Category: Mexican Markets

Tradition and Authenticity: What Is *Real* Mexican Food?

"Real" Mexican chile relleno (stuffed, battered, and fried chile poblano), caldillo de jitomate (tomato broth), and frijoles negros (black beans).

More and more people who want to experience "real" Mexican food are asking about the availability of authentic Mexican meals outside Mexico. Bloggers and posters on food-oriented websites have vociferously definite opinions on what constitutes authenticity. Writers' claims range from the uninformed (the fajitas at such-and-such a restaurant are totally authentic, just like in Mexico) to the ridiculous (Mexican cooks in Mexico can't get good ingredients, so Mexican meals prepared in the United States are superior to those in Mexico).

Much of what I read about authentic Mexican cooking reminds me of that old story of the blind men and the elephant. "Oh," says the first, running his hands up and down the elephant's leg, "an elephant is exactly like a tree." "Aha," says the second, stroking the elephant's trunk, "the elephant is precisely like a hose." And so forth. If you haven't experienced what most posters persist in calling "authentic Mexican", then there's no way to compare any restaurant in the United States with anything that is prepared or served in Mexico. You're simply spinning your wheels.

It's my considered opinion that there is no such thing as one definition of authentic Mexican. Wait, before you start hopping up and down to refute that, consider that "authentic" is generally what you were raised to appreciate. Your mother's pot roast is authentic, but so is my mother's. Your aunt's tuna salad is the real deal, but so is my aunt's, and they're not the least bit similar.

Carne de puerco en salsa verde (pork meat in green sauce), my traditional recipe.

The descriptor I use for many dishes is 'traditional'. We can even argue about that adjective, but it serves to describe the traditional dish of–oh, say carne de puerco en chile verde–as served in the North of Mexico, in the Central Highlands, or in the Yucatán. There may be big variations among the preparations of this dish, but each preparation is traditional and each is authentic in its region.

I think that in order to understand the cuisines of Mexico, we have to give up arguing about authenticity and concentrate on the reality of certain dishes.

A 200-year-old tradition in Mexico at this time of year: chiles en nogada (stuffed chiles poblano in a creamy sauce made with fresh (i.e., recently harvested) walnuts. It's the Mexican flag on your plate: green chile, white sauce, and red pomegranates.

Traditional Mexican cooking is not a hit-or-miss let's-make-something-for-dinner proposition based on "let's see what we have in the despensa (pantry)." Traditional Mexican cooking is as complicated and precise as traditional French cooking, with just as many hide-bound conventions as French cuisine imposes. You can't just throw some chiles and a glob of chocolate into a sauce and call it mole. You can't simply decide to call something Mexican salsa when it's not. There are specific recipes to follow, specific flavors and textures to expect, and specific results to attain. Yes, some liberties are taken, particularly in Mexico's new alta cocina (haute cuisine) and fusion restaurants, but even those liberties are based, we hope, on specific traditional recipes.

In recent readings of food-oriented websites, I've noticed questions about what ingredients are available in Mexico. The posts have gone on to ask whether or not those ingredients are up to snuff when compared with what's available in what the writer surmises to be more sophisticated food sources such as the United States.

Deep red, vine-ripened tomatoes, available all year long in central Mexico. The sign reads, "Don't think about it much–take a little kilo!" At twelve pesos the kilo, these tomatos cost approximately $1.00 USD for 2.2 pounds.

Surprise, surprise: most readily available fresh foods in Mexico's markets are even better than similar ingredients you find outside Mexico. Foreign chefs who tour with me to visit Mexico's stunning produce markets are inevitably astonished to see that what is grown for the ordinary home-cook user is fresher, more flavorful, more attractive, and much less costly than similar ingredients available in the United States.

Chicken, ready for the pot. Our Mexican chickens are generally fed ground marigold petals mixed into their feed–that's why the flesh is so pink, the skin so yellow, and the egg yolks are like big orange suns.

It's the same with most meats: pork and chicken are head and shoulders above what you find in North of the Border meat markets. Fish and seafood are from-the-sea fresh and distributed within just a few hours of any of Mexico's coasts.

Nevertheless, Mexican restaurants in the United States make do with the less-than-superior ingredients found outside Mexico. In fact, some downright delicious traditional Mexican meals can be had in some North of the Border Mexican restaurants. Those restaurants are hard to find, though, because in the States, most of what has come to be known as Mexican cooking is actually Tex-Mex cooking. There's nothing wrong with Tex-Mex cooking, nothing at all. It's just not traditional Mexican cooking. Tex-Mex is great food from a particular region of the United States. Some of it is adapted from Mexican cooking and some is the invention of early Texas settlers. Some innovations are adapted from both of those points of origin. Fajitas, ubiquitous on Mexican restaurant menus all over the United States, are a typical Tex-Mex invention. Now available in Mexico's restaurants, fajitas are offered to the tourist trade as prototypically authentic.

You need to know that the best of Mexico's cuisines is not found in restaurants. It comes straight from somebody's mama's kitchen. Clearly not all Mexicans are good cooks, just as not all Chinese are good cooks, not all Italians are good cooks, etc. But the most traditional, the most (if you will) authentic Mexican meals are home prepared.

Diana Kennedy, UNAM 2011. Mrs. Kennedy was at the Mexican Autonomous University to present her book, Oaxaca Al Gusto.

That reality is what made Diana Kennedy who she is today: she took the time to travel Mexico, searching for the best of the best of the traditional preparations. For the most part, she didn't find them in fancy restaurants, homey comedores (small commercial dining rooms) or fondas (tiny working-class restaurants). She found them as she stood next to the stove in a home kitchen, watching Doña Fulana prepare comida (the midday main meal of the day) for her family. She took the time to educate her palate, understand the ingredients, taste what was offered to her, and learn, learn, learn from home cooks before she started putting traditional recipes, techniques, and stories on paper. If we take the time to prepare recipes from any of Ms. Kennedy's many cookbooks, we too can experience her wealth of experience and can come to understand what traditional Mexican cooking can be. Her books will bring Mexico's kitchens to you when you are not able to go to Mexico.

Fresh Michoacán-grown strawberries, available all year in central Mexico.

In order to understand the cuisines of Mexico, we need to experience their riches. Until that time, we can argue till the cows come home and you'll still be just another blind guy patting the beast's side and exclaiming how the elephant is mighty like a wall.

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

20 de September de 2014
Tropical Fruit, Mexican Style: A Market Primer

Ripe chirimoyas. Outside, the chirimoya skin is a dull green color. Inside, chirimoya flesh is creamy white; its seeds are large and black. The size can range from the diameter of a tennis ball to the size of your head. Photo courtesy Rawkyourhealth. All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

In Mexico, a first trip to a neighborhood tianguis can be mind-boggling—there are so many sights and smells of so many unfamiliar foods. For now, let's take a tour of some of the tropical fruits that you'll want to try.

I see so many marvelous tropical fruits on Tuesday at the tianguis (street market) where I usually shop: cherimoya, guanábana, mamey, and carambola (star fruit). There are stacks of papaya, mango, zapote (custard apple), maracuyá (passionfruit), and plátanos machos (bananas nearly the size of your forearm)—and other tiny bananas, the ones that are the size of your thumb.

Tunas (prickly pears). Since when is a tuna a fruit, not a fish?

The fruits available in season in Mexico can be confusing when we're used to the ordinary apples, peaches, oranges, pears and plums in North of the Border supermarkets. We have those "normal" fruits here too, but wait till you try the exotic produce that awaits you in Mexican markets.

The guanábana (soursop) can have a size range as wide as that of the chirimoya. Either fruit should be eaten when the fruit is very soft but not mushy. At home, I often cut a small ripe cherimoya in half and eat it with a spoon right from the skin. It makes a wonderful light dessert. The seeds are big, black, shiny, and easily discarded.

Guanábana flesh is eaten with a spoon or is used to make drinks and paletas (popsicles). Try this easy, delicious, and refreshing drink.

Agua Fresca de Guanábana
(Fresh Guanábana Juice Drink)
1 pound ripe guanábana
3/4 cup white sugar
8 cups water
1 cup milk (optional)

Cut the guanábana in half and scoop out the tender white flesh. Discard the bitter peel. Put the fruit flesh in a large bowl and reduce to a pulpy liquid, using a potato masher or the back of a large spoon. Discard the large black seeds as they appear.

When the fruit pulp is mostly liquefied, add the sugar and stir together with the fruit pulp and its juices. Put the fruit and sugar mixture in a 3-quart pitcher. Add the eight cups of water and the milk, if you wish. Stir well and chill for an hour or more.

The papaya and the mango are two of the more familiar tropical fruits available in Mexican shops and stalls.

The deep orange-red flesh of the Mexican papaya is much richer and sweeter than its small yellow Hawaiian relative. The papaya is best eaten when very ripe; the flavor and sweetness have developed beautifully just when you think the fruit might need to be thrown in the trash can.

When the papaya is super ripe—even a little moldy in spots—cut it in half and discard the seeds. Peel the papaya and cut away any small sections that might be overly soft (the overly ripe spots will be darker in color, translucent and softer than the rest of the fruit). It's delicious cut into chunks for breakfast, with a squeeze of limón criollo (the tiny round Mexican lime), a sprinkle of salt, and a dash of powdered chile if you like a little heat with your tropical fruit. For dinner, papaya slices combine with thinly sliced red onion, toasted pecans, and fresh watercress to make an exotic and refreshing salad. Try the salad with a raspberry vinaigrette dressing, either your own concoction or a bottled variety.

Mango petacón (very large mango, in this instance the variety is Hayden), Xochimilco, Mexico City.

There are nearly 2,000 varieties of mango grown worldwide. India produces more mangos than all other fruits produced in that country combined. The mango, king of fruits, is related—believe it or not—to poison ivy. Cultivated in Asia for more than 4,000 years, the growing of mangos has now spread to most parts of the tropical and sub-tropical world. The mango could well be the national fruit of Mexico.

A mango tree can grow 75 to 100 feet high and bears thousands of fruits each year. During mango season (June-August) here in the Guadalajara area, we use caution when walking under enormous mango trees; one of the heavy fruits could inflict a mighty thump to the top of an unsuspecting head.

Mangos are so wonderfully versatile that it's difficult to choose one particular mango recipe for you to try. Eaten fresh for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, the mango is unbeatable. One friend substitutes mango slices for fresh peaches when making cobbler, pie, or Brown Betty. Another makes a fantastic mango mousse, and yet another is renowned for her mango sorbet.

Cook's Tip:
Cutting up a mango can leave you with juice up to your elbows, stains on your clothing, and stringy shreds of fruit in your mixing bowl. Here's the simplest way to cut a mango with minimal mess, loss of fruit, and frustration. You'll be pleased that your mango, cut this way, will not be the least bit stringy.

Lay the mango on your cutting board with the narrowest side facing up. With a very sharp knife, cut completely through the mango along one side of the broad, flat seed. Then cut through the mango along the other side of the seed, leaving a narrow strip of skin and flesh around the perimeter of the seed. Set the seed portion aside.

Lay the two halves of the mango skin-side down on the cutting board. Cut through the mango flesh (but not through the skin) to make approximately nine diamond-shaped pieces in each mango half. Then gently flip each half of the mango inside out, so that the diamond-shaped pieces pop up. Use your knife to cut each piece free of the skin.

Next, cut the skin from the strip of mango surrounding the seed. Cut the flesh in pieces as large and as close to the seed as you can. Cut all the mango flesh into pieces the size you need.

Voilà, no strings, no shreds, and no lost juice.

My inviolable household rule is that the one who cuts up the mango gets to slurp any remaining fruit from the seed. Try to suck the seed until it's bone-white–that's how we do it in Mexico.

The banana is a familiar North of the Border favorite. Babies eat it as their first mashed fruit; older folks can eat one a day for an easy daily dose of potassium. Here in the subtropics, we have a huge variety of bananas that are just beginning to make their way north to Latin markets in the United States and Canada.

The guineo (similar to the ordinary banana), the dominico (a tiny banana also known as the ladyfinger), the manzano (the 'apple' banana), and the plátano macho (the 'macho' banana) are only four of the many types of this fruit that we see regularly in our markets.

The tiny ladyfinger banana, three to four inches long, is delicious eaten as a snack. The peel is almost paper-thin and the firm flesh is sweeter than most full-size bananas.

The manzano banana has reddish peel and a marked apple-banana flavor. These were for sale in the Mercado Medellín in Mexico City.

The plátano macho is my particular favorite, however. While it's still green and hard, it can be sliced, pounded thin, and fried into savory, salty chips called tostones. Fully ripened—the skin at this stage is dark brown or black—the plátano macho is called the maduro (mature or ripe). I don't get nervous even when I see that my maduros have a spot or two of mold on the skins. That's when they're the best, and this way to prepare them is my favorite. Be careful, they're addictive.

Plátanos machos, fried to a sweetly caramelized golden brown.

Plátanos Machos Fritos
Fried Sweet Plantains

2 very ripe plátanos machos (plantains)
vegetable oil

Peel the plaintains. Cut each plantain on the diagonal into pieces 1/4" thick.

Heat approximately 1/4" vegetable oil in a large non-stick or cast iron skillet. The oil should be quite hot but not smoking. If the oil starts to smoke, remove the skillet from the heat until the oil cools down slightly.

Put as many of the plaintain slices in the frying pan as will fit without touching one another. Fry on one side until golden brown. Flip each slice over and fry until golden on the other side. Add oil to the skillet if necessary and continue frying the plantain slices until all are done.

Drain thoroughly on paper toweling.

Serve for breakfast with fried or scrambled eggs, refried beans, and hot tortillas. The fried plantains are particularly delicious when topped with a dollop of Mexican crema (or sour cream).

Guamúchiles, available in central Mexico in April and May, just prior to the start of the rainy season.

This short series of photographs, recipes, and descriptions is just the beginning of your knowledge of the tropical fruits available season by season here in Mexico. Each harvest time brings new and different produce to our markets. We learn as we live here to anticipate certain local fruits at certain times of the year: fresas (strawberries) starting in February but available year-round; tiny orange-red wild ciruelas (plums) late in the summer; the tejocote (similar to a small crabapple) early in winter. There are other fruits gathered locally in the wild: the capulín (a kind of wild cherry) and the guamúchil (a small whitish, crisp fruit that grows on trees, in a twisted pod).

In central Mexico, strawberries are deliciously ripe all year long.

In addition, of course, we have oranges, grapefruit, pineapple, watermelon, cantaloupe, peaches, apricots, apples, pears, and tangerines in their seasons. All of these well-known fruits are generally picked in season and at the peak of ripeness here in Mexico and will cause you to lick your fingers, reach for seconds, and exclaim, "You know, I don't think I've ever really tasted one of these before!"

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

6 de September de 2014
Herbs from a Mexican Garden: Old Kitchen Pals and Exotic New Friends

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

The cuisines of Mexico–and there are many–are a fantastic amalgam of indigenous corn-based food preparations with a heavy 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.

Many of the herbs and spices that you use in your own North of the Border kitchen are also used in the Mexican kitchen. Garlic, cinnamon, oregano, and thyme are in widespread use here. Cumin, cloves, tarragon, 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 most 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.

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, wormweed, 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.

Other plants used to give uncommon seasonings to the cuisines of Mexico are hoja de plátano (banana leaf) and hoja de aguacate (avocado leaf). You won't be able to run right out to your nearest Safeway or HEB store to find 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, if you or your neighbor are lucky enough to have an avocado tree, you can just go pick some. Unfortunately there's no seasoning substitute for them.

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 licorice, and it combines exceptionally well with fish or chicken.

Banana leaves are used for wrapping meats to prepare barbacoa (southeastern Mexican barbecue, cooked in a pit) and for wrapping and flavoring tamales from the Yucatán Peninsula in far southeastern Mexico. Dried avocado leaves are also used as a flavoring agent; like hoja santa, they have a mild taste similar to that of licorice.

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.

30 de August de 2014
Beloved and Beautiful Mexico: From the Beginning

Mexico cooks. Frijoles, Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán.

At the very dawn of 2006, a dear friend wrote to me from California, insisting that I start writing a culinary report from Mexico. WHAT? I had no idea what to write about, no idea how to create interest in what I might find to say, no idea about publishing online. The result was that I told him I'll do it later… Later, of course, arrived right on schedule, but I just couldn't get started. Week after week, my friend bugged me via email: when are you going to start? When are you going to start? For one entire year he wrote: when are you going to start?

Pamela Peña cookin' in Mexico–in that other sense.

After a year, and only because he was (and continues to be) my very dear friend, I let him walk me through the rigamarole of setting up a host site for this page. I was terrified, and I couldn't think of what to name what I was thinking about. I wrote various names for the page on long yellow legal pads, scratching them out one by one. Finally se me prendió el foco–the light bulb went on. Since that moment, it's been Mexico Cooks!, in both senses. When Mexican friends ask what that means, 'cooks', I explain to them that it's a play on words, as so many Mexican phrases are. The culinary reference is immediately apparent, but the sense of moves, jumps, happenin' makes everyone grin a hearty SÍ SEÑOR!

The very first–well, not an article, but just barely a note–went live here on February 2, 2007. Mexico Cooks! looks different today, but believe me, we're still cookin'. Here's the very first step of this journey, complete with its original photograph:

Sonajas (rattles), Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

The joy of Mexico rings out multi-colored, multi-faceted, multi-flavored, the adventure of a lifetime. From the first tentative step across the border, we're led into a world that is not one we've known. Whether we cross a culinary border that shoots us into a new sphere of Mexico's rich flavors, an intellectual border that makes the mind reel with new ways of thinking, or a spiritual border that leads us to reconsider our feelings about a country so 'other' that we might as well be on the moon, we'll never look at life quite the same way as before we crossed over. Mexico, Mexico…beloved land of the sun…we greet you as we greet the dawn, with joy and gladness.

Stick with us, folks. Thanks to more than two million faithful readers, we're still plugging along.

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

16 de August de 2014
YUCATÁN: Recipes from a Culinary Expedition, by David Sterling
The book: its 560 gorgeous pages cover everything Yucatecan from achiote to zapote. A 10-year-long labor of love, YUCATÁN is the finest cookbook, love story, history book, and–did I say love story?–of a glorious regional cuisine and its place of origin that I have seen in the last five years. Look over there on the left-hand sidebar of this page. See where the books are listed? Just click on the YUCATÁN cover and buy it, you know you want it. Photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Maybe you've read about David Sterling's YUCATÁN somewhere else, either in a print source (the New York Times) or on the Internet (Serious Eats). Maybe you've looked longingly at its page on Amazon.com. Maybe a friend of yours, a Mexican food buff, already has one. If you have seen the book, you are already craving sopa de lima (not lime soup–it's rich, deeply chicken-y chicken broth flavored with juice of the lima, a citrus fruit much different from the lime and particular to Mexico), or papadzules (tortillas stuffed with boiled eggs, rolled, and served in a tomato/squash seed sauce), or helado de crema morisca (Moorish style ice cream). Maybe you don't have a copy yet–but Mexico Cooks! does, and Mexico Cooks! is in love with it. Sterling has created a masterwork, a monumental volume that by its simple heft lets you know it's the boss–even before you open the cover. And then–ahhhh. Fabulous.

Chef David Sterling, an Oklahoma native, has deep roots in both French cuisine and Tex-Mex cooking. A culinary school trained chef, for the last eleven years he has studied, taught, and cooked in Mérida, Yucatán, México. He first traveled in Mexico more than 40 years ago, and today is arguably the single foreigner in the world who is most knowledgeable about Yucatán regional cuisine. Photo courtesy David Sterling.

The book, titled simply YUCATÁN, is as simple throughout as its title. Simple, yes, but it's not an easy book: to start with, it weighs a ton and isn't easy to read in bed (but maybe that's just me, reading cookbooks in bed). You may need substitutes for some of the regional ingredients (but chef Sterling tells you clearly what to use). Some recipes are complex (but so, so worth the trouble!). You'll be thrilled to know that YUCATÁN is incredibly well organized, with a terrific index to both recipes and ingredients. The bibliography is extensive and meticulous. Sources for ingredients include not only the street addresses of stores, but also Internet links for ease of online shopping. Kitchen techniques are clearly explained and include ample illustrations. And last but certainly not least, the book is accurate, beautiful, and a loving compendium of David Sterling's passionate relationship with his adopted people, his state, and their cuisine. The generous soul of Yucatán breathes in Sterling and dwells in his glorious book.

Click on this map of Mexico to enlarge it for a better view. At the far right of the map, the state colored yellow is Yucatán. It's easy to see that the state's location, at the tip-end of Mexico's cornucopia shape, is far from the central states. For example, the distance by road between centrally located Morelia, Michoacán and Mérida, Yucatán, is almost exactly 1000 miles. As in all regions of Mexico, seasonally available foods–many very different from those found in most of the country–shape and affect the regional cuisine.

Chaya (Cnidoscolus aconitifolius, sometimes known in English as tree spinach), originated and continues to be cultivated in Yucatán. More nutritious than spinach, chaya is used in a number of preparations, ranging from various types of tamales to a refreshing agua fresca (fresh juice drink).

Let's talk for a minute about the sweetly floral, barely acidic citrus used to make sopa de lima: the lima. What the lima is not is pictured above:&#0
160;the limón criollo–the native Mexican lime. If you absolutely cannot find limas in Mexican markets where you live, you can substitute limón criollo in your sopa de lima. It will be good, but not superb.

This, on the other hand, is the lima (Citrus limetta). The first notable difference is the color: it's nearly yellow. Second, the shape and size are more like a tangerine. Third, click on the photo to enlarge it. Look closely at the lima at the top center of the picture; you will notice what appears to be a nipple at the blossom end of the fruit. That nipple is the giveaway; Mexico Cooks! does not know another citrus other than the lima that has this design feature. If you live almost anywhere in central and southern Mexico, limas are seasonally available in many markets. In addition to being the classic ingredient for this soup, the lima is also eaten out of hand or prepared as an agua fresca.

Sopa de lima (classic Yucatecan chicken soup with Citrus limetta zest and juice), as prepared at David Sterling's internationally acclaimed cooking school, Los Dos, in Mérida, Yucatán. Photo courtesy Los Dos Cooking School.

Let's try this simple–and simply marvelous–soup at home. The links below are live and will take you to two other recipes that are included in this preparation.

Los Dos Cooking School's Recipe for Sopa de Lima
- 10 cups (2.5 liters) chicken consommé (preferably homemade or if absolutely necessary, substitute canned)
- 1/2 cup (120ml) lima juice
- One recipe Tsi'ik (with chicken; substitute lima or lime juice for the sour orange juice)
- One recipe Totopos
- Slices of lima
STEP 1 CHILL THE CONSOMMÉ. Allow it to rest in the refrigerator overnight. If any fat rises to the top, skim off, or pass through cheesecloth to remove. If any remaining particulate matter settles to the bottom, carefully pour the clear portion at the top into another pot and discard the residue.

STEP 2 ADD LIMA JUICE to the consommé and refrigerate 1 hour. Meanwhile, chill soup bowls. Just before serving, fill individual flan cups or other small molds with the tsi'ik. Invert into the center of a chilled bowl. Add soup to about 3/4 of the way to the top of the mound of salad; top salad with fried tortilla strips and slices of lima.

If I have failed to convince you that you and your kitchen need this book, the bowl of wildly delicious soup in front of you, the first spoonful of its deep flavors, and your craving for more when you've finished will convince you. Mark my words, the culinary masterpiece that is YUCATÁN will win major cookbook prizes during the course of the year. Be sure you have your copy.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.
9 de August de 2014
A Mezcal Primer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every small town has at least one mezcal producer and frequently more than one; some small producers have been distilling the drink for private use for 50 years or more. Commercial production of mezcal is relatively recent; many connoisseurs consider commercial mezcales to be inferior. The good news? The best mezcal is the one you like, not the one someone–even if that someone is me–tells you to like.

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

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

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

12 de July de 2014
Mercado Roma: Hipster Foodie Heaven in Colonia Roma, Mexico City

The newest kid on the block is Mercado Roma: hyper-trendy, very upscale and muy de la moda (very much in style), and currently attracting hordes every weekend. It's only a little less crowded during the week. The building is the controversial but swinging hot spot at Calle Querétaro 225, Colonia Roma Norte, Mexico City. To coin a phrase, be there or be square.

Mexico Cooks! was amazed to see that Mercado Roma, not officially open until June 25, was full to the brim a couple of Saturdays ago. Several friends had told me you just have to go, and never wanting to be left behind in the rush for trendiness, we went. The cars you see in the photo above are actually double-parked, waiting for the valet parking guys to move them into the public parking lot directly across the street. Valet parking is good news: when you go, it's easiest to walk, take a taxi, or plan to pay the valet, since on-street parking is all but nonexistent.

At intervals on the front of the building, these official notices (ACTIVITIES SUSPENDED) plastered on the building's pillars are remnants of a still-undecided debate. The sides to be taken are:

1. Did someone pay off the city to allow construction of the building's not-yet-completed third floor?
2. Should commercial construction be allowed in this predominately residential street?
3. Is the street actually predominately residential?
4. Faced with the joy of new and trendy gourmet shops and tiny eating spots (mostly branches of well-recognized, glitzy Mexico City restaurants), does anybody really care?

It appeared that the gazillion people snarfing down free samples, purchasing urban market food from Mexico City's high-end chefs or their minions, and eagerly checking one another out didn't give a fig (of which we saw quite a few) about the controversy. We'll let the city and the architects figure it out. Let's press on!

This tiny corner of Mercado Roma–just a barely representative corner of the whole mob scene–was filled with milling throngs of mainly young people, although we saw a few heads as gray as our own. We were here on a midafternoon Saturday, and so was everyone else in the city!

We were initially lured by the offerings of bread, both sweet and salt, from Panadería La Silva. We bought a round pan rústico (a small rustic loaf, made with white flour and malt extract), the last two plain bagels (definitely not New York bagels, but tasty and chewy), and a couple of pretzel sticks. The bill for bread was just over $100 pesos (about $8.50 USD).

Some of the other bread offerings at Panadería La Silva: moños (ties, far left), cuernitos (croissants), biscochos (biscuits), roles de canela (cinnamon rolls, back center) conchas (shells, right foreground).

The booth called Germina offers raw, roasted, or candied nuts and seeds, as well as other nuts, seeds, and cereals. Here, in-the-shell pistachios.

Cheeses–just one small section of the cheese case–at Carlos Yescas' Lactography. The store specializes in Mexican cheeses and occasionally offers a wine-and-cheese tasting event. Most recently, the event, priced at $350 pesos per person, was available as a Father's Day gift.

Librería Porrua's stand is well-stocked with food-oriented and other books. Prices seemed standard for these books.

Chocolates Qué Bo!, by José Ramón Castillo, Mexico's premier chocolatier. These glorious bonbons–Qué Bo!'s signature dark or milk chocolate filled with everything from cajeta (thick burned milk) to mezcal or deeply flavored, rich café de olla (pot-style coffee flavored with cinnamon) and back again–are 19 pesos each and are simply wonderful. Qué Bo! means, 'Whoa, give me another one! These are fantastic!' Photo courtesy Mercado Roma.

Huerto 'sobre ruedas' (Garden on Wheels) will take your order by phone or email and deliver your organic vegetables to your door.

One of the two falafel we ordered from Arbanus at Mercado Roma. The spiel about the food says, "based on the traditional Arabic food that has been consumed in Mexico for many years." Chef Daniel Frydman and his crew offer house-made kibe, baba ganoush, doner kabob, hummous, and a number of other items. The pita bread was heavenly, the falafel was not. It had almost no flavor, the individual balls of falafel were unnaturally green and completely mushy rather than crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, and the vegetable topping was not what I know as appropriate.

We ordered two ordinary-sized falafel sandwiches and two bottles of water. The total cost: $250 pesos (approximately $20 USD). We won't be doing this again.

Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's Azul restaurant group (Azul y Oro, Azul/Condesa, and Azul/Histórico) is represented at Mercado Roma by Azul Antojo (antojo means ('whim'). These twenty-somethings were having a great time. Click the photo for a larger view of the menu.

The tile floor at Mercado Roma. I love it–it's just like the old 'tumbling blocks' quilt pattern.

Tea forté, brought to Mercado Roma by Tendencia Gastronomía.

Present at Mercado Roma and in San Ángel: Rancho Las Luisas Wagyu beef.

Dulce Corazón's charming booth near the rear of the first floor is filled with both traditional and unusual sweets.

In lieu of a business card, the Dulce Corazón shopkeeper gave me a house-made mazapán (peanut marzipan) with all the store's information on the label. A sweet treat indeed!

Pens and peltre (enameled metal) cups with Mercado Roma's logo.

Mexico Cooks! thoroughly enjoyed seeing the latest wrinkle in gourmet shopping at the hip, cool, and groovy Mercado Roma. Will we go back? We'll let you know! We'd be interested to know your opinion, if YOU go.

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

14 de June de 2014
Heads Up! Heading for Mexico’s Markets: What You Might See

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

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

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

That's a goat head at the left of the photo. To the right is a container of chinicuiles (red maguey worms). The goat head is for preparing birria, the chinicuiles are for roasting and eating as a snack.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chicken heads. I don't have a recipe nor do I know of a recipe. If you do, please let me know!

You'll be glad to know that this is the last pig head for this article. This one, thoroughly cleaned, shaven, and ready for the pot, is merely waiting for a customer. The ears, snout, and tongue are delicacies in Mexico.

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

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

7 de June de 2014
Guadalajara’s Wholesale Flower Market

It was my great pleasure to wander Guadalajara’s wholesale flower market this month, talking with one of the long-time vendors and taking more pictures of glorious blooms than will fit on these pages.

I confess that on the day I went on my investigative trip to the wholesale flower stalls, I was in a funk and would have preferred to stay at home. I scowled my way through traffic to the Mercado Mezquitán in downtown Guadalajara and barely managed a brief smile when I found a handy parking place. And then I was on the street, the flower-filled street, and my bad mood vanished in a heartbeat. How could my funk hang on when the sight and fragrances of literally millions of blossoms were all around me?

It was hard to know where to look first. The narrow old market street, clogged with belching pickup trucks, crammed beat-up cars, overloaded handcarts and people carrying enormous bundles of flowers, runs parallel to super-busy, modern Calzada Federalismo. I smiled as the blatant contrasts of Mexico once again showed me that I was definitely not North of the Border.

A scruffy yellow dog sniffed the greenery in his path as he hunted for something more promising than flower trimmings for his almuerzo (late breakfast). What looked like a moving tower of bright red roses jostled me as I stood in the street. It was a workman, hurrying along with dozens and dozens of paper-wrapped packets of beautiful blooms on his shoulder.

Mounds of multi-colored statice wait on a hand truck.

For two city blocks, tiny Calle Mezquitán is a sea of blooms. The actual flower market, a small enclosed building of perhaps 30 stalls, is insignificant compared to what happens in the street. I’ve often driven along Federalismo and noticed the market building; it’s just across from a municipal cemetery.

I walked along asking permission to take pictures and marveling at the variety of flowers. My eye was caught first by girasoles (sunflowers), then leticia (statice), then pompones (pompom chrysanthemums).

The vendors greeted me as I strolled past. "Qué va a llevar, señora? Hay de todo." (What are you buying, lady? Everything’s here.) Over and over again I asked permission to take photographs. The quantity of flowers was completely overwhelming, their fragrances perfuming the air.

This basket of at least four dozen roses and asters costs 250 pesos, a little less than $25.00 USD.

I stopped to ask one of the vendors about the cultivation of flowers in Mexico. Flowers, he told me, are grown commercially primarily in one area of the small State of Mexico, both for export and for use here in the Republic. Flower business is big business in that fertile valley not far from Mexico City. Flower-growing land sprawls over more than five thousand hectares. That’s well over 12,000 acres. In addition, the cultivation of flowers provides either direct or indirect employment to 225,000 people in that state.

Gerbera daisies and stargazer lilies.

In the State of Mexico, flower growing generates a yearly economic bounty of $2,700,000,000 pesos: two billion seven hundred million, folks. It’s not a typo. The brief selling season just prior to the Day of the Dead in November generates $617,000,000 pesos—in only a few days. The profits from just those late-October flower sales represent nearly one-fourth of the economy produced in the State of Mexico’s fields.

Here’s just one small example of Mexico’s Day of the Dead flower power. In 2003, growers planted ninety hectares of roses which were to be harvested in the last week of October. Those roses produced 11.3 million stems, which were bundled 25 to a package. Each package of 25 roses sold at wholesale for 37 pesos. Total earnings for the brief October rose harvest were 17 million pesos.

In addition to roses, the flower growers of the State of Mexico also cultivate huge numbers of chrysanthemums, vast quantities of gladiolas, millions upon millions of carnations, and most of the rest of the flowers that are available in wholesale markets all over this country and the world. Many, many of the flowers that you who live North of the Border will purchase or be given on Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day come from the sunny lands South of the Border.

Claveles (carnations) are among the most popular flowers for sale at the market.

Everywhere I looked, I was tempted to buy. Huge bundles of pink, red, candy-striped or white carnations, each bundle containing 60 or more flowers, sell for 40 pesos–less than $4.00 US dollars. Gorgeous, enormous ready-to-sell flower arrangements, perfect for a banquet table centerpiece, sell for 250 pesos–less than $25.00 US dollars. Bundles of 25 roses sell for 70 pesos.

After walking along the market street for an hour and then investigating the market itself, I stopped to ask a young vendor how long the market had been operating on Calle Mezquitán. She admitted that she wasn’t sure and encouraged me to ask Dr. Roberto Avila, the owner of the business where she worked. He was busy taking a large wholesale order on the telephone. "Dr. Avila knows everything about the market, from the time it started," she assured me. I waited and watched the action on the street as hundreds of thousands of flowers glowed in the morning sun.

Dr. Avila graciously took the time to answer my questions. "This flower market has been here for more than 50 years," he began. "I’m 57 years old and I was born two blocks from here. My grandmother and my father brought me here to work with them when I was seven. I’ve had this business for 25 or 26 years now.

Long-stemmed roses sell in bundles of 40 for 70 pesos, less than $7.00 USD.

"Look across the street, right over there." He pointed to a small house on the corner. "That house is made of adobe. All the houses along here were made of adobe, that’s how old this section of Guadalajara is. Over the years, they’ve fallen down because of the rains, but people build them right back up again.

"Some years ago, Calzada Federalismo was widened to accommodate all the traffic that comes this way. Before the street was widened, the market building was more than twice the size it is now. The market building back then wasn’t just for flowers. There were meat markets, tortillerías, and plenty of stands where you could eat. The government took most of the market to build the street. Now there’s no tortillería there at all, the meat markets have mostly moved out, and there are only a couple of food stands left." He shook his head. "There used to be a kindergarten here. And there were frontón (a ball game played with a kind of basket-shaped racquet) courts." He smiled. "There are many other frontón courts in the city, but the ones right here are gone."

"There are more flower markets in Guadalajara, you know. One is right in front of Parque Agua Azul, on Calzada Independencia near González Gallo. Another is at the corner of Manuel Acuña and Contreras Medellín, just about ten blocks from here. But none of those markets sells the amount of wholesale flowers that we sell here."

I thanked Dr. Avila and walked up and down the street once more. The flower market had lightened my mood and I knew I’d come back on other days just for the lift. Although I was determined to buy a bundle of carnations, my eye suddenly lit on a huge bucket of tight yellow Siberian iris buds. "Cuánto cuestan?" I asked the vendor. Thirty-five pesos for ten long stems! I bought two bunches and strolled happily to my car.

Back home, after I arranged the flowers in a tall vase, I checked my favorite online florist for the price of Siberian iris in the United States. Suffice it to say that I would never have been able to afford them. When you come to Guadalajara, we’ll make a field trip to the wholesale flower market, where you can afford to buy all the flowers you could possibly want.

23 de June de 2007
Mexico Cooks! in Michoacán

During the first week of April, Mexico Cooks! traveled with a group of friends to Michoacán's Zona Lacustre (Lake Zone). Our trip had three purposes: to taste every regional food specialty we could find to eat, to attend an enormous annual Michoacán-only artisans' fair, and to enjoy one another's company to the fullest. The trip was a huge success on all three counts.

Come to the artisans' fair opening day parade with Mexico Cooks!

Parade of Artisans, 2007. Most of the many Purhépecha (the indigenous group of Michoacán) villages in the Zona Lacustre specialize in a particular form of artesanía (arts and crafts). The annual Feria de Artesanía opens as representative artesanos (artisans) from each village parade through the fair site. Each town delegate proudly bears a placard emblazoned with the town name. All along the parade route, some of the artisans carry stellar examples of their work.

Joy!

Ribbons and masks from Tócuaro.

A Purépecha woman from Uruapan, vestida de gala (dressed in her finest) and speckled with festive confetti, shows off an example of fine maque (regional lacquerware).

Dance masks, Danza de los Viejitos (the Dance of the Little Old Men).

Rain Dance mask, Tócuaro.

Young Purhépecha women festooned with beads, lace, velvet, and ribbons. The baskets they carry are filled with confetti, ready to be tossed at the spectators. The young woman in red stopped directly in front of me, grinned, and showered me with color from head to toe.

This beautiful young woman danced with her face covered by the mask of a toothless grandmother, wearing typical ribbons in her long white braids.

Purépecha women in Michoacán's Zona Lacustre ordinarily use a region-specific blue and black striped rebozo (shawl). Legend has it that this traditional style rebozo became popular in Colonial times: the black stripe symbolizes Spanish hair, the blue stripe symbolizes the Spanish eye. In daily life, the rebozo is utilitarian. Mothers use it to carry their babies slung on their backs, to carry wood for the kitchen stove and other burdens, and for simple warmth. Folded and placed on the head, the rebozo protects from the sun and balances pots and jars.

Beauty, tradition, and personal pride hallmark the Feria de Artesanía. One of Mexico Cooks! dearest friends says, "Cada que veo tus fotos siempre me dan la cara de volver." 'Every time I see your pictures, it always make me want to come back.'

In just a few days, we'll show you some of the incredible meals Mexico Cooks! ate along the way. We'd like to invent a scratch-and-sniff computer monitor to give you all but the taste of regional cooking. We're sure the photos will make your mouth water.

If you'd like to travel to the 2008 Feria de Artesanía in Michoacán, contact Mexico Cooks! and we'll start now to make your plans for adventure.

14 de April de 2007