years old, Mexico's watermelon is grown primarily in this country's western and eastern coastal states.

Fresh mango, papaya, and watermelon, ready to be seasoned just the way you like them.

Here in Mexico, many tropical fruits are eaten sprinkled with salt, crushed, dried red chile pepper, and a squirt or two of limón. If you've never tried it this way, you'll be surprised at how this multi-level flavor combination changes a standard sweet fruit experience to a rush of OH MY GOODNESS! in your mouth. Many years ago, when my elderly mother visited me in Mexico, I presented her with an already-seasoned breakfast plate of fresh ripe-picked pineapple from Veracruz, ripe-picked strawberries from Michoacán, ripe-picked papaya from Chiapas, and field-ripened cantaloupe from Mexico's west coast. Always an adventurous eater, she gobbled it right down and sighed in contentment. She said, "Cristina, I've never really understood tropical fruit before. It needs all those seasonings to make it just perfect." My mother was right.

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

15 de July de 2017
Old Kitchen Pals and Exotic New Friends :: Herbs from a Mexican Garden

Fresh hierbabuena (mint) growing in a Morelia friend's garden.

The cuisines of Mexico–and you know that there are many–are a fantastic amalgam of indigenous corn-based food preparations with an overlay of Spanish ingredients, a strong influence of Moorish flavors, and a lagniappe of French artifice from the mid-19th Century. There is no one cuisine in this big country, although some popular dishes are found in every region. Not every cook prepares enchiladas with the same list of ingredients; tacos, although ubiquitous in Mexico, can be different at every crowded taco stand.

Mexico Cooks! stores garlic in this 3" diameter wire basket, hanging from a cup hook on the side of a cupboard. Circulating air keeps the garlic fresh for quite a while.

Mexican canela (cinnamon), for sale in a Oaxaca market. Mexican cinnamon sticks are usually about two feet long and, unlike the short, hard, nearly flavorless cinnamon sticks sold outside the country, are easily broken into the length piece you need for a recipe. Grind it into horchata (usually a chilled rice drink), use it to flavor a comforting, sweet and hot atole (a thick corn drink), or use it for traditional seasoning in arroz con leche (Mexican rice pudding). Naturally there are many other Mexican recipes that require canela.

Many of the herbs and spices that you use in your own kitchen are also used in the Mexican kitchen. Garlic, cinnamon, oregano, and thyme are in widespread use here. Cumin, cloves, and mint show up frequently. Lemon grass, which we usually think of as an ingredient in Thai or Vietnamese dishes, is commonly grown in many parts of Mexico and is used to make tea.

A good part of the differences in the regional cuisines of Mexico is each region's use of herbs. Some of those herbs are completely unknown to those of us whose familiarity with Mexican food stops with Pepe's Taco Hut on Main Street, USA. Pepe, whose mother's family emigrated to the USA from the Mexican state of Hidalgo, prepares the restaurant's platillos fuertes (main dishes) from recipes passed down from his abuelita (grandmother), who lived for 97 years in the same Hidalgo village. He's adapted those recipes to include the ingredients he can find in the States and to the palates of his customers.

This herb, a large-leafed, strong-flavored variety of oregano called orégano orejón (big-ear oregano), is unusual even in Mexico. Mexico Cooks! once had a pot of it, but it has unfortunately gone to the great beyond. I'd love to have another pot of it.

Oregano is quite common in Mexican cooking. It can be used either fresh or dried. A small pot of oregano in a sunny spot of your kitchen garden will usually be plenty for all your cooking needs. If you live in a place where the growing season is short, harvest oregano periodically through the summer, tie the stems in small bunches, and hang upside down in a dark place to dry. It dries very fast and retains most of its aroma and flavor. Discard the stems and store the crisp leaves in an airtight, lightproof containers.

Because the growing season in many parts of Mexico is almost year-round, I can always cut a fresh sprig of oregano or two to use when making spaghetti sauce, pescado a la veracruzana, (fish prepared in the style of Veracruz) or other tomato-based sauces. I wash the sprigs and either strip off the leaves into the pot or put the entire sprig into the sauce for seasoning.

In Mexico, albahaca (basil) is used primarily in Italian food. However, it's widely grown and used in an unusual way: many small businesses put a pot of growing basil just outside the door to their shops. Why? The creencia (belief) is that a flower pot of albahaca will draw clients and money to the business.

Romero (rosemary). This non-native herb is used very little in Mexico's cuisines. However, some 'modern Mexican' chefs are making cold rosemary infusions to be drunk either before or with a meal.

The Mexican kitchen uses a wide range of other herbs. The Spanish names read like a mysterious litany: albahaca, epazote, estragón, hoja santa, hierbabuena; comino, clavo, and romero. In English, they are (in order) basil, wormseed, tarragon, holy leaf, mint, cumin, cloves, and rosemary.

Epazote grows wild all over Mexico and in parts of the United States. Several months ago I paid ten pesos at a tianguis (street market) for a pot of it to plant in my garden. As I was carrying the pot home, my neighbor, Doña Mago, saw me and exclaimed, "Porque compraste eso?" ("Why did you buy that?").

"Well, you know" I answered, "I like it to cook in my beans, to make quesadillas, for the flavor—"

"No, no, no, amiga!" she cried, and pointed a finger toward the corner. "It grows up through the cracks in the sidewalk just down the street. You should have asked me to show you where to find it. You could have saved your money. When I want some, I just go over there and cut a piece." It's true. When I was out for a walk the next day, I noticed for the first time the epazote plant she had mentioned.

Regardless of my profligate waste of ten pesos, I do like to cook a big sprig of epazote in a pot of beans. The herb is originally from Mexico and Central America. The indigenous language name that was given to epazote is derived from the Nahuatl words 'epti' and 'zotle': the combined word means 'skunk sweat'. As you can imagine, the herb has a very strong and distinctive flavor. According to Mexican kitchen lore, epazote also has anti-flatulent properties, which is why it might be smart to add it to the boiling bean pot.

Pescado en hoja de plátano (fish cooked in banana leaf). Restaurante San Miguelito, Morelia, Michoacán.

Banana leaves are used for wrapping meats to prepare barbacoa (southeastern Mexican barbecue, cooked in a pit) and for wrapping and flavoring tamales from Oaxaca, in southeastern Mexico. Another plant used to give uncommon seasonings to Oaxacan cuisine is hoja de aguacate (avocado leaf). You won't be able to run right out to your nearest Safeway or HEB store to find either of these. If you live in an area where there's a large Asian population, you'll find packages of frozen banana leaves in any well-stocked Asian food market. As for avocado leaves—well, the only avocado leaf that gives anise flavor to a dish is native to Mexico and doesn't grow elsewhere. Unfortunately there's no seasoning substitute for them; the Hass avocado leaf has no flavor.

Hoja santa (holy leaf) is also known as acuyo.

Hoja santa is used extensively in Mexican cooking. It's a large, heart-shaped leaf that comes from a tall, bushy plant—a plant that will take over the garden space that it's planted in and then some, if you let it. It's a native of Mexico and has medicinal properties as well as seasoning uses. The flavor of hoja santa is reminiscent of anise, and it combines exceptionally well with fish or chicken.

As you can see, Mexican home cooking is far more than tacos and enchiladas. The more unusual kitchen herbs of Mexican cuisine add intense flavor without adding that blast of spiciness that we so often mistake for the only seasoning of Mexico.

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

17 de June de 2017