Category: Mexican Tourism

Birriería Chololo Campestre :: Mexico Cooks! Favorite Birria

This week, Mexico Cooks! has once again cranked up the way-back machine for a trip down Memory Lane. This article, and the articles for the last two weeks, are from 2008. The Guadalajara newspaper El Mural asked me to give their reporter a food tour of Guadalajara "as if it were for tourists", and we had a fantastic time going places the reporter and the photographer had never been–in their own city. A short while after the tour, Mexico Cooks! was the big news on the first and subsequent pages of Buena Mesa, El Mural's food section. Here's the last part of the story of where we went and what we ate.

As you drive south of the Guadalajara airport, near the exit for El Salto, you'll see the green tile domes of Birriería Chololo on the west side of the highway. Be sure to stop!

One tiny part of the interior of Birriería Chololo Campestre. The restaurant seats up to 1000 people at a time.

Don Javier Torres Ruíz, grandson of Isidro Torres Hernández, made Birriería Chololo a Guadalajara icon. Don Isidro started the original business selling birria from his bicycle on the side of a street in .

Over 80 years ago, Birriería Chololo started life as a street stand, operated by . His grandson, Javier Torres Ruíz, made a huge success of the family business. Today, there are three Birrierías Chololo run by Don Javier's eight children, grandchildren, and other relatives and the Chololo campestre (countryside), managed by don Fidel Torres Ruiz, is the busiest of the batch. The restaurant, which seats 1000 people (yes, 1000) and turns the tables four times every Sunday, is closed only on the Fridays of Lent and on Christmas Day. Every other day of the year, it's a goat feast.

Birria and frijolitos refritos con queso, for two people. A bowl of consomé is in the background.

The offerings at Birriería Chololo (Chololo is a nickname for Isidro) are pure simplicity. Birria de chivo (goat), consomé (the rich goat broth), frijolitos con queso (refried beans with melted cheese), salsa de molcajete (house-made salsa served in heavy volcanic stone mortars), a quesadilla here and there, and a couple of desserts are the entire bill of fare. The birria, cooked 12 to 14 hours in a clay oven, is prepared to your order, according to the number in your party. You can ask for maciza (just chunks of meat) or surtido (an assortment of meats that includes the goat's tongue, lips, stomach, and tripitas (intestines).

Each order of birria is prepared at the time it's requested. The goat meat is chopped, weighed, mopped with sauce and glazed under the salamander, then brought piping hot to the table.

Birriería Chololo raises its own animals from birth to slaughter. That way, says the founder's nephew Fidel Torres Ruiz, quality control is absolute. The restaurant butchers approximately 700 100-pound animals per week to feed the hungry multitudes.

Salsa de molcajete estilo Chololo: addictive as sin and hotter than Hades. The salsa is served directly in the molcajete (volcanic stone grinding bowl).

The full bar at Chololo serves its liquor in a way you might not have seen at your local watering hole. A bottle of your favorite tipple is set down on your table. A black mark on the open bottle's label indicates where your consumption starts, and at the end of your meal, you're charged for alcohol by the measure.

Consomé, birria, salsa de molcajete, and frijoles refritos con queso.

Some birrierías serve meat and consomé in one plate, but not El Chololo.   Consomé, the heady pot likker rendered from the goats' overnight baking, is served in its own bowl. Before you dip your spoon into the soup, add some fresh minced onions, a pinch of sea salt, a squeeze of limón, and a squirt of the other house-made salsa de chile de árbol on the table, the one in the squeeze bottle. Ask for refills of consomé–they're on the house. Just don't ask for the recipe. It's a closely guarded 100-year-old family secret.

One of the two huge clay ovens for baking birria at Chololo. At Chololo, they take the time and care to prepare the birria with a marinade made of home-made red mole, oranges, and just a touch of chocolate, to add flavor to the meat. It also means fermenting their own pineapple vinegar to give additional flavor to the caldo.

On Sundays and other festive days, roving mariachis brighten up the restaurant's ambiance. Birthday parties, First Communion parties, wedding anniversaries, and other family fiestas are all celebrated at Chololo, and nothing makes a party better than a song or two.   You'll hear Las Mañanitas (the traditional congratulatory song for every occasion) ten times on any given Sunday!

From the front door to the back garden, everything about Birriería Chololo is puro folklor mexicano and wonderfully picturesque.

Note: don Javier Torres Ruiz passed away on February 16, 2016. His family continues to maintain the 100-year-old tradition and quality at Birriería Chololo Campestre and at the restaurant's original location in Las Juntas, at the southern border of Guadalajara. "We're going to continue just as if he were still here," said don Fidel. And so they have.

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

5 de October de 2019
Taco Fish La Paz :: Ensenada-Style Seafood Tacos in Guadalajara

This week, Mexico Cooks! has once again cranked up the way-back machine for a trip down Memory Lane. This article, and the articles for the next two weeks, are from 2008. The Guadalajara newspaper El Mural asked me to give their reporter a food tour of Guadalajara "as if it were for tourists", and we had a fantastic time going places the reporter and the photographer had never been–in their own city. A short while after the tour, Mexico Cooks! was the big news on the first and subsequent pages of Buena Mesa, El Mural's food section. Here's Part 2 of where we went and what we ate.

Taco Fish La Paz is just a couple of carts on the street in Guadalajara, with the kitchen across the way. Mexico Cooks! and El Mural arrived early and beat the crowds. Lines can be up to 30 people long! This famous street stand offers parking and parking assistance, necessary because of the hordes of tapatíos (Guadalajarans) who show up hungry.

This delighted tourist had just flown in from Acapulco. Taco Fish La Paz was her first stop in Guadalajara. Her drink is agua fresca de jamaica, a cold roselle flower (a kind of hibiscus) tea.

A plate of freshly made tacos de pescado (fish tacos). These are garnished with house-made cabbage and carrot slaw and cucumber slices. Taco Fish La Paz also prepares tacos de camarón (shrimp), de marlín ahumado (smoked marlin), and de jaiba (crab).

Choose your condiments and sides from the cart. You'll find chiles toreados con cebollas (chile serrano, grilled till blistered in a little oil), pickled onions, sliced cucumbers, a different slaw, and house-made salsas. Add whatever you like–or all of it–to your tacos.

Our photographer from El Mural was starving! This was his first plate of tacos, but not his last.

Next, the bottled salsa bar, including every table salsa you can imagine, plus freshly-squeezed jugo de limón (Mexican lime juice), mayonesa (mayonnaise), salsa inglesa (Worcestershire sauce), salt, and crema de mesa (table cream, for drizzling over your food), with or without chile.

Freshly fried fish and shrimp at Taco Fish La Paz. Each taco de pescado (fish taco) includes a huge piece of fish. Each taco de camarón (shrimp taco–Mexico Cooks!' favorite) includes three very large fried shrimp. The taco in the tongs is a taco dorado de jaiba–fried crab taco!

It takes hours every day to peel and de-vein the vast quantities of pristinely fresh shrimp eaten at Taco Fish La Paz.

The fish and shrimp are dipped in batter and fried, then carried across the street in tubs to the taco stand.

The day we were at Taco Fish La Paz, the youngest customer was only a month old. What a cutie pie!

Next week: Birriería Campestre Chololo

Taco Fish La Paz
Avenida La Paz 494, corner Calle Donato Guerra
Colonia Mexicaltzingo
Guadalajara
Hours: Monday through Saturday 9:00AM – 4:30PM, closed Sunday

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

28 de September de 2019
El Ostión Feliz in Guadalajara :: Touring With the Newspaper El Mural

This week, Mexico Cooks! has cranked up the way-back machine for a trip down Memory Lane. This article, and the articles for the next two weeks, are from 2008. The Guadalajara newspaper El Mural asked me to give their reporter a food tour of Guadalajara "as if it were for tourists", and we had a fantastic time going places the reporter and the photographer had never been–in their own city. A short while after the tour, Mexico Cooks! was the big news on the first and subsequent pages of Buena Mesa, El Mural's food section. Here's Part 1 of where we went and what we ate.

Denisse Hernández, reporter from Guadalajara's newspaper El Mural, interviews Rosario Reyes Estrada about the coctel de camarón (shrimp cocktail) that Mexico Cooks! proclaims to be the best in Mexico. Behind the two women you can see another tianguis (street market) booth that sells balls and toys.

In February 2008, while Mexico Cooks! was deep in the heart of Chiapas, I received an email saying that El Mural, the prominent Guadalajara newspaper, wanted Mexico Cooks! to guide a reporter and a photographer on an eating tour of…Guadalajara! The initial email from the editor said Mexico Cooks! was the best blog in the blogosphere, they were dying to meet us, and that the article would be featured in an upcoming Buena Mesa, El Mural's Friday food section. Flattery will get you everywhere, so of course we said a delighted YES.

Sra. Reyes, her family, and a small staff operate El Ostión Feliz.

Mexico Cooks! met reporter Denisse Hernández and a staff photographer in downtown Guadalajara and off we went on our eating outing. Our first stop was westernmost Guadalajara's enormous Tianguis del Sol, an outdoor market specializing in sales of everything from bales of gently used clothing shipped in from the United States, to replacement parts for your blender, to incredible prepared food and every possible raw ingredient to cook at home. What a delirious experience!

When I was first living in Guadalajara, a dear friend introduced me to Rosario Reyes Estrada at her mariscos stand, El Ostión Feliz (the Happy Oyster). Sra. Reyes is at the Tianguis del Sol every day it's open, serving concoctions of fresh fish and seafood. Her tiny booth, where about eight hungry diners at a time sit on plastic stools at a long, oilcloth-covered table, is definitely where the desayuno (breakfast) and almuerzo (brunch) action is. We've been eating her coctel de camarón (shrimp cocktail) for years, and as far as Mexico Cooks! is concerned, it's the best in Mexico. We don't know what magic ingredient she incorporates into the coctel (she swears her only secret is the use of the absolutely freshest ingredients), but from the first bite several years ago, we were instantly addicted.

Look at the size of the shrimp in that soup spoon! Each of doña Rosario's cocteles de camarón includes a dozen shrimp like that.

A Mexican coctel de camarón resembles a shrimp cocktail from the United States or Canada only in that both are made with shrimp. When asked for her recipe, doña Rosario, originally from the state of Veracruz, just smiled. This approximation of her coctel will have to satisfy you till you get to Guadalajara.

Coctel de Camarón Estilo Mexicano for Four

Ingredients for Poaching the Shrimp
48 fresh large (U25) shrimp, heads removed and shell on
1 clove garlic
1 stick celery, with leaves if possible
1 carrot, washed but not peeled
1 medium white onion, peeled
1 Roma tomato
1 chile serrano, split from tip almost to stem
A few stems of cilantro

Ingredients for composing the coctel
Caldo (broth) reserved from cooking shrimp
Sea salt to taste
1 cup tomato catsup (yes, catsup, really)
1 Tbsp minced white onion per serving
1 Tbsp minced Roma tomato per serving
1 Tbsp minced cucumber per serving
1/2 tsp minced chile serrano
Roughly chopped cilantro to taste
Ripe avocado
Mexican limes, halved and seeded
Salsa de mesa (table salsa) such as
     Cholula, Valentina, Búfalo, etc.
     DO NOT USE TABASCO!

What You Might Not Have On Hand
Ice cream soda glasses–optional, but authentic for serving

Procedure
In simmering water, poach the shrimp, along with the garlic, celery, carrot, onion, tomato, chile serrano, and cilantro until the shrimp are just done, firm and pink but still tender. Discard the vegetables from the caldo. Reserve and cool the caldo de camarón (poaching liquid) for later use. Be careful: a friend of mine poached his shrimp and drained it into the kitchen sink–without a bowl under the strainer–inadvertently pouring all the cooking liquid down the drain! Be sure to put a container under your strainer.

Shell the shrimp, cover, chill, and reserve.

At serving time, mix the catsup, the reserved, chilled caldo de camarón (shrimp broth), and sea salt to taste.   Add a squeeze of fresh Mexican lime juice.

In each ice cream soda glass or other large glass, put the indicated quantities of minced onion, tomato, cucumber, chile serrano, and chopped cilantro. Add 12 shrimp to each glass. Pour the catsup/caldo de camarón mixture to cover all ingredients.

Serve with sliced or diced avocado. At the table, offer Mexican lime halves for those who prefer a limier flavor, a small dish of sea salt, a dish of minced chile serrano and another of chopped cilantro for those who prefer more, and a salsa de mesa or two for those who like more picante (HEAT!).

A coctel de camarón is traditionally served with saltine crackers and tostadas, those crunchy fried or dehydrated salty, crisp tortillas. Tostadas are usually rubbed with the cut side of a squeezed lime for added flavor. Buen provecho!

The lovely Sra. Josefina Naranjo of Guadalajara has eaten at El Ostión Feliz for years, going every Friday to enjoy doña Rosario's fish and seafood.

The assortment of doña Rosario's salsas includes Valentina (in the bottle), a house-made salsa of cucumber, onion, and chile habanero (in the bowl), a green avocado/cilantro salsa, and my favorite, the little jar of hotter-than-the-hinges-of-hell salsa de ajonjolí (sesame seed) and chile de árbol. This one is so popular that doña Rosario sells it to take home. Mexico Cooks! wouldn't be without a jar of this salsa muy picante in the refrigerator.

Tianguis del Sol
Avenida Copérnico at the corner of Avenida Tepeyac
Colonia Chapalita
Guadalajara
Open: Every Wednesday, Friday, Sunday 7:00AM – 3:00PM
Wear comfortable shoes and clothing
Paid parking on the premises–be sure not to lose your ticket!

Next week with Mexico Cooks! and "El Mural": Taco Fish La Paz.

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

21 de September de 2019
Celebrating Mexico’s Independence :: History, Parades, and an All-Night Party

Street vendors hawk la bandera nacional (the Mexican flag) in dozens of forms for several weeks during August and right up to September 16, Mexico's Independence Day. It's always fun to see what's the latest item for sale in patriotic tchotchkes. In this photo, you see a vendor near the zócalo (Plaza de la Constitución) in Mexico City. Photo courtesy Starmedia.

Although the entire month of September is dedicated to Mexican independence from Spain, Mexico's official struggle for freedom from Spanish colonization began sometime between midnight and dawn on September 16, 1810, when Father Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla gave the Grito de Dolores (Cry of Dolores) from the parish bell tower in the town known today as Dolores Hidalgo, Guanajuato. Mexico celebrates its day of Fiestas Patrias (Patriotic Holidays) on September 16 with parades of school children and military battalions, politicians proclaiming speeches, and general festivity.

Another flag vendor, this time in Morelia, Michoacán. This man was already out selling flags and other Independence-related items just before the end of August 2019. All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Hundreds of books have been written about Mexico's break from Spain, millions of words have been dedicated to exploring the lives of the daring men and women who knew, more than 200 years ago, that the time had come for freedom. You can read some of the history on the Internet. Another excellent source for Mexican history is The Life and Times of Mexico, by Earl Shorris. You'll find that book available to order through Amazon.com, on the left-hand side of this page.

Jalisco town kiosko (bandstand) decorated for the Fiestas Patrias.

For years I've attended the September 15 celebrations in a variety of towns and cities. In Mexico City, the country's president leads hundreds of thousands of citizens in late-night celebrations in the zócalo, the enormous square surrounded by government buildings and the Metropolitan Cathedral. Every Mexican town big enough to have a mayor holds a reenactment of the Grito de Dolores, Hidalgo's cry for independence. The town square is decorated with flags, bunting, and ribbons. Cohetes (sky rockets) flare and bang. Sometime around eleven o'clock at night, the folks, assembled in the town plaza since nine or so, are restless for the celebration to begin. The mayor's secretary peeks out from the doorway of the government offices, the folkloric dancers file off the stage in the plaza, the band tunes up for the Himno Nacional (the national anthem), the crowd waves its flags and hushes its jostling. The president or the mayor steps out onto the balcony of the government building or onto the stage built just outside the building's front door to lead the singing of the Himno's emotional verses.

The bandera monumental (gigantic national flag) and celebratory fireworks in front of Mexico's Palacio Nacional, on the zócalo, Mexico City, September 15, 2015. Photo courtesy press.

Dressed in his finest and backed up by a military or police guard, the mayor clears his throat and loudly begins an Independence Day proclamation. He pulls a heavy rope to ring the Independence bell, then he waves a huge Mexican flag. Back and forth, back and forth! In every Mexican town, the proclamation ends with Hidalgo's 209-year-old exhortations: "Long live religion! Long live Our Lady of Guadalupe! Long live the Americas and death to the corrupt government! Long live the heroes of our Independence! Viva México! Qué viva!"

Father Hidalgo's 1810 banner, with an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe and the words, "Viva la Santísma de Guadalupe!". He carried this banner as his standard as a leader in the fight for Mexico's independence from Spain. Photo courtesy Pinterest.

The mayor and the crowd shout as one voice: "Viva México! Qué viva! Qué viva!" The mayor grins and waves as the fireworks begin, bursting huge green, white, and red chrysanthemums over the heads of the attendees.

Later there will be dancing and more music, and food, including traditional pozole, tostadas, mezcal, tequila and beer, and, in larger towns and cities, all-night revelry in the plaza, in private homes, and in hotels, restaurants, and events halls.

The best-kept secret in Mexico is the Independence Day party. No, the biggest deal is not on September 16th. Held every year on the night of September 15, the Gran Noche Mexicana (the Great Mexican Night), the real celebration of the revolutionary events in 1810, is a combination of New Year's Eve, your birthday, and your country's independence festivities.

Wouldn't you really rather hear about the party? I knew you would!

A number of years ago my friend, música ranchera singer Lupita Jiménez from Guadalajara, invited me to a Gran Noche Mexicana where she was performing. The event was scheduled to start at 9:30, but Mexican custom normally dictates late arrival. By ten o'clock I was on my way to the party. At the salón de eventos (events hall), the parking lot was already full, but a man was parking cars on the street just a block away. As I left my car, he said, "Could you pay me now for watching your car? It's 20 pesos. I'll be leaving a little early, probably before the event is over."

"How long will you be here?" I asked, a bit anxious about leaving the car unattended on this night of prodigious revelry.

Lupita Jiménez in performance at a Gran Noche Mexicana in Guadalajara.

"Till six o'clock." My jaw dropped and I handed him the 20 pesos. Six in the morning! Surely we wouldn't party quite so long as that!

The sad truth is that I didn't. I couldn't. My stamina flagged at about 3:00 AM, after dinner had been served at 10:30, a city politician had proclaimed the Grito, the Himno Nacional (national anthem) had been sung, and big noisy fireworks had been set off on the indoor stage (I swear to you, indoors) of the salón de eventos. Then the show started, a brief recapitulation in song and dance of Mexican history, starting with concheros (loincloth-and-feather-clad Aztec dancers) whirling around a fire-belching volcano, and ending with the glorious jarabe tapatía, the regional dance of Guadalajara that most English-speakers call the Mexican hat dance.

Danzante conchero (concha dancer). The dancers are called concheros because the lead dancer blows a conch (a large mollusk shell) to call spirits to the dance. Photo courtesy Dreamstime.com.

After innumerable trios, duets, and solo singers, the show paused for intermission at close to two in the morning. Several of my table-mates slipped away, but I thought I could make it to the end. The first half of the Gran Noche Mexicana had been invigorating and exciting and I loved it. During intermission, a wonderful Mexican comedian poked fun at politics, functionaries, and Mexican life in general. We were all roaring with laughter. When the comic left the stage, I realized that I was exhausted and needed to go home to bed. Just as the performers stepped onto the stage to begin the next round of song, I sneaked away.

When I called Lupita the next afternoon to congratulate her on the success of the event, she asked if I'd stayed for the last few costume changes. "Mija, I had to go home early. I lasted till three, but then I just couldn't stay awake. I'm so sorry I missed the end."

Lupita laughed. "I'm glad you lasted that long, but next time you have to stay for the whole night! You missed the best part!"

The Palacio Nacional (national office building complex, including the president's offices) on the Zócalo (Plaza de la Constitución) in Mexico City, all dressed up for the Fiestas Patrias.

Viva México! Qué viva!

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

14 de September de 2019
Mexican Pan Dulce :: Sweet Bread for Breakfast, Sweet Bread for Supper, Sweet Bread In Between

Steaming hot café con leche (expresso coffee mixed with hot milk), served with a basket of Mexico's pan dulce (sweet bread). I took this photo many, many years ago–so long ago I don't remember when–in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán at Restaurante Don Rafa, when don Rafa was still living and had served me and my companion cafe con leche and a basket of pan dulce to start our breakfast. I still miss him, and may he rest in peace.

In early 2000, when my mother visited me here in Mexico, one of her dearest wishes was to visit a Mexican bakery. For more than 40 years, Mom baked every crumb of bread that she and her guests consumed: white, rye, whole wheat, pumpernickel, sourdough, French baguette, and esoteric ethnic loaves that she just had to try. Mother wanted to see how bread baking was done in Mexico. She even arrived with her baking apron, hoping to push her hands deep into some yeasty dough.

In those years, there was a tiny wholesale bakery in a garage just a block from my house. Shortly after Mom's arrival, I took her to meet don Pedro, the master baker, and his helpers. For two hours that afternoon, don Pedro and my mother swapped bread stories—conversation about oven temperatures, yeast, flour densities, protein content, and tales of experiments, successes and failures.

Don Pedro spoke no English and my mother spoke no Spanish, but I interpreted between them and they discovered that they were soul mates. The day before Mother was to leave for home, I took her to say goodbye to don Pedro. They both cried and insisted that pictures be taken before they exchanged farewell hugs. Such is the bond of bread.

Bread fresh from the oven: the evocative aroma brings back timeworn memories of Mom's kitchen, filled with the yeasty perfume of twice-raised, golden-crusted hot bread. Here in Mexico, that redolent scent wafts through the air from bakeries scattered like hidden treasures through many neighborhoods. At certain hours of the early morning and mid-to-late afternoon, barrio ovens disgorge mountains of pan dulce (sweet bread) destined for tiny corner mom-n-pop stores or for sale to individuals.

For a few pesos, an early breakfast of bread served with milk, juice, hot chocolate, or coffee gets Mexico up and off to work or school. For a few pesos more, the same sort of late supper rocks Mexico to sleep.

In the history of the world, bread has its own record and development. The making of wheat bread has evolved with the progress of world civilization. Particularly in gastronomic Mexico, bread has deep roots in the evolution of the República. The Spanish brought wheat and wheat flour to Nueva España to make communion hosts for the Catholic churches they established here. Soon followed the flavors and recipes of all Europe, arriving with the Spanish to the New World. The 1860s era of Emperor Maximilian and his French wife, Charlotte, imposed a giddy 19th century French influence on our more rustic breads—with the advent of puff pastries, whipped cream fillings, and sticky glazes, the already extensive assortment of Mexican breads expanded even more.

Tasty sugar-swirled conchas (shells) are ubiquitous throughout Mexico. Take a good look at the curved form of the top of the concha and then look at the photo below.

This is the kind of baker's mold that makes the curved lines in the sugar topping. Gently pressed into the sugar, it leaves its print. I purchased two of these as a gift to my Mom; they hung in her kitchen until she passed away. When my sister and I cleaned out her home, I brought them back to Mexico as a memory of her.

During the Mexican Revolution, soldiers from every region of Mexico came to know the foods of states far from their homes. When they returned to their own areas after the fighting, they took the recipes and flavors of other regions home with them. The south of Mexico incorporated northern bread recipes into its repertoire, the west took from the east, the north from the south.

Today, most panaderías (bakeries) in Mexico prepare similar assortments of pan dulce, along with a sampling of their own regional specialties.

Puerquitos (also called marranitos, little pigs, on the right) taste very much like gingerbread.

It's been said that Mexico, of all the countries in the world, has the broadest and most delicious selection of breads. As a result of the mixture of cultures and regional flavors, today in Mexico you will find more than 2000 varieties of breads, and all will tempt your palate.

Pan dulce is just one variety, but there are hundreds upon hundreds of different sub-varieties. The great mosaic of Mexican bread making, inventiveness, and creativity is such that every variety of pan dulce has a name, usually associated with its appearance. That's why you'll see names of animals, objects, and even people gracing the breads on bakery shelves. Puerquitos or marranitos (little pigs), moños o corbatas (bowties or neckties), ojo de buey (ox eye), canastas (baskets), conchas (shells), cuernitos (little horns), chinos (Chinese), polvorones (shortbread), hojaldres (puff paste), empanadas (turnovers), and espejos (mirrors): all are names of specific and very different sweet breads. My current favorite name for a pan dulce is niño envuelto (it means wrapped-up baby and it looks for all the world like a slice of jellyroll).

If you've never visited a Mexican bakery—a bakery where the breads are baked right on the premises—you have a real treat in store. One of my favorite bakeries is owned by the Rojas family, in Ajijic, Jalisco. When the bolillos (crusty white rolls) come out of the oven in the early mornings and again when the roles (cinnamon rolls—they're addictive) are ready at about 12:30 PM, you'll find lines of locals waiting to carry home a bag of hot, fresh goodies. The Rojas family bakery used to be called "the secret bakery", because the only identifying sign was a tiny wood rectangle at the entrance to a dead-end alley–well, that and the incredible fragrance of baking bread, wafting from the ovens.

At the Rojas bakery, the bakers will help you select the breads you want. There are no bakers' shelves at Rojas, and the selection of items is usually small. Most of the breads are delivered to shops and stores shortly after they're taken from the ovens. Larger Mexican bakeries can be a little intimidating when you first push that front door open and enter a warm, fragrant world of unfamiliar sights and smells.

Unsweetened biscochos are very similar to biscuits. Lately, a lot of these are being prepared with sugar as an ingredient. I prefer them without, and I can't find those now!

Panadería El Resobado in Coatepec, Veracruz, has been baking bread for over 130 years. Truly, 130 years! Two friends and I were there, at the recommendation of another friend, about three years ago. We took our tongs and trays and gathered up bags and bags full of pan dulce, more sweet bread than we could have eaten in a week!

These are just the conchas at Panadería El Resobado–and just some of them, not all. The multi-level shelves stretched across two long rooms.

Two of us sneaked into the back room at El Resobado–we thought we had heard a 'meow', and sure enough, these were only two of the several kitties who live in the back, near the ovens.

Another recent bakery excursion was to Panadería Pan Bueno, located at Avenida Vallarta #5295 in Guadalajara. The owner, Sr. Roberto Cárdenas González, graciously allowed me to take photographs with the assistance of his employee, Edith Hernández González.

When you go inside Pan Bueno, take a minute to look around first to orient yourself. Right there by the door are the big metal trays and the tongs you need to gather up the breads you want to buy. With tray and tongs in hand, it's good to take a tour of the racks of pan dulce so you can decide what you want.

Polvorones de Nuez are an old standard Mexican recipe that many of you know in the United States and Canada as Mexican Wedding Cookies. They're easy to make and are absolutely melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Somehow they always manage to disappear first from any tray of assorted homemade cookies.

Polvorones de Nuez
Mexican Wedding Cookies

Preheat oven to 275 degrees.

Ingredients
1 1/2 cups (3/4 pound) butter (room temperature)
3/4 pound powdered sugar
1 egg yolk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup finely chopped almonds or pecans
3 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

Beat the butter until it is light and fluffy. Then beat in 2 tablespoons of the powdered sugar, the egg yolk, vanilla, and your choice of nuts. Gradually add the flour, beating after each addition to blend thoroughly. Pinch off pieces of dough the size of large walnuts and roll between your palms into round balls. Place the dough balls 1 1/2 inches apart on ungreased baking sheets. Flatten each ball very slightly.

Bake in a 275 degree oven until very lightly browned (about 45 minutes). Remove from the oven and place the baking sheets on wire racks. Allow to cool on the baking sheets until lukewarm.

Sift half the remaining powdered sugar onto a large sheet of waxed paper. Roll each cookie gently but firmly in the sugar. Place cookies on wire racks over wax paper. Allow the cookies to cool completely and again dust generously with more powdered sugar.

If you make these cookies ahead of need, store them in airtight containers, layered between sheets of waxed paper, for up to three days.

Makes approximately three dozen cookies.

This is Edith, who walked with me to make the rounds of the bakery, I asked her if she knew the origin of any of the names for pan dulce. With a charming smile, she admitted that they were just traditional inventos—made up titles. When I asked her if she ever got tired of eating pan dulce, she shook her head emphatically. "Oh no, señora, we always love the pan"

You will always love the pan as well. And now, if you'll excuse me, a slice of niño envuelto is calling to me from my kitchen. How could I have resisted buying a pan dulce or two as I made the bakery tour? All right, it was four—but who's counting?

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7 de September de 2019
Preserving Purépecha Life and Culture: Finding the Joy of Native Language Part 2

Adolescent boys walk the length of Santa Fe de la Laguna's Purépecha vocabulary-teaching wall. See the sombrero (hat) to their right? In Purépecha, it's kájtsikua. Just as in Spanish, a written accent of the type over the 'a' in kájtsikua means that the stress of pronunciation falls on that letter. KAJ-tsi-kua.

Last week, Mexico Cooks! taught you the Purépecha names of various animals and insects. Today, we're going into the home and its garden to learn a few more words for common household items. All photos by my travel companion, Pamela Gordon, unless otherwise noted.

Native Mexican comestibles from the milpa (family food-growing parcel of land) include the calabaza (squash). In Purépecha, it's purhu.

Purépecha cooking includes the use of several varieties of yellow, red, white, or blue corn, all native to Michoacán and all grown in the milpa for family use. Each portion of the corn plant from tassel to stalk has a specific name; this elote (fresh ear of corn) is tíriapu.

Many species of wild mushrooms appear during Michoacán's summer rainy season. Here's an hongo silvestre (wild mushroom)–terekua—a common ingredient in soups and Purépecha guisados (stew-like dishes).

Handmade cucharas de madera (wooden spoons)–yurhesï–are some of the most-used utensils in a Purépecha cook's battery of equipment. Remember that the umlaut over the letter 'i' changes the pronunciation of the letter 's' to 'sh'. Yurhe-shi.

Here's a hand-carved bastón (cane). Now you know that in Purépecha, it's a t'óndasï. This type cane is commonly used by people who need aid for their balance or gait, and by dancers who use canes as part of their costumes.

Michoacán's iconic dancers, complete with t'óndasï: la Danza de los Viejitos (the Dance of the Little Old Men). Photo courtesy Google Images.

A rendering of the Purépecha woman's typical rebozo (rectangular fringed shawl): in Purépecha, atache. The atache has multiple uses: wrap yourself in it for warmth, fold it and put it on top of your head for shade, use it as a scarf, and wrap it around yourself in different ways to carry firewood, purchases from the market, large and bulky items, and most especially, a baby. Babies are wrapped close to their mothers' bodies from the time they're born until they are mid-toddler age. The legend of this rebozo tells us that 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.

You know the old adage: a new escoba (broom) sweeps clean. In Purépecha, it's a p'ankua. This charming painting lets you believe that the brand-new broomstick still has a leaf attached!

Ah, kawikua (hard liquor)! In Michoacán, we make and drink charanda (a very strong sugar cane liquor), mezcal (made from maguey cactus), and to a lesser degree, tequila. Here's an old Mexican toast to repeat as you raise and lower your glass, and before you sip your kawikua: Arriba! Abajo! Al centro! Adentro! (Up! Down! In the middle! And down the hatch!) Today, we're toasting the Purépecha language.

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31 de August de 2019
Preserving Purepecha Life and Culture: Finding the Joy of Native Language Part 1

A portion of the language-teaching wall in Santa Fe de la Laguna, Michoacán.

About four years ago, Mexico Cooks! and a friend spent a glorious day in Santa Fe de la Laguna, Michoacán. We walked in the village, basking like lizards in the warm sun, slipping into one tiny shop and then another searching for the best rebozo (a type of shawl) for her. We stepped into the welcome shady patio of an artisan friend, a potter. When we finished at the potter's home, we took our time ambling to the car. Turning a corner, we found ourselves face to face with a vocabulary lesson!

In the Purépecha language, misitu means gato, or cat, if you speak English.

I am always surprised by the number of well-educated people, both native Mexican Spanish-speakers and people whose native language is English, who believe that Mexico's indigenous people speak dialects of Spanish. Consider that the indigenous groups of what is now Mexico lived on this land for thousands of years before the arrival of the Spanish. Until the 16th century, no one in what is now Mexico spoke Spanish. Each indigenous group spoke its own language and each group continues, to one degree or another, to use that language today. Here's a link to a list of the indigenous languages spoken in today's Mexico: Mexico's indigenous languages.

Tindi is the mosca–the common house fly.

In the state of Michoacán, four indigenous languages are spoken. The most common is Purépecha, with approximately 100,000 native speakers. Next is Mazahua, with nearly 4,000 speakers, followed by 2700 coastal region speakers of Nahúatl. Approximately 600 people in the easternmost part of the state speak Otomí.

Purépecha is considered to be an isolate language, with no connection to any other language spoken in the region, in the country, or in any other country. Linguists have found only remote ties to the Quechua language in Perú.

Xanchaki: the burro, or donkey.

Kuanasï is the rana–the frog. Note the umlaut over the letter ï. Because of the umlaut, the pronunciation of the preceding 's' becomes 'sh'. Kuanashi!

Axuni, or venado–the deer.

Most Purépecha children learn their parents' native language as a first language, often learning Spanish only after they are well on the way through primary school. Although Purépecha has been a written language since the 16th century, standard written Purépecha only began to come into existence in 1939. Even now there is no consensus as to how the language should be written.

Uakasï, the vaca–the cow. Note that uakasï is pronounced with the 'sh' sound.

Utuksï, the caracol–snail! Now you know how to pronounce that sï at the end of the word.

Like all of the languages native to what is now Mexico, Purépecha is in danger of becoming extinct. Fortunately, both the state government as well as the native speakers understand the cultural and historic importance of keeping the language alive. It's taught in primary schools for the first three years. Once a child starts fourth grade, classes are bilingual Purépecha and Spanish.

K'útu is the tortuga–the turtle.

Puki is the jaguar–the big native cat. Its scientific name is Panthera onca, and it is the only big cat native to the Americas. In this painting, you see a person dressed in the jaguar dance costume, rather than the actual animal.

Here's my very own house-Puki! I named him after the Purépecha tiger, of course.

Come back next week for Part 2! See you here.

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24 de August de 2019
Another Year Has Passed :: Time for Chiles en Nogada (Stuffed Poblano Chiles in Walnut Sauce)
It's that time of year again: time for chiles en nogada! The photo above is of beautifully home-prepared chiles en nogada, as presented several years ago at a traditional food exhibition in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

This year's freshly harvested and peeled nuez de castilla (walnuts), an essential for seasonal chiles en nogada. The nut meats must be perfectly white, with no pieces of the papery brown peel left at all. This step is the fiddley-est part of the recipe. You can do it, it just takes patience. If you have school-age children, get them to help you.

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, a particular kind of pear (the pera lechera), the locally grown panochera apple, newly in-season granadas (pomegranates) and nuez de castilla (freshly harvested walnuts). From mid-July until early October, seasonal local fruits, fresh pomegranates, and newly harvested walnuts make chiles en nogada possible. Mildly spicy chiles poblano, stuffed with a special kind of picadillo and topped with richly creamy walnut sauce and pomegranate seeds, flaunt the brilliant green, white and red of the Mexican flag.

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

This festive dish is traditionally served on September 15 or 16 in honor of Mexico's Independence Day, though it is popular anytime in the late summer and fall. During August and September in the highlands of Mexico, particularly in Mexico City and Puebla, vendors wander through 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 (not difficult, just takes time)…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
  *You can, if you are in a pinch for time, use equal quantities of coarsely ground beef and pork. Brown them before adding other ingredients.
For the picadillo (filling):
- 4 Tbsp safflower or canola oil
- the shredded meat (or the ground meat)
- 1/3 cup chopped white onion
- 3 large cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
- 1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
- 1/8 tsp ground cloves
- pinch pimienta gorda (allspice)
- 1/2 plátano macho (plantain), chopped fine
- 1 or 2 chiles serrano, finely minced
- 4 Tbsp chopped fresh walnuts
- 4 Tbsp slivered blanched almonds
- 2 Tbsp finely diced biznaga (candied cactus, optional)
- 1 fresh pear, peeled and chopped
- 1 apple, peeled and chopped
- 4 ripe peaches, peeled and diced
- 3 Tbsp Mexican pink pine nuts. Don't substitute white if you aren't able to find pink. White pine nuts have a bitter aftertaste.
- 3 large, ripe tomatoes, roasted, peeled and chopped
- sea salt to taste
Fully mature chiles poblano, picked fresh and sold on the street in Tehuacán, Puebla, very close to where the chiles are grown.

Deep green chiles poblano are normally used for chiles en nogada. These measure as much as seven inches long. If you click on the photo to make it larger, you can see that these chiles have deep, long grooves running down their sides. When I'm buying them, I choose chiles poblano that are as smooth and flat as possible on their broad flat sides. The flat 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. See them at the top of the photo, with the pink plastic spoons stuck into the 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, you can 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 or ground meats and cook for five minutes. Add the cinnamon, pepper, and cloves, then, stir in 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.

Roast and eel 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 water, boiling over high heat. 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 sugar, cinnamon, and sherry until thoroughly combined. Chill for several hours.

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

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

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

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

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17 de August de 2019
Mexico’s Versatile Tianguis :: THE Place to Shop to Find Almost Anything You Need at Our Outdoor Markets

Lydia Gregory, a dear friend visiting from Phoenix, Arizona, tries a tuna (nopal cactus fruit) at the Tianguis Obrero Mundial, Colonia Narvarte, Mexico City. Tunas are delicious–and so is my friendship with Lydia! She loved it, but she couldn't smile because her mouth was full of tuna! We had such a great time.

Nearly twelve 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: one tianguis, two or more tianguis, pronounced tee-AHN-geese) in Morelia, Michoacán. Mexico Cooks! would rather shop at a hot, crowded tianguis than at an air conditioned supermarket, would 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 signmaker with a sense of humor stuck this tag on his fresh Roma tomatoes: "Like you saw on TV". These were offered at 14 pesos the kilo (about 45 cents US the pound).

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 Nahuatl 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.

These tender new elotes (early native corn) are piled up in a huge pot, ready to be steamed. When they're ready to eat, they'll be sold piping hot with a slather of mayonnaise, a heavy layer of freshly grated cheese, a squeeze or two of jugo de limón (the tiny fruit known in the USA as key lime), salt, and, to your taste, a sprinkle or more of powdered chile. Eat it while you walk the tianguis aisles–this is one of the most popular and delicious snacks in Mexico.

Cooked in a sweet syrup, whole calabaza de castilla (squash, left), camote (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.

Rambutan, available in season at tianguis all over Mexico. This exotic fruit, first hairy cousin to the lychee, is grown commercially in Chiapas, one of Mexico's southernmost states.

Beautiful cebollitas de cambray (knob onions), ready for serving with carne asada (grilled meat, usually accompanied by grilled whole onions like these.

Meats are available at a tianguis, too. At the left, these are long strands of longaniza (a spicy, fresh sausage similar to chorizo) and at the right, equally long strands of Oaxaca-style chorizo. My favorite is the Oaxaca-style chorizo.

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.

Prepared food, for eating on-site or for carryout, is available at all of the tianguis I've been to in Mexico–a lot! Here you see a taco of heavenly pork carnitas with chopped fresh cilantro and onion and some salsa roja.

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 tianguis, 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 Mexico City. Our tianguis, set up early Wednesday mornings, is quite near our house. Our normal purchases include tortillas, bread, 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 cream, 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.

This is American-style yellow sweet corn, now grown in the Mexican states of Guanajuato and Querétaro. It's nothing like the native corns grown for millennia all over Mexico, but it's becoming very popular. I photographed this mound of corn at the tianguis in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

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 700 pesos (about $50 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.

Mangos stacked high at a tianguis. This large variety is known as either Paraíso or Petacón.

On a recent Wednesday–when the refrigerator was bare of produce, as we had been out of the country for more than a week–these were our purchases:

6 large fresh white onions
1 huge cantaloupe
4 Petacón mangos
6 red-ripe Roma tomatoes
1/2 lb mushrooms
1/2 large white cabbage
8 Red Delicious apples
1 large avocado
2 large bananas
1 large papaya
1 lb fresh green beans
1 large head of broccoli
8 ounces crema de mesa (table cream, similar to crême fraiche)
1 kilo freshly ground-to-order beef
Total cost: 500 pesos–the equivalent of about $25.00 USD.

Common kitchen utensils of all kinds are also offered at a tianguis. These are escobetillas, used for scrubbing pots and pans. They're made from the root portion of a plant.

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 that lasts till the market day is done!) and a joy (but where else can we get produce this fresh!). Mexico Cooks! knows people who disdain shopping at a tianguis, and we know people who will not shop anywhere else. You already know which side of that fence I stand on. Come with me some week and see what you think.

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27 de July de 2019
Full-Course Main Meals in Mexico, Comfort Food Family Style
Although Mexico Cooks! photographed this sign several years ago in Los Angeles, California, it absolutely represents what you will be served for comida (Mexico's main midday meal) at a fonda, a cocina económica, a cocina regional, or a comedor in Mexico: authentic home made food.

Although I thoroughly enjoy a tremendous variety of great food in some of the upscale restaurants in both Mexico City and Morelia, Michoacán, my heart continues to belong to the fondas, cocinas económicas, cocinas regionales, and comedores that blossom all over this country.

Menú del día (today's menu) at the now-defunct and much missed Fonda 127, Mercado San Nicolás, Morelia, Michoacán. Click on the photo to enlarge it for a better view. You'll see that the daughters of the family who made the sign used the letter 'Z' where you might expect to find the letter 'S', and the 'N's are all backwards. It's just a 'toque personal'–personal touch. And the word guisados, at the top of the list, simple means 'dishes', in this case those that are being served today.

In Mexico, almost any fonda is by nature a small and inexpensive eating establishment presided over by the proprietors. Generally those proprietors are women (sisters, sisters-in-law, cousins, or comadres), but sometimes you'll be attended by a husband and wife plus their older children. Although you can order a meal a la carta (from the regular printed menu), it's most common to order the menú del día, also known as comida corrida. Under either name, the menú changes every day and consists of your choice of items in three courses: caldo or crema (soup), a sopa seca (normally either rice or spaghetti), one of several guisados del día (main course of the day), plus a small courtesy postre (dessert).

Home-style tortita de calabacita en caldillo de jitomate (little zucchini croquette in tomato broth) as served at the late, lamented, long-time Morelia fixture, Los Comensales (the name means 'the diners'). Los Comensales closed its doors in 2010; the presiding owner, Sra. Catalina Aguirre Camacho, was unable to continue in business due to her advanced age.

I was fortunate to live just around a Mexico City corner from a wonderful fonda, El Portalito. But this is not unique: I suspect that the majority of people who live in Mexico City could say the same thing about a fonda in the colonia (neighborhood) where they live. For example, our good friend David Lida, who lives on the other side of our colonia, has his special favorite–we loved it when we recently ate there with him, but it's around the corner from his house, not ours, and it's just a bit too far away for us to walk there regularly for a meal.

The interior of El Portalito, in Colonia Condesa on Calle Chilpancingo between Aguascalientes and Tlaxcala.

Cazuelas (wide clay cooking pots) on the El Portalito stove. You can see that I was there a little later than the normal hora de comer (eating time)–the cazuelas are nearly empty. Left, carne de cerdo en adobo. Right, salsa ranchera for the beef dish of the day.

One of the many stands for Mexico City's wonderful Ecobicis is just a couple of steps from El Portalito–I took the photo from our sidewalk table. Enroll in the Ecobici program, grab a bicycle at a stand near your house, ride it over to the restaurant, park it here, have your lunch, and take another bike to go back home!

The other day I spent several happy hours shopping with friends at the fabulous Mercado de Jamaica and oops–we got off at the Metro stop close to home just a few minutes before fainting from hunger. No time to cook! Where to eat? El Portalito, of course! We wanted to leave our purchases at home before returning to have our comida (main meal of the day), so we checked out the menú del día as we passed by. Of course we told our favorite waitress that we would be right back.

The standard daily offerings at El Portalito.

The menú del día is always written on a menu board and hung on the wall and, in addition, is hand-written on a little piece of tablet paper, stuck under a piece of plastic inside the regular a la carta menu.

That day we stopped in at El Portalito, the menú sencillo offered a choice of one each of the following:
- sopa de pasta (brothy soup with a large amount of small pasta cooked in it) or caldo tlalpeño (another brothy soup with vegetables, including the traditional garbanzos)
- Arroz a la mexicana (rice cooked in a thin tomato broth with diced fresh vegetables) or spaghetti (either buttered or slathered in a creamy sauce)
- Cerdo en adobo (pork meat in a chile-based sauce), bisteck en salsa ranchera (thin pieces of steak in a tomato-based sauce, or enchiladas verdes con pollo deshebrado (green enchiladas with shredded chicken breast)
- Postre (dessert–at this fonda, always gelatin), on the house
The total cost for the menú del día sencillo was 65 pesos. The cost of the menú also includes a refillable basket of fresh telera (bread), tortillas, if you like, house-made salsa (either red or the delicious, tangy green, depending on the day you're there) and the agua fresca del día (fresh fruit water of the day), all you care to drink.

I ordered the caldo tlalpeño. I like to add a squeeze of limón, a spoonful of salsa, a bigger spoonful of rice, and a sprinkle of salt. It's not fancy, but it's definitely delicious.

Our favorite waitress, Gloria Callejas, with main courses in hand. She told us that El Portalito has been serving breakfast and midday meals to hungry customers for 26 years. We ate out on the sidewalk, where there are three or four tables and lots of lovely fresh air.

Here's an order of spiced-just-right cerdo en adobo (pork in a spicy sauce). This main course comes with frijolitos refritos and I had saved some arroz a la mexicana to enjoy with it. At El Portalito, rice is always served with the soup course, in case you want to add some rice to your soup.

My very nice order of three enchiladas verdes con pollo deshebrado, which also are served with frijolitos refritos. I opened up one of the enchiladas to show you the large quantity of shredded chicken breast inside. The enchiladas arrive topped with crema and queso rallado (Mexican table cream and grated cheese).

The menú drink of the day was agua fresca de melón (fresh house-made cantaloupe water). It was absolutely wonderful, made of sweet, ripe cantaloupe served frothy and chilled. It matched the tablecloth, too–a definite plus. My other favorite agua at El Portalito is sandía (watermelon). Or maybe guayaba (guava). Or…oh, all of the aguas frescas that they prepare are delicious. I can't possibly choose just one favorite!

The dessert gesture was lime gelatin. Usually it's served in little plastic cups. We were impressed by these little 'crystal' cups the last time we were at El Portalito.

In Mexico City's Centro Histórico, you'll find many popular old-time fondas. Here are a few you might want to try:

La Casa Humboldt
República de Uruguay #86

Cocina América
Callejón 5 de mayo Letra K

Cocina Elizabeth
Palma #9, Letra F

Fonda Mi Lupita
Mesones #113

Each of these serves home-style Mexican food at very affordable prices. Expect to pay between 40 and 60 pesos for a full menú del día.

Whatever your neighborhood, wherever you live in Mexico, you're sure to find an old-fashioned place for a full comida corrida. It won't be high-end modern food with fancy designer presentations, but you'll love what you taste and will leave with this old Mexican dicho (saying) in your mind: "Panza llena, corazón contento." (Full stomach, happy heart.) When you've found your favorite, let me know so I can try it too!

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20 de July de 2019