Category: Mexican Tourism

The Best Signage EVER at Mexico City’s Mercado de Jamaica. What? The SIGNS?

In late October just a few years ago, Mexico Cooks! went to the Mercado de Jamaica specifically to find flowers and decorative items to build a home altar for the Day of the Dead. We found exactly what we wanted, but that became our secondary objective once we passed into the produce section of the market.

Many of Mexico City's markets use this sort of printed sign to advertise the price of what's for sale–in this case, vine-ripened Roma tomatoes–and every sign has a bit of advice to offer about your potential purchase. I've loved these signs since long before living in Mexico's capital. On this market jaunt, the lightbulb went on: all of you would love these typical and sometimes funny signs, too. This one urges, "Don't think about it too much…take home a little kilo!".

For already-cut-up calabaza de castilla (a huge, hard-shell Mexican squash): 'money well spent'.

For limón criollo (Mexican Key limes): I'll be right with you!

Limas–and there really is no translation for this uniquely Mexican fruit. They are neither limes nor lemons, nor are they oranges. But as the sign says: it's scrumptious!

Chile jalapeño: pretty and cheap, at four pesos the quarter kilo.

White potatoes for 10 pesos the kilo: smile.

Beautiful crisp cucumbers: ask for more.

At six pesos the kilo: 'Don't look any further!'

These are tunas–fruit of the nopal cactus–that the sign says are "chingonas". Chingonas is Mexican slang for bad ass!

This merchant is offering his chiles jalapeños at 14 pesos the kilo: 'Like you saw on TV'.

This sign is my current favorite. "Ni hablar mujer" means 'Lady, don't even talk about it!'. The phrase is also part of a Pedro Infante song.

Next year, plan to come along with us to this marvelous market. Ahorita la atiendo!

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

26 de February de 2022
Mexico and Her Marvelous Music :: And The Band Played On

Trio Los Panchos, from the 1950s. They're still playing today and everyone of every age in Mexico knows all the words to all the songs they've sung since their beginning. You can hear them here:

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=go8kmo4LABU&w=420&h=315]
A few nights ago some friends and I were having dinner at a local restaurant. A wonderful trio (lead guitar, second guitar, and bass) played a broad selection of Mexico's favorite tunes while we enjoyed our food and conversation. From the table behind us, a woman's voice rang out in English, "Boy, these mariachis are really good."

Her comment, one I've heard over and over again, made me think about the many varieties of Mexican music. Not all Mexican music is mariachi, although many people assume that it is.

It's just as incorrect to classify all Mexican music as mariachi as it is to classify all music from the United States as jazz. Mariachi has its traditions, its place, and its beauties, but there are many other styles of Mexican music to enjoy.

Ranchera, norteña, trio, bolero, banda, huasteco, huapango, trova, danzón, vals, cumbia, jarocho, salsa, son–??the list could go on and on. While many styles of music are featured in specific areas, others, like norteña, banda, ranchera, and bolero, are heard everywhere in Mexico. Let's take a look at just a few of the most popular styles of music heard in present-day Mexico.

Norteña
Música norteña (northern music) will set your feet a-tapping and will remind you of a jolly polka. Norteña had its beginnings along the Texas-Mexico border. It owes its unique quality to the instrument at its heart, the accordion. The accordion was introduced into either far southeastern Texas or the far north of Mexico by immigrants from Germany, Czechoslovakia, or Poland. No one knows for sure who brought the accordion, but by the 1950s this rollicking music had become one of the far and away favorite music styles of Mexico.

A norteña group of musicians playing a set of trap drums, a stand-up bass, and the accordion produces an instantly recognizable and completely infectious sound. The songs have a clean, spare accordion treble and a staccato effect from the drum, while the bass pounds out the deep bottom line of the music.

Música norteña is popular everywhere in Mexico. Conjuntos norteños (bands) often play as itinerant musicians. These are the musicians who are often hired to play serenades in the wee hours of Mother's Day morning, who play under the window of a romantic young man's girl friend while she peeps from behind the curtain, and who wander through restaurantes campestres (country-style restaurants) all over Mexico to play a song or two for hire at your table.

Here's a great norteño by one of my favorite groups, Bronco:

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=urH3cU2_z1M&w=560&h=315]

Banda de Viento and Banda

Banda de viento and banda are similar musical styles: both have a military legacy. Each has moved in its own direction to provide different types of entertainment. Banda de viento (wind band, or brass band) originated in Mexico in the middle 1800s during the reign of Emperor Maximilian and Empress Carlota. Later, Presidents Benito Juárez and Porfirio Díaz commissioned the creation of brass bands in their home state, Oaxaca, in imitation of the brass bands that entertained at the Emperor's court.

The huge upsurge of popularity of brass bands in Mexico came in the early 20th Century. After the Mexican revolution, local authorities formed "Sunday bands" made up of military musicians who played in municipalities' plaza bandstands all over Mexico.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_SlUY26dObo&w=560&h=315]
In Zacatecas, many bandas de viento specialize in leading callejonadas, street processions that exist for the joy of the music–if you're in Zacatecas, don't miss the fun!

Here's the Marcha de Zacatecas, one of Mexico's most famous marches:
[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWdB26F5wLQ&w=420&h=315]
There are regional differences in banda de viento style, but you can still take a Sunday stroll around many rural Mexican plazas to hear the tuba oompah the bass part, the trumpets blare, squeaky clarinets take the lead, and the tamborazo (percussion) keeps the beat. Sunday municipal band concerts no longer exist in some large cities, but you can still hear weekly concerts in smaller towns.

Banda music, which exploded onto the Mexican music scene in the 1990s, is a direct outgrowth of the municipal bands of Mexico. Banda is one of the most popular styles of dance music among Mexican young people. In small towns, we're often treated to a banda group playing for a weekend dance on the plaza or at a salón de eventos (events pavilion) in the center of the village. The music is inevitably loud, with a strong bass beat. You'll hear any number of rhythms, from traditional to those taken from foreign music. It's almost rock and roll. It's almost-well, it's almost a lot of styles, but it's pure banda.

Few foreigners go to these dances and that's a shame, because it's great fun to go and watch the kids dance. You might want to take earplugs; the banks of speakers can be enormous and powerful.

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRlsmjY9gVY&w=420&h=315]
Banda El Recodo plays "El Sinaloense". Hang onto your hats!

The dancing will amaze you. Children, teenagers, and adults of all ages dance in styles ranging from old fuddy-duddy to la quebradita. La quebradita is a semi-scandalous style of dance which involves the man wrapping his arms completely around the woman while he puts his right leg between her two as they alternate feet and twirl around the dance floor. Complete with lots of dipping and other strenuous moves, la quebradita is a dance that's at once athletic and extremely sexual.

Bolero
In the United States and Canada, it's very common for those of us who are older to swoon over what we know as the 'standards'. Deep Purple, Red Sails in the Sunset, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, and almost anything by Ol' Blue Eyes can take us right back to our youthful romances. Most of us can dance and sing along with every note and word.

Here in Mexico, it's the same for folks of every age. The romantic songs from the 1940s, 50s, and 60s are known as boleros. The theme of the bolero is love–happy love, unhappy love, unrequited love, indifference, but always love. I think just about everyone has heard the classic Bésame Mucho, a bolero written by Guadalajara native Consuelo Velásquez. This timeless favorite has been recorded by Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and The Beatles, among countless other interpreters of romance.

Here's Luis Miguel, one of Mexico's modern interpreters of bolero, singing Bésame Mucho:

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSO9P8LgC-o&w=560&h=315]

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YJg0SpOoeQ&w=560&h=315]
Armando Manzanero, born in 1935 in Mérida, Mexico, was one of the most famous writers of bolero. His more than 400 songs have been translated into numerous languages. More than 50 of his songs have gained international recognition. Remember Perry Como singing It's Impossible?  Armando Manzanero wrote it long ago as "Somos Novios".

Crowds memorialize Pedro Infante, one of Mexico's greatest stars.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EdqLGTZd3NA&w=560&h=315]
"Amorcito Corazón" is one of Pedro Infante's his most famous songs. His voice–and the words to the song–make me sigh for joy.

Agustín Lara was another of Mexico's prolific songwriters. Before Lara died in 1973, he wrote more than 700 romantic songs. Some of those were translated into English and sung by North of the Border favorites Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, and yes, even Elvis Presley. The most famous of his songs to be translated into English included You Belong to My Heart (originally Solamente Una Vez), Be Mine Tonight (originally Noche de Ronda), and The Nearness of You.

Ranchera
The dramatic ranchera (country music), which emerged during the Mexican Revolution, is considered by many to be the country's quintessential popular music genre. Sung to different beats, including the waltz and the bolero, its lyrics traditionally celebrate rural life, talk about unrequited love and tell of the struggles of Mexico's Everyman.

Ana Gabriel is one of today's reigning queens of música ranchera. Listen to her sing one of her all-time great songs: Y Aquí Estoy

Ranchera finds its inspiration in the traditional music that accompanies folkloric dancing in Mexico. Its form is romantic and its lyrics almost always tell a story, the kind of story we're used to in old-time country music in the United States: she stole my heart, she stole my truck, I wish I'd never met her, but I sure do love that gal. Pedro Infante, Mexico's most prolific male film star, is strongly associated with the ranchera style of Mexican music. One of the original singing cowboys, Infante's films continue to be re-issued both on tape and on DVD and his popularity in Mexico is as strong as it was in his heyday, the 1940s. Infante, who died in an airplane accident in 1957 when he was not quite forty, continues to be revered and is an enormous influence on Mexican popular culture.

Ranchera continues to be an overwhelmingly emotional favorite today; at any concert, most fans are able to sing along with every song. This marvelous music is truly the representation of the soul of Mexico, the symbol of a nation.

Ana Gabriel is the queen, but Vicente Fernández, who passed away on December 12, 2021, was the undisputed king of ranchera. Listen to him sing one of his classics: "Volver, Volver"

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvBfxlg657I&w=560&h=315]
Don Vicente Fernández, whose ranch, huge charro ring and concert venue, huge restaurant, and large charro-goods store are located between the Guadalajara airport and Lake Chapala, was for years the reigning king of ranchera–indeed, he was considered by many to be the King of Mexico.

Mariachi
Mariachi really is the music that most folks think of when they think of Mexico's music. Mariachi originated here, it's most famous here, and it's most loved here. The love of mariachi has spread all over the world as non-Mexicans hear its joyous (and sometimes tragic) sounds. At this year's Encuentro Internacional del Mariachi (International Mariachi Festival) in Guadalajara, mariachis from France, Czechoslovakia, Canada, Switzerland and the United States (among others) played along with their Mexican counterparts.

In the complete mariachi group today there are six to eight violins, two or three trumpets and a guitar, all standard European instruments. There is also a higher-pitched, round-backed guitar called the vihuela, which, when strummed in the traditional manner gives the mariachi its typical rhythmic vitality. You'll also see a deep-voiced guitar called the guitarrón which serves as the bass of the ensemble. Sometimes you'll see a Mexican folk harp, which usually doubles the base line but also ornaments the melody. While these three instruments have European origins, in their present form they are strictly Mexican.

Mariachi Vargas de Tecalitlán is the most famous mariachi in the world. Every year in Guadalajara they honor the festival with their presence at the Encuentro Internacional de Mariachi. It's an unforgettable experience. Listen to them now, and watch the audience singing along:

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_YLg7w4y9w&w=420&h=315]
The combined sound of these instruments makes the music unique. Like the serape (a type of long, brightly striped shawl worn mainly by Mexican men) in which widely contrasting colors are woven side by side–green and orange, red, yellow and blue–the mariachi use sharply contrasting sounds: the sweet sounds of the violins against the brilliance of the trumpets, and the deep sound of the guitarrón against the crisp, high voice of the vihuela; and the frequent shifting between syncopation and on-beat rhythm. The resulting sound is the musical heart and soul of Mexico.

One last video: you simply can't talk about Mexico's music without a deep bow to Juan Gabriel, one of the most beloved Mexican singers of all time. He first recorded the lovely Amor Eterno, written for his deceased mother, in 1991. It is a legendary classic. Once again, the audience sings along with every word.

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgKqxLAhRKE&w=420&h=315]

Next time you go to your local music store, look on the racks of CDs for some of the artists and styles of Mexican music I've mentioned. You may be quite surprised to see how popular the different styles are in the United States and Canada. As the population of countries North of the Border becomes more Mexican, the many sounds of Mexican music follow the fans. Next thing you know, you'll be dancing la quebradita.

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

19 de February de 2022
A Pre-Hispanic Treat in a Modern Kitchen :: Alegrías, A Sweet Joy from Mexico

Lots of people are like Mexico Cooks! when it comes to cookbooks. We own hundreds of them, but actually cook from very few. For well over a year, I read and sighed with delight over the stories and recipes in Fany Gerson's My Sweet Mexico–and last week I finally prepared alegrías from her recipe. Fany calls them 'amaranth happiness candy'. Why? Happiness or joy are the English meanings of the Spanish word alegría.

Mexico Cooks!' homemade alegrías, freshly turned from the parchment-lined baking sheet onto the cutting board and ready to cut into pieces.

A couple of weeks ago, friends at the superb web page Cocina al Natural invited Mexico Cooks!' household to a wonderful comida casera (main meal of the day at their home). For dessert, they proudly carried a big tray of alegrías to the table. "They're home made!" they proclaimed. "No way!" we remonstrated. Well, yes, güey, it was the absolute truth. The alegrías were beautiful, professional, delicious, and prepared from Fany Gerson's cookbook, which is actually in my kitchen library. We joyfully crunched these delicacies down.

According to Ricardo Muñoz Zurita, legendary Mexico City chef and author of the Diccionario Enciclopédico de Gastronomía Mexicana (Encyclopedic Dictionary of Mexican Gastronomy), among other books, alegrías are the oldest candy in Mexico. In pre-Hispanic times, before sugar cane had been introduced to New Spain (now Mexico), the amaranth candy was sweetened with maguey cactus syrup. In that long-ago era, this candy had a highly religious meaning. Shaped in the form of a cookie or cracker, it was utilized for communion in indigenous rituals and also was made into huge sculptures of pre-Christian gods. Because these god-figures appeared so horrible to the Spanish, they outlawed the use of this candy after the conquest. But in the 16th century, a Spanish monk had the idea to mix amaranth with bee honey. Rejoicing over the return of the right to eat this sweet treat, the ancient inhabitants of Mexico named it what they felt 'alegría'–joy.

The topping mixture for the alegrías–raisins and lightly toasted pecans, peanuts, and pepitas (pumpkin seeds), spread onto the parchment-paper lined baking sheet.

The following week, Betty Fussell, our wonderful friend from New York, invited us once again to visit her in Tepoztlán, just south of Mexico City. The light bulb went on: alegrías would make a great gift to take to Betty!

Now, alegrías often have ingredients that were brought to this country during the Spanish occupancy–grapes which became raisins, sugar cane, limónes, and others, which are of course cultivated here. The recipe for alegrías is simplicity itself. Here's the recipe, taken straight from My Sweet Mexico.

Alegrías (Happiness Candy)

Ingredients
1/2 cup chopped toasted pecans
1/2 cup chopped toasted peanuts
1/2 cup toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds)
1/2 cup dark raisins
8 ounces chopped Mexican piloncillo (coarse brown sugar) or standard dark brown sugar, packed
1/2 cup honey
1/2 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon or lime juice
4 ounces puffed amaranth seeds

Equipment
Large bowl
Large spoon
15" X 10" X 1/2" baking sheet
Parchment paper
Medium sauce pan
Cutting board
Sharp knife

Preparation
Line the baking sheet with parchment paper. Combine the pecans, peanuts, pumpkin seeds, and raisins in a bowl and then spread them on the prepared pan.

Piloncillo, honey, and lemon juice in the pot.

Combine the piloncillo, honey, and lemon juice in a medium pot over medium heat and cook until the piloncillo has melted and the mixture has thickened slightly, about 5 to 10 minutes.

Squeezing the jugo de limón (lemon juice) into the mixture is simplicity itself using a Mexican lime squeezers. You can find one in metal or plastic at your local Latin market.

Remove the syrup from the heat and add the amaranth seeds, stirring quickly to mix everything well.

Mixing the cooked and thickened piloncillo, honey, and lemon juice mixture with the amaranth seeds.

The amaranth mixture, patted firmly into the parchment-lined baking sheet. Remember that the nuts and raisins are the topping–they're on the other side of the alegrías. Once this rectangle is completely cool, it will be firm and you will easily be able turn it over onto a cutting board.

Pour the amaranth mixture into the baking pan with the nuts, seeds, and raisins, and carefully press down with slightly dampened hands (so you don't burn yourself) to compact the mixture.

Allow to cool completely, 30 to 40 minutes at least, then invert onto a cutting board. Cut the mixture into the desired shapes with a sharp knife. If your mixture seems to be sticking to the knife, simply dip the knife into hot water, dry, and continue cutting.

Freshly made alegrías, ready to travel!

Mexico Cooks!' alegrías turned out overly crispy and difficult to cut, so instead of battling with the knife, I simply broke them into reasonable-size pieces and packed them in a tightly sealed container to travel the next day.

Were the alegrías a hit? They definitely were! Five of us ate almost all of them. We left some of the remaining pieces with our hosts, but we had to bring a few pieces home. Minimal ingredients, minimal cooking, and maximal enjoyment: what more can you ask for from pre-conquest Mexico! Your family will love them and you can send a big thank you to Fany Gerson at My Sweet Mexico–and to Mexico Cooks!.

If you don't have your copy of the book yet, look over on the left-hand sidebar and just click on the book cover. That click will take you to My Sweet Mexico's Amazon.com page. Grab the book today and make your family a sweet Mexican treat as soon as it's in your kitchen.

And by all means visit our friends at Cocina al Natural. Their website and their videos are marvelous. In the very near future, Mexico Cooks! will be partnering with them to post some of the videos with English-language subtitles. We're all very excited about this new venture.

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

12 de February de 2022
Mexico’s Niño Dios (Baby Jesus), Honored and Loved on February 2nd, the Feast of La Candelaria

I know we're a few days late to celebrate February 2nd, the Feast of La Candelaria, but it's important: in Mexico, this date is the end of the Christmas season! The Niño Dios (Baby Jesus) is taken from the manger, dressed in new finery, and–well, read the rest of the story right here!

Niños Dios: one Christ Child, many colors: ideal for Mexico's range of skin tones. Mercado Medellín, Colonia Roma, Mexico City, December 2013.

For about a month prior to Christmas each year, the Niño Dios (baby Jesus) is for sale everywhere in Mexico. Mexico Cooks! took this photograph in 2013 at the annual tianguis navideño (Christmas market) in front of the Mercado Medellín, Colonia Roma, Mexico City. These Niños Dios range in size from just a few inches long to nearly the size of a two-year-old child. They're sold wrapped in only a diaper that's molded into their bodies.

When does the Christmas season end in your family? When I was a child, my parents packed the Christmas decorations away on January 1, New Year's Day. Today, I like to enjoy the nacimientos (manger scenes), the Christmas lights, and the tree until the seventh or eighth of January, right after the Día de los Reyes Magos (the Feast of the Three Kings). Some people think that date is scandalously late. Other people, particularly my many Mexican friends, think that date is scandalously early. Christmas in Mexico isn't over until February 2, el Día de la Candelaria (Candlemas Day), also known as the Feast of the Presentation.

The Holy Family, a shepherd and some of his goats, Our Lady of Guadalupe, an angel, a little French santon cat from Provence, and some indigenous people form a small portion of Mexico Cooks!' nacimiento. Click on the photo to get a better look. Note that the Virgin Mary is breast feeding the infant Jesus while St. Joseph watches over them.

Although Mexico's 21st century Christmas celebration often includes Santa Claus and a Christmas tree, the main focus of a home-style Christmas continues to be the nacimiento and the Christmas story. A family's nacimiento may well contain hundreds–even thousands–of figures, but all nacimientos have as their heart and soul the Holy Family (the Virgin Mary, St. Joseph, and the baby Jesus). This centerpiece of the nacimiento is known as el Misterio (the Mystery). The nacimiento is set up early–in 2020, mine was out at the end of November–but the Niño Dios does not make his appearance until the night of December 24, when he is sung to, rocked to sleep, and placed in the manger.

Niños Dios at Mexico City's Mercado de la Merced. The figures are dressed as hundreds of different saints and representations of holy people and ideas. The figures are for sale, but most people are only shopping for new clothes for their baby Jesus. All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! except as noted.

Between December 24, when he is tenderly rocked to sleep and laid in the manger, and February 2, the Niño Dios rests happily in the bosom of his family. As living members of his family, we are charged with his care. As February approaches, a certain excitement begins to bubble to the surface. The Niño Dios needs new clothing! How shall we dress him this year?

The oldest tradition is to dress the Niño Dios in hand-crocheted garments. Photo courtesy Manos Mexicanos.

According to Christian teaching, the Virgin Mary and St. Joseph took the baby Jesus to the synagogue 40 days after his birth to introduce him in the temple–hence February 2 is also known as the Feast of the Presentation. What happy, proud mother would wrap her newborn in just any old thing to take him to church for the first time? I suspect that this brand new holy child was dressed as much to the nines as his parents could afford.

The Niño Dios dressed as San Juan Diego, the indigenous man who brought Our Lady of Guadalupe to the Roman Catholic Church in what is now Mexico.

Every February 2, churches are packed with men, women, and families carrying their Niños Dios to church in his new clothes, ready to be blessed, lulled to sleep with a sweet lullaby, and tucked gently away till next year–or perched on a little throne just his size and settled in a place of honor in the family home.

The Niño Dios as el Santo Niño Doctor de los Enfermos (the Holy Child, doctor of the sick). He has his stethoscope, his uniform, and his doctor's bag. This traditionally dressed baby Jesus has origins in mid-20th century in the city of Puebla.

Every year new and different clothing for the Niño Dios comes to market. In 2011, the latest fashions were those of the Archangels–in this case, the Archangel Gabriel.

The Niño Dios dressed as Peruvian San Martín de Porres, the patron saint of racially mixed people and all those seeking interracial harmony. He is always portrayed holding a broom and a basket of food to distribute among the poor.

Niño Dios de la Eucaristía (Holy Child of the Eucharist).

Niño Dios dressed as San Benito, the founder of the Benedictine Order.

Niño Dios dressed as a Chinelo (costumed dancer from the state of Morelos).

Niño Dios de la Abundancia (Holy Child of Abundance).

The ceremony of removing the baby Jesus from the nacimiento is called the levantamiento (lifting up). In a family ceremony, the baby is raised from his manger, gently dusted off, and dressed in his new finery. Some families sing:

QUIERES QUE TE QUITE MI BIEN DE LAS PAJAS, (Do you want me to brush off all the straw, my beloved)
QUIERES QUE TE ADOREN TODOS LOS PASTORES, (Do you want all the shepherds to adore you?)
QUIERES QUE TE COJA EN MIS BRAZOS Y CANTE (Do you want me to hold you in my arms and sing)
GLORIA A DIOS EN LAS ALTURAS. (Glory to God on high).

One of the most popular 'looks' for the Niño Dios in Mexico City is that of San Judas Tadeo, the patron saint of impossible causes. He is always dressed in green, white, and gold and has a flame coming from his head.

Several years ago on the way from Oaxaca city to the city of Tehuantepec in southern Oaxaca state, my travel companion and I saw this Niño Dios, dressed in a full PEMEX uniform, in an alcove at a PEMEX gasoline station. I think this is my all-time favorite.

Mexico Cooks!' very own Niño Dios. He measures just 7" from the top of his head to his wee toes. His new finery is very elegant.

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4rcQDmyffo&w=420&h=236]
This lovely video from Carapan, Michoacán shows both the gravity and the joy (and the confetti!) with which various families' Niños Dios are carried to the parish church.

Carefully, carefully carry the Niño Dios to the parish church, where the priest will bless him and his new clothing, along with you and your family. After Mass, take the baby Jesus home and put him safely to rest till next year's Christmas season. Sweet dreams of his next outfit will fill your own head as you sleep that night.

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

5 de February de 2022
Is There A Difference Between What’s Authentic and What’s Traditional in the Mexican Kitchen?

I wrote and first published this article in 2010, in response to inquiries from readers who were confused about other authors' articles about "What is authentic Mexican food?" The subject has come up again and again, most recently in comments and queries from readers and food professionals about Mexican and other cuisines. I still stand behind what I wrote nearly 10 years ago.

"Real" Mexican chile relleno (stuffed, battered, and fried chile poblano), caldillo de jitomate (thin tomato broth), and frijoles negros (black beans). Notice that the chile is not suffocated with globs of melted cheese.

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

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

It's my considered opinion that there is no such thing as one definition of authentic Mexican. Wait, before you start hopping up and down to refute that, consider that in my opinion, "authentic" is generally what you were raised to appreciate. Your mother's pot roast is authentic, but so is my mother's. Your aunt's tuna salad is the real deal, but so is my aunt's, and they're not the least bit similar. And Señora Martínez in Mexico makes yet another version of tuna salad, very different from any I've eaten in the USA.

Carne de puerco en salsa verde (pork meat in green sauce), a traditional recipe as served at the restaurant Fonda Margarita in Mexico City.

Carne de puerco en salsa verde from the Mexico Cooks! home kitchen. The preparation looks similar to that at Fonda Margarita, but I tweak a thing or two that make the recipe my personal tradition, different from the restaurant's.

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

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

A nearly 200-year-old tradition in Mexico that shows up every September: chiles en nogada (stuffed chiles poblano in a creamy sauce made with fresh (i.e., recently harvested) walnuts. It's the Mexican flag on your plate: green chile poblano, creamy white walnut sauce, and red pomegranate arils. But hoo boy–there are arguments to the death about the "authentic" way to prepare these chiles: battered or not battered? Put up your dukes! (I fall on the not-battered side, in case you wondered. God help me, I am not welcome in Puebla, where it's battered or forget it.)

Traditional Mexican cooking is not a hit-or-miss let's-make-something-for-dinner proposition based on "let's see what we have in the despensa (pantry)." Traditional Mexican cooking is as complicated and precise as traditional French cooking, with just as many hide-bound conventions as French cuisine imposes. You can't just throw some chiles and a bar of chocolate into a sauce and call it mole. You can't simply decide to call something "authentic" Mexican x, y, or z when it's not. There are specific recipes to follow, specific flavors and textures to expect, and specific results to attain. Yes, some liberties are taken, particularly in Mexico's new alta cocina mexicana (Mexican haute cuisine) and fusion restaurants, but even those liberties are based, we hope, on specific traditional recipes. As Alicia Gironella d'Angeli (a true grande dame of Mexico's kitchen) often said to me, "Cristina, you cannot de-construct a dish until you have learned to construct it." Amen.

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

Deep red, vine-ripened plum tomatoes, available all year long in central Mexico. The sign reads, "Don't think about it much–take home a little kilo!" At the current price of 29 pesos per kilo, these Mexico-grown tomatoes, brought to market red-ripe, cost approximately $1.45 USD for 2.2 pounds. What's the current price in the USA, or in Canada?

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

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

It's the same with most meats: pork and chicken are head and shoulders above what you find in North of the Border supermarkets. Fish and seafood are direct-from-the-sea fresh and distributed by air within just an hour or two from any of Mexico's long coastlines.

Look at the quality of Mexico's fresh, locally grown, seasonal strawberries–and the season starts right now, at the end of January. Deep red to its center, a strawberry like this is hard to find in other countries.

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

Pozole blanco (white pozole) with delicious clear broth that starts with a a long-simmered whole pig's head, nixtamalized native white cacahuatzintle corn, and lots of tender, flavorful pork meat. Add to the pot some herbs and spices. Then add hunks of avocado at the table–along with a squeeze or two of limón criollo (you know it as Key lime), some crushed, dried Mexican oregano, crushed, dried chile de árbol, and, if you like, a tablespoon or two of mezcal. Traditional and heavenly!

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

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

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

My dear friend Abigail Mendoza, cocinera tradicional (traditional home cook) from Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca, prepares a vat of mole negro (black mole, the king of moles) for a large party she invited me to attend at her home.

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

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

29 de January de 2022
What’s the Straight Story on Mexico’s Mealtimes? Here’s Comida, the Main Meal of the Day

Back by popular demand! So many Mexico Cooks! fans ask questions about what we eat at mealtimes–and when exactly DO we eat? Last week, this week and next week, we'll take a close look at what's to be found on the Mexican table, and at what time of day.

In Mexico, a complete main meal will most often start with an entrada (appetizer). This dish of guacamole is meant to be scooped up with its garnish, crispy chicharrón (fried pork skin).

Mexico's main meal of the day is comida, which is eaten sometime between two and five o'clock in the afternoon. Prime time for comida is three o'clock; in many places all over the República, businesses still respect the old-time rule that closes business doors during mid-afternoon meal time. In fact, unless the business mentions that it observes horario corrido (continuous work day) you can assume that from two until at least four in the afternoon, its doors are closed to business. Its workday is from 10:00AM to 2:00PM and from 4:00PM to 8:00PM.

Crema de cilantro (cream of cilantro soup). The soup course, which can be a caldo (clear broth), a consomé (another kind of clear broth, usually chicken), or a crema (cream soup), comes after the entrada.

In cities and towns all over Mexico, you'll find fondas, comida económica, and comida corrida restaurants. All of these small, usually family-run restaurants specialize in full meals that stoke your furnace for the rest of your workday and beyond. In addition, in many cities there are high-end restaurants that specialize in comidas for professional and business lunches, others that are designed for the ladies-who-lunch trade, and still other, family-style restaurants that invite everyone from the oldest great-grandpa to the newest newborn to enjoy time together.

A variety of prepared salads for sale in a market. Sold by the kilo or portion of a kilo, these salads are meant to be taken home and eaten along with your comida.

Mexico's signature mole con pollo (mole with chicken) is popular for the platillo fuerte (main dish) at a comida, whether served at home or in a restaurant. Many regions of the country have special mole recipes; some, like those found in Puebla or Oaxaca, are very well known. Others, especially some from the state of Michoacán, are less well known but equally delicious.

Most comidas include rice–here, arroz rojo with corn kernels.

These Jalisco-style albóndigas (meatballs) are traditional and typically served as a platillo fuerte for comida, along with their delicious sauce, a big helping of steamed white rice, a garnish of avocado, and a tall stack of tortillas.

Many soon-to-be-visitors to Mexico write to me saying something like this: "I want to plan for breakfast in the hotel and a meal in such-and-such a restaurant at lunchtime. Then we want to go for dinner at such-and-such restaurant." Unless you are a professional eater–and I know that some of you are!–it's difficult to fit all of that food into one day, given the times of day that meals are usually eaten here. If you're having breakfast at your hotel, many of the available dishes will look like those featured here last week. They're very, very filling. Just a few hours later, it's time for comida, an even more filling meal when eaten in a restaurant.

Carne de cerdo en salsa verde (pork in green sauce) is a typical home-style dish (in this instance, just being put into the Mexico Cooks! oven) often served for comida. Of course it is preceded by an appetizer, a soup, and perhaps a salad; it's accompanied by red or white rice, refried beans, and a stack of tortillas–and followed by dessert!

Lonche de pechuga de pollo (cold chicken breast sandwich, garnished with lettuce, tomato, and pickled chiles jalapeños). This kind of sandwich is neither lunch nor comida, but it's delicious and will fill you up till late in the evening. Photo courtesy Big Sky Southern Sky.

"Lunch" as it is eaten in the United States or elsewhere does not exist in Mexico. You might see a restaurant sign reading "LONCHERÍA", but it refers to a kind of cold sandwich known as a 'lonche', not to a place where you can have lunch. A lonche can be eaten at any old time–between meals, instead of meals, before or after a movie, and so on.

This is a boiling pot of Michoacán carnitas–huge chunks of lean pork, boiled in freshly rendered lard until the pork is fork-tender with crisp, chewy outsides. Coarsely chopped and served by the platter, ready to stuff into hot-off-the-fire tortillas and top with minced onions, chopped cilantro, super-spicy salsa, a sprinkle of sea salt and a squeeze of lime, carnitas are usually breakfast food, but can be a rustic and delicious comida all on their own.

Gelatina is a common light dessert following a heavy comida.

On the other hand, you will almost always have room for a slice of old-fashioned creamy flan.

Next week, we finish our day of Mexico's meals with cena–supper!

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

15 de January de 2022
The When, What, and MORE About Mexico’s Mealtimes :: Desayuno Is Breakfast

Back by popular demand! So many Mexico Cooks! fans ask questions about what we eat at mealtimes–and when exactly DO we eat? This week and for the next two weeks, we'll take a close look at what's to be found on the Mexican table, and at what time of day.

A classic quick breakfast in the USA, circa 1950s: cold unsweetened cereal, a banana (sliced), milk, and sugar.

Several times a month, Mexico Cooks! receives queries from folks in other parts of the world about mealtimes and what's eaten at which meal in Mexico. It can be challenging to plan a trip to any country, including Mexico, where mealtimes are different from what you might think of as 'normal'. This week and for the next two weeks here at Mexico Cooks!, you'll learn more about meals and mealtimes.

In Mexico, a huge variety of pan dulce (sweet bread) is available for breakfast. These are conchas (shells), so-called because of the design impressed into their sugared tops. Have your pan dulce with either hot chocolate, coffee, or a steaming cup of atole (a corn-based hot beverage).

It can be even more challenging for anyone raised in one frame of reference to understand that breakfast isn't always about what you have always thought of as your earliest meal of the day. Many years ago, when I was first living in Mexico, the light bulb came on for me: breakfast food is whatever you happen to eat for breakfast. You know how leftover pizza straight from the refrigerator is a guilty breakfast for a lot of people in the States? A slice is really a perfectly adequate breakfast. Lots of Mexican breakfasts are just like that: whatever food is available at the moment.

The corunda is a regional tamal from Michoacán. This corunda, filled with cream cheese and topped with Mexican table cream and a sauce made of roasted tomate verde (known in the USA as tomatillo), chile perón (a Michoacán-grown chile), makes a great desayuno when accompanied by a cup of hot locally-grown blackberry or guayaba (guava) atole.

People in Mexico frequently eat two morning meals. The first is desayuno, which comes from the root word ayunar, to fast. Desayuno literally means "I un-fast" and is ordinarily eaten first thing in the morning, maybe before work while you are standing in the pre-dawn kitchen thinking about the coming day on the job or gobbled while you are hurrying the kids into their school uniforms. This breakfast consists of something quick and simple or a smear of yesterday's frijolitos refritos on a leftover tortilla, washed down with a glass of fresh orange juice; a pan dulce still hot from the corner bakery, accompanied by a cup of té de manzanillo (Mexico's ubiquitous chamomile tea). It's just enough to help your brain kick into gear.

This Mexico Cooks! desayuno includes home-made calabaza en tacha bathed in hot milk plus a slice of pan relleno con chilacayote (bread filled with sweetened chilacayote squash paste), served with fresh juice or coffee.

At home, Mexico Cooks! occasionally prepares molletes, an old-time family favorite. I butter and grill a bolillo (a dense-textured and crusty white bread roll), add a thick smear of chile-spiced refried beans, and top them with huevos volteados (over-easy eggs) and salsa cruda (raw salsa). With a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and a big mug of coffee, this almuerzo is really stick-to-your-ribs.

Around 10.30 or eleven o'clock in the morning, when the stomach starts to require something more substantial to keep the body going, many people take a break for almuerzo. There really is no adequate word in English for this meal. It's not breakfast and it's not a snack. Almuerzo is typically a larger meal than desayuno. Workers on a construction job, for example, often stop work, build a little fire, and heat up yesterday's leftover main meal of the day that they've brought along in a 'tupper'–the generic word for a covered plastic container. Warmed-up leftovers, a stack of tortillas, and a fresh-made pot of coffee keep the girders going up.

Another really hearty almuerzo: a plateful of enchiladas verdes con pollo deshebrado (enchiladas with shredded chicken in green sauce) topped with finely grated white cheese and minced onion, accompanied by a guarnición (side) of refried beans.

Here's another typical almuerzo in Mexico: chilaquiles verdes (fried tortilla strips simmered in green sauce), topped with grated white cheese and thinly sliced white onions, then crowned with huevos a gusto (eggs however you like them). Add a side of frijolitos refritos, a plate of ripe papaya, a warm-from-the-oven bolillo, either salsa or butter for the bread, and a great cappuchino, all served on a sunny terrace. Heaven…

Next week, next meal! We'll save your place at the table.

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

8 de January de 2022
If You’ll Be in Mexico City Over the Holidays :: Pozole Moctezuma, the Best in Town

The block-long portion of Calle Moctezuma in Colonia Guerrero where the restaurant sits is just off Av. Reforma. It's right there in plain sight, but where? Mexico Cooks!' taxi driver missed it twice before he pulled up in front, and even then he couldn't believe we were anyplace we really wanted to be. There's no sign and no indication that the restaurant is anywhere on the block. Other restaurants, yes–but not the one you are looking for! The word 'pozole' next to the buzzer at Number 12 is your only clue that you are indeed in the right place.

Do the clandestine days of Prohibition appeal to you–those long-ago days when, if you wanted a snootful of booze runner's gin, you had to know somebody who knew somebody who knew where the gin joint was? "Joe sent me," was the joke of the era–knock three times, the little window in the door slid open, and if you were in the right place, knew the right people, and had the right look, you got in for a drink or two or three.

Something of those days continues to exist in Mexico City: not a gin joint, but a 75-year-old hidden and semi-secret restaurant very near the Centro Histórico. One of your capitalino friends will have been there; finding the address is still by word of mouth. Once you're pretty sure you're in the right place, buzz the doorbell marked 'pozole', and the door creaks open. Aha! Pozole estilo Guerrero–state of Guerrero style pozole–will soon be your comida (main meal of the day). But shhhh, this place is our secret, okay?

All of the best pozole starts with cabeza de puerco (a pig's head). Nothing else gives pozole its rich flavor and consistency.

If you've been following Mexico Cooks! for quite a while, you'll probably remember our 2008 article about my beloved friend doña María Medina's pozole estilo Jalisco. Jalisco-style pozole is almost always red, colored and flavored by chile guajillo and is usually prepared with nixtamalized native cacahuatzintle corn. Until a few weeks ago, Jalisco-style pozole was the only kind Mexico Cooks! had eaten. Not any more! We have now partaken of several other pozole pleasures.

The caldo (soupy part) of Guerrero-style pozole is green, more often than not, and prepared in part with pepitas (squash seeds). The dried, nixtamalize-d (simmered with builder's lime and water) corn is white, not red. The flavor is much milder than that of Jalisco-style pozole, and the accompaniments can be decidedly different.

Our group of comensales (diners)–in this instance, happy fellow pozole-slurpers and good friends. From left in the photo: Judith McKnight, photographers Sergio Mendoza Alarcón and Bertha Herrera, journalist Rubén Hernández, and journalist Nadia Luna. The empty chair is mine, and we were later joined by the delightful gastronomer Silvia Kurczyn.

If you are interested in preparing a delicious meal for your friends and family–especially good on a cool fall day, a chilly winter day, or on one of Mexico City's cool, rainy summer afternoons–pozole estilo Guerrero is just the ticket. There are many recipes available on the Internet, both in Spanish and English–not necessarily the exact family recipe used at Pozole Moctezuma, but delicious nonetheless.

Our group indulged in several appetizers: an entire plateful of very fine rolled tacos de chorizo (chorizo is a spicy pork sausage, in this case house-made) and laden with finely chopped onion and fresh cilantro–plus a squeeze of fresh limón), disappeared before I could snap its picture. I pulled the second appetizer plate over to me as soon as it arrived at table; this plate is filled with tostadas de frijoles refritos con chorizo y jitomate (crispy tortillas with refried beans, the same chorizo used in the tacos, and thinly sliced tomatoes). I could have eaten all six tostadas, they were that delicious. The yellow plate in the background holds freshly made chicharrón (fried pork skin) to eat by itself, spread liberally with crema de mesa (table cream) or to break up a little and add to the pozole.

Each of us ordered the medium-size pozole, more than enough for medium-size appetites or for folks who had already eaten several appetizers. Compare the size of the bowl with the good-size avocado behind it. Our bowlsful, replete with rich pork meat, nixtamal-ized corn, and Guerrero-green broth, arrived at table just as you see this one. Behind the bowl at left are a plate of chicharrón (rear), a plate of plain tostadas, and, to the right, the avocado.

My bowl of pozole after adding condiments. I know the green in the center looks like broccoli, but in reality it is pieces of avocado just spooned out of the skin. Also in the bowl are a sprinkle of oregano, a sprinkle of chile piquín, a spoonful each of minced onion and chile serrano, and a bit of chopped cilantro. On the back edge of the bowl (at twelve o'clock) is a piece of chicharrón gordo, with a creamy square of deep-fried pork meat still attached. Next to the chicharrón is a tostada smeared with thick crema de mesa, (Mexican table cream), sprinkled with just a bit of the same chile piquín. In the bowl itself, just in front of the green avocado, is a slice of sardine. Its slightly fishy saltiness added the perfect je-ne-sais-quoi to the pozole. According to my compañeros de mesa (dining companions), pozole estilo Guerrero is often served with a sardine accompaniment. The various elements of the pozole represent all of the elements of the state, including the high plains, the jungle, and the coast.

This restaurant, with more 75 years of history behind it, has been witness to countless events important to Mexico City and the country as a whole. Here, history has been made and history has been changed, young men propose to their girlfriends and politicians plan their campaigns. During one crucial comida, the guns of opposing political factions had to be checked at the door. Jerónimo Álvarez Garduño, the gallant great-grandson of the founder, is executive chef of the restaurant that got its start long before he was born. Its beginnings, in the kitchen and living room of his great-grandmother's upstairs apartment (Number 6), were hidden from public view for the security of the restaurant's clients. Álvarez Garduño works together with his parents, Yolanda Garduño and Guillermo Álvarez López, to ensure that the great Guerrero tradition of "jueves pozolero" (pozole Thursday) continues in Mexico City.

Things are not always what they seem: arroz con huevo estrellado (rice with sunny-side up fried egg) is a typically Mexican dish–served in an atypical form at Pozole Moctezuma. Here, it's dessert: arroz con leche topped with a syrupy peach half.

After comida, ask for café de olla–normally, a special Mexican coffee sweetened in the pot with piloncillo (raw brown sugar) and cinnamon. At Pozole Moctezuma, you will be served instead with a glass of anise liqueur, a few roasted coffee beans floating on top. The restaurant has never had a liquor license, but some alcoholic beverages by other names are available: a refrescada (mezcal with grapefruit soda) to start your meal, beer to go with your pozole, and this lovely café de olla to finish your meal. Soft drinks are also served.

Pozole Moctezuma is a true, rich taste of Mexico City's yesteryear. By all means, if you are visiting the city, go. You'll be so glad you did.

Pozole Moctezuma
Moctezuma #12 (Ring the bell to be admitted)
Colonia Guerrero
Distrito Federal
Monday through Saturday 2PM – 7PM
Pozole verde on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday
Reservations: 5526-7448

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

18 de December de 2021
The Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, December 12 :: El Día de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, 12 de diciembre

The actual tilma (cape-like garment made of woven maguey cactus fiber) worn by San Juan Diego when he first saw Our Lady of Guadalupe, in December 1531. The framed tilma hangs over the main altar at the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, Mexico City.

The annual feast of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe (Our Lady of Guadalupe) falls on December 12. Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe is Mexico's patron saint, and her image adorns churches and altars, house facades and interiors, taxis, private cars, and buses, bull rings and gambling dens, restaurants and houses of ill repute. The national shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, la Basílica, is a place of extraordinary vitality and celebration. On major festival days such as the anniversary of the apparition on December 12th, the atmosphere of devotion created by the many hundreds of thousands of pilgrims is truly electrifying.

Statues of Our Lady of Guadalupe for sale at one of the many, many souvenir booths outside the Basílica.

The enormous Basílica of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe in Mexico City is the most visited pilgrimage site in the Western Hemisphere. Its location, on the hill of Tepeyac, was a place of great sanctity long before the arrival of Christianity in the New World. In pre-Hispanic times, Tepeyac was crowned with a temple dedicated to an earth and fertility goddess called Tonantzin, the Mother of the Gods and our mother. Tonantzin was a virgin goddess associated with the moon, as is Our Lady of Guadalupe who usurped Tonantzin's shrine.

Our Lady of Guadalupe tattoo.

Read the full story of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe here.

Our Lady of Guadalupe with flashing lights, surrounded by fresh roasted peanuts. Cañafest, Morelia, Michoacán. November 2009.

Plastic holy water bottles in her image and in a rainbow of colors, for sale at the booths just outside the Basílica.

Art casket, Our Lady of Guadalupe and the Basílica.

Primitive folk art depiction of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Statue in resin of Our Lady of Guadalupe and Saint John Paul II, who was devoted to her. This image is reproduced as calendars, statues of all sizes, and pictures to hang on the wall. In Mexico, it's still one of the most popular images of 'the real Pope–Mexico's pope'.

Portrait of Monseñor Diego Monroy, former rector of the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe and a native of the state of Michoacán. The painting is part of Monseñor Monroy's private collection; it was my privilege to visit him in his home and take this photo–he was standing just behind me!

In 1810, Padre Miguel Hidalgo carried this banner to lead the struggle for Mexico's independence from Spain.

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

11 de December de 2021
Tamales for Christmas in Mexico :: It’s Never Too Early to Start Dreaming of Them!

Tamales Oaxaca style, wrapped in banana leaves. These tamales, prepared in the kitchen at Restaurante Las 15 Letras in Oaxaca, were filled with armadillo meat. They were absolutely delicious.

When I was a child, my mother would sometimes buy a glass jar (I have conveniently forgotten the brand name) packed with what we called "hot tamales". Wrapped individually in parchment paper, covered in a thin, brackish, tomato-y fluid, these slippery travesties were all I knew of tamales until I moved to Mexico.

The first Christmas season I that I lived in this country, over 40 years ago, my neighbor from across the street came to my door to deliver a dozen of her finest home-made tamales, fresh from the tamalera (tamales steamer). I knew enough of Mexico's politeness to understand that to refuse them would be an irreparable insult, but I also was guilty of what I now know as contempt prior to investigation. I did not want tamales. The memory of those childhood tamales was disgusting. I smiled and thanked her as graciously as I could.

"Pruébalos ya!" she prodded. "Taste them now!" With some hesitation I reached for a plate from the shelf, a fork from the drawer (delay, delay) and unwrapped the steaming corn husk wrapper from a plump tamal she said was filled with pork meat and red chile. One bite and I was an instant convert. My delighted grin told her everything she wanted to know. She went home satisfied, wiping her hands on her apron. I downed two more tamales as soon as she was out of sight. More than 40 years later, I haven't stopped loving them.

A three-compartment tamalera: bottom left, Oaxaca-style tamales wrapped in banana leaves. Right, central Mexico-style tamales, wrapped in corn husks.

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUWjZTAWMQU&w=350&h=315]
The 'official' voice of the ubiquitous Mexico City tamales oaxaqueños vendors. One of these carts visits our street every night at about ten o'clock.

Christmas in Mexico is a time for special festive foods. More tamales than any other food come from our Christmas kitchen. Tamales of pork, beef or chicken with spicy red chile or semi-tart green chile, tamales of rajas con queso (strips of roasted poblano chiles with cheese), and sweet pineapple ones, each with a single raisin pressed into the masa (dough), pour in a steady, steaming torrent from kitchen after kitchen.

I asked my next door neighbor what she's making for Christmas Eve dinner. "Pues, tamales,que más," she answered. "Well, tamales, what else!"

I asked the woman who cleans my house. "Pues, tamales, que más!"

I asked the woman who cuts my hair. "Pues, tamales, que más!"

And my handyman. "What's your wife making to eat for Christmas Eve, Felipe?"

I bet by now you know what he replied. "Pues,tamales, que más?"

Obviously there are other things eaten on Christmas Eve in Mexico. Some folks feast on bacalao a la vizcaína (dried salt codfish stewed with tomatoes, capers, olives, and potatoes). Some women proudly carry huge cazuelas (rustic clay casserole dishes) of mole poblano con guajolote (turkey in a complex, rich sauce of chiles, multiple toasted spices, and a little chocolate de metate (stone ground chocolate), thickened with ground tortillas) to their festive table. Some brew enormous ollas (pots) of menudo (tripe and cow's foot soup) or pozole (a hearty soup of nixtamaliz-ed cacahuatzintle, a native white corn, chiles, pork meat, and condiments) for their special Christmas Eve meal, traditionally served late on Nochebuena (Christmas Eve), after the Misa de Gallo (Midnight Mass).

As an exceptional treat, we're sharing part of a photo essay by my good friend Rolly Brook, may he rest in peace. The photo essay is all about tamales, their ingredients and preparation. Rolly's friend doña Martha cooks a whole pig head for her tamales; many cooks prefer to use maciza—the solid meat from the leg. Either way, the end result is a marvelous Christmas treat.

Doña Martha Prepares Tamales for Christmas

Doña Martha, now with Rolly in heaven, begins to take the meat off the cooked pig head.

Doña Martha mixes the shredded meat from the pig head into the pot of chile colorado (red chile sauce that she prepared earlier in the day).

Doña Martha needs a strong arm to beat freshly rendered lard into the prepared corn for the masa. The lard and ground corn must be beaten together until the mixture is as fluffy as possible.

Doña Martha's daughter spreads masa (corn dough) on the prepared hojas de maíz (corn husks).

Corn husks spread with masa, ready to be filled.

Doña Martha fills each masa-spread corn husk with meat and chile colorado.

Folding the hojas de maíz is an assembly-line process involving the whole family.

Tamales in the tamalera, ready to be steamed. Steaming takes an hour or so.

One small plateful of the finished tamales!

The photos only show part of the process of making tamales. You can access Rolly's entire photo essay on his website. A few years prior to his death, Rolly graciously allowed Mexico Cooks! the use of his wonderful pictures. Although Rolly is now having his Christmas tamales in heaven, his website is permanently on line for the benefit of anyone who needs almost any information about life in Mexico.

Can we finish all these tamales at one sitting? My friends and neighbors prepare hundreds of them with leftovers in mind. Here's how to reheat tamales so they're even better than when they first came out of the steamer.

Recalentados (Reheated Tamales)

Over a medium flame, pre-heat an ungreased clay or cast iron comal (griddle) or in a preheated heavy skillet. Put the tamales to reheat in a single layer, still in their corn husk wrappers. Let them toast, turning them over and over until the corn husks are dark golden brown, nearly black. Just when you think they're going to burn, take them off the heat and peel the husks away. The tamales will be slightly golden, a little crunchy on the edges, and absolutely out of this world delicious.

Provecho! (Good eating!)

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

4 de December de 2021