Category: Tours

Day and Night of the Dead, Mexico :: More Cultural Aspects

Night of the Dead (Noche de Muertos) grave decoration for a young man who died in a bicycle accident. The bicycle is life-size. Seen in the Panteón Municipal (town cemetery), Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán.

Several weeks ago Paco (a friend from Michoacán) and I were talking about differences in cultural attitudes among citizens of Canada, the United States, and Mexico. We ended by discussing the Noche de Muertos (Night of the Dead) customs here in Mexico.

Paco told me that before the Spanish conquerors, Mesoamerican natives considered death to just be a simple step toward a new life. Life was a circle: time before birth, time here on earth, time after death constituted a continuum with no end, like a golden ring on a finger. Communication between the spirit life of the living and the dead was an ordinary experience.

With the arrival of the Spanish and their Christian beliefs, the indigenous people were taught new ideas. Thoughts of death produced terror: in the final judgment, the just would receive their reward, and sinners would receive their punishment. The difficulty lay in not being counted among the sinners.

The original pre-Hispanic remembrance celebration of the dead took place during the Aztec calendar month dedicated to Mictecacihuatl, the goddess of the dead. That month of the Aztec calendar corresponds to present-day July and the beginning of August. Post-conquest Spanish priests moved the celebration to coincide with the eve of All Souls Day, which falls on November 2. It was a useless attempt to change what the Spaniards regarded as a profane New World festivity of mumbo-jumbo into a Christian solemn occasion. The modern day result is a festival characterized by a mix of pre-hispanic and Catholic rituals—a purely Mexican event.

In the late 1800's, José Guadalupe Posada popularized the notion of death partying through life.

Today in Mexico, death is played with, made fun of, and partied with. We throw our arms around it in a wickedly sardonic embrace and escape its return embrace with a side-step, a wink, and a joke.

Noche de Muertos (Night of the Dead) is celebrated during the chilly night of November 1, ending in the misty dawn hours of November 2. For Mexicans, the celebration represents something more than maudlin veneration of their dead relatives. The celebrations of Memorial Day in the United States or Remembrance Day in Canada are all too frequently devoted to a fleeting moment's thought of those who have gone before, with the rest of the day passed in picnicking and the anticipation of the soon-to-arrive summer holidays. In many parts of Mexico, the living spend the entire night in communion with the faithful departed, telling stories, swapping jokes, wiping away a tear or two.

Sugar hatchling chicks and funny spotted cows, ready for use on your ofrenda (altar) commemorating a deceased loved one.

The idea that death is found in the midst of life (and life in the midst of death) has given rise to different manifestations of extraordinary and original expressions of popular art in Mexico. Among those are the custom of making and decorating sugar skulls (often with the name of a friend or relative written across the forehead), pan de muertos (bread of the dead), drawings in which much fun is poked at death, and calaveras, verses in which living and dead personalities—usually celebrities in the arts, sciences and especially in politics—are skewered by their own most glaring traits and defects. We wait impatiently for the newspapers to give us the most hilarious of the annual poems.

Traditionally, ofrendas (personalized altars) are prepared in the home in honor of one or more deceased family members. The altar is prepared with the deceased person's favorite foods, photographs, and symbolic flowers. Traditions vary from community to community.

In Michoacán, the altar may be decorated with special breads and bananas. In Oaxaca, other foods and fruits are used. It's most common to decorate an altar with hot pink and deep purple papel picado (cut tissue paper) as well as with foods, flowers, and personal objects important to the deceased.

In many places, public ofrendas are set up in the town square, the local Casa de la Cultura, or in shops. Many public altars honor national heroes, personalities from the arts, and little-known friends or well-known public figures.

We use bottles of beer or tequila or another of the dead person's favorite drinks, a packet of cigarettes or a cigar, a prayer card featuring the deceased's name-saint and another of the apparition of the Virgin to whom the deceased was particularly devoted.

Foods on the altar can include a dish filled with mole poblano or other festive food that the deceased enjoyed in life, a pot of frijoles de la olla (freshly cooked beans), platters of tamales, pan dulce (sweet bread), and piles of newly harvested corn, pears, oranges, limes, and any other bounty from the family's fields or garden. The purpose of the offerings is not to flatter and honor to the dead, but rather to share the joy and power of the year's abundance with him or her.

Dolls made of cartón (cardboard) are usually sold at special markets specifically devoted to Day of the Dead items. The cempasúchil (gold flowers) and the flower known by several names: cordón del obispo or pata de león or even terciopelo (bishop's belt, lion's paw, or velveteen, the magenta flowers) adorn most graves and ofrendas (altars honoring the deceased).

In Michoacán, wild orchids are in season and blooming; these too are often used to decorate graves. Photo courtesy El Mural.

Approximately 75% of the literally millions of Mexican cempasúchil flowers used for Day of the Dead are grown in the state of Puebla.

The fresh flower most commonly used everywhere in Mexico to decorate both home altars and at the cemetery is the cempasúchil, a type of marigold. According to my friend Francisco, the cempasúchil represents reverence for the dead. Wild mountain orchids, in abundant bloom at this time of year and cut especially for the Noche de Muertos, signify reverence toward God. Dahlias, the floral symbol of Mexico, are also used profusely on both home altars and in cemeteries. In addition, huge standing coronas (wreaths) of colorful ribbons and artificial flowers adorned with lithographs of saints, various manifestations of the Virgin Mary, or Jesus are used more and more frequently in Mexican cemeteries.

Because the social atmosphere of this celebration is so warm and so colorful—and due to the abundance of food, drink, and good company—the commemoration of Noche de Muertos is much loved by the majority of those who observe it. In spite of the openly fatalistic attitude exhibited by all participants, the celebration is filled with life and is a social ritual of the highest importance. Recognition of the cycle of life and death reminds everyone of his or her mortality.

Catrines, in this case clay figures of well-dressed skeletons, represent the vanity of life and the inescapable reality of death.

On the day of November 1 (and frequently for several days before) families all over Mexico go to the cemetery to clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones. With machetes, brooms, shears, hoes, buckets, metal scrapers and paint, the living set to work to do what needs to be done to leave the grave site spotless.

Is the iron fence around the plot rusty? Scrape it and paint it till it looks brand new. Are there overgrown weeds or bushes? Chop them out, cut them back. Have dead leaves and grass collected at the headstone? Now is the time to sweep them all out. There is usually much lamenting that the grave site has been allowed to deteriorate so much throughout the year—this year we won't let that happen again, will we?

Sugar skulls are a Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) tradition in Mexico. Buy one and have the name of your friend written on the forehead with stiff sugary icing. Your friend will be delighted with the gift.

In many places, November 1 is celebrated as the Day of los Inocentes or Angelitos (the Innocents, or Little Angels)—the little children who have died. In Michoacán on the Day of the Little Angels, the baptismal godparents are responsible for bringing a wooden frame for the flowers, for bringing the cempasúchil and the wild orchids. The godparents bring sugar angels or animals similar to the sugar skulls. They may also bring new clothing for the dead child, and a new toy or two. At the parents' home, preparation of food and drink is underway so that family and friends may be served. Cohetes (booming sky rockets) announce that the procession, singing and praying, is proceeding to the cemetery.

In the late evening of November 1, girls and women arrive at the graves of adults with baskets and bundles and huge clay casseroles filled with the favorite foods of the deceased. A bottle or two of brandy or tequila shows up under someone's arm. Someone else brings a radio and wires it up to play.

Watch a bit of the tradition: Day of the Dead in Mexico

A tiny sugar skeleton band, made in Michoacán for the Noche de Muertos.

In another part of the cemetery, a band appears to help make the moments spent in the cemetery more joyful and to play the dead relatives' favorite songs. Sometimes families and friends adjourn to a nearby home to continue the party. There's even a celebrated dicho (saying) that addresses the need for this fiesta: "El muerto al cajón y el vivo al fiestón." (The dead to the coffin and the living to the big blowout.")

The shimmering lake is made of flower petals!

Although the traditional observance of Noche de Muertos calls for a banquet either at the cemetery or at home during the pre-dawn hours of November 2, families in the large urban areas of Mexico City, Monterrey, Guadalajara, and others, families may simply observe the Day of the Dead rather than spend the night in a cemetery.

Their observance is frequently limited to a special family dinner which includes pan de muertos (bread of the dead). In some areas of the country, it's considered good luck to be the person who bites down on the toy plastic skeleton hidden by the bakery in each round loaf.

A small nicho (shadow box) by artisan Miguel Paredes, representing a Day of the Dead taco stand. An excellent place to buy this kind of nicho is Bazar Sábado in the San Ángel neighborhood of Mexico City. The outdoor and indoor market there is open every Saturday, and these little boxes are available year 'round.

Friends and members of the family give one another little gifts which can include tiny clay skeletons dressed in clothing or set in scenes which represent the occupations or personality characteristics of the receiver. The gift that's most appreciated is a calavera (sugar skull), decorated with sugar flowers, sparkling sequins, and the name of the recipient written in frosting across the cranium.

The pre-Hispanic concept of death as an energy link, as a germ of life, may very well explain how the skull came to be a symbol of death. That symbol has been recreated and assimilated in all aspects of Mexican life. The word calavera can also refer to a person whose existence is dedicated to pleasure—someone who does not take life seriously. The mocking poems of this season, the caricatures drawn with piercingly funny accuracy, the sugar skulls joyfully eaten by the person whose name they carry: all of these are an echo of pre-Hispanic thought, inherited by present-day Mexico.

From Guanajato: skeletal figures made of cartón (cardboard).

This tradition which recognizes that death is a part of the circle of life brings ease and rest to the living. Hearts heal, souls reaffirm their connections. Though beyond our view, the dead are never beyond our memories. Every November 1, the dead come home, if only for the night.

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

26 de October de 2019
Día y Noche de los Muertos en México: Day and Night of the Dead in Mexico :: A Preview of Customs

Highly decorated, very large cartonería (cardboard) skull for Noche de Muertos. One of these might be placed on a home ofrenda (altar) dedicated to the person of one's choice.

Panteón Municipal (Municipal Cemetery), Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán. In recent years, grave decoration has included traditional flowers, candles, and modern plastic wreaths, all of which you see in this photo. The white flowers in cans are nube (babies' breath) and clavel (carnations); the gold flowers are cempasúchil, and the wine-colored flowers are pata de león (cockscomb), all traditional. The wreaths are plastic flowers.

Mexico Cooks! will be touring Morelia and surrounding areas again during this special time of year. We'll be attending one or another special Noche de Muertos event every day for an entire week. Traditional ofrendas (altars dedicated to the dead), spectacular crafts exhibits, concerts, and annual concursos (contests) will fill our days and nights. Known in most parts of Mexico as Día de los Muertos (the Day of the Dead), here in Michoacán we call it Noche de los Muertos (Night of the Dead). By either name, the festival as it's celebrated in Mexico is unique in the world.

These four-inch-long skeletal figures, laid out on their petates (woven reed mats), are hooked up to intravenous bottles of either beer or tequila! They are given as gifts or added to a loved one's home ofrenda.

Tiny sugar footwear, in styles from baby booties to high-heeled pumps, are ready to be given as gifts to special friends or for placement on an ofrenda.

Mexico celebrates death as it celebrates life, with extreme enjoyment in the simplest things. Life and death are both honored and natural states.

The home ofrenda (altar) may memorialize a cherished relative, a political figure (either reviled or beloved), a pet, or a figure from the entertainment world. Traditional decorations include cempasúchil (marigold) and cordón del obispo (cockscomb) flowers, which are used in profusion in churches, cemeteries, and homes. Here in central Michoacán, wild orchids, blooming at this time of year, are also used to decorate graves, primarily in rural areas.

Sugar skulls are often inscribed in icing with a living friend's name and given to that person as a small token of admiration.

In October 2010, Chepo, my long-time cat companion, died. For Noche de Muertos, I created this ofrenda in his honor. It includes his favorite cat food (bottom left corner), his favorite toy (that little white pipe cleaner spring at the bottom right corner), candles, a sugar mouse, and a sugar fish, several photos of him, a big sugar cat between the photos, a large butterfly in remembrance of the many enormous dark-brown moths that he caught and delivered to me, and his ashes, in the wooden box at center. Click on the photo to enlarge it for a better view.

Relatives take favorite foods and beverages to the grave of a loved one gone before. It's said that the dead partake of the spirit of the food, while the living enjoy the physical treats at the cemetery. Mexican friends tell me, "In the morning, after our night-long vigil at the cemetery, we do eat the food that has been on the grave all night, waiting for our relatives to return from the más allá (the great beyond). The funny thing is that the food has no taste at all; our deceased relatives have eaten all the flavor–the flavor of home."

Pan de muertos (bread of the dead) is typically decorated with bone-shaped bread and sprinkled with sugar. The bread itself is flavored with orange and anise. In Michoacán, pan de muertos in the shape of human beings is often hung on ofrendas both in a private home or in a cemetery.

This miniature ofrenda (altar) is filled with tiny representations of treats that the deceased loved in life. Click on any photo for a larger view.

Several years ago, an article in the New York Times quoted Mexico Cooks! about the Noche de los Muertos: "There's a mutual nostalgia. The living remember the dead, and the dead remember the taste of home." That nostalgia imbues the cities and villages of Michoacán at this time of year just as surely as do woodsmoke and the scent of toasting tortillas.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours. And be sure to book your Mexico Cooks! 2020 Dia/Noche de los Muertos tour as soon as possible! We'll reserve space for you and your group to make sure you don't miss anything!

19 de October de 2019
Charrería, The Gentleman’s Sport in Mexico

A few Septembers ago, a friend and I spent a marvelous weekend of charrería (the sport of the horsemen) in Guadalajara. The Quinto Campeonato Nacional del Charro (Fifth National Championship Charro Competition) was held there in conjunction with the Festival Internacional de Mariachi. We drove to Guadalajara on a Saturday in a monumental rainstorm, arriving with high expectations for our stay, without an umbrella and a lot of trepidation about the amount of water that was pouring from the sky. We waited and watched from our hotel's balcony as the rain cascaded and then, little by little, tapered off to occasional drops.

Maru and I hopped in a cab for the ride to the Unión Ganadera Regional (the charro arena). Our cabbie regaled us all along the way with tales about charreadas and the dangers of the maneuvers the charros undertake. Our excitement and anticipation of the day was building and we were among the first to arrive for that day's 11:30 am contests. Three teams of charros would compete each day for three days; on the fourth day, each prior day's winning team would compete for the national championship.

We watched as workers decorated the perimeter of the stands with garlands of estropajos (fiber scrub pads), hojas de maíz (dried corn husks) and listones de tricolor (heavy ribbons of green, white, and red: Mexico's national colors). When the escaramuza team finished its rehearsal, the charros on horseback began to come into the arena to pick their way through the mud in preparation for the events.The rain had stopped, but the charro arena was a mess of thick mud and deep puddles. The escaramuza (women's sidesaddle precision riding team) was practicing when we arrived, the horses spraying mud as the girls spurred them to a dead run, weaving across one another's paths.

Charrería, the national sport of Mexico and a forerunner of the North American rodeo, originated among the Spanish conquistadors in the sixteenth century. Charros, the Mexican horsemen, adapted the equestrian contests of the Spaniards to produce a uniquely Mexican sport. By the nineteenth century, these contests were essential elements of celebrations on large haciendas, especially those festivities celebrating the herraderos (brandings) and rodeos (round-ups). People came from miles around to take part in the celebrations and to watch the charros exhibit their skills and compete against each other in daring competitions of horsemanship.

When, as a result of the Mexican Revolution, the huge haciendas in Mexico were divided into large ranches, , charros feared the demise of this tradition. They called a meeting in Mexico City on July 4, 1921 to found the Asociación Nacional de Charros. In 1933, the Federación Nacional de Charros was created to govern the different charro associations that emerged across the country. By the late twentieth century, this organization was governing charro associations in both Mexico and the United States. In order to compete in a charreada, or rodeo, all associations must be licensed by the federation and competitors must be certified as charros

Many of us confuse the rodeo of the United States with the charreada of Mexico, assuming they are the same. One outstanding difference between the contemporary rodeo and the charreada is that rodeo is an individual sport, while charreada is a team competition.

The charreadas are performed in a lienzo, or arena, which has two principal areas: one is sixty meters long and twelve meters wide and the second is a circular area with a diameter of forty meters. Unlike the rodeo competitor, the charro does not compete for prize money but rather only for the honor of the sport.

The charreada is highly ritualized and the events follow a traditional sequence. The competition usually begins with a military march played by a group of mariachi. A procession follows, with representatives of the different charro associations on horseback, riding around the lienzo carrying flags and banners. They are followed by the president of the state charro association, the members of the competing teams and perhaps the escaramuza team.

The singer Vicente Fernández completing the cala de caballo.

Once the opening ceremony is completed, the first of nine separate competitions begins. Each separate event is called a suerte. The first is the cala de caballo. During this event, the equivalent of dressage in traditional equestrian competition, judges evaluate the rider's control of the horse. The charro rides at a dead gallop from the end of the rectangular chute of the lienzo to the middle of the arena, where he must rein in his horse within a marked area twenty meters wide by six meters long. He must also lead the horse in rapid right (and then left) 360 degree turns, assuring that one rear hoof of the horse remains firmly in place as the animal spins. The charros are also judged on their ability to control backward movements, the horse essentially moving 'in reverse'.

The second event is the piales en lienzo, during which three charros attempt to rope the hind legs of a horse, steer or bull. The third event is the coleadero, sometimes called colear or el coleo. There are at least eight different methods of accomplishing this feat, but the classic move requires the charro to gallop along side the bull as it bursts from its chute. He must then grab the bull by the tail, wrap the tail around his own right leg and speed his horse forward, causing the bull to lose balance, thereby flipping the bull on its back.

The fourth competition is the jineteo de toros, or bull-riding, during which the charro must ride a bull until it stops bucking. During la terna, which is approximately the equivalent of team roping in a North American rodeo, two riders must rope a calf as quickly as possible. One encircles the neck and the other snares the hind legs.

Water color painting of the jineteo de yeguas.

The jineteo de yeguas is bronco-riding. The seventh and eighth events are the piales and the manganas, where the charro, must rope the hind legs and the forelegs of a running mare and pull it off balance. One event is done from the back of the horse, the other standing in the ring.

The final event is considered the most difficult. The paso de la muerte or "death pass" (above) is an event in which the charro rides his tame horse bareback and at a full gallop, attempting to jump onto a wild horse and ride it until it stops bucking.

A charro may compete in only three events in the state or national competitions; only one individual from each association may compete in all events and he is known as the charro completo. Competitors are judged for style as well as execution.

The charro suit that belonged to Emiliano Zapata.

The adjective 'handsome' barely does justice to the charro. From his wide-brimmed heavy sombrero, fitted with a woven horsehair or tooled leather hatband, to his fine leather or ostrich-skin boots, he is every centímetro the gentleman cowboy.

The national organizations strictly supervise and enforce the dress code of the charros. There are several approved levels of clothing, from working outfits to a full dress suit which can double as a tuxedo for formal occasions. The most familiar charro outfit includes a starched white shirt, subtly colored floppy bowtie, tight-fitting jacket and slender belled pants adorned with rows of botondura, hundreds of silver or gold buttons linked with chains. These elegantly dressed charros are hardly the Wrangler-wearing, mud-covered cowpokes we associate with rodeo in the States or Canada. By 11 am, the crowd began to arrive in the arena. The dignitaries were dressed in costumes styled from the period of the Porfiriato (1876-1910). The women wore long, ribboned dresses with multi-colored skirts, fabulous rebozos (long, intricately patterned rectangular shawls with hand-knotted fringe) were draped around their shoulders and their hair was pulled severely into buns secured by large flowers. Little girls were dressed as beautifully as their mothers and grandmothers.

Charrería is predominantly a male sport. Women perform in only one event, the escaramuza (skirmish). An escaramuza team consists of eight women who perform precision patterns while riding sidesaddle, often to musical accompaniment. This event is traditionally held after the coleadero and before the jineteo.

The adjective 'handsome' barely does justice to the charro. From his wide-brimmed heavy sombrero, fitted with a woven horsehair or tooled leather hatband, to his fine leather or ostrich-skin boots, he is every centímetro the gentleman cowboy.

The men, so elegant in their finest trajes de charro (cowboy suits), looked as if they had stepped out of the 19th century. Bristling mustaches and huge hats were the order of the day. These were the honored guests; the rest of us spectators wore normal clothes, but all jeans were knife-creased, all hats impeccable and everyone was considerably more dressed up than one might expect at a typical rodeo.

The crowd erupted in applause as the announcer introduced each charro and each took his place. Special announcements were made as the famous old charros took their places of honor, and the crowd erupted in applause at every name. It is easy to see why the charreada is a revered sporting tradition in Mexico and to understand why so much reverence is given to the founding fathers.

The grand parade of charros began with blaring music, led by a young woman from the escaramuza team who rode sidesaddle in full Porfiriato-era finery: a deeply ruffled long skirt, ribbons in her hair and the ubiquitous wide-brimmed sombrero, tilted at a just-so angle. Cheers and clapping continued as she led the teams, each with its team banner, around the perimeter of the arena. Then the fun really started.

Charro weddings are spectacular!

All nine suertes were played out that Saturday by the three competing teams. My favorite was the coleadero, in which the bull is let out of the chute as a charro on horseback waits by the chute gate. As the bull comes storming out of the chute, the cowboy's task is to gallop his horse full-tilt alongside the bull, grab the bull's tail, wind it twice around his leg and pull the bull to the ground, by the tail, all within a distance of about 200 feet. The bulls fell hard but always jumped right up and went running to their pens again.

The piales y manganas were spectacular, as the charros handled la riata (the lariat) with enormous skill. We were amazed to see one man first lasso and free the two front feet of the mare. In the second pass around the arena he lassoed and freed the two rear feet of the mare. In his third and final pass around the arena, he simultaneously lassoed all four feet of the galloping mare! No other charro that day was able to match his accomplished roping ability.

Some of the most famous mariachis in the world, Los Camperos de Nati Cano, played during the entire charreada. We were entranced by the music, fascinated by the color and action of the spectacle and thrilled by the acts of bravery and skill that the charros performed. What a day!

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

12 de October de 2019
Birriería Chololo Campestre :: Mexico Cooks! Favorite Birria

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next week: Birriería Campestre Chololo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coctel de Camarón Estilo Mexicano for Four

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

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

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

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

Shell the shrimp, cover, chill, and reserve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Viva México! Qué viva!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Polvorones de Nuez
Mexican Wedding Cookies

Preheat oven to 275 degrees.

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

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

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

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

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

Makes approximately three dozen cookies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tindi is the mosca–the common house fly.

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

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

Xanchaki: the burro, or donkey.

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

Axuni, or venado–the deer.

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

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

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

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

K'útu is the tortuga–the turtle.

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

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

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

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

24 de August de 2019