Category: Mexican Markets

‘Tis The Season :: Chiles en Nogada, Available Now In Mexico’s Homes and Restaurants
Beautifully home-prepared chiles en nogada, as presented several years ago at a traditional food exhibition in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

Freshly harvested and peeled nuez de castilla (walnuts), an essential for seasonal chiles en nogada.

Mexico celebrates its independence the entire month of September with parades, parties, and traditional food and drink, served in restaurants and at home. The traditional festive dish during the weeks just before and after the Independence Day holiday is chiles en nogada, a magnificent tribute to the seasonal availability of a certain kind of peach, the locally grown panochera apple, in-season granadas (pomegranates) and nuez de castilla (freshly harvested walnuts). From mid-July until early October, seasonal local fruits, fresh pomegranates, and newly harvested walnuts make chiles en nogada possible. Mildly spicy chiles poblano, stuffed with picadillo and topped with richly creamy walnut sauce and pomegranate seeds, flaunt the brilliant green, white and red of the Mexican flag.

The panochera apple, grown in the Mexican state of Puebla, and pera lechera (milky pear), also grown in the area, are two must-have ingredients for making chiles en nogada in Mexico. If you live outside Mexico, a small crisp apple and a very crisp pear (Bosque or d'Anjou) would substitute.

This festive dish is traditionally served on September 15 or 16 in honor of Mexico's Independence Day, though it is popular anytime in the late summer and fall. During August and September in the highlands of Mexico, particularly in Mexico City and Puebla, vendors wander tianguis (street markets) and other markets, selling the clean, white meats of nuez de castilla. It is important to use the freshest walnuts possible, as they produce such a creamy, rich sauce that it is worth the effort to buy them peeled or peel them oneself. Yes, the recipe is time-consuming…but you and your guests will jump up and shout "VIVA!" when they've licked the platters clean.

Ingredients

For the meat:
- 2 pounds beef brisket or other stew meat or 1 pound beef and 1 pound pork butt**
- 1 small white onion, quartered
- 2 large cloves garlic
- about 1 Tbsp sea salt
For the picadillo (filling):
- 4 Tbsp safflower or canola oil
- the shredded meat
- 1/3 cup chopped white onion
- 3 large cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
- 1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
- 1/8 tsp ground cloves
- pinch pimienta gorda (allspice)
- 1/2 plátano macho (plantain), chopped fine
- 1 or 2 chiles serrano, finely minced
- 4 Tbsp chopped fresh walnuts
- 4 Tbsp slivered blanched almonds
- 2 Tbsp finely diced biznaga (candied cactus, optional)
- 1 fresh pear, peeled and chopped
- 1 apple, peeled and chopped
- 4 ripe peaches, peeled and diced
- 3 Tbsp Mexican pink pine nuts. Don't substitute white if you aren't able to find pink. White pine nuts have a bitter aftertaste.
- 3 large, ripe tomatoes, roasted, peeled and chopped
- sea salt to taste
Fully mature chiles poblano, picked fresh and sold on the street in Tehuacán, Puebla.

Deep green chiles poblano are normally used for chiles en nogada. These measure as much as seven inches long. If you click on the photo to make it larger, you can see that these chiles have deep, long grooves running down their sides. When I'm buying them, I choose chiles poblano that are as smooth as possible on their flat sides. The smoothness makes them easier to roast easily.

For the chiles:

–6 fresh chiles poblanos, roasted, peeled, slit open, and seeded, leaving the stem intact

For the nogada (walnut sauce):
- 1 cup freshly harvested nuez de castilla (walnuts), peeled of all brown membrane**
- 6 ounces queso de cabra (goat cheese), queso doble crema or standard cream cheese (not fat free) at room temperature
- 1-1/2 cups crema mexicana or 1-1/4 cups sour cream thinned with milk
- about 1/2 tsp sea salt or to taste
- 1 Tbsp sugar
- 1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
- 1/4 cup dry sherry (optional)
**Please note that this recipe is correctly made with walnuts, not pecans. Using pecans will give your sauce a non-traditional flavor and a beige color, rather than pure white.

Remove the arils (seeds) from a pomegranate. We who live in Mexico are fortunate to find pomegranate seeds ready to use, sold in plastic cups.

For the garnish

–1 Tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
–1/2 cup fresh pomegranate seeds

Preparation:

Cut the meat into large chunks, removing any excess fat. Place the meat into a large Dutch oven with the onion, garlic, and salt. Cover with cold water and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Skim off any foam that collects on the surface. Lower the heat and allow the water to simmer about 45 minutes, until the meat is just tender. Take the pot off the stove and let the meat cool in the broth. Remove the pieces of meat and finely shred them.

Candied biznaga (aka acitrón) cactus. Do try to find this ingredient in your local market. There isn't an adequate substitute, so if you don't find it, leave it out.

Mexican pink pine nuts. Their taste is sweeter than the standard white ones, and they leave no bitter aftertaste in your dish. If you can't find these pink pine nuts, it's better not to substitute the white ones.

Warm the oil in a large, heavy skillet and sauté the onion and garlic over medium heat until they turn a pale gold. Stir in the shredded meat and cook for five minutes. Add the cinnamon, pepper, and cloves, then, stir in the raisins and the two tablespoons of chopped walnuts. Add the chopped pear, apple, and finely diced biznaga cactus, and mix well. Add the tomatoes and salt to taste, and continue cooking over medium-high heat until most of the moisture has evaporated. Stir often so that the mixture doesn't stick. Let cool, cover, and set aside. The picadillo may be made and refrigerated a day or two in advance of final preparations.

Roasted chiles poblano, ready to peel, seed, and stuff. Photo courtesy Delicious Mexican Recipes.

Peel the chiles and make a slit down the side of each chile, just long enough to remove the seeds and veins. Keep the stem end intact. Drain the chiles, cut side down, on paper towels until completely dry. Cover and set aside. The chiles may be prepared a day in advance.

At least three hours in advance, put the walnuts in a small pan of boiling water. Remove from the heat and let them sit for five minutes. Drain the nuts and, when cool, rub off as much of the dark skin as possible. Chop the nuts into small pieces. Place the nuts, cream cheese, crema, and salt in a blender and purée thoroughly. Stir in the optional sugar, cinnamon, and sherry until thoroughly combined. Chill for several hours.

Preheat the oven to 250ºF. When ready to serve, reheat the meat filling and stuff the chiles until they are plump and just barely closed. Put the filled chiles, covered, to warm slightly in the oven. After they are thoroughly heated, place the chiles (cut side down) on a serving platter or on individual plates, cover with the chilled walnut sauce, and sprinkle with the chopped parsley and pomegranate seeds.

Chile en nogada as served at Restaurante Azul Histórico, Mexico City.

Chile en nogada as served at Restaurante Las Quince Letras, Centro Histórico, Oaxaca.

This dish may be served at room temperature, or it may be served slightly chilled. It is rarely if ever served hot.

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18 de August de 2018
Everything But the Squeal :: Mexico Eats Pork, Nose to Tail

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, reconstituted dried corn, spices, and condiments.

No pork existed in Mexico until after the Spanish conquest; in fact, no domestic animals other than the xoloitzcuintle dog were used for food. The 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, doves and the turkey, 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). In addition, when a butcher is preparing pork carnitas, tails, ears, snouts, tongues, and indeed, everything but the squeal goes into the cazo (enormous cooking cauldron used to boil carnitas in lard).

A carnitas taco from Quiroga, Michoacán.

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) is prepared fresh every day by butchers whose specialty is pork. Nothing goes to waste. In fact, about 75% of the pig skins used to make chicharrón are imported to Mexico from the United States, where the market for pig skin is relatively small.

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. 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 in Mexico specialize in its preparation.

One of the most common and popular (and really delicious) kinds of street taco is tacos al pastor (shepherd style tacos). This preparation comes from Mexico City. 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!

Pozole can be red, white, or green. In this case, it's green, a specialty of the state of Guerrero. This pozole is made with pork, the broth is thickened with ground pepitas (pumpkin seeds), and you'll find a wonderful amount of maíz para pozole (nixtamal-ized dried corn) in every spoonful. That's not broccoli in the broth–it's a big chunk of avocado! On the side of the bowl at center is a piece of chicharrón (fried pork skin) and next to it at the left, a crisp tostada smeared with delicious crema (Mexican table cream).

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 make the best tacos I know. Find these at Carnitas Aeropuerto, in Zamora, Michoacán.

Adobo huasteco, another deliciously spicy pork dish. It's been a while since this last appeared on my table–and it's high time I prepared it again. Click on the link for the recipe.

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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11 de August de 2018
Bazar Sábado (Saturday Arts and Crafts Market) in San Ángel, Mexico City

Sun-and-shade dappled Plaza San Jacinto, Colonia San Ángel, in the southern part of Mexico City, hosts Bazar Sábado. Open only on Saturdays, the hours are 10:00AM until 7:00PM.

So many people who tour with me want to shop for high-quality small items to take home as souvenirs or as gifts for relatives and friends. The only place to go? Bazar Sábado, the huge artisans' market held every week in gorgeous Colonia San Ángel in the southern sector of Mexico City. The market includes both indoor and outdoor shops and booths. What's to be had? Just about anything!

These tenangos (hand-embroidered textiles) are made in the state of Guerrero. We saw full-size table cloths, napkins, table runners, and place mats. We bought a dozen or two fabric coasters hand-embroidered with birds, fish, and flowers.

Napkin rings to match any decorator's color combination.

Crowds at Bazar Sábado tend to be large and shoppers are fairly aggressive. Lots of tourists go: you'll hear Japanese, French, English, German, and a slew of other languages on the pathways of Plaza San Jacinto. Be prepared to spend a little more money than you might in some other markets, but the atmosphere and the enormous selection of goods will give you great stories to tell back home. Bazar Sábado is so well worth attending!

Wooden boxes, the tops decorated with icons ranging from the sacred to the profane. Frida Kahlo, Che Guevara, and Mexico's lucha libre (wrestling) stars are among the most popular secular images.

Children's toys made of wood. A million years ago, Mexico Cooks! knew these toys as Jacob's ladders. Remember the sound they make? Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack–now turn it over and start again.

While you're at Bazar Sábado, do go into Museo Casa Risco–at Plaza Jacinto #5–to see this glorious fountain. It's entirely made of old dish ware and shells and fills one entire wall. The building is off the beaten tourist path and definitely worth a look. The museum also has both permanent and temporary exhibits that you'll enjoy.

Woven straw soft baskets to match your napkin rings. These are perfect for serving bread at your dinner table. We loved them.

Mexico Cooks!' antique painted box from Olinalá, Guerrero may well have been sold originally at Bazar Sábado. Booths there still sell similar examples–new, of course.

Both on Plaza Jacinto you'll find restaurants and snacks of almost any kind, from this sort of traditional Mexican breakfast to pizza to a burger or even Chinese food.

Mira, los títeres! He's still young enough for the excitement of these simple fantasy-animal marionettes.

Maestro Enrique Segarra López, one of Mexico's most famous mid-20th Century photographers, holds court on Saturdays at his booth. It was always a joy to spend some time with him. He passed away a few years ago.

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4 de August de 2018
Newest Kid on the Block For Tortillas :: Molino El Pujol

Enrique Olvera, creator of Restaurante Pujol, has recently opened a tortillería (a place to make tortillas) cum snack shop, right in the smack-dab middle of ever-trendy Colonia Condesa. At Molino "El Pujol", a lot goes on in a tiny space: nixtamaliz-ation of native corns, chocolate-making, mole-making, preparation of a few other items, and some on-the-spot eating, both inside and outside the shop.

I was quite happy to be invited to visit Molino (it means 'mill') "El Pujol". A young chef friend who has been working with the establishment as a freelancer offered to talk to chef Jorge León, the in-charge person at the tortillería, to see if he could receive me a couple of weeks ago. "Sure, tell her to come on over on Monday around three o'clock." Ooooh, by all means.

Chef Jorge is a native of the Mixteca Alta, Oaxaca, a rural area approximately two and a half hours into the mountains northwest of Oaxaca city. He got his start in the kitchen when he applied for a job as dishwasher at Casa Oaxaca (in Oaxaca city). He told me, "I started working in the kitchen out of necessity, not because I knew I loved the kitchen. My family needed income–I had no idea what Casa Oaxaca was, or what working there implied. I was washing dishes, I could give my family income: that's what I knew. Little by little I learned my way around and discovered my passion." He's 32 years old, worked at Casa Oaxaca for three years and has now worked for chef Enrique Olvera for five years.

Interior at Molino "El Pujol". In addition to selling tortillas, masa (corn dough) and a few other items para llevar (to go), the little shop also sells a few vegetables to use at home, and a few menu items to eat on the premises or take out. All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Jitomates riñón (kidney shaped tomatoes) are endemic to the state of Oaxaca; the tortillería brings them from there to Mexico City. They are an heirloom fruit, one of the very few heirlooms cultivated in Mexico, with a deep tomato taste that brings unique flavor to whatever recipe requires it. They're very hard to find outside Oaxaca.

It's likely that these miltomates (tiny tomate verde–what you might know in a larger size as tomatillos) are brought from the state of Oaxaca, although they grow and are eaten all over Mexico in sauces, green moles, and other prepared dishes that require them. The wee miltomate (it measures about 2cm in diameter) is a more flavorful variety of the larger tomate verde; it grows among the corn, squash, and beans in the milpa, the ancient farming method of Mexico, still used today
.

Molino "El Pujol" nixtamal-izes corn for its tortillas. The shop nixtamal-izes a new pot of dried corn every day. The huge kettle of corn for this day was a black corn from southern Oaxaca. All of the corn for "El Pujol" is sourced by don Amado Ramírez, a Oaxaca-based specialist in the biodiversity of corn.

Nixtamaliz-ation of corn involves simmering it for approximately 30 minutes in a large amount of water mixed with a small amount of cal (calcium hydroxide) and allowing the corn to rest overnight in the water mixture. After its overnight rest, the corn is washed thoroughly in several waters and drained, removing all of the cal cooking water. The prepared corn is then ready to be ground for making masa (in this case, corn dough) for tortillas, tamales, and other corn-based products.

Traditionally, corn masa is ground on a hand-made volcanic stone metate while kneeling on the floor or the ground. Enlarge the photo to see that this Purépecha indigenous woman has placed a petate (hand-woven reed mat) in the place where she is kneeling. She's kneading the blue corn dough on her metate; the long stone object just in front of the masa is the metlapil, a volcanic stone rolling pin used to grind corn that she nixtamal-ized the previou
s night. Molino "El Pujol" uses a mechanized grinding system in order to maintain the correct masa consistency and texture.

The finished product: fresh-off-the-comal (griddle) tortillas, both black and white, being wrapped in chef Enrique's invention: a 'newspaper" called totomoxtle (the word means corn husk) that offers information about corn as well as protection for one's tortillas. Tortillas at Molino Pujol are offered (as of this writing) at 21 pesos for 12. They're totally natural, traditionally made, and really delicious. Tortillas from a standard neighborhood tortillería usually sell for between 13-14 pesos a kilo, but these days aren't often made the old-fashioned way, with nixtamaliz-ed corn. Photo courtesy Eater.

The day that I visited Molino "El Pujol", chef Jorge 'El Moles' León told me that a team of young chefs would be preparing mole after the shop closed for the day. I was astonished to see the sheer quantity of each of so many ingredients involved in producing what turned out to be 40 kilos–nearly 100 pounds–of mole paste that would be used for the several of Enrique Olvera's restaurants where mole is served. This photo is a tiny glimpse of the huge tub of tomatoes ready to be incorporated into the mole. Huge, you can't even imagine.

Here, an enormous pot of peanuts, some with and some without skin, turning golden over the fire before being used to make the mole.

Here, a wide, wide pot containing about 18 inches of dried, reconstituted chiles, including chile ancho. The two young chefs who prepared the mole worked from 5:00PM on Monday until 4:00AM on Tuesday to complete the job.

A tiny portion of the enormous quantity of plátano macho (plantain) used to give both sweetness and consistency to the mole.

Mole madre/mole nuevo, as served at Restaurante Pujol. I took the photo during a meal there in January 2015, when the mole madre was about 600 days old. Chef Jorge explained mole madre to me by saying, "It's like what happens when you have leftovers after a big family meal or a party. You don't want anything to go to waste, so you add a little of this and that and invite people to finish it up the next day. Or the next day." The mole madre is currently nearly 2000 days old.

Chef Jorge brought me this really unusual (and really delicious) taco to try. The dark green on the outside of the tortilla is hoja santa, an herb that when cooked tastes like anise. The tortilla on the inside of the hoja santa is black corn, the same corn that is in the photo of nixtamaliz-ation. Toasting the two together on the comal (griddle), the flavors combine to create a marvelous taste. And inside the taco is a thick slice of perfectly ripe avocado, served with a white salsa that El Molino Pujol calls "guacachile". In fact, it's made of onion, chile serrano, and a bit of oil, blended together with some kind of secret Pujol alchemy. In the glass, the white liquid is agua de maíz: a fantastically refreshing agua fresca made with corn. Wonderful.

Chef Jorge also brought me this tamal de huitlacoche (a tamal [remember: one tamal, two or more, tamales] filled with corn smut). I would happily eat another one right this minute.

A view of the tamal filling. The black/beige-y part is the huitlacoche, the reddish part around that is a spicy, rich sauce that perfectly complements the corn fungus and the surrounding masa is of course house-nixtamaliz-ed corn. Now se me truenan las tripas–my stomach is growling!

The menu board at Molino El Pujol. Prices effective July 2018 and subject to change without notice.

My young friend with the fire in his hair, chef Eríc Martínez, who asked chef Jorge if I could visit Molino El Pujol. Eríc is pictured in my kitchen, making his own mouth-watering version of mole for my birthday dinner this year. Write down his name, remember his face. The culinary world is going to hear from this young man. You deserve it all, amigo.

A huge shout-out to chef Jorge 'El Moles' León, for kindness, generosity, and information–and for taking so much time to talk with me at Molino El Pujol. I asked him for a photo, but no, thanks.

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28 de July de 2018
You Can’t Go Home Again :: Restaurante Teocintle Maíz :: Ajijic, Jalisco

Restaurante Teocintle Maíz, at the corner of Calle Miguel Blanco and Calle Constitución, Ajijic, Jalisco. You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather. This charming restaurant is about three doors from where I once lived, more than 15 years ago. Back then, the location was called La Frontera, a tiny corner grocery store, owned by my wonderful neighbors don Alfredo Villaseñor and his wife, doña Simona Pineda (may they rest in peace). Today, Gloria Rodríguez Villaseñor, a delightful young woman and granddaughter of my longtime friends the grocers, operates Restaurante Teocintle Maíz together with her business partner, Ricardo Robles.

A couple of memories:

The wall of the house where I lived on Calle Miguel Blanco. The wall is all that one one sees from the street–a Mexican street-side wall is usually very plain, giving away nothing of what might be just inside the door. When I lived in the house, it was simple but comfortable, with lots of character. Now–I don't know what the house behind the wall looks like.

Open the street door and here's the lovely garden. My gardener and friend, Jorge Velázquez (RIP), worked with me to make barren ground into a showcase in the late 1990s. The current owner has made a few changes–the old orange tree is gone, the gazebo at the back left used to be a fountain–but the form is pretty much what Jorge and I created.

Fast forward to July 6, 2018:

Where there once were shelves filled with cans of chiles and soups, boxes of laundry detergent, crates of eggs sold by weight, bottled soft drinks, boxes of juice, infant formula and disposable diapers, and doña Simona reading a book on her stool behind the counter, we have the cozy interior of Restaurante Teocintle Maíz. The rooms were beautifully created on a shoestring by Gloria and Ricardo, and the restaurant opened just over 18 months ago.

Today, Teocintle Maíz is listed on TripAdvisor as the #1 restaurant in Ajijic. Here, it's casa llena–full house–and it's almost always like that. If you want a reservation, call ahead–way ahead! It's that popular, both with Mexican locals, with the large expatriate community in Ajijc, and with visitors to the area.

Ricardo Robles manages Teocintle Maíz, works the front of the house, and is an excellent host. He has also built a great deal of the furniture in the restaurant, including this beautiful table. The table was delivered the day I was there.

Ajijic is a picturesque little town on the north shore of Lake Chapala, about an hour south of Guadalajara. The town is filled with life-long Mexican residents, a large quantity of gentrified shops and galleries, 164+ restaurants and innumerable street food stands. It suffers from horrendous traffic and boasts a population of foreign retirees who are alway looking for the next good place to eat. Several friends had told me about this delightful restaurant, and a few weeks ago, I was able to sneak in without a reservation, just before closing time, to see what all the buzz was about. I was, quite frankly, as dubious as I usually am about reportedly great restaurants, especially in the hinterlands.

Chef Gloria
Rodríguez Villaseñor, in charge of the kitchen at Teocintle Maíz. We chatted for a few minutes and she asked if I'd had supper. No… She sat me at a little table by a window and gave me the menu. Ricardo came to take my order, and I asked him to choose something for me. "I prefer traditional Mexican food over modern Mexican food, and I leave myself in your hands."

My magnificent supper: one of the most traditional meals from Jalisco, the chamorro (pork shank), accompanied by superb, lardy, frijolitos refritos, arroz a la mexicana, avocado slices, and house-made corn tortillas. Chamorro is cooked over very low heat in a spicy red sauce until it is fall-off-the-bone tender. This one was perfect–no ifs, ands, or buts, perfect–and I ate the whole enormous thing. When you go, order it–and you'll eat the whole enormous thing, too. And the beans! It's extraordinary to be served beans of this quality: home-style, smooth and well-fried in just enough lard to make you think you've gone to what I've heard called 'hog heaven'. The tortillas were corny and delicious, and wrapped in a napkin as God intended. To drink, I had a refreshing house-made, just-sweet-enough agua fresca de jamaica ('fresh water', made from roselle, a type of hibiscus).

Chef Gloria studied at the acclaimed Centro Educativo Jaltepec and now gives courses at that culinary school. Her resumé shows tremendous drive and direction; she is extremely accomplished in all facets of a person moving toward a specific goal: owning a restaurant of her own. She has worked with the most outstanding and talented chefs in the Lake Chapala and Guadalajara area, and always with the goal to succeed and move forward. It's a joy to see that she absolutely knows what she's doing, both in the kitchen and in the front of the house, and yet is very humble about her accomplishments and her talents.

My dessert: house-made pastel de elote (a sweet fresh corn cake) and coconut ice cream, with locally grown fresh blueberries and a coulis of red fruits. Look behind the ice cream: it's a little square of corn kernels, carefully sliced from the cob. The bill for my meal, everything included, was under $200 pesos.

The restaurant's multiple uses of corn bring me to the name of the restaurant: why Teocintle Maíz? It's not an easy name for Ajijic's foreign community to pronounce, many Mexicans have no idea what it means, and the evening I was there Ricardo and chef Gloria called the kitchen staff into the dining room to talk about teocintle–and to show them what it is. What you see in the photo above is my 'trademark'–an actual mazorca (ear) of the ancient grain that was domesticated approximately 8,000 to 11,000 years ago by Mexico's Stone Age people to become what we know today as corn. Teocintle the grain still exists in Mexico; several years ago, a friend of mine cultivated quite a lot of it and was able to harvest a zillion seeds and 10 whole ears. He framed those 10 whole ears in silver, and I wear mine as a necklace every day–first, because I love it, and second, because it is a teaching tool about corn's domestication. I was touched to the heart to know that this small restaurant in this tiny town is named for the thousands of years old grain that became Mexico's heritage food and gift to the entire world. You can read more about that here.

At the end of the evening, Ricardo, Mexico Cooks!, and chef Gloria posed for posterity. We had a wonderful time together.

A menu board announces each day's offerings. Clients truly rave about everything, and I need to go back soon to try some other dishes. Meantime, until I can get there, you go. Tell them Mexico Cooks! sent you. You'll be so glad you went.

Restaurante Teocintle Maíz
Constitución 52, at the corner of Miguel Blanco
Ajijic, Jalisco
01 33 1547 8968 for hours and reservations

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

21 de July de 2018
Matatlán and Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca :: Mezcal and Traditional Cooking on the Road Home

The Ilegal mezcal palenque (in a big stretch of translation, it's a mezcal distillery) is right on the road between Tlacolula and Teotitlán del Valle, in the little town which is arguably the mezcal capital of Oaxaca: Santiago de Matatlán. The animal's job is to keep that stone wheel moving over wood-fire roasted maguey fibers, crushing them to prepare them for the fermentation and subsequent distillation process.

The first week of May, 2018, Chef Silvana Salcido Esparza (Barrio Cafe Phoenix) and I were on the last leg of our Oaxaca trip, driving north from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec to Oaxaca City, when we saw a sign on the side of the road for ILEGAL (in Spanish 'illegal' has just one 'L') mezcal. She braked and swerved into the parking lot: "I can't believe we found this! It's one of the best mezcales that we serve at the Cafe!" We spent about an hour, fascinated, talking with an Ilegal mezcalero about its production.

From the Ilegal building's porch, I took this photo of the company's espadín maguey cactus fields. Maguey grew as far as the eye could see. This maguey is cultivated, not wild, and each plant takes between seven and ten years to mature enough to harvest. Ilegal's joven (literally 'young', it means un-aged) mezcal gives you full-bodied espadín agave flavor. Barely smokey, its gently lemony flavors leave a slightly peppery sensation on your palate. Ilegal also produces a reposado (briefly aged) mezcal as well as an añejo (longer aged) mezcal.

Founded in approximately 2002-2003 by an American expatriate, John Brexer, in just 15 years the Ilegal brand has become one of the best-quality mezcales from Oaxaca. Because our time was so short at the palenque, we had little time to talk at depth with the producer. Click on this link to read the full story of the brand: ILEGAL MEZCAL. Nonetheless, we took a lot of pictures and it's fun to share them with you here.

"Working from sun-up to sundown, life goes by this way in my village. MATATLÁN the steam from your factories is the hope of all of us poor."

Just-filled bottles of Ilegal mezcal, sealed by hand-dipping each bottle top in emerald green wax.

View from inside the Ilegal building.

Antique sea-green glass garrafones (20-liter bottles, about five US gallons), used for holding water–or for bulk mezcal! Today, it's difficult to find a garrafón like these; nearly all are now made of plastic.

Do you know what the Spanish word 'pendejo' means? If not, here's your Spanish vocabulary lesson for today, just click here: not for children.

After our relámpago (lightning strike–i.e., really quick) stop at Ilegal, we headed for our much anticipated time prior to Oaxaca's airport: my dear friends Carina Santiago Bautista and her husband, Pedro Montaño, both soon to be equally dear to chef Silvana, had invited us to go to Tierra Antigua, their restaurant and gallery in Teotitlán del Valle, for a private comida with them. Carina is a celebrated cocinera tradicional, and Pedro is a prize-winning Zapotec master weaver. Silvana and I had been looking forward for days to being with them.

Tierra Antigua Restaurant and Gallery, Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca, exterior. Photo courtesy TripAdvisor.

Carina and Pedro and their family have been working for years to build the complex of restaurant, gallery, and bungalows for visitors. The installations are beautiful; prior to our meal, Carina gave Silvana and me a tour of their beautifully designed and constructed buildings. The interiors are modern and charming, the outdoor kitchen is rustic and traditional and designed for cooking classes. And the restaurant/gallery! Every wall shows off Pedro's extraordinary textiles (primarily wool rugs and wall hangings), all of which are for sale. Their talented son, Diego Montaño, is also a weaver and is represented in the gallery. His weaving incorporates whimsy and beauty into his designs.

This small rug/wall hanging, woven by young Diego Montaño, represents the symbolism and traditions of the milpa, the ancient farming system of Mexico which is still used today. Click on the link for information about that. Chef Silvana bought this marvelous weaving for her home.

The completely delightful Carina Santiago in her outdoor kitchen, standing at the stove. Those are clay comales (comparable to griddles) coated with cal, the white substance on each comal's surface. It's put there to make the comal non-stick! If you're thinking of going to Oaxaca, schedule a cooking class with her. She is fluently bilingual (Spanish/English) and will teach you Zapotec food preparation methods and flavors that go back hundreds of years.

First thing at the table: home-made Oaxaca-style blue corn tortillas and salsa verde cruda–raw green salsa. This salsa is so bright, so vibrant in one's mouth, and so wonderfully delicious that it awakened our palates for the rest of our meal to come. Carina and her assistants prepare dried corn in the evening for grinding into masa (dough) the following day.

What's on the plate? Hoja santa leaf, with its light anise flavor, and quesillo (Oaxaca cheese), melted together with toasted chapulines (limón and chile-flavored grasshoppers). A squeeze of limón and wow!

Mole negro (black mole), the king of Oaxaca's moles. Prepared with more than 30 ingredients, the intense flavors of this dish become more complex and more developed as one continues eating it. The component that gives mole negro on of its most distinctive tastes is dried and reconstituted chile chilhuacle negro, a rare Oaxacan chile.

First quality chile chilhuacle negro, for sale at the Mercado 20 de noviembre, Oaxaca City. The sign shows an interesting and uncommon spelling.

Chiles rellenos Oaxaca style: a fresh chile jalapeño, in this case seeded and stuffed with picadillo (a kind of Mexican hash), then covered with an egg batter and fried. I'll be seeing Carina in a few weeks and would love to eat this again–and everything else, too! Carina

It's obligatory in Mexico to have a photo taken for posterity. From left, chef Silvana, cocinera tradicional Carina, Mexico Cooks!, and weaver Pedro Montaño. Behind us are two of Pedro's gorgeous rugs. If you're anywhere near San Diego, California, you'll find him and his wonderful work at Bazaar del Mundo's annual Latin American Festival, August 3-5, 2018. Click on the link for more information!

On the way out of town, we stopped for ice cold bottled water in a tiny grocery store across the street from the church. This is the Mexico I've known since 1981: a little bit of this, a little bit of that, just what you need when you need it, and the friendliest owner in town. I know I'll go back in August to say hello.

Tierra Antigua Restaurante y Galería
Benito Juárez 175 (left-hand side of the street)
Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca
Telephone from the USA: 011-52-951-166-6160 for reservations, cooking classes or to eat at the restaurant.
Spanish and English spoken
Tell them Mexico Cooks! sent you!

Next week: where to next? It's going to be as much a surprise to me as it is to you! I hope you've enjoyed coming along as chef Silvana and I traveled through one small part of wonderful Oaxaca. I'd be happy to take you touring there–in real life. Let me know if you'd like to schedule a trip!

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

14 de July de 2018
Salina Cruz, San Blas Atempa, and San Mateo del Mar :: Traveling in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, Oaxaca

As we drove through Tehuantepec, we were looking for a nearby comida of fresh seafood and had no idea where to go; we stopped to ask a taxi driver and he led us to Salina Cruz, to a beach restaurant that was his favorite. Salina Cruz, Oaxaca: wide open beaches, surfing, seafood! This seaside city of approximately 24,000 people is only about half an hour south and west of Tehuantepec. Salina Cruz is the third largest city in Oaxaca and is a major port in southern Mexico. Its main industry is the enormous oil refinery that one can see from almost everywhere in the area.

He led us to Restaurante Delicias del Mar (Delicacies from the Sea), right on the beach in an area called Las Escolleras (the breakwaters). That's chef Silvana Salcido Esparza (Barrio Cafe Phoenix) at the restaurant doorway, and you can see the incredible stretch of beach behind her–and beyond the beach, the open sea. And may I say that it was hot, hot, hot–around 108ºF–and intensely humid. Salina Cruz is known for its frequently high winds, though, and a stiff breeze helped the comfort level. Inside the restaurant the high, shady palapa roof kept the breeze flowing.

At the right of the plate is the kind of clawless langosta (lobster) caught in the Salina Cruz area. To the left of the lobster (which we ordered) are four cucarachas de mar (sea cockroaches), which we ordered despite their completely unappealing name and appearance. The lobster was excellent and the flesh of the cucarachas was delicious; after cooking, the texture as well as the flavor are similar to those of lobster tail. Who knew!

"Silvana, hold up the huachinango (red snapper) so I can take a picture of it!" I thought she'd hold it up on the plate, but this was far more fun. Whole, slashed, and fried till the skin is crispy and the flesh is moist and delicious–my favorite preparation of red snapper. We left only the skeleton.

The word "salina" means salt lagoon. High tides bring abundant sea water into marked-off areas like the one you see in the photograph, and the intense sunlight dries the water, leaving salt that workers harvest from any remaining water. For many generations, the entire region around Salina Cruz has benefited economically from the salt. After I took this photo, I was amazed to see the clear reflection of the hill in the water. Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better view.

The motocarro (three-wheeled taxi) transportation in San Blas Atempa, where we went after we finished our comida in Salina Cruz. The piles of sand are building materials for earthquake damage repairs.

Daily dress, daily life in San Blas Atempa. The town, founded in 1530, feels like a trip to Oaxaca's past. The community speaks Zapotec; the population is descended from a warrior race that takes much pride in preserving its traditions, customs, and language. The townswomen received us with great good humor and much shared laughter. We were sent to a street party down the street and around the block, sponsored by DIF (Desarrollo Integral de la Familia, Mexico's state and national social service agency). It was el Día del Niño (Children's Day) in Mexico, celebrated to the max all over the country. How could we resist!

Of course we went! The party vibrated with music, dancing, a funny clown, games and prizes for all of the many children, babies to nuzzle–we had a great time. Chef Silvana saw to it that every child in our proximity received a big cold glass of home-made agua fresca made with fresh fruit: healthy, refreshing, and delicious.

Home-made aguas frescas at the DIF party. Left to right: guayaba (guava), limón (Key lime), and wow, ciruela criolla (native wild plum)! It's my all-time favorite, only available during the short wild plum season in the spring. See the plastic bag between the jar of agua de limón and the jar of plum (orange ladle)? The bag is filled with my serving of agua fresca de ciruela, a straw is stuck into the bag, and the opening of the bag is twisted and tied tightly around the straw. It's the typical Mexican way of sending you off with any kind of soft drink to go.

A bucket of agua fresca de ciruela criolla, to replenish the vitrolero (large glass jar) as needed. The plums are about two inches long, and inch and a half in diameter. The pulp is minimal but delicious. The stone is almost as big as the entire plum.

Oxcart is another much-used mode of transportation in San Blas Atempa. We saw probably 20 of these, always with the driver standing up. Occasionally other workmen w
ere riding on the tail end.

There was a time when most signage in Mexico (if it existed at all) looked just like this, or was hidden behind a tree, or obscured behind a billboard, or was broken in half. Chef Silvana and I are old Mexico hands and immediately recognized that we were on the right track for San Mateo del Mar. We didn't know how many kilometers away it was, though. Turns out that it wasn't far at all, just a few minutes from where we saw the sign.

Parroquia de San Mateo Apóstol, San Mateo del Mar, Oaxaca. The brown part of the facade is a design, but much of the church was damaged in the September 7, 2018 earthquake. If you click on the photo to enlarge it, you'll be able to see how the facade continues to be propped up and where there is other damage.

San Mateo Apóstol with flowers and a candle, patron saint of San Mateo del Mar, in a niche in the market.

Doña Agustina Sánchez, who sells a little bit of everything in the San Mateo del Mar market. Chef Silvana and I spent a long time talking with her. Hearing her wisdom was a particularly wonderful part of our day. We laughed a lot, cried a little, and loved being there with her. Doña Agustina gave each of us a shell necklace and her blessing when we left.

We happened to be in San Mateo for its día de plaza (market day). The market is broken up into several sections because of earthquake damage to streets and homes; you can see the piles of both rubble (bottom right) and sand for new construction (middle left). There was produce and other food available for purchase, but many, many of the community's houses were destroyed by the earthquake and many people continue to be without a place to live and a fixed place and way to cook.

Earthquake damage in San Mateo del Mar. Photo courtesy Oaxaca news sources.

The Huave indigenous population of San Mateo del Mar and its surrounding region is known in the community's own language as ikoots (it means "us"), and in Spanish the people often call themselves mareños, or people of the sea. They have lived in this tiny area of Oaxaca for more than 3000 years, predating the Zapotec population and obviously predating the arrival of the Spanish. Men of the community have always been fishermen, and many of the women have been weavers since pre-hispanic times. The Huave speak four distinct varieties of their language in their various communities; some of their Huave languages aren't understood by other Huave-speakers. The total population of this ethnicity is approximately 29,000, divided into five towns: San Mateo del Mar, San Dionisio del Mar, San Francisco del Mar, and Santa María del Mar. All are seaside villages or small towns; San Mateo del Mar has the largest population, with about 12,000 people.

Most of these typical Huave homes were destroyed by the September 7, 2017 earthquake. Many other homes, with stick walls made of carrizo (similar to bamboo) and thatched roofs, were also either flattened or otherwise made uninhabitable. Chef Silvana and I had the privilege of being invited into one of the carrizo homes and could see first hand the living conditions caused by the quake.

As we drove into San Mateo del Mar, a tiny black sign with white lettering, above the door of a house, caught my eye. In Spanish, it read: "Woven things sold here." We braked fast and backed up to the corner to park. As we walked through sand to the house, a very young woman with a baby on her hip came out to greet us. "Buscan tejidos?" (
'Are you looking for weavings?') She got in the car with the baby and guided us a few hundred feet down the road, where we parked in front of another house, built of sticks and with a thatched roof. You can see part of the inside in the video below.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-UkxPawYhN0&w=400&h=315]
In the video, the woman weaving with a back strap loom is Elena Villaseñor Rangel, a daughter of Sra. Justina Oviedo Rangel. Doña Justina passed away in September 2013; her three daughters (Cristina, Victoria, and Elena Villaseñor Rangel) are carrying on her weaving tradition. You can see parts of the house, as well as our young 'guide', taking various types of textiles from a bag.

We were extremely fortunate to have found Doña Justina's relatives, who told us a little of her story. Born in 1938 and raised in San Mateo del Mar, she–like all the girls of her village–wasn't encouraged to go to school. She started weaving when she was just eight years old, initially practicing with palm leaves and soon picking up any bits of thread she could find to use for her child-like projects. She wasn't formally taught to weave; she learned by observing the women of her family. She became more and more proficient at her craft and gained some recognition as a weaver. Years of weaving later, she began to think about the "blank" side of a napkin; the design was always woven onto the front, and the reverse was blank. She announced to her daughters that she was going to figure out a way to weave a design on both sides of a single layer. Her daughters pretty much said, "Yeah right." It seemed like an impossible task, and was something that had never been thought of, much less done. Doña Justina kept trying until she figured it out.

In those days, there was very little market outside San Mateo del Mar for ikoots textiles. Doña Justina sold the textiles she wove then to women in the town. Today, the servilletas (cloths for wrapping tortillas), rebozos (long rectangular "shawls" used for everything from carrying babies to carrying wood), and  huipiles (traditional women's blouses and dresses) made in the village are coveted by museums, individual collectors, and just about anyone who sees them. Doña Justina has been honored many, many times for her fine work and for her impact on the town and its weavers.

Chef Silvana standing next to a poster for an homenaje (homage) that was to be given in honor of doña Justina the day after we had to leave Oaxaca. We were so disappointed not to be able to go. Silvana is wearing a just-purchased huipil made from a fabric very similar to the fabric that you saw being woven in the video above.

Poster in San Mateo del Mar promoting breastfeeding. "Amamantar Compromiso de Todos" (Breastfeeding is a Commitment for All).

Next week, Silvana and I head back to the city of Oaxaca to catch a plane back to Mexico City. On the way to the city, we get to have two more wonderful experiences: a visit to the Ilegal mezcal operations in Matatlán, and comida at the home of cocinera tradicional Carina Santiago Bautista and her husband, extraordinary weaver Pedro Moreno, in Teotitlán del Valle. Come with us!

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

7 de July de 2018
Juchitán, Capital of the Istmo of Tehuantepec

Typical public transportation in Juchitán de Zaragoza (also known as Juchitán de las Mujeres). These three-wheeled vehicles, some covered like this one and some open to the air, buzzed around everywhere in the city, taking people wherever they needed to go.

Our last day in the Istmo, chef Silvana hired a mototaxi driver to give us a tour around the area. Look at its wonderful roof–an old-fashioned fabric for just the right touch. We whipped along having a fantastic time, waving at pedestrians and being waved at, people laughing with us as we tooled along.

Juchitán, the largest city on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, Oaxaca, (population about 100,000), prides itself on its culture and its traditions. The iconic statue at the entrance to town is based on a photograph taken by one of Mexico's most outstanding photographers, Graciela Iturbide. To quote the Getty Museum, "Between 1979 and 1988, Iturbide (b. 1942) made a series of visits to Juchitán, Mexico, where—in her words—she photographed the way of life there "in complicity with the people." Located in the state of Oaxaca, Juchitán is an ancient, communal, matriarchal society. It is also an open, fiercely independent, fiesta-loving city. Since the early twentieth century, the women of Juchitán—their dress and manner—have been national symbols, and Iturbide's photographs capture them in public and in private as they conduct their lives in this ancient city in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec."

The 1979 Iturbide photograph, called "Nuestra Señora de las Iguanas" ('Our Lady of the Iguanas'), shows the power and dignity of a Zapotec woman, who carries on her head live iguanas that form a bizarre crown.

In the Juchitán municipal market, we were talking about iguanas with a young muxe who sells ropa típica (regional clothing) of the area. He pointed across the aisle to a booth where the owner prepares licuados (smoothies, more or less) and lo and behold, we saw this big black iguana, tethered to a tree branch. It's the Ctenosaura similis, native to the region and the most common iguana found (and hunted for food) in the Istmo. In theory, the iguana is protected by law–but in practice, it and its eggs are much eaten in Mexico. The meat is truly delicious, I didn't care for the leathery eggs.

In the Juchitán market, a vendor offered iguana eggs, cooked in caldillo de jitomate (thin tomato broth) with green chiles. The eggs are about 1.5" long. I tried to eat one, but I really didn't like the texture or the flavor. Imagine that, something I didn't like!

We devoured several of these delicious fresh chiles jalapeño, roasted and stuffed with picadillo (a hash made of beef or pork plus chopped vegetables and fruits), then battered in beaten egg, fried, and served with delicious caldillo (thin tomato broth).

I've eaten various kinds of smoked fish–whitefish, salmon, and others in the USA, marlin in Mexico–but I had never seen smoked tuna until chef Silvana and I went to the Juchitán market. The vendor at this stand gave me a little chunk to taste. Out of this world! Smoked tuna, meaty and completely delicious, is now on my have-to-have-it-again list. This pile of tuna pieces was about 18" high.

Meet the Chrysobalanus icaco, a fruit endemic to the Istmo and known at least in Juchitán as jicaco–they're the rosy pink ones. One name for them in English is the cocoplum. As you can see in this week's photos, in Juchitán we saw several things that were brand new to us. The jicaco fruit is prepared as a tea to combat diarrhea, and people cook and grind the leaves and stems to combat dysentery. The seeds can be toasted and ground and prepared as an atole (thick drink usually served warm) to provoke vomiting. Chef Silvana and I ate part of one raw fruit; it isn't at all sweet, hasn't a lot of taste, and is very astringent and medicinal. It makes you pucker up and not in a good way!

Flower seller, Juchitán market. In this part of the Istmo, it's crucial to find and take advantage of shade wherever possible, and equally crucial to drink lots of water. The time in late April-early May that we were in the Istmo, the daily temperatures climbed to well above 100ºF, with 100% percent humidity. Thinking about climate change, I asked a young man in the market if this year's temperature and humidity were unusually high; he said, no, they were normal for the time of year.

We bought several necklaces made of plumeria flowers (aka frangipani) at the Juchitán market. The plant is named for French botanist Charles Plumier, who traveled to what is now Mexico and found it. Described by Charles Linnaeus in 1753, it's called flor de mayo (May flower) in the Istmo. I'd always thought it was native to Hawaii, but no: it's Mexican. In the market, we saw many young women wearing these necklaces, saints' images were draped with them, and the flowers' sweet fragrance wafted through the air.

The Juchitán market sets up every day on the streets, around a park and spread out to another close-by area as well. We peered into the back of the city's municipal building to see what remains of the market where it was set up in the past. Why? Close to midnight on September 7, 2017, an extremely strong earthquake (8.1 on the Richter scale, said to have been the heaviest Mexico earthquake in over 100 years), with its epicenter just off the coast of Oaxaca's neighboring state Chiapas, hit the Istmo. Juchitán, a city of well over 100,000 people, suffered severe damage, including to its municipal building.

Photo above: the municipal building in Juchitán, the morning after the September 7, 2018 earthquake.

We were deeply disturbed to see how little recovery has been possible, and we later learned that there is no plan to rebuild the municipal building. Its offices and the market have been relocated, the daily market now sets up outdoors, in a park near the destroyed building. Wherever we looked in the city, huge piles of rubble left from damaged or demolished buildings (homes and businesses alike) remained in the streets and on the sidewalks. People told us that there is no place to put the rubble, so it simply sits there, a constant reminder of the disaster. Many people told us that none of the funds collected by the government and by other agencies have reached them; people continue to live in the streets, some under tarps and some with nothing to protect them from either the intense heat or the intense nightly rains.

Just one of hundreds of destroyed homes and businesses in Juchitán.

Another. Of course Juchitán was not the only place seriously affected by the earthquake. All of the towns in the area show similar damage. You might well ask why few repairs have been made, why the funds collected and designated for direct assistance to the Istmo–estimated to be $45 million U.S. dollars–haven't been disbursed. The answer: government corruption. Sadly enough, it is all too common for donated funds to end up in someone's pocket rather than in the hands of those for whom it was destined. Should there be another devastation of this type anywhere in Mexico, please ask me about alternate ways to donate money so that it will actually get to those who need it.

Next week: a trip to several small towns in the Istmo. Despite the shock of seeing so much earthquake damage, we loved the rest of what we saw and did and want to share it with you. See you next week!

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

30 de June de 2018
El Istmo de Tehuantepec :: Tierra del Mar, Tierra del Sol, Tierra del Buen Comer, y Tierra de Sorpresas

Along the 2-lane highway between Tlacolula and the Isthmus, Chef Silvana and I stopped to have the gas tank filled. (In Mexico, a gas station attendant performs that chore. There's no self-serve here.) In a little nicho between the men's and women's bathrooms, this figure on his miniature golden throne caught our attention. El Niño Dios de Pemex patiently awaited a visit from anyone who cared to visit him. He looks very sweet in his Pemex uniform–compete with company patch!–and straw hat.

Entering the city of Tehuantepec, this sculpture of a tehuana–the symbol of the region–greeted us. She's dressed in full tehuana vestido de gala, including her resplandor, the lace headdress.

Another sculpture of La Tehuana, with a silver over copper mask and resplandor of actual lace, electroplated with silver. Work of Mexican sculptor Ana Pellicer, Santa Clara del Cobre, Michoacán.

A glorious hand-embroidered made-to-measure velveteen huipil (regional Istmo de Tehuantepec blouse) created by fabulous costurera (seamstress) Sra. Nancy González at Taller Bizuudi, 16 de septiembre #99, Ixtepec, Oaxaca. That's her handsome son behind her. The highly colorful embroidered huipil (blouse) and its companion enagua skirt, the characteristic dress of the women of the Istmo, are available in a range of quality and price in the markets and shops of the Istmo.

Here's a good look at the traje de gala (fancy dress) of the tehuanas–the women of the Istmo de Tehuantepec. Chef Silvana and I were invited to this dance–more about that in a minute!

The Isthmus (Istmo, in Spanish) of Tehuantepec is the largest region in the state of Oaxaca, connecting the southwestern part of the state of Oaxaca with the western part of the state of Chiapas. Part of the Istmo is on southern Oaxaca's Pacific Ocean coast, part is inland to the north and east. Prior to the building of the Panama Canal, the Istmo was the shortest land trade route between the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico; if you look at a map of Mexico, you'll see that the Istmo is the narrowest part of Mexico's "waist". Fairly distant from more populated parts of Oaxaca, the Istmo has its own cultures, its own manners of dress, and its own foods. Several distinct indigenous groups live in the Istmo, each with its own language.

The first night we were in Tehuantepec, we enjoyed wonderful tlayudas at Cenaduría Juanita, an outdoor supper stand near our hotel. The tlayuda is one of the iconic foods of Oaxaca; made from a very large corn tortilla (actually called tlayuda), the dish can be eaten for desayuno (breakfast), comida (Mexico's main meal of the day), or cena (late-evening supper)–or any time in between! These were absolutely wonderful, maybe the best tlayudas I've eaten.

Here are a lot of tlayudas–the simple tortilla–pressed, toasted, and ready to be prepared as tlayudas–the meal. These measure about 13-14" in diameter. Each one will be spread with asiento (the delicious brown fat at the bottom of a pot of newly rendered pork lard), then layered with smoothly blended black beans, then with tasajo (seasoned semi-dried beef) or cecina (seasoned semi-dried pork) or chorizo (spicy pork sausage) or even with shredded chicken. Then one adds shredded quesillo (you might know it as Oaxaca cheese), then shredded fresh cabbage, slivers or slices of green chile (either fresh or pickled), sliced tomatoes, sliced avocado, fold it in half, and toast it on a griddle or a grill till the cheese melts. Add the salsa that you like best and get your mouth ready for a taste of heaven. Any tlayuda recipe is very forgiving: add this, leave this out, put more of this or that, add (as in the picture above this one) pickled red onions, turn your avocados into guacamole and add that. However you prepare them, the only "requirement" is that you start with that freshly toasted tlayuda base.

Chef Silvana holds a memela. A small, freshly toasted tortilla is the base for a smear of asiento, a smear of creamy black beans, maybe some tasajo or cecina, a lot of queso fresco (fresh crumbly white cheese), some sliced avocado, and then topped with either red or green salsa. These Oaxaca-style memelas are usually about four inches in diameter.

The next morning, we went to the Tehuantepec market to see what it had to offer. Mid-market, we met the delightful María del Carmen Suárez, who sells her famous home-made budín (in this case, a type of flan that she makes with breadcrumbs) and her excellent pickled vegetables. We spent quite a while chatting with her; she sells at the market several days a week. She did tell us that she'd be working the following day, but not the day after that. We didn't ask why, but we later found out. Remember that photo (up there ^^) of the tehuanas dancing? The plot thickens.

María del Carmen's budín. It was very good, with no indication of bread crumbs in its texture other than a pleasantly slightly thicker consistency than normal flan.

So: the surprise! Silvana and I had been out the entire day, driving among several small towns around the city of Tehuantepec. Mid-evening, we pulled back into town and parked, intending to go find something to eat. Wait–music! Drums! Shouting! Flags and banners! What's that coming toward us? A PARADE, and not just any parade–dancing down the street came a contingent of laughing, shouting muxes, the "third sex" of the Istmo world. Much associated with the city of Juchitán, muxes also live and work–and play–in Tehuantepec. These gorgeous creatures beckoned to us: "Vénganse! Vénganse! Vénganse con nosotras al Baile del Barrio!" ("Come on! Come on! Come with us to our Neighborhood Dance!") We scurried out into the street, linked arms with some of the beautiful muxes, and paraded through town, backed by flags, banners, flowers, and music.

A few blocks outside Tehuantepec's Centro Histórico, we were led to a blocked-off street covered with a lona (tarp), decorated with papel picado (cut paper streamers), and alive with joyful, dressed for the gala muxes, their companions, and people handing out plates of food, pouring tequila, passing around bottled beer, and hugging everyone who came along–including us. We were invited to sit down, invited to eat, invited to drink. And then, shouts of, "A bailar! A bailar!"  ("Get up and dance! Get up and dance!")

And suddenly we heard a scream: "Amigaaaaaaas! Amigaaaaaaaas!" We turned around to see–María del Carmen, from the market! She grabbed both of us and hugged us hard. "AMIGAAAAAAS!" So this was why she didn't work today–she had to get ready for the Baile del Barrio! "María del Carmen, why didn't you tell us the other day?" "Bueno–bueno, I wasn't sure…" We laughed and hugged and were so glad that we actually had met someone before who was at the dance. She looked beautiful, in her traje de gala.

Our delicious dinner: Tehuantepec-style chicken in a flavorful, spicy sauce, served with macaroni salad and a pile of tortillas. "Is that enough? Do you want more chicken? More tortillas? Another beer? Wait, here's another shot of tequila! No, wait, let's dance first!"  The people at the dance made us feel entirely welcome and totally at home.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUUI3NXBU9Y&w=420&h=315]
We had the best time ever!

EVER! I'm grinning ear to ear just looking at these pictures. Such sweet, beautiful memories we made, all of us together.

Beautiful young women, beautiful older women–nothing separated us during this magical evening. I know for sure that the next time I go to the Istmo de Tehuantepec, someone will scream out, "AMIGAAAAA!" and she will be a friend from this night, connected by the joy of music, dance, and by our shared experience of a chance encounter that meant the world to all of us.

Next week, further travels and surprises around the Istmo. Come along! Get up and dance!

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

23 de June de 2018
On the Way to the Isthmus of Tehuantepec :: First Stop, Sunday Market at Tlacolula, Oaxaca

If you go to Tlacolula on a day other than Sunday, you'll easily be able to see the exterior of Templo Santa María de la Asunción. Be sure to visit both the inside of the church and its adjacent chapel–the chapel in particular is breathtaking. If you go on a Sunday, Tlacolula, an easy drive of approximately 45 minutes south of the city of Oaxaca, has what is in my opinion the most vibrant, colorful, and fascinating market of anyplace in Mexico. I go every chance I get and it never gets old. You'll still want to visit the church, but there will be crowds around it!

Everything you can think of–and a lot of things you would never thing of!–is available at the Sunday market in Tlacolula. Here, beautiful squash blossoms, ready for use in your kitchen. Did you know that only the male blossoms are harvested? The female blossoms are left to develop squash.

The last Sunday in April, just after the end of the 2º Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Oaxaca, my travel companion, chef Silvana Salcido Esparza of Barrio Cafe in Phoenix, Arizona, and I rented a car at a rental agency just steps from our hotel in the city. Even though I had booked the rental prior to our trip, the paperwork took much more time than we anticipated. Nevertheless, we made it to the market in Tlacolula before noon.

Not far from the entrance to the market, we looked for this delightful woman from San Marcos Tlapazola, a nearby potters' village. We had spent some time talking with this woman at the Encuentro, where she and some other potters had a booth–you can see that they specialize in beautiful, softly shaped red clay kitchen and tableware. She looks very serious, but her sense of humor doesn't quit. We were often doubled over laughing at something one or the other of us had said. San Marcos Tlapazola offers an annual red clay pottery festival–interested in going? I'll find out the dates for 2019 and we'll set up a tour of that town and other artisan towns.

Hanging links of chorizo oaxaqueño, a deliciously spicy pork sausage. The chorizo here is stuffed into natural pork casings; the links are almost always shaped like little oval or round balls, about 2" in diameter.

We were really hungry and were looking for a stand inside the market where we could eat Oaxaca-style barbacoa. There was just enough bench seating at this booth for the two of us, so we slid in to try some of the house specialties.

The barbacoa! We ordered a bowl each, plus a taco for each of us that was much bigger than we could possibly finish. The bowl of barbacoa was filled with plenty of beef and consomé (the spicy liquid that the meat had cooked in overnight); we added our own condiments of sliced radishes, chopped cilantro, onion, and shredded lettuce, plus either red or green salsa. Was it good? My mouth is watering just looking at the pictures!

These guys enlivened our breakfast with their accordion/guitar duets and great songs. Chef Silvana, whose family roots are in Chihuahua, requested that they sing El Corrido de Chihuahua. They did, and what fun! She was singing right along with them, and it felt like old home week.

Any of you who grow cilantro have probably experienced "bolting", the point at which the plant shoots up a tall, frondy stem filled with flowers. Most garden sites recommend that you forget about stopping bolting and plant cilantro seed consecutively so you can always have fresh leaves. On the other hand, you could let your cilantro bolt and harvest the fronds and flowers; that's what you're looking at in the photo above, for sale in the Tlacolula market. Those little fronds are just as flavorful (if not even more intensely so) than standard cilantro leaves. The flowers? They're equally terrifically "cilantro" and are prized in traditional Mexican food! Try it this summer–harvest from at least one bolted plant and you'll be a convert.

These delantales (aprons) are a symbol of home cooks in this part of Oaxaca. Made from typically checkered fabric, they are then machine-embroidered with intricate and beautifully colorful flowers. If you should see a woman wearing one of these aprons in another part of Mexico, you can be almost positive that she bought it in Tlacolula. I have one–you should, too!

What in the world is this! No, not a new-to-you kind of mushroom, and not little rocks–it's a special kind of cacao (chocolate) bean that's used to make chocolateatole, a drink particular to Oaxaca. These cocoa beans, as they're known in English, have been buried in the ground for up to eight months, until the beans ferment and turn this grey and white color. A cook can ferment them herself, or buy them already fermented in the market. See here for more information about the preparation of chocolateatole.

These are Oaxaca-style polychromed jícaras; this style is often used as a drinking vessel, as well as for the preparation of tejate, a cold and refreshing chocolate drink. The jícara is the mature fruit of the Crescentia alata tree, commonly known in English as the calabash tree and in Spanish as the tecomate, or güiro, among other regional names. The immature fruit can be bound as it grows to shape it into elongated bottles, rattles, and other shapes. When allowed to mature without intervention, it is normally round; the pulp is removed from the fruit and the shell is dried. Once dried, the jícaras are either carved (see photo below) or are painted with plant resins, which gives them a totally natural finish that resembles a chemical varnish. Because the jícara is round on the bottom, you'll need a ring-shaped reed base called a rodete or yagua to allow the jícara to sit straight on a table.

Most of the jícaras in this basketful at Oaxaca's Mercado 20 de noviembre are dried and then carved with wonderful animals. The tecomate tree grows primarily in coastal areas and the jícaras are usually dried, carved or painted by artisans who live where the tree grows.

Rodete (base) for the jícara. These are available from the jícara vendor in the size you need to support the size jícaras you purchase. Ask the vendor to make sure you're buying the right size. Photo courtesy Artefacto.com.

These are very large Oaxaca-style metates with their metlapil, or mano (the tool that's shaped like a rolling pin, alongside one of the metates). All of these metates are painted with flowers, and some have the legends "Recuerdo de Oaxaca" (memento from Oaxaca)
or "Regalo de los Padrinos" (gift from your godparents–in this case, padrinos of your wedding). It's common for newlyweds to receive this crucial piece of kitchen equipment as a wedding gift. If one whispers your name and you want it for a memento, be sure to try to pick it up before you buy it to carry it home to Cleveland with you. You might reconsider.

The Tlacolula market isn't anything like the sterile experience of a supermarket, where you push your cart around, stuff it with boxed, canned, or frozen items, shove it to the checkout point, pay, pack up your plunder, and leave. Most Mexican markets–whether municipal markets or tianguis (street markets)–are for shopping, for listening to music, for having a bite to eat, for catching up on how the new baby is, whose son graduated from secundaria (junior high school), who's getting married and to whom (and maybe why so quickly), how god-awful much prices have gone up, and simple chisme (gossip) in general. The vendors all get to know you, and if you missed last Sunday's market, they ask if you were ill. You know all the vendors, and you ask how their husbands/wives/children/in-laws are faring. The market–whether it's the Sunday market or a weekday market–connects you to the pulse, the beating heart, of your town. See, your neighbor will help you tuck those tomatoes into your rebozo (long shawl). I'd far rather have this deep connection with my community than anonymous supermarket speed, wouldn't you?

We're back in the chapel at Templo Santa María de la Asunción, Tlacolula. This is Jesús, in his triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Domingo de Ramos (Palm Sunday).

When I took this photograph at the Tlacolula market in April, I didn't notice the section of the newspaper this woman's flowers were wrapped in. As far as I'm concerned, it says everything.

Next week, we travel farther south to the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, where we eat extraordinary food (cucarachas, anyone?), swoon over local textiles, go to a dance, and attend a couple of parties. Come along with us, you don't want to miss a minute!

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

16 de June de 2018