Category: Mexican Markets

Popocatépetl :: The History of a Living Volcano :: La Historia de un Volcán Que Vive

This article was originally published in 2013. Popocatépetl continues its periodic episodes of high activity. One of these days, we'll be able to go once again to see what the volcano is doing!

The active volcano Popocatépetl is the second-highest mountain in Mexico at 5,452 meters (17,887 feet) above sea level. Some sources say that Popocatépetl is slightly higher than those quoted figures. Only the Pico de Orizaba (5,610 meters or 18,406 feet) is higher. All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

During the last week or so, Mexico City's newspapers have been full of information about Popocatépetl, the Náhuatl word for 'smoking mountain'. This volcano, which sits in the very back yard of the city, has once again been growling and grumbling and belching gases, steam, smoke, and red-hot ash. Its last major eruption was in December of 2000 and everyone in this vicinity hopes the mountain won't explode again.

Popocatépetl, 1953. Taken as a young man by my good friend Roger Hagan, this magnificent photograph lets us see how both the shape of the mountain and its cap of snow have changed during the last 60 years. The photograph appears in Roger Hagan's remarkable book, Mexico 1953. Photo courtesy Roger Hagan.

In mid-April of 2012, curiousity and excitement about Popocatépetl's current activities led us to make a Sunday afternoon trip to Amecameca in the State of Mexico, the town closest to the volcano from our Mexico City neighborhood. The town is southeast of Mexico City and we were there in a bit over an hour. Had we not stopped along the way to take photographs, we could have arrived sooner.

The alert system for possible eruptions ranges from green (no danger) to red (extreme eruption). Currently, Popocatépetl has been at Alert Phase 3 Yellow (magma flow and growing explosions) for about three weeks. Phase 3 Yellow is the alert just before red. In spite of the high alert level, no evacuations from towns around the volcano have been ordered. Click the link for updates to the 'semáforo de alertas' (alert system stoplight): ALERTAS

Iztaccíhautl, the sleeping woman, lies northeast of Popocatépetl and east of the town of Amecameca in the State of Mexico. Mexico Cooks! took this photo from the atrium of the Templo de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción (Church of Our Lady of the Assumption) in Amecameca; you can see one of the church arches in the foreground. The photo shows Iztaccíhuatl's head (far left) and chest.

Full view of volcano Iztaccíhuatl. Her head is at the far left in the photo. The clouds are in fact due to the accumulation of steam and ash emitted by Popocatépetl, just out of camera range to the right. The northwestern sky (behind me as I took the picture) was clear blue and brilliantly sunny.

Of course there is a romantic legend about Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhautl. At the beginning of history, when the Aztecs arrived in the Valley of Anáhuac and before the mountains had reached their permanent form, a beautiful princess named Mixtli was born in the city of Tenochtitlán–today's Mexico City. She was the daughter of Tizoc, the Tlatoani Emperor of the Mexicas (to be known later as the Aztecs). Mixtli was sought after by numerous noblemen, among them Axooxco, a cruel and bloodthirsty man, who demanded the hand of Mixtli in marriage. However, Mixtli's heart belonged instead to a humble peasant named Popoca. Popoca went into battle, to conquer the title of Caballero Aguila (Eagle Knight). If he claimed this title of nobility, Popoca would then be able to fight Axooxco for the hand of Mixtli.

Popoca carries his beloved Mixtli to the snowy mountains.

Mixtli knew the danger Popoca faced in this trial. Finally a messenger brought the news that he had been killed in battle. But the messenger was wrong: Popoca was returning victorious. Not realizing this, Mixtli killed herself, rather than live without Popoca.

When Popoca returned to find Mixtli dead, he picked her up and carried her body into the mountains. Hoping that the cold snow would wake her from sleep to reunite them, Popoca crouched at her feet until he froze there while he prayed for her to awaken.

They have remained there ever since. The body of Mixtli became the volcano Iztaccíhuatl (the Sleeping Woman), the ever-watchful Popoca became the volcano Popocatépetl (the Smoking Mountain). The evil Axooxco became the Cerro Ajusco (the highest point of the Distrito Federal). These volcanoes tower above Mexico City and the romantic legend of this couple has been passed on since the pre-Columbian era as a symbol of enduring and faithful love.

Popocatépetl exhales a huge cloud of steam, gases, and ash on April 18, 2012. Photo courtesy Notimex.

The volcano is generally known by a local nickname: don Goyo. Don is an honorific used to address or refer to any respected well-known man; Goyo is a nickname for Gregorio, in this instance specifically referring to San Gregorio (St. Gregory). Legend says that the volcano once erupted on San Gregorio's March 12 feast day and subsequently received the nickname, but the volcano's feast day (yes, he has one!) is celebrated annually on May 2. On that date, some local residents carry gifts to the volcano: blankets and una copita (a shot of liquor) to keep him warm, and they pay him their continuing respects. As the white-haired toll booth attendant said when we told him we were on our way to pay a visit to don Goyo, "Be careful up there! He's making all this racket while he's sober–imagine if he had already had his tequila!"

The volcano on the night of April 24, 2012. Streams of molten lava flow down the sides of the crater while fire, steam, smoke, and sparks rise high into the evening sky. The volcano is so loud that some residents find it hard to get a good night's sleep. Photo courtesy MSNBC.

During volcanic activity of this kind, the world keeps turning. Residents in the several towns nearest the volcano go about their normal daily lives while keeping one eye on the top of the mountain and one ear out for the latest alerts. In Amecameca, a delightful gentleman stopped his bicycle to chat with us on the street while we were letting a local woman take a close look at the volcano through the camera's telephoto lens. "You know," he ruminated, "we still have to shop, cook, eat, and sleep even though we also have to be prepared for…" he laughed and threw his arms high into the air. "In case it blows!"

Life goes on: the sign reads in English, Meat Market 'The Golden Rose'. Inside the municipal market in Amecameca, people shop for food, gossip with their neighbors, and laugh at the latest jokes. Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better view.

Our new guide continued, "You should go outside town for a better view. It's easy to get there…" He proceeded to give excellent directions for heading to the east into the foothills at the base of the volcano. We shook his hand and followed his directions as far as we could, but the rutted, stone-filled path we were driving outside Amecameca was too difficult for our vehicle. We turned onto another, even smaller road that took us to the crest of a hill. From there, we had an unobstructed view of the two lovers, Iztaccíhautl and Popocatépetl. While the wind blew from behind us, we watched as don Goyo sighed several times, sending heavy plumes of steam and ash into the heavens and away from Amecameca.

As the volcano steams and roars, commerce continues as it has for thousands of years. Amecameca has a huge Sunday market in the church atrium outside Templo de Nuestra Señora de la Asunciòn. The peaches, bright-green oval chilacayotes, and round calabacitas (zucchini-type squash) are offered for sale piled up in pyramids, the traditional vendors' display method.

Will the volcano blast off into a major eruption? Will it calm down and wait till another time? No one really knows for sure, not even the scientists who monitor its activity. On April 25, the winds shifted and small amounts of ash began to rain down on Amecameca and some of the other nearby towns. We're watching, along with the rest of the populace. And meantime, our lives go on as usual.

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

5 de September de 2020
Come Tour with Mexico Cooks!–Off the Tourist Track, Off the Beaten Path

A November market tour in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán. I'm holding a mamey fruit. The mamey's scientific name is poutería sapote.

One of the great pleasures of my life is the number of tours Mexico Cooks! gives to lots of excited tourists. Small, specialized tours are a joy to organize: the participants generally have common interests, a thirst for knowledge, and a hunger for–well, for Mexico Cooks!' tour specialty: food and its preparation. Touring a food destination (a street market in Michoacán, an enclosed market in Guadalajara, a crawl through some Mexico City street stands, or meals in a series of upscale restaurants) is about far more than a brief look at a fruit, a vegetable, or a basket of freshly made tortillas.

A Pátzcuaro street vendor holds out a partially unwrapped tamal de trigo (wheat tamal). It's sweetened with piloncillo (Mexican raw sugar) and a few plump raisins, wrapped in corn husks, and steamed. Taste? It's all but identical to a bran muffin, and every tour participant enjoyed a share of it.

A tour planned to your specifications can lead you to places you didn't know you wanted to go, but that you would not have missed for the world. Here, Donna talks with the man who makes these enormous adobe bricks. He let her try to pick up the laden wheelbarrow. She could barely get its legs off the ground! He laughed, raised the handles, and whizzed away with his load.

Several times in recent years, small groups wanted to tour traditional bakeries in Mexico City. The photo shows one tiny corner of the enormous Pastelería La Ideal in the Centro Histórico. Just looking at the photo brings the sweet fragrances back to mind. And never mind the taste of the delicious pastries–wonderful!

Ramon and Annabelle Canova wanted an introduction to how ordinary people live and shop in Guadalajara. We spent a highly entertaining morning at the Tianguis del Sol, a three-times-a-week outdoor market in Zapopan, a suburb of Guadalajara. Our first stop was for breakfast, then we shopped for unusual produce, fresh spices, and other goodies that the Canovas don't often see in their home town. Annabelle said she felt right at home because so much of the style and flavor of this market was similar to what she experienced in the markets near her home town in the Phillipines.

We went for comida (main meal of the day) to the original location of Guadalajara's Karne Garibaldi. The restaurant does one thing–carne en su jugo (meat in its juice)–and does it exceptionally well. The food is plentiful, delicious, and affordable. The place is always packed, and usually has a line to get in!

Ramon wanted to try tejuino, a regional specialty in the Guadalajara area. Mixed when you order it, the refreshing, very lightly fermented drink is thickened with masa de maíz (corn dough) and served with a pinch of salt and a small scoop of lemon ice.

Pillars of nopal cactus paddles, taller than a man, at Mercado de la Merced, Mexico City. La Merced is the largest retail market in Mexico, if not in all of Latin America. It's the ultimate market experience and just a partial tour takes the best part of a morning. Comfortable walking shoes are a necessity–let's go!

A more intimate, up-close-and-personal Mexico City market tour takes us through the Mercado San Juan. The San Juan is renowned for its gourmet selection of meats, fish and shellfish, cheeses, and wild mushrooms–among a million other things you might not expect to find.

Pepitorias are a sweet specialty of Mexico's capital city. Crunchy and colorful obleas (wafers) enclose sticky syrup and squash seeds. Mexico Cooks!' tour groups usually try these at the Bazar Sábado in San Ángel.

Lovely and fascinating people and events are around almost any Mexican corner. The annual Festival Internacional de Música de Morelia opens every year with several blocks of carpets made of flowers. Residents of Patamban, Michoacán work all night to create the carpets for the festival. This piano is made entirely of plant material. Enlarge any picture for a closer view.

Entire flowers, fuzzy pods, and flower petals are used to create the carpets' ephemeral beauty and design; these carpets last two days at most.

In November 2012, one of Mexico Cooks!' tours was dazzled by a special Morelia concert given by Tania Libertad. With Tania is Rosalba Morales Bartolo, a fabulous traditional cook from San Jerónimo, Michoacán, who presented the artist with various handcrafted items from the state–including the lovely coral necklace and rebozo (long rectangular shawl) that Tania is wearing.

During a food tour in Oaxaca, Mexico Cooks! took this couple for breakfast with a marvelous regional cook. We're standing in the doorway of her traditional kitchen–where she both prepares food and gives cooking classes. We had a great day.

No matter where we start our tour and no matter what we plan together for your itinerary, a Mexico Cooks! tour always includes a terrific surprise or two, special memories to take home, and the thirst for more of Mexico. Marvey Chapman had a wonderful time out on Lake Pátzcuaro! By all means come and enjoy a tour!

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

22 de August de 2020
Where Mexico Cooks! Shops for Fresh Food to Prepare at Home: Mexico’s Tianguis (Street Markets)

Roma tomatoes are the type we most often see at a tianguis (street market) or at an enclosed market, or in a supermarket. Heirloom tomatoes–even standard, everyday round tomatoes–are very hard to find here. When I buy Roma tomatoes, I am fortunate to be able to find them fully ripe and really delicious.

Thirteen years ago, in August 2007, Mexico Cooks! featured every sort of produce, dairy product, and meat sold at a local tianguis (street market) near Guadalajara, Jalisco. For the entire month of August 2008, you read about seasonal availability of fruits and vegetables at the dozens of regularly scheduled tianguis (it's the same word in singular and plural) in Morelia, Michoacán.  Mexico Cooks! would rather shop at a hot, crowded, and sometimes smelly tianguis than at an air conditioned supermarket, rather shop for supremely fresh foods at a tianguis than give a second glance to anything frozen, boxed, or canned that's offered for sale elsewhere.

A sign maker with a sense of humor stuck this tag on his fresh Roma tomatoes: "Like you saw it on TV". Several years ago, these were offered at 14 pesos the kilo (about 45 cents US the pound). Next to the tomatoes, you can see the pointed ends of chiles serrano. Today, Roma tomatoes sell for about 30-35 pesos per kilo.

The tianguis, wherever in Mexico it's held, is a basic part of the culture of modern Mexico.   Its name comes from the Náuhatl word tianquiztli, market. Although Náhuatl markets are centuries old, the present-day form of the tianguis is fairly recent, originating during the 1970-76 Mexican presidency of Luis Echeverría Alvarez. The author of the tianguis project in Mexico was José Iturriaga, Echeverría's former finance minister.

Cooked in a sweet syrup, whole calabaza de castilla (squash, left), camote (candied sweet potato, right), and higos (figs, rear) are available at the tianguis by the kilo or portion of a kilo. They're to be eaten for breakfast or supper.

Although Iturriaga was himself a wealthy, educated, and cultured man, he worried about the ability of Mexico's poor to feed their families. He was especially concerned about the availability of nutritious fresh foods sold at reasonable prices. The tianguis, otherwise known as a mercado sobre ruedas (market on wheels), was his idea. The government took charge of giving Mexico's working-class housewives and other food shoppers stupendous quality at the lowest possible prices.

Beautiful cebollitas de cambray (knob onions), ready for serving with carne asada (grilled meat, usually accompanied by grilled whole onions like these. They sell for about 12 pesos per kilo.

Still operated by local government, today's tianguis only sometimes reach Iturriaga's ideal. Often the produce can be second-rate, the meats and seafood far less than fresh, and the market's hygiene questionable–while prices are often as high or higher than the días de plaza (sale days) in upscale supermarkets.

Higos–figs, at the peak of maturity and ripeness–enjoy a relatively long season here in Mexico. We recently paid 100 pesos for two kilos of beautifully ripe figs and prepared half a dozen jars of you-don't-want-to-know-how-good fig conserve. Later this winter, spread on a toasted and buttered bolillo (small loaf of fresh-baked bread) from our corner abarrotes (tiny mom'n'pop grocery store), served over ice cream, or simply licked off the finger, the conserve will be an intense memory of summer.

Mexico Cooks! is a regular customer at one of the better tianguis in Morelia. Our tianguis, set up early Wednesday mornings, is quite near our house. Our normal purchases include seafood, excellent pork ranging from maciza (fresh pork leg) to tocino (bacon), marvelously fresh chicken (whole or whichever part you want), all of our fruits and vegetables, cheeses and table cream, dried beans, grains, and flowers for the house. We don't eat much beef, but if we did, we'd buy it at the tianguis.

Tiny plátanos dominico (finger bananas, about 2.5 inches long) are just one of the banana varieties we usually see at the tianguis. These sell today for about 37 pesos a kilo.

Small ataúlfo mangos, my personal favorites. Thirty pesos per kilo.

Prices at the Wednesday tianguis in our neighborhood, while not substantially lower than those at the supermarket, are still not higher than we care to pay. We usually budget about 900 pesos (about $40.00 USD) to buy what we need at the tianguis for a week's meals, including pork and sometimes shrimp. We budget another 400 pesos for purchases at the supermarket.

Gorgeous deep red watermelons, sold by the kilo: buy as much as you like–a slice, a whole melon, whatever you need. Twelve pesos per kilo at the tianguis!

On a recent Wednesday morning, these were our purchases:

6 large fresh white onions, 20 pesos per kilo
1 huge cantaloupe, 17 pesos per kilo
4 ataúlfo mangos, 30 pesos per kilo
6 red-ripe Roma tomatoes, 35 pesos per kilo
500 gr white mushrooms, 58 pesos
1/2 large white cabbage, 10 pesos
8 Gala apples, 45 pesos per kilo
1 large avocado, 60 pesos per kilo
2 large bananas, 17 pesos per kilo
1 large papaya, 30 pesos per kilo
1 lb fresh green beans, 37 pesos per kilo
1 large head of broccoli, 28 pesos per kilo
8 ounces crema de mesa (table cream, similar to crême fraiche), about 20 pesos total
1 whole chicken, 39 pesos per kilo
250 gr cut to order bacon, 200 pesos per kilo
Total cost: 400 pesos–the equivalent of less than $25.00 USD.

The Mexican peso/USA dollar exchange rate is currently the approximately 22 pesos per dollar.

These are the fruit of the nopal cactus, known as tunas. (The red thing to the left is a fresa (strawberry), placed for size comparison.) Tunas are in season right now; I buy them frequently at this time of year to make agua fresca de tuna ('fresh water' made of tunas).

Tunas are super-easy to peel–cut off each end, make a longitudinal slit in the peel, and pull the skin off. That's it. Eat them out of hand, slice them on a plate, or make agua fresca. They're refreshing and delicious.

Times and needs change. Urban Mexico views the tianguis as both a terrible bother (who would want one on their street, with its attendant noise and mess) and a joy (but where else can we get produce this fresh!).  Mexico Cooks! knows people who will not shop at a tianguis, and we know people who will not shop anywhere else. Come with us some week and see what you think.

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

15 de August de 2020
One More Report About Chiles en Nogada, a Fleeting, Seasonal Joy of Mexico’s Kitchen
Azul Histórico, a star of the constellation of three restaurants that make up Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's Grupo Azul, has become one of Mexico Cooks!' favorite destinations for comida (Mexico's midday main meal). Nestled under a canopy of trees in the patio of a 17th century Mexican palace, the restaurant is among the most beautiful–and most delicious–in Mexico's capital city.

One year, we insisted that a good friend visiting from Texas accompany us to experience the once-a-year delight of chiles en nogada, stuffed with a special picadillo (meat, fruit, and vegetable hash) and then bathed with walnut sauce, as presented and served at Restaurante Azul Histórico. In last week's Mexico Cooks! article, we shared a terrific recipe for chiles en nogada with you. Today, we'll see the chiles, considered to be the king of Mexico's cuisine, and honored as such at table in the restaurant.

Our friend, who serves sopa de tortilla (tortilla soup) in his own restaurant, wanted to try the version served at Azul Histórico.

Four of us shared a small order of mildly spicy, delicious salpicón de venado (venison, cooked, seasoned with onion, pepper, vinegar, oil, and salt, and shredded).

Once we finished our appetizers, two of our extremely competent wait staff laid the table with a long black linen tablecloth, plus colorful appliquéd individual placemats and extra candles, all in honor of the king of chiles. The plates, also in special use for chiles en nogada, are talavera pottery from the city of Puebla, where chiles en nogada originated.

The serving platter of chiles. Each color ribbon indicates the type stuffing in each chile. The choices the day we were there included:
- red ribbons from Atlixco, Puebla. The filling is composed of a complex picadillo with quite a lot of fruit.
- green ribbons from Coxcatlán, Puebla. The filling is shredded pork, with more spices and less fruit than the first.
- silver ribbons from Puebla de los Ángeles, Puebla. The filling is beef with fruits and spices, for those who prefer not to eat pork.
I chose the chile from Atlixco, Puebla. At the Azul restaurants and at most others, the chile is roasted, peeled, and seeded prior to stuffing, but is not coated with a stiffly beaten egg coating. The significance of the colors of the chile en nogada is the vision of the Mexican flag on your plate: green, white, and red. Were it coated and fried, the green would not be visible. The chile's red ribbon (and yellow flower) are removable. The blue and white sphere with the red ribbon are part of the table decor that honors the chile.

Once the chile is on your plate, the waiter serves the nogada (walnut sauce). At the Azul restaurants, the diner may choose savory or sweet nogada, or a combination of the two. I chose the combination. The waiter poured the thicker nogada salada (savory) onto the half of the chile near the tip; he then poured smooth nogada dulce (sweet) onto the half closer to the stem. In the photo, you can easily see the dividing line between the two nogadas.

At Azul Histórico, the chiles en nogada are served without being capeados (covered with the egg batter that traditionally coats the chiles in Puebla). Many prefer them with the fried-batter coating; I prefer them without. After the waiter bathes the chile with its walnut sauce(s), he garnishes it with seasonal pomegranate seeds and then with a sprig of parsley. Voilà, presenting Su Majestad el Chile en Nogada!

You can see the rich filling inside the chile. Last week's Mexico Cooks! article gives you an excellent recipe to make your own chiles en nogada. If you try it, please let us know how delicious it was!

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.
8 de August de 2020
Seasonal Chiles en Nogada, Available NOW Through September 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 (a kind of walnut grown in Mexico), 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 the end of September (or occasionally early October), seasonal local fruits, fresh pomegranates, and newly harvested walnuts make chiles en nogada possible. Mildly spicy chiles poblano, stuffed with a fruity picadillo and topped with richly creamy walnut sauce, pomegranate seeds, and chopped parsley, 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 (preferably Bosque or a distant second choice, 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–this year's harvest, if you can find some at your local market
- 4 Tbsp slivered blanched almonds
- 2 Tbsp finely diced biznaga or acitrón (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 ones 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 or eight 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 at Beto Chef Michoacano, Morelia, Michoacán.

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.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.
1 de August de 2020
Beto Chef Michoacán :: Antojitos, Traditional Food, Community Care, and Hearts of Gold

This traditional wood-fired stove is the centerpiece at Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán. The "Beto" is Alberto Ávila Espinoza; in 2016, he and his partner, Luis Eduardo (Lalo) Santiago opened this tiny restaurant in Morelia, Michoacán. With three or four tables for hungry customers and a huge take-out business, the restaurant is also changing the face of its community.

A bit more than a year ago, Chef Beto sent me a friend request on Facebook. We have a lot of mutual friends here in Morelia, and little by little I got to know more about Chef Beto: born in La Piedad, in north-central Michoacán, Chef Beto has lived for many years in Morelia and has worked in several local restaurants before opening his eponymous spot. He knows standard Mexican food preparation, typical and traditional Michoacán cooking, as well as Mexican seafood dishes and Argentine cuisine. Chef Beto and Lalo, partners in life as well as in business, have made a great success of their work together.

Over the course of several months, Chef Beto frequently messaged me to urge me to come to his restaurant, to see what he was doing there. He told me about some of his dishes, and everything sounded terrific. His place is on the western outskirts of Morelia, I don't have a car, and public transportation to get there isn't simple. I am ashamed to admit that I put off going, telling him yes yes I want to go to your place–and then putting it off again. About two weeks ago, after not hearing from Chef Beto for several months, there he was in my Messenger again, asking if I could come soon. Luisa's work schedule was such that she had time to go one day last week, and I told Beto we'd be there for a meal and some conversation.

Lalo seated us and I asked Chef Beto for a recommendation of what was delicious on the menu. His suggestion was to order his famous mole de guayaba (guava mole). He generously brought us a taste of it before we chose our meals: the 'taste' was a corunda (a Michoacán-specific traditional triangular tamal–if you look at the photo, to the left of the spoon you can see a tiny white corner of the corunda), covered with the mole de guayaba (above). Both the corunda and the mole were sensational, truly sensational. Between us, Luisa and I gobbled them down.

The "after" shot–what I really wanted to do was pick up the plate and lick it, but I restrained myself.

Here's a link to a recent video about Chef Beto's fantastic mole de guayaba:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-V4WCdIAqek&feature=youtu.be

The menu at Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán is lengthy and making a choice of what to eat was difficult. People at the table next to us were eating another Michoacán specialty, a chavindeka, and it looked so good that we ordered one to share, along with a bowl of sopa tarasca (yet another Michoacán traditional dish) to split.

Chef Beto's sopa tarasca, accompanied by a large pitcher of agua fresca de hierbabuena (a refreshing "fresh water" made with natural mint). Sopa tarasca is a bean-based soup served with fried tortilla strips, fried chile ancho, cheese, and a big dollop of Mexican table cream.

Our huge order of chavindeka (on the right), accompanied by refried beans and made-to-order guacamole. The chavindeka is a street food specialty from Michoacán's Tierra Caliente (hot lowlands). Chef Beto and Lalo prepare it with two large house-made corn tortillas, slightly crisped (in a bit of lard) on the griddle; the filling is grilled strips of tender beef and melting Oaxaca cheese. After toasting on the griddle, the chavindeka is cut into four large triangles for serving.

Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán is a delightful restaurant with really delicious food–AND has a huge community-oriented focus that makes the owners, their staff, and their friends genuine heroes, working to better the terribly difficult times their neighbors are living. Economic trouble is rife in the area; due to Covid-19, many who live in the large fraccionamiento (housing development) where the restaurant is located have lost their jobs. There are many, many needy elderly and incapacitated residents as well.

About four months ago, Chef Beto and Lalo and their group decided to share a comedor comunitario (a community-based dining room) serving the most needy people in Villas del Pedregal and other colonias (neighborhoods). The decision was based on the restaurant's own struggle to survive during the Covid-19 lockdown here in Michoacán. The restaurant team decided, "We don't have business in the restaurant right now, but we have food available. Small business owners and private individuals will help us help others." For the last four months, Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán has depended on donations from individuals, stores, and businesses to prepare free meals for anyone who needed them. During that time, open Monday through Friday for food delivery and pick-up by the needy, the minuscule restaurant served 300 free meals PER DAY to anyone who showed up or who asked for delivery. No proof of need was requested; this was the philosophy put into action at the restaurant.

Today, the restaurant is still providing free meals to "abuelitos" (literally, grandparents–but it's a generalized term that includes all elderly). In addition, donations of mattresses, blankets, unused unexpired medicines, and foods (cooking oil, raw rice, dried beans, lentils, bread, crackers, boxed juices, as well as fresh fruits and vegetables) are given to anyone in need. The day that Luisa and I were there, a big (I mean big) donation of freshly made doughnuts arrived. Chef Beto immediately put out the word that they were available and people started showing up. Ten or more people arrived with plastic bags, with plates and bowls, with whatever they could use to take doughnuts home, and everyone went away happy.

An elderly woman is choosing what she needs for preparing a meal from staple goods donated to the Comedor Comunitario. Chef Beto also gives away fresh produce donated by local sources.

Pan bolillo (freshly baked small white bread loaves), donated to the Comedor Comunitario. One of these small breads (half of the two baked together) costs literally 3 or 4 pesos–but that amount, multiplied by the number of loaves in those two crates, adds up and becomes meaningful to Beto and to the recipients.

On the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, Chef Beto fills a woman's bucket with tamales, hot out of the tamalera (tamales steamer). Her family ate well that day.

Chef Beto gave me permission to use this logo, which he has posted on his Facebook page. Above the logo, Chef Beto wrote, "¿Tienes cosas en tu casa que no ocupas y quieres donar? Colchones en buen estado, ropa, abarrotes, trastes, estufas, etc. Nosotros los recibimos para donar a abuelitos." (Do you have things in your home that you don't use and would like to donate? Mattresses in good condition, clothing, groceries, dishes, stoves, etc. We will receive them to donate to the elderly.) Chef Beto also gave me permission to request money donations to help support his tremendously important charitable work. He doesn't have a PayPal account, but I told him I'd ask all of my beloved readers to donate to MY PayPal account (in any country's currency) and I'll personally take the money to him (in Mexican pesos).

No amount is too small; every peso goes a long way toward feeding the needy. My personal preference is ALWAYS to make charitable donations in Mexico directly into the hand of the person doing the charitable work, and I commit to all of you that any donations to Beto will be immediately turned over to him to use as needed for the benefit of the elderly and needy. Your donations will be received with joy and gratitude. Please help support this truly selfless effort.

The bottom line about Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán: the food is delicious, the atmosphere is strictly casual, the love is palpable, and the charitable work they do is beyond reproach. If you can't come to Michoacán right now, send money to my PayPal (it's listed below) to help Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán support those who have next to nothing. If you're IN Michoacán right now, let me know when you'd like to go to the restaurant and we'll make sure you get there. And if your heart simply goes out to those in dire need, any donation will be used with other donations to alleviate that need. Be part of this seed of selfless love from Chef Beto, his partner Lalo Santiago, and the rest of the crew to the elderly and poor in Villas del Pedregal, Morelia, Michoacán–Michoacán, the soul of México.

Left to right: Carlos Alberto Guerra (aka "the other Beto", because his nickname is the same as the chef's), Luisa Ruiz Montiel, Sra. Eloisa Serrata Martínez, who untiringly helps cook and clean up and who is known with great affection as doña Licha), Chef Beto, and Mexico Cooks!.

Antojitería Beto Chef Michoacán
To make a donation to the Comedor Comunitario: PayPal account patalarga@gmail.com
Calle Cinco #30, near the corner of Calle Murano
Fraccionamiento Villas del Pedregal
Hours: 2:00PM – 6:00PM Wednesdays
2:00PM – 10:00PM Thursdays thru Sundays
Phone: 443-360-5037
Go to the restaurant to eat or for takeout, or call to request delivery.

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

25 de July de 2020
Vanilla :: Its Origins and Its Production in Papantla, Veracruz, Mexico

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

11 de July de 2020
Mexico’s Rebozo (Shawl), Witness to Life :: El Rebozo Mexicano, Testigo a la Vida

Young girl from Oaxaca, wrapped in her rebozo (a long rectangular shawl). Photo courtesy my friend, the photographer Carlos Esteban Medina Sánchez.

A friend recently gave me a copy of an old and anonymous Mexican poem, written in Spanish, in homage to the rebozo. The rebozo's importance to Mexican women cannot be exaggerated: from swaddled infancy to shrouded death, a rebozo accompanies our women throughout their days. It is at once warmth, shade, infant's cradle, cargo-bearer, fancy dress, screen for delicious flirtation, and a sanctuary from prying eyes.

Enjoy my translation.

Michoacán-made rebozos and guitar, on exhibit in Morelia. Note the elaborate fringes on both rebozos. The traditional Purépecha indigenous rebozo is striped dark blue, black, and white. Legend says that in this typical Michoacán rebozo, the blue is the blue of the Spanish eye, the black is the black of the Spanish hair, and the white is the ray of the sun. All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise mentioned.

My Rebozo

Rummaging through my closet one fine day
I found this garment—my old rebozo!
How long had it been resting there?
Even I can’t say exactly.
But seeing it brought back so many memories
Tears clouded my eyes and fell one by one as I held
My beloved rebozo!

Rebozos made in Tenancingo, in the State of Mexico and exhibited in Coyoacán, Mexico City, several years ago.

What a faithful friend you have been.
Shall we relive just an instant of that far-distant past?
When I first showed you off, you were so beautiful, so new,
With your lively color and flowing fringe
Your reflection gleamed in the mirror like the morning star!

Dear friends Adán Paredes and Diana Miller during their February 2015 Zapotec wedding, wrapped together in a rebozo to symbolize their unity.

Come on, come on, let me fling you over my heart
The way I did in bygone years,
Next to this heart that disappointment has turned to ash!
Don’t you remember that beautiful blouse I wore,
Embroidered with poppies and carnations?
Don’t you remember all my triumphs and successes,
And my flounced skirt, so full of its pretty sequins, beads, and glitter?

Lavender and white rebozo with elaborate fringe. Made by the Aranza, Michoacán, Weaver's Cooperative.

See, tightened to the span of my narrow waist and
Crossed just so over my straight young back
Showing off my fresh round breasts,
With two vertical parallel lines.
We stepped out to the beat of those long-ago songs,
That dance that determined my life.
Your fringes hung down just so!
And the two of us formed one soul.

Finely woven black and red Michoacán rebozo.

How was it that I wanted him? You know!
Rebozo, you heard first how I loved him!
Your fringes were hopeful prisoners of my teeth
While I heard the soft slow songs of love
Oh perverse rebozo, unfaithful friend!
You were my confidante and my hiding place
You pushed me, burning, into romance
Wrapped in your fringes as if they were cherished arms.

Intricately patterned deep red rebozo.

But what’s this I see!
An ugly hole
That looks like a toothless mouth
Bursting out into furious laughter.
You laugh at my romantic memories?
You make fun of my long gone triumphs?
You know that the one who loved me has forgotten me
And that my soul, just like my love, is sacked and plundered?

Purépecha woman in the typical indigenous rebozo of Cherán, Michoacán. She's selling flor de calabaza (squash flowers).

And you—you aren’t even a shadow of what you were
And because we don’t remember what we have been
We are betrayed! Old! Faded!
I’ll throw you in a box with other trash—
You, who are a traitor and so worn out!
How strange and how complicated
Just like you, I also betrayed—sometimes–in little ways!
Those sweet lies and silly nonsense
That made so many of my yesterdays happy.

White and black rebozo fringed with feathers.

Laugh, rebozo! Don’t you see that I’m laughing–not angry?
The tears that spring from these eyes
Are just laughter, nothing more. I’m not crying, I’m laughing!
But how can I be laughing, when I hate you so?
Let your mantel cover my head
The way it did in days long past, when I was possessed
By a kiss so strong, so violent.

Gold and salmon rebozo de gala (fancy dress).

No! I will not throw you away, old rebozo!
You have a soul like mine
A Mexican woman's soul, wild, unmanageable
That will not bend even when faced with death itself!
I will fold you up and keep you in the closet
And there, like a holy relic,
My heart will once again put on
Your flowing fringe.

Purépecha mother and daughter in their finest clothing, including the typical indigenous rebozo from Michoacán. Paracho, Michoacán, 2009.

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

20 de June de 2020
Adobo de Cerdo Huasteco, from the Cookbook “Verde Blanco y Rojo” by Ricardo Muñoz Zurita

Roma tomatoes and onion quarters toasting on a comal (in this case, a cast iron griddle). That little tomato on the right looks downright happy to be toasting.

Several years ago, Mexico Cooks! was thrilled to receive a copy of Chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's newest recetario (cookbook), titled Verde, Blanco, y Rojo en la Cocina Mexicana. Due to the pressures back then (February 2011) of moving and settling into a new and somewhat more frenetic life in Mexico City, the very attractive book sat patiently in the kitchen bookshelf with its 150 or so brother and sister cookbooks, waiting to be chosen. 'Choose me, choose me!' it whispered each time I passed by the shelf. And finally I listened.

Serving-size pieces of maciza de cerdo (lean, fresh pork leg) simmering with onion and garlic.

My friends and I are very fond of traditional Mexican cuisine. Like most people, we have our favorite dishes. And like most people, I have a hard time breaking habits and wading into a new cookbook: it means learning a new format, a new organization of ingredients, and a new dish that I had never prepared.

The first task was reading the recipe all the way through to the end to make sure that I had all of the ingredients and utensils on hand prior to starting to cook and that I understood the order of cooking. It's really no fun at all to start the preparations and discover at the time of need that oops, there is no garlic and ouch, that one bowl I really wanted to use is full of last night's stew. You'll want to organize yourself and prepare your mise en place (all ingredients in place, ready to cook) well before you turn on the stove.

Differentiating between dried chiles ancho and chiles mulato can be confusing. If you open a chile ancho and hold it up to the light, it looks from the inside like red stained glass. The mulato, on the other hand, looks brown when held to the light. It's immediately apparent which this is. Always try to buy chiles that are leathery and flexible, not brittle.

Ingredients
2 kg (approximately 4.5 pounds) lean pork meat, cut into serving-size pieces
1 white onion, cut into quarters
1 head of garlic, split in half
4 liters water
6 tsp salt
8 chiles guajillo
5 large chiles ancho
3 large tomatos, roasted
1/2 white onion, quartered and roasted
5 garlic cloves
2 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp dry Mexican oregano, crumbled
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
4 cloves
3 Tbsp pork lard (you can substitute oil if you can't get real, freshly rendered lard)
1/2 cup white vinegar

Utensils
Comal or griddle
Mesh strainer
Several small or medium-size mixing bowls
Mixing spoons
Heavy-bottom pot with lid
Blender

Toasting the chiles ancho on the comal.

Toasting the chiles guajillo on the comal.

Procedure
Put the pork, onion, and head of garlic in a large pot. Cover with water, add 4 tsp salt and bring to a boil. Lower the heat until the water is down to a simmer and cook until the pork is tender, about an hour. Remove the pork from the water, drain the liquid into a bowl, and reserve both the meat and the cooking liquid for later use.

Remove the stems, seeds, and veins from all of the chiles and discard them. Lightly toast the chiles on the comal, being careful not to burn them. If they turn black, they will be bitter. Soak the toasted chiles in four cups of the reserved cooking liquid from the pork.

Both types of toasted chiles are then soaked for a few minutes in some of the freshly cooked hot pork broth. Both types of chile are very mild on the spicy spectrum, and both are extremely flavorful and complement one another.

Blend the soaked chiles with enough of the cooking liquid to make a smooth, somewhat liquid paste.

Roast the tomatoes, onions, and garlic on the comal, then blend them until they make a very smooth sauce. If necessary for blending, add just a little of the reserved meat cooking liquid. Using the wire mesh strainer, strain into a bowl and reserve.

The mix of various seasonings (foreground), the blended and strained chiles (left rear) and the blended tomato/onion/garlic mixture (right rear).

Using a spice grinder or your blender, grind the cumin, the oregano, the pepper, and the cloves together until they are powdered. Set aside for later use.

Over a high flame, heat the lard or oil in a heavy-bottomed pot until it smokes slightly. Add the ground chiles (splatter alert!) and fry for about 15 minutes or until the mixture is reduced by about one-fourth. Add the blended tomato mixture, the spices, and two tablespoons of salt. When the mixture comes to a boil, lower the fire and allow to simmer until the sauce has reduced a little.

The pork now needs to simmer in the adobo for an hour or more, either in the oven or over a very low fire. The fragrance will drive you crazy, it is so tantalizing.  Mexico Cooks! prepared this recipe on top of the stove using the cast iron comal as a heat diffuser.

Add the meat, the vinegar, and three cups of the reserved meat cooking liquid. Correct the seasonings and cook with the lid ajar over low heat (or bake covered in a 350° oven) for about an hour. The finished sauce should be thick enough to cover the meat without sliding off the pieces.

Adobo de cerdo huasteco, ready to eat! Serve the dish with steamed white rice and plenty of hot-off-the-comal corn tortillas.

The finished recipe also freezes very well.  Mexico Cooks! served half the recipe as comida for six and froze the rest for a later meal.

Serves 12.

The wonderful Spanish-language Verde, Blanco, Rojo en La Cocina Mexicana, written by my friend Chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita of Restaurante Azul/Condesa, Restaurante Azul y Oro, and Restaurante Azul Histórico.

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

13 de June de 2020
Cold Drinks That Tell a Story :: Typical Regional Beverages in Mexico

If you've shopped at any of Mexico's thousands of tianguis (street markets), municipal markets, or fairs, you may have wondered what certain vendors were ladling out of their frosty glass jugs. Those are aguas frescas, made in every fresh fruit flavor you can imagine. In general, these fruit waters are made from purified water and are safe to drink. The aguas frescas in the photo are at Aguas de Casilda, Mercado Benito Juárez, in the city of Oaxaca. This large, beautiful stand is an icon in Oaxaca.

In addition to aguas frescas, there are numerous fresh or fermented drinks along Mexico's way. At various hole-in-the-wall supper restaurants, pineapple tepache is the order of the day, served fizzing with a pinch of bicarbonate of soda. And on the outskirts of one small town as you drive toward Guadalajara, a sign hangs from a guamúchil tree. It reads "Aquí Se Vende Pajarete" (Pajarete Sold Here) and advertises yet another unusual beverage.

Along many highways and byways, you'll regularly see someone selling aguamiel and pulque, the ancient drink of the Aztecs, offered from large jars positioned on a tiny table. By the same token, pulque, both unflavored and curado (flavored with fruit, vegetables, or nuts) is a favorite in bars called pulquerías.

Tuba

Tuba vendor, Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco.

If you've wandered along the magical beaches bordering Mexico's western coastlines, you may have noticed a man with a yoke-like pole across his shoulders, a red painted gourd suspended from the pole by a rope. His cry is "Tuba! Tubaaaaaaaaaaa!" and his hands are full of plastic cups.

In Mexico, tuba is primarily a coastal drink. Several years ago I was surprised to see a tuba vendor at a tianguis in Guadalajara. Later I started seeing the same man selling tuba in Tlaquepaque, and at the Thursday and Sunday artisans' tianguis in Tonalá. If you happen to be in the area, look for him—he's easy to spot, with his bright-red gourd of tuba suspended from a pole across his shoulders.

A glassful of tuba, served with freshly chopped apple, salted peanuts, and ice.

Coconut palm sap is fermented to make the clear, white, sweet wine called tuba. To collect the sap, workers climb the palm tree in the morning and evening and bruise the coconut flower stalk until it starts to ooze its liquid. The stalk is tied with bamboo strips into a special bamboo container to catch the sap. Crushed tanbark from the mangrove tree is dropped into the container to give the sap a reddish color and to hasten its fermentation. As many as three flowers from one coconut tree can be made to yield sap. Each flower produces tuba for two months, after which it dries out and is cut from the tree.

The liquid actually begins to ferment while still in the bamboo container on the tree, but the alcohol content increases considerably with longer fermentation. Tuba quenches the thirst, is good for indigestion, and makes conversation flow easily.

Tejuino

Since long-ago times, cooling tejuino has refreshed Mexico. It's made from the same corn masa (dough) that's used for tortillas and tamales. The prepared masa is mixed with water and piloncillo (cone-shaped Mexican brown sugar) and boiled until the liquid is quite thick. It's then allowed to ferment slightly—but just slightly. I've never known anyone to get so much as a buzz from sipping a cupful of cold tejuino.

Tejuino vendor, Tlaquepaque, Jalisco.

Once the tejuino is thickened and fermented, it's mixed as needed with freshly squeezed jugo de limón (key lime juice), a pinch of salt, water, ice, and a big scoop of lemon sherbet. Just about everywhere in Mexico, it's sold in plastic glasses—small, medium, and large—or in a plastic bag with the top knotted around a drinking straw.

Some people say that tejuino is an acquired taste. I acquired the taste for it the very first time I tried it and often crave it on hot afternoons. There is nothing more refreshing. Fortunately, there was a tejuino vendor just a block from my house in Guadalajara, so I could buy a glassful when the spirit moved me. Cup after cup of freshly prepared tejuino is ladled out to customers every day. Although tejuino is only a slightly sweet drink, the masa base makes tejuino very filling. A small glass is usually very satisfying.

Tejate

Tejate, a cold and foamy nixtamal-ized corn and chocolate drink, is particular to Oaxaca, especially found in the city's markets and in the small towns all around the area. Tejate is very refreshing on a hot day at the market–in this case, at the weekly market in Zaachila, Oaxaca. Compare the size of the jícara (the red enameled bowl afloat in the tejate) to the size of this very large clay vessel.

Tepache

I've found tepache in several cenadurías (restaurants open for supper only, usually from 7:30 PM until midnight) in Mexico, as well as at street stands and, occasionally, market stands. Tepache is simple to make and the ingredients are readily available whether you live North or South of the Border. You might like to try this at home.

Tepache (teh-PAH-cheh)
1 whole pineapple (about 3 pounds)
3 quarts water
1 pound piloncillo or brown sugar
1 cinnamon stick, approximately 3" long
3 cloves

Wash the skin of the pineapple well. Cut off the stem end and discard. Leave the skin on the pineapple and cut the entire fruit into large pieces.

Place the pieces of pineapple in a large container and add two quarts of water, the piloncillo or brown sugar, the cinnamon, and the cloves. Cover and allow to rest in a warm place for approximately 48 hours. The longer you allow the liquid and fruit to rest, the more it will ferment. If you let it sit for longer than 48 hours, taste it periodically to make sure it is not overly fermented, as it will go bad.

Strain the liquid—the tepache—and add the last quart of water.

If you prefer, do not add the last quart of water. Instead, add one cup of beer and allow to rest for another 12 hours.

Strain again and, if you have used the beer, add three cups of water.

Serve cold with ice cubes.

Tepache vendor, Zihuatanejo. You can ask for it plain, or preparado. Preparado includes chamoy (a spicy, sweet, and sour flavor), jugo de limón (fresh-squeezed key lime juice) and some extra chile for spiciness.

At any cenaduría, you can ask for your tepache with a pinch of bicarbonate of soda. You can also add it at home, just before you're ready to drink a glassful. The addition makes the tepache fizz and bubble, and it's said to be extremely good for the digestion. An elderly neighbor of mine swears by it as a heartburn remedy.

Pajarete

In the Mexican countryside, tequila drinking starts as soon as the sun comes up. If you drive Mexican highways early any morning—early, please, when the air is still chilly and cool gray bruma (light fog) clings to the flanks of the mountains of the Central Highlands—look for a small hand painted sign. "Aquí Se Vende Pajarete" (pah-hah-REH-teh) is all it says. The sign may hang from a tree, it may be tacked to a fencepost, and you won't see any indication of a cart or stand.

Aquí se vende pajarete: Pajarete sold here!

Away from the road, behind the trees, past the bushes, just over there by that old wrecked pickup truck, a dairy farmer milks his cows. As he milks the patient cows and they snuffle their hot breath into the misty morning, groups of men (sombrero-wearing men who are real men) gather around the cow lot, each man with his large clay mug. Into each mug go a stiff shot of either charanda (a sugar cane alcohol), mezcal, or tequila, a bit of sugar and some cinnamon-laden Mexican chocolate grated from a round tablet. The mug is then filled with warm milk, freshly squeezed directly into the mug–straight from the cow. More a body-temperature drink than a cold drink, that's pajarete: breakfast of champions.

I don't expect you to whip up most of these six popular drinks in your home kitchen, but I thought you'd love knowing about some of Mexico's really unusual cold drinks.

There are many more interesting and unusual drinks in Mexico, everything from A (acachú, a drink that sounds like a sneeze, made near Puebla from the capulín (wild cherry) to Z (zotol, made in Chihuahua from the sap of wild yucca). Wherever you are in Mexico, you'll find something fascinating to quench your thirst, make you feel more at home in the culture, and give you a story to tell.

A toast to each of you: Salud, dinero, y amor, y tiempo para gozarlos. Health, money, and love, and time to enjoy them.

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

6 de June de 2020