Category: Mexican Tourism

Picadillo :: Mexican Comfort Food, Just What We Need For Right Now

This delicious recipe for picadillo (pee-kah-DEE-yoh, a kind of Mexican hash) has been a staple in my Mexican home-cooking repertoire for nearly 50 years. A week or so ago, I was shocked to realize that I could not remember the last time I prepared it! What in the world had I been thinking? There is nothing that says 'comfort food' to me as loudly as this simple recipe. You and your family or guests will love it.

Elisabeth Lambert Ortiz (1915-2003), a proper British woman married to Mexican diplomat César Ortiz Tinoco, learned Mexican cuisine in Mexico City, her husband's home town. She published her wonderful The Complete Book of Mexican Cooking in 1967, which introduced the English-speaking world to some of the all but unknown regional cuisines of Mexico. I've cooked from this ever more raggedy, taped-together, yellowing, food-stained, still-magical paperback edition since the middle 1970s, starting several years before I moved to Mexico. The first truly Mexican recipe I ever prepared was picadillo, from Elisabeth Lambert Ortiz's book. It's Ortiz's version of Mexico's traditional home-style hash, and it made quite the hit with my guests, who had never heard of it prior to snarfing it down and asking for seconds at my table. If you've never heard of it, make it as soon as you can!

When I first started making this dish in the United States, some of the ingredients were hard to source. Today, nearly 45 years later, the ingredients for picadillo are easily available in almost any supermarket. Starting with the bowl of ground pork at about seven o'clock in the photograph and moving clockwise, you see the raw meat, Mexican cinnamon sticks, bright orange carrots all but hidden in the dish, chiles serrano, Roma tomatoes, white potatoes, a Red Delicious apple, raisins and dried cranberries, freshly dried hoja de laurel (bay leaves), a whole white onion, and, in the little dish in the right-center foreground, home-dried Mexican oregano. I dried the bay leaves and the oregano myself, but you can make substitutions: use ground cinnamon rather than the cinnamon sticks, store-bought bay leaves, and the oregano you normally use instead of the Mexican type; the rest of the ingredients are commonplace.

Minced chile serrano and diced white onion.

Hash of all kinds is one of the most comfortable of comfort foods, and the hash called picadillo (the word means 'a little something chopped-up') is simply Mexico's slightly more rambunctious cousin. This picadillo recipe is always forgiving, always flexible. Prepare it with ground beef, ground pork, or a combination of the two meats. Use more potatoes, fewer carrots, an extra tomato (or two, if the ones you have are quite small). Want more picante (spiciness)? Add more minced chile serrano. Don't care for olives? Leave them out. But by all means do try picadillo: it's a far cry from your mother's canned corned beef hash.

More ready-to-cook raw ingredients, left to right: diced tomatoes; peeled, peeled, diced apple; peeled, diced carrots. For size comparison's sake, the knife blade is 10.5" long.

Ingredients
1 kilo (2.2 lbs) ground pork, ground beef, or a combination of the two
3 large, ripe Roma tomatoes, diced
3 fresh chiles serrano, minced (Use less chile if your tolerance for picante (spiciness) is low, more if you want more spice.)
2 large cloves garlic, minced
2 medium-large white onions, peeled and diced
4 medium carrots, peeled and diced
1 or 2 large Red Delicious apples OR 1 or 2 large, ripe Bartlett pears OR one of each, peeled and diced
4 medium white potatoes, peeled and diced
1 cup large green olives, with or without pimento, sliced
3/4 cup raisins, dried cranberries, or a combination of both
1 tsp dried oregano, Mexican if you have it
3 large bay leaves
2" piece of Mexican cinnamon stick OR big pinch of ground cinnamon
Freshly rendered pork lard OR vegetable oil, as needed. I'm a lard person, myself.
Sea salt to taste
Beef, chicken, or pork stock, tomato purée, or water, as needed

Sliced large green pimento-stuffed olives. Each of these olives measures a bit more than one inch long prior to slicing. Slice them in thirds or quarters.

Equipment
A large pot with a cover. For this quantity of picadillo, I use a shallow 4-quart enameled casserole.
Cutting board
Sharp knife
Large wooden spoon

Preparation
Heat 3 Tbsp lard or vegetable oil in your cooking pot until it shimmers. Add the onion and chile and sauté over medium fire until the onion is translucent. Add the ground meat and continue to sauté over medium fire until the meat is no longer pink. Break the meat into bite-size chunks as it sautés. Add the rest of the ingredients.

After sautéeing the onion, chile, and meat, add the rest of the solid ingredients to the pot and stir to incorporate them all. T
hen add stock, tomato purée, or water; the liquid should come to about 1/3 of the way up from the bottom of the pot. In this instance, I used a combination of tomato purée and water. Enlarge any photo for a bigger view; you'll be able to see that I used a combination of raisins and dried cranberries. I had about a quarter cup of dried cranberries on hand; a neighbor loaned me the raisins to make up the difference in measurement. The section at the bottom of the photo is blurred due to rising steam.

Cover the pot, leaving the cover just slightly ajar. Lower the heat to its lowest. Set your kitchen timer for 30 minutes and go read your email, walk the dog, or look at Facebook! When the timer rings, check the pot for liquid. If the picadillo has absorbed most of the original liquid, add the same amount again. With the cover ajar, continue to cook over a very low flame for another 30 minutes and correct for salt. Voilà! It's picadillo, ready to serve! I made a pot of picadillo this past Sunday, and it's as good as it always has been.

Picadillo, ready to serve after an hour's cooking. This amount of picadillo will serve 6 to 8 hungry people when served over steamed white rice or Mexican red rice. I like to prepare the picadillo recipe, serve it as a main meal, and save the rest to re-heat and serve the next day. If anything, it is even better after a night's rest–but then, aren't we all? After the second day, whatever picadillo is left freezes beautifully.

Delicious, just-right spicy picadillo, served over rice. You and your family will love this traditional Mexican meal. By all means let me know how it goes over at your house. A huge thank you to Elisabeth Lambert Ortiz, hasta donde tú estés (wherever you might be–the hope, of course, being Heaven).

Provecho! (Good eating!)

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

17 de April de 2021
What’s the Straight Story on Mexico’s Mealtimes? Cena (Supper) at the End of Day.

Back by popular demand! So many Mexico Cooks! fans ask questions about what we eat at mealtimes–and when exactly DO we eat? This is the third week in our three-part series that started on March 27; today, we'll take a close look at what's for supper on the Mexican table.

The man who operates this cart in Mexico City's Centro Histórico (Historic Center) wheels his baked plátanos y camotes (bananas and sweet potatoes) around during the day. In residential areas, when downtown businesses are closed, you are most likely to hear the steam whistle's raucously high-pitched TWEEEEEEEEEEET during mid-to-late evening hours. Each plateful is either a roasted banana or a sweet potato dripping with sweetened condensed milk. Enlarge the photo to get a better look at the front of the vehicle, where the bananas and sweet potatoes are kept warm over the cart's firebox.

Cena (supper) in Mexico is a mixed bag. For an ordinary cena at home, it's a tiny meal: a cup of hot chocolate or hot milk, a pan dulce (sweet bread), or a quick taco made with what's left over from comida (the main meal of the day). Comida being the large meal that it usually is, cena is meant only to tide you over from just before bedtime till early the next morning.

If you're out partying till the wee hours, a few tacos al pastor (shepherd-style marinated pork tacos) on the street might be just the ticket for your cena. Note the whole pineapple at the top of the trompo (vertical spit). The pineapple cooks along with the meat–see the gas grate behind the cone of meat?–and the taquero (taco cook) tosses a few small sweet slices into your grill-warmed tortilla. Top with red or green salsa, a pinch of sea salt, and a shower of minced onion and cilantro for a taste of heaven.

Buñuelos are another favorite food for cena, either eaten at a cenaduría (supper spot) or purchased from a street vendor. Some people still make them at home–the dough is very similar to that of a wheat flour tortilla, stretched over the round bottom of a clay pot till thin. Traditionally, the dough is stretched over the maker's knee to achieve each buñuelo's large size and round shape! They are usually served either whole and dusted with granulated sugar or broken into pieces in a bowl and drizzled with piloncillo (brown sugar) syrup.

Conchas (pan dulce), reposted from the breakfast article: food for cena is often the same food we eat for desayuno.

Just as an aside: in addition to cena, some people in Mexico still partake of merienda, a light snack that can come sometime between comida and cena. This 'light snack' can be as simple as a couple of cookies and a cup of té de manzanilla (chamomile tea) or it can be a more complex offering similar to an English tea. Mexico Cooks! will leave the question of how to find stomach room for merienda up to you.

Not all food eaten for cena is sweet. Case in point: this Pátzcuaro, Michoacán specialty is atole de grano, a savory corn soup that's colored and flavored with anise.

The 1826 Restaurant at the Rosewood Hotel in San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, is an enticing spot for cena whether it's a romantic evening for you and your main squeeze or whether you are supping with a group of friends.

In February, Mexico Cooks! and a group of friends attended a gala Valentine's Day cena at Restaurante Los Danzantes in Coyoacán, Mexico City. The dinner was presented by Cynthia Martínez and a team from Morelia, Michoacán.

If you are invited to a cena baile (dinner dance) or a cena de gala (black tie dinner)at a restaurant, events center, or private home, your hosts will pull out all the stops. Champagne, beautiful entradas (appetizers), a superb multi-course meal, snazzy dessert, alcoholic beverages and music are de rigeur.

Mexico Cooks! researches possibilities for an elegant cena at Restaurante JASO, Colonia Polanco, Mexico City. As is often said, It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it.

For a hearty cena, this chamorro (pork shank, cooked for long hours and absolutely delicious) is served at Morelia's Restaurante La Conspiración de 1809. The portion, too large for me to finish at one sitting, served as wonderful tacos for the next night's cena. Not to be missed!

From street tacos to stilettos and tuxedos, cena in Mexico will keep you going till morning. Provecho!

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

10 de April de 2021
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.

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. 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 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.

3 de April de 2021
Are You Looking for the Straight Story on Mexico’s Mealtimes? Here’s Your Buenos Días…

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 the United States about mealtimes and what's eaten when 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 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.

27 de March de 2021
Albóndigas de Jalisco, Estilo Diana Kennedy :: Meatballs As Made in the State of Jalisco, Diana Kennedy Style

These and just a few other ingredients for albóndigas de Jalisco (Jalisco-style meatballs) combine to become a simple but delicious meal.

The weather was cool during the day today here in Morelia, Michoacán, and it seemed an ideal day to make this truly wonderful soup for our comida (Mexico's mid-afternoon main meal of the day). Subtly-flavored albóndigas–especially as prepared from this recipe, adapted from Diana Kennedy's book The Cuisines of Mexico–are the perfect comfort food.

You only need to blend eggs and a few herbs and spices to give a most wonderful Mexican touch to the meat mixture for these albóndigas (meatballs). Be sure to use mint in the meatballs–fresh if you can grow it or get it, dried if you can't. The flavor is marvelous.

This is a dandy recipe for cooks of any level: if you're a beginner, you'll love the simplicity of the flavors of the end product. If you're a more advanced cook, the people at your table will believe that you worked for hours to prepare this traditional Mexican meal.

All the ingredients you need are undoubtedly easy for you to get even if you live outside Mexico. Here's the list, both for the meatballs and their sauce:

Ingredients
Albóndigas (Meatballs)
1.5 Tbsp long-grain white rice, rinsed
Boiling water to cover
3/4 lb ground pork
3/4 lb ground beef
2 eggs
1/4 scant teaspoon dried oregano
4 good-sized sprigs fresh mint (preferably) OR 1 tsp dried mint
1 chile serrano, roughly chopped
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 scant teaspoon cumin seeds OR ground cumin
1/3 medium white onion, roughly chopped

Add the liquified eggs, onions, chile serrano, herbs, and spices to the ground meats and mix well with your hands.

Sauce
3 medium tomatoes (about 1 lb)
1 chile serrano, roughly chopped (optional if you do not care for a mildly spicy sauce)
Boiling water to cover
2 to 3 Tbsp lard, vegetable oil, peanut oil, or safflower oil (I prefer lard, for its flavor)
1 medium white onion, quartered
5 cups rich meat or chicken broth, homemade if possible
About 3/4 teaspoon of the adobo (thick sauce) from a can of chiles chipotle en adobo (a smoky chile in sauce)
Salt to taste

For serving
2 or 3 carrots, cut into sticks or cubes (I prefer sticks)
2 large white potatoes, cut into sticks or cubes (I prefer sticks)

Utensils
A small bowl
A large bowl
A blender (2 uses)
A saucepan
A fork
A large flameproof pot with cover

Preparing the meatballs
Put the rice in a small bowl and cover with boiling water. Allow to soak for about 45 minutes. I use the glass custard cup that you see lying on its side in the initial photo–it's just the right size.

While the rice is soaking, put both kinds of meat into the large bowl.

Put the eggs, onion, and all herbs and spices–in that order–in the blender jar. Blend until all is liquified. Add to the meat mixture and, using your hands, mix well until the liquid is thoroughly incorporated.

Rinse out the blender jar for its next use in this recipe.

Drain the rice and add it to the meat mixture. Form 16 meatballs, about 2 inches in diameter, and set aside.

Preparing the sauce

Bring about 2 cups of water to a full rolling boil. Cut a skin-deep cross through the stem-end of the skin of the tomato. Add the whole tomatoes to the boiling water and allow to cook for about a minute, until the skins split. Watch the pot, though: this procedure might take a bit less or a bit more time. You don't want the tomatoes to cook, you just want to be able to take the skins off.

When the tomato skins split, take the tomatoes one by one out of the water and peel them. If you've never tried it, believe me: this is miraculously easy–the skins are not too hot to handle and they slip off the tomatoes like little gloves. You can see that I have stuck a fork into the stem end of the tomato for ease of handling.

Skin the tomatoes and put them in the blender jar. Add the roughly-chopped onion and the chile serrano. Blend until thoroughly puréed.

Freshly rendered manteca (lard) for frying the sauce. If all you can get in your store is a hard brick of stark white, hydrogenated lard, don't bother. It has no flavor and absolutely no redeeming value. If you want to use lard, ask a butcher at a Latin market if he sells freshly rendered lard. If none is available, use the oil of your choice.

In the flameproof cooking pot, heat the lard or oil and add the tomato mixture you have just puréed. Bring it to a boil and let it cook at a bubble for about three minutes. Splatter alert here!

Turn the flame down to a simmer and add the chicken broth to the tomato purée. Bring it back to a simmer. Add the meatballs, cover the pot, and let them simmer in the liquid for about an hour.

After the first hour of cooking, add the carrots and the potatoes to the tomato broth and meatballs. Cover and cook for an additional half hour. When I made the albóndigas this time, I cubed the vegetables. I think the finished dish is more attractive with the vegetables cut into sticks.

The rich fragrance of the cooking albóndigas, the vegetables, and their broth penetrates every corner of our home. By the time they're ready to eat, we are more than eager!

Albóndigas de Jalisco served with steamed white rice (you might also like to try them with Mexican red rice), sliced avocado, and fresh-from-the-comal (a Mexican griddle–mine is made of clay), hot tortillas. This soup plate filled with albóndigas and vegetables needed more sauce; we prefer to eat them when they're very soupy. A serving of rice topped with two meatballs plus vegetables and sauce is plenty.

A clay comal with fresh-made tortillas toasting over a wood fire.

Albóndigas freeze really well, so I often double the recipe; I use a flat styrofoam meat tray from the supermarket to freeze the uncooked meatballs individually, then prepare the sauce, thaw the meatballs, and cook them as described.

The recipe as posted above serves eight, abundantly.

Provecho!

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

20 de March de 2021
Rosalba Morales Bartolo :: The Newest Maestra Cocinera Tradicional (Master Traditional Cook) in Michoacán

On March 8, 2021 (International Women's Day), several women in Michoacán received the designation "maestra cocinera tradicional" (master of traditional cooking), named as such by members of a committee well-familiar with each of their achievements in the cocina tradicional de Michoacán (Michoacán's traditional cooking). The criteria for naming each of them as maestra cocinera were arduous and included participation in health and safety issues for diners, in community efforts, in the development and promotion of their own small restaurants, and in the promotion to the public–both in Mexico and internationally–of Michoacán's cuisines. Seven new maestra cocineras were named: Calletana Nambo, Paula Campoverde, Concepción López, Blanca Delia Villagómez, Carmen Vidales, Norma Alicia Urbina, and Rosalba Morales Bartolo. What happy news! Each of these women deserves enormous accolades for her trajectory as one of the greatest cooks in the state.

All seven of the new maestras cocineras are featured in this photomontage provided last Monday by the government of Michoacán.

Rosalba Morales Bartolo with her brand new document naming her a maestra cocinera de Michoacán.

Rosalba, born and raised in San Jerónimo Purenchécuaro, Michoacán, grew up cooking alongside her mother in their indigenous Purépecha kitchen. Purépecha women are well known for their regional cuisine and extraordinary cooking abilities. Rosalba, who learned recipes and techniques from her grandmother and her mother, beginning in her childhood, has become one of the most exemplary cooks living in Mexico. In the photo, Rosalba oversees a restaurant dining room during a 2015 homage dinner she prepared for Diana Kennedy and many attendees. All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

San Jerónimo Purenchécuaro–Purenchécuaro translates to 'place of visitors'–nestles at the shore of the Lago de Pátzcuaro, in central Michoacán. Eighty per cent of the town's approximately 2,000 inhabitants are indigenous Purépecha and a large number continue to speak their native language and teach it to their children. The town continues its millennia-old social customs, some of which are incorporated now into Roman Catholic religious practices. Mexico Cooks! took the photo from a scenic overlook in San Jerónimo; you can see the town, including the parish church tower, one tiny portion of Lake Pátzcuaro, and the tiers of Michoacán's mountains stretching out beyond the other shore.

Lake Pátzcuaro fishermen, in an old postcard. Today, the butterfly nets typical of the lake region have been largely replaced by other styles of hand-woven nets. Fishing continues to generate income as well as family sustenance for the towns around and close to the lake. Photo courtesy Mexico en Fotos.

Charales, freshly caught and cleaned. Rosalba's father was a fisherman, working on Lake Pátzcuaro. From him, she learned how to fish with a net. She learned how to prepare tiny charales (genus Chirostoma) her grandmother's old-fashioned way. Once the fish are caught, she scales them (yes, these tiny fish, one by one), then eviscerates and washes them. The heads are typically left on the charales. Next, Rosalba spreads them out in the sun to dry on petates (mats made of palm fronds). Once the fish are dried, she uses them for a variety of different dishes: fried for a filling in tacos or gorditas, simmered in a richly flavored broth, crushed into a salsa, or cooked in a guisado (a type of main dish that can also be used as a taco filling).

Petate (mats made of palm fronds), rolled up to be transported on a bicycle. The petate, of pre-Hispanic origin, has multiple uses, including use as bedding, as a drying floor, and as a burial shroud. Image courtesy Pinterest.

At home in her kitchen, Rosalba shows off a plateful of her famous charales. Restaurants and individuals in cities and towns all over Mexico order kilos of Rosy's charales to be shipped to them. I confess that I always thought I hated them: strongly fishy, thickly breaded, greasy, and often overly picante (spicy), charales were for years the very last item on my list of things I wanted to eat. One day a few years ago, Rosalba stood in front of me with a lightly fried, delicately golden brown charal held out between her fingers. "You haven't tried mine, Cristina," she insisted, as she poked it into my mouth. There was no way to say no. What a surprise, it was absolutely delicious! Now I crave them–but only Rosalba's.

Your family's food preparation probably begins with a trip to a well-stocked supermarket. Once your ingredients are at home, you simply turn on a modern stove, either electric or gas. Rosalba's food preparation begins with a trip into the woods near her home, where she gathers branches to be used as fuel
in her wood stove. In addition, she grows much of her food in her large back garden: she tends and harvests tomatoes, chiles, squash, cilantro, avocado, and various fruits, among other delicious items that end up on her table.

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Recently, Rosalba has been featured on several Mexican television programs, including this one called "Cocineros Mexicanos" (Mexican Cooks). Take a few minutes to watch how she cleans the charales, prepares a simple soup and salsa, and delights Nico (the program's host) with her simplicity, directness, honesty, and skill as a cocinera.

Rosy's route to her present renown hasn't been fast and it hasn't been easy. Her life has had numerous ups and downs, its path twisting from her birthplace in San Jerónimo to the United States and back again. In 1984, she graduated from primary school in San Jerónimo and left the next day to work as a cook in a private home in Guadalajara. Her employer asked her to prepare food that was completely unfamiliar to her–fish cooked in white wine! She remembers, "That day marked my life and was incredibly special, because it confirmed and reconfirmed the love, my deep feeling for cooking, as I experimented with different flavors."

In 2013, Rosalba won honorable mention in Raíces, Platillos que Cuentan Una Historia (Roots, Dishes Which Tell a Story) at the annual Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Michoacán (Meeting of Michoacán's Traditional Cooks). Her first entry, in 2010, won her a first prize.

Twice Rosalba entered the United States, each time laboring in Mexican restaurants and sending money back to her native San Jerónimo Purenchécuaro. Over the course of 25 years, she was able to construct her own home, where she lives today and has made her "Cocina Tradicional Rosy" well known to Mexicans and foreigners who are intent on dining well in Michoacán.

Everybody's favorite chile in much of Michoacán: chile manzano, known in Michoacán as chile perón. Approximately 1.5"-2" in diameter, the perón is only chile in the world with black seeds. It ranks between 30,000 and 50,000 'heat' units on the Scoville scale–about the same heat level as the chile de árbol. "While I was living in the United States, I really missed caldo de trucha (trout soup) with chile perón," Rosalba reminisced.

Rosalba at Morelia en Boca 2015, with chef Aquiles Chávez of La Fishería Restaurant in Houston and Restaurante Sotero in Pachuca, Hidalgo, Mexico. Morelia en Boca, an annual international high-end food and wine festival, featured a conference given by cocinera tradicional Rosalba together with chef Aquiles, demonstrating the preparation of Rosy's tiny charales and chef Aquiles' enormous pejelagarto (freshwater gar), native to the waters in chef Aquiles' home state, Tabasco. Their conference was so knowledgeable, so well-presented, and so funny that the huge and enthusiastic audience gave them a standing, cheering ovation at its end.

Chef Aquiles roasted the pejelagarto over a charcoal fire; this photo shows only the head and a small portion of the giant fish's body. To roast the fish, chef Aquiles inserted a broomstick into the gaping tooth-filled mouth; the broomstick stopped at the fish's tail. With the end of the broomstick that protruded from the mouth, chef Aquiles was able to turn the fish as it roasted.

Rosalba serves a taco de charales to chef Joaquín Bonilla, director of the Colegio Culinario de Morelia (Morelia's Culinary School). Not only has Rosy prepared and served her extraordinary dishes all over Mexico, but she has traveled to a number of foreign destinations as well. In 2016, she thrilled Chicago, Illinois, for several weeks with her food. She was one of the star presenters at a major food festival in Toronto, Canada. Later that year she participated in the Slow Food International Terra Madre event in Turin, Italy, and she has excelled at a major food event in Madrid, Spain. The current year has brought more much-deserved recognition throughout Mexico.

Rosalba's caldo de pata de pollo. She prepared this rich chicken broth using just chicken feet as the base. She added fresh vegetables just prior to serving.

Rosy's delicious guisado (a casserole or stewed dish) made with nopales (cactus paddles) and calabacitas (a squash similar to zucchini).

One of Rosalba's many talents is the ability to create utterly wonderful food from whatever is seasonably available. Salsa de zarzamora (blackberry sauce) is a molcajete-ground spicy, sweet, and savory concoction of roasted chile perón, roasted ripe tomatoes, and native Michoacán blackberries. A pinch of salt, a moment's grinding in the volcanic stone mortar, and it's ready for the table. I would cheerfully have eaten it with a spoon, it was so heavenly.

Mexico Cooks! with Rosalba. It's a privilege to share close friendship with her.

Please contact me if you'd like to visit Rosalba and enjoy a meal in her kitchen. I'd be delighted to take you to meet my dear friend and talk with you about the food and its preparation.

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

13 de March de 2021
Mexico Cooks! Ignores Her Mother :: La Nueva Viga, the Second Largest Fish Market in the World

Mexico Cooks!' mother, circa 1980. She tried her best to give me good advice, but I was often loathe to listen.

In November 1969, she suggested that the March on Washington, against the war in Vietnam, might be overcrowded. I went anyway, and it was packed–but the experience was entirely worth being smooshed like a sardine in a can.

Over the course of several years, she warned me about wanting to do battle with the New Year's Eve crowds in New York City's Times Square. Although the idea of squeezing in still piques my interest, I haven't been there yet.

My mother didn't know about Mexico City's wholesale fish market, La Nueva Viga, but had she known, she would have insisted that Viernes Santo (Good Friday) was not the day to go. This photo, taken on Good Friday 2017, barely does justice to the incredibly jammed aisles at La Nueva Viga, Latin America's largest fish market and the second largest fish market in the world. Only the Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo, Japan, surpasses the volume of fish and seafood sold annually at La Nueva Viga. The Tsukiji market averages 660,000 tons of fish and seafood in yearly sales; La Nueva Viga racks up around 550,000 tons. I think 549,000 tons must sell just on Good Friday, the last Lenten day of abstinence from meat. See that short-ish person in red in the middle of it all? That's me, squished.

The main entrance at La Nueva Viga is on Prolongación Eje 6 Sur, Colonia San José Aculco, Iztapalapa. The facility extends over nearly 23 acres (9.2 hectares), with 202 wholesale warehouses, 55 retail warehouses and 165 sellers in total. On any given ordinary day, the market receives between 20,000 to 25,000 customers, mostly restaurant owners in Mexico City and the areas immediately around it. On Good Friday, the clientele is mainly retail: home cooks looking for bargain fish and seafood for the Friday before Easter. Both fish and good prices abound and it seems like half the city is there to buy–what a challenge!

On Good Friday 2017, friends Rondi Frankel, Magdalena Mosig, and I made the trek to La Viga. Rondi drove and Magdalena acted as our guide; she at one time owned a restaurant and always bought fish and seafood at the market. It was a great treat–not to mention an enormous help!–to have her show us the ropes. From my street, south of Mexico City's Centro Histórico, the trip to La Viga took about 45 minutes. Because it was Good Friday, there was no traffic at all until we were close to the market–and then–yikes! Bumper to bumper, several lanes of near-parking lot, hundreds of street vendors of everything from cold bottled water to kites, partial sleeves (wrist to above the elbow) to wear while driving so your arm doesn't get sunburned, thin, crisp, sweet fried morelianas (a kind of cookie), chewing gum, single cigarettes, bags of ready-to-eat mango with chile, limón, and salt, soft drinks, straw hats–anything at all that a person might want.

The massive parking lots for La Viga were completely filled, so we drove a couple of blocks past the fish market and found a private lot. Once we were finally at the market, we sloshed through salty puddles, thousands of fish scales flying through the air, and the ear-jangling clang of huge knives hitting long fish-cleaning tables. Then up a few stairs and we were smack in the middle of the jostling, shoving crowds, pushing between rows of vendor stalls.

Extra-jumbo shrimp! That's Rondi's normal-size adult hand, for comparison. Each shrimp measured approximately 8" long with the head on. The price? $280 pesos (approximately $15 USD) per kilo–or $8.00 USD per pound. If I had to guess, I'd say these huge shrimp are about 4 or 5 to the pound.

Beautiful, fresh, and enormous huachinango (red snapper) were everywhere. These measured about two feet long–great big ones!–and looked fresh as the morning. According to the sign, they were caught in the waters off the state of Veracruz, on the southeastern Gulf coast of Mexico. The darker fish to the left are mojarra (sea bream, a salt-water fish related to the perch), delicious but very bony.

Another vendor displayed his mojarra wit
h the gill flap raised. It's easy to see by the condition of the gill that the fish is wonderfully fresh. This is exactly how a gill should look when you're buying: firm and pink.

Many vendors had huachinango for sale; these were offered at a booth farther down the aisle from the first photo of huachinango. You can tell by the condition of the eye that this lovely fish was freshly caught. The eye is shiny, not sunken into the head, and full of light. My only hesitation in buying a fish was the length of time that I would be carrying it around in a bag prior to getting it home and into the refrigerator: too long in the very warm Mexico City springtime weather.

The smallest of these almeja gallo (rooster clams, at the rear) carried a sign reading, "For soup". Their price was $20 pesos (about $1.40 USD) per kilo. As the sizes increased, the prices increased. The most expensive were the ones on the right, at 35 pesos the kilo.

Look at this incredible tower of live blue crabs, tied up with reeds! Mexico Cooks! has always seen blue crabs in retail markets, always quite dead, so it was wonderful to discover that they actually arrive at La Viga still alive and kicking.

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Proof positive! Watch these babies wiggle! The first thing that crossed my mind to prepare was a big platter of Chinese blue crabs in black bean sauce.

Fresh red octopus, piled high. $245 pesos the kilo.

Spanish mackerel.

These are langostinos–where you live, they may be known as crayfish (although they are a completely different species).

Oysters: piled-up huge costales (in this case, open-weave polypropylene sacks) of oysters. Oysters are sold by the costal, or shucked in their liquid in plastic bags as long as your arm, and also in smaller containers for home consumption. Some oysters come from the southeastern Mexican states of Tabasco and Campeche; others come from the Pacific Coast states of Baja California and Sinaloa. Mexico is the fourth-largest producer of oysters in Latin America. These particular oysters were for sale at $150 pesos the sack. "Isn't that about $8.00 USD?" Why yes, it is.

Oysters, ready to eat. Served with fresh Mexican-grown limones (Key limes), a dozen cost 100 pesos at this sit-down restaurant in La Viga.

What would Mexican seafood be without a bottled table salsa to season it–along with limón and maybe a wee pinch of salt? What we see here is a small selection of the hundreds of salsas from which to choose.

And truly, it wouldn't be right to serve seafood without a splash of home-made salsa bruja: witches' sauce! I keep mine on my counter and top it off with more vinegar as needed. The salsa is a mixture of vinegar with onion, garlic, carrot strips, bay leaf, rosemary, split-open chile (I use serrano), oregano, a couple of cloves, salt, and pepper. Stuff all the vegetables and herbs into an empty wine bottle, fill with vinegar, cork, and allow to sit for several days. Voilà, salsa bruja!

The next time I go to La Nueva Viga, I will abide by what my mother surely would have advised: go on a day when half of Mexico City isn't there! You come, too–we'll have a marvelous time!

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6 de March de 2021
Meatless Mexican Meals for Lent :: Comida Sin Carne Durante la Cuaresma

Atole de grano, a Michoacán specialty made of tender corn and wild, licorice-scented anisillo, is a perfect cena (supper) for Lenten Fridays.

Tortitas de papa (potato croquettes, left) and frijoles negros (black beans, right) from the state of Chiapas in far-southern Mexico are ideal for a Lenten meal.

Roman Catholic Mexicans observe la Cuaresma (Lent), the 40-day (excluding Sundays) penitential season that precedes Easter, with special prayers, vigils, and with extraordinary meatless meals cooked only on Ash Wednesday and during Lent. Many Mexican dishes–seafood, vegetable, and egg–are normally prepared without meat, but some other meatless dishes are particular to Lent. Known as comida cuaresmeña, many of these delicious Lenten foods are little-known outside Mexico and some other parts of Latin America.

Many observant Catholics believe that the personal reflection and meditation demanded by Lenten practices are more fruitful if the individual refrains from heavy food indulgence and makes a promise to abstain from other common habits such as eating candy, smoking cigarettes, and drinking alcohol.

Lent began this year on February 18, Ash Wednesday. Shortly before, certain food specialties began to appear in local markets. Vendors are currently offering very large dried shrimp for caldos (broths) and tortitas (croquettes), perfect heads of cauliflower for tortitas de coliflor (cauliflower croquettes), seasonal romeritos, and thick, dried slices of bolillo (small loaves of white bread) for capirotada (a kind of bread pudding).

This common Lenten preparation is romeritos en mole.  Romeritos, a slightly acidic green vegetable, is in season at this time of year. Although it looks a little like rosemary, it has the texture of a succulent and its taste is relatively sour, more like verdolagas (purslane).

Beautiful fresh romeritos at a market in Morelia, Michoacán.

You'll usually see tortitas de camarón (dried shrimp croquettes) paired for a Friday comida (midday meal) with romeritos en mole, although they are sometimes bathed in a caldillo de jitomate (tomato broth) and served with grilled and sliced nopalitos (cactus paddles).

During Lent, the price of fish and seafood in Mexico goes through the roof due to the huge seasonal demand for meatless meals. These beautiful huachinango (red snapper) come from Mexico's Pacific coast.

Caldo de habas secas (dry fava bean soup), delicious and thick even though meatless, warms you up from the inside as if your days are still frigid at the beginning of Lent. Easter Sunday marks the end of Lent; this year, Easter falls on April 4.

Chef Martín Rafael Mendizabal of La Trucha Alegre in Zitacuaro, Michoacán, prepared trucha deshuesada con agridulce de guayaba (boned trout with guava sweet and sour sauce) for the V Encuentro de Cocina Tradicional de Michoacán held in Morelia in December 2008. The dish would be ideal for an elegant Lenten dinner.

Capirotada (kah-pee-roh-TAH-dah, Lenten bread pudding) is almost unknown outside Mexico. Simple to prepare and absolutely delicious, it's hard to eat it sparingly if you're trying to keep a Lenten abstinence! This photo shows capirotada as served by Carmen Titita Ramírez Degollado at the El Bajío restaurants in Mexico City.

Every family makes a slightly different version of capirotada: a pinch more of this, leave out that, add such-and-such.  Mexico Cooks! prefers to leave out the apricots and add dried pineapple. Make it once and then tweak the recipe to your preference–but please do stick with traditional ingredients.

At left, Mexican canela (long cinnamon sticks). At right, dark raisins. You'll need both of these for preparing capirotada.

Two different sizes of cones of piloncillo (raw brown sugar). For making capirotada, you'll want the bigger cones.

Pan bolillo (dense white bread), Tangancícuaro, Michoacán. Photo courtesy Silvia Sánchez Villegas.

CAPIROTADA (Mexican Bread Pudding for Lent)
Ingredients
*4 fresh bollilos, in 1" thick slices–after you slice the bread, dry it in a slow oven
5 stale tortillas
150 grams pecans
50 grams prunes
100 grams raisins
200 grams peanuts
100 grams dried apricots
1 large apple, peeled and sliced thin
100 grams grated Cotija cheese
Peel of one orange, two uses
*3 cones of piloncillo (Mexican brown sugar)
Four 3" pieces of Mexican stick cinnamon
2 cloves
Butter
Salt

*If you don't have bolillo, substitute slices of very dense French bread. If you don't have piloncillo, substitute 1/2 cup tightly packed brown sugar.

A large metal or clay baking dish.

Preparation
Preheat the oven to 300°F.

Spread the dried bolillo slices with butter. Slightly overlap the tortillas in the bottom and along the sides of the baking dish to make a base for the capirotada. Prepare a thin syrup by boiling the piloncillo in 2 1/2 cups of water with a few shreds of cinnamon sticks, 2/3 of the orange peel, the cloves, and a pinch of salt.

Place the layers of bread rounds in the baking dish so as to allow for their expansion as the capirotada cooks. Lay down a layer of bread, then a layer of nuts, prunes, raisins, peanuts and apricots. Continue until all the bread is layered with the rest. For the final layer, sprinkle the capirotada with the grated Cotija cheese and the remaining third of the orange peel (grated). Add the syrup, moistening all the layers little by little. Reserve a portion of the syrup to add to the capirotada in case it becomes dry during baking.

Bake uncovered until the capirotada is golden brown and the syrup is absorbed. The bread will expand as it absorbs the syrup. Remember to add the rest of the syrup if the top of the capirotada looks dry, and reserve plenty of syrup to pour over each serving.

Cool the capirotada to room temperature. Do not cover until it is cool; even after it is cooled, leave the top ajar.

Try very hard not to eat the entire pan of capirotada at one sitting! Photo courtesy Heraldo México.

A positive thought for this Lenten season: give up discouragement, be an optimist.

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27 de February de 2021
What Do YOU Think of As Authentic Mexican Food? Here’s What I Think.

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 comes up again and again, most recently in comments and queries from readers and food professionals about Mexican and other cuisines. Less than a month ago, the question required the magazine Food & Wine to apologize to the two chefs who created a traditional Mexican recipe for its pages–and the food stylists completely blew the dish and its components into something unrecognizably bad. I still stand behind what I wrote nearly 11 years ago–it's as applicable today as it was then.

"Real" Mexican chile relleno (stuffed, battered, and fried chile poblano), caldillo de jitomate (thin tomato broth), and frijoles negros de la olla (freshly cooked black beans). Notice that the chile is not suffocated with globs of melted cheese: the cheese is inside the chile, as its filling.

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 on Mexico's home and restaurant tables: 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.)

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 hidebound conventions as French cuisine imposes. You can't just throw some chiles and a glob of chocolate into a sauce and call it mole. You can't simply decide to call something "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 twelve pesos the kilo, these Mexico-grown tomatoes, brought to market red-ripe, cost approximately 75 cents USD for 2.2 pounds.

Surprise, surprise: most readily available fresh foods in Mexico's markets are even better than similar ingredients you find outside Mexico. Foreign chefs who tour with me to visit Mexico's stunning produce, 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, in February. 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, a raw egg fresh from the shell (it cooks in the hot broth), 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 traditional 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.

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20 de February de 2021
La Casa del Abuelo Antojería, Morelia, Michoacán :: Fill Your Stomach, Fill Your Heart

Update May 10, 2021: Mexico Cooks! is sorry to report that La Casa del Abuelo Antojería has closed permanently. A victim of COVID-19, lack of business during the recent few months of the pandemia made the closure necessary. Best of luck to Ulises and Karina as they move forward to other endeavors.

The inviting entrance to La Casa del Abuelo (Grandpa's House) in the Centro Histórico of Morelia, Michoacán, México. This tiny restaurant is the epitome of Mexico's "3 Bs": bueno, bonito, y barato (good, pretty, and inexpensive). We're very lucky: it's just a couple of blocks from our house and we eat there as often as possible.

Who among us is always on the lookout for a restaurant that serves delicious food, in a pretty atmosphere, without spending an arm and a leg (or as we say in Mexico, el ojo de la cara (the eye out of your face)? In mid-summer 2020, Luisa and I were walking the three or so blocks from our house to Avenida Madero (Morelia's main downtown street) and noticed a woman standing in the doorway of a restaurant we had often passed on our way to or from–somewhere. Karina Bonilla Pointelin–the woman in the doorway–waved to and grinned at Luisa, and it turned out that several years ago, she was a student in a class Luisa was teaching. It further turned out that the doorway she was standing in was the entrance to La Casa del Abuelo, a restaurant that she and her spouse, Ulises Ramos Estrada, had opened in December, 2018. And what? We hadn't been there yet? How embarrassing! We vowed to eat there as soon as possible.

The menu cover at La Casa del Abuelo. The drawing–made by a niece when she was only five years old–depicts the home of Ulises's father, the "Grandpa" in the restaurant's name. The extensive menu offering breakfast, comida, and supper, is also available using QR, that newish scanning technology for your cellular phone.

Available at all three mealtimes (or as a really hearty snack in between meals, if you're feeling peckish), carne en su jugo (meat in its juice) is one of my particular favorites at La Casa del Abuelo. The large peltre (enameled metal) bowl is served as you see it–filled to the rim with lots of long-simmered small pieces of beef, chopped onion, bacon, flavoring spices, frijoles de la olla (freshly cooked beans, straight from the pot) and beef broth. Topped with more chopped onion, freshly chopped cilantro, and jugo de limón (Key lime juice), this dish is topnotch old-school Mexican comfort food. We were there for breakfast the other day, and I'd been craving their carne en su jugo; I ordered it with a papaya/orange juice combination and a napkin full of hot tortillas. The meals at La Casa del Abuelo are always bien servidos–satisfying portions that fill you up. The carne en su jugo, as of this writing, is priced at 60 pesos, including tortillas. Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better view.

Creamy, foamy hot chocolate, in this case made with milk–Luisa's preference–and topped with multi-color miniature marshmallows.

Another terrific breakfast or anytime option are the chilaquiles, in this case, a mountain of house-fried tortillas topped with freshly made salsa roja (red sauce) and a tender fried egg. Luisa ordered them for breakfast, along with a big glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. How newly squeezed was the juice? I went to the kitchen and watched Ulises squeeze it!

Here's Ulises, squeezing our breakfast juice.

One corner of the main dining room. The restaurant is cozy and intimate, if you're going with a group of relatives or friends, it would be best to make a reservation in advance.

Ulises and Karina talked to me quite a bit about the philosophy of their cooking, service, and restaurant in general. They are strong fans of the international Slow Food movement and follow its precepts closely. Almost nothing on the restaurant menu is prepared in advance: for a salad like the one in the photo above, the greens and the additional vegetables are chopped when a customer orders a salad, the cheese is crumbled when your order is ready to eat, and nothing on the plate will have come from a bag of mixed salad ingredients.

Everything that arrives at your table is hand-chosen by Karina and Ulises–they go to the Morelia markets themselves (and have their favorite markets)–and everything is purchased not much prior to preparation. Nothing is comes frozen from a package. They are also firm believers in cooking and serving local foods and supporting local farmers. Service here takes a bit longer than you might be accustomed to–they only have one other occasional employee, but truly, it's worth the wait for your food. During the pandemic, all health requirements are met at the restaurant: use of masks required, temperature taken at the entrance, antibacterial gel required and provided.

Ulises created this appetizer plate, and we have loved sharing it with our table companions ever since. A bar of slightly softened cream cheese topped with bacon, chopped onion, pieces of toasted nuts, fried dried chile rings, a touch of maple syrup, rosemary, house-fried tortilla strips, and sesame seeds combine to make you want to eat the entire thing! The whole is truly greater than the sum of its parts, and we are always amazed to taste this dish.

Costra filled with grilled beef and chorizo. Costra simply means crust–and in this case, it's a crust made of crispy-grilled cheese. The dish is wonderful for a light supper!

In addition, the couple explained the name of the restaurant. Karina said, "There are several restaurants called variations on a 'Grandma's House' theme, so we didn't want to intrude on that idea. And we wanted to honor Ulises's father, who helped us get the restaurant going–we only had a month from the time we decided to open up, and finding the right place for the restaurant here in Morelia's downtown. He helped us so, so much. And Ulises himself is now a grandfather, so all of the pieces fell into place–La Casa del Abuelo was the right choice!"

A taquito (small rolled and fried taco) filled with jamaica flowers. Jamaica (in English, roselle) is a flower used to make agua de jamaica, a cold, red, slightly tangy agua fresca that is one of the most popular in Mexico. Once the flowers are used to make the "fresh water", they can be squeezed dry and used for other dishes, like this taquito. Like many of Ulises's dishes, this one is a mix of several different textures.

My favorite dessert on the menu: the buñuelos del abuelo–again, created by Ulises. Fried dough, coated with a piloncillo (Mexican raw brown sugar) syrup, crystals of sugar, fresh apple slices, and crushed nuts. A winner–it's very hard to resist ordering it, it's so delicious.

Ulises, Karina, and Mexico Cooks! pose for a photo during a December 2020 event at La Casa del Abuelo. We took new friends to enjoy the atmosphere and the food; it's such a pleasure to spread the word about this great place to eat.

La Casa del Abuelo Antojería
Calle Abasolo 186
Between Calles Corregidora y Allende
Centro Histórico
Morelia, Michoacán, Mexi
co
Reservations or questions: 011-52-443-312-1963 (from the USA and Canada)
Hours due to COVID-19:
Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday 10:00AM until 9:00PM. Post 9:00PM, call for takeout.
Thursday-Friday-Saturday 10:00AM until 7:00PM. Post 7:00PM, call for takeout.
Sunday CLOSED (or call for takeout)

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13 de February de 2021