Category: Tours

El Niño Dios en el Día de la Candelaria: the Christ Child on Candlemas Day

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

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

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

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

Although Mexico's 21st century Christmas celebration often includes Santa Claus and a Christmas tree, the main focus of a home-style Christmas continues to be the nacimiento and the Christian Christmas story. A family's nacimiento may well contain hundreds–even thousands–of figures, but all nacimientos have as their heart and soul the Holy Family (the Virgin Mary, St. Joseph, and the baby Jesus). This centerpiece of the nacimiento is known as el Misterio (the Mystery). The nacimiento is set up early–in 2013, ours was out at the very beginning of December–but the Niño Dios does not make his appearance until the night of December 24, when he is sung to and placed in the manger.

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

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

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

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

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

Every February 2, churches are packed with men, women, and families carrying their Niños Dios to church in his new clothes, ready to be blessed, lulled to sleep with a sweet lullaby, and tucked gently away till next year.

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

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

The Niño Dios dressed as Peruvian San Martín de Porres, the patron saint of racially mixed people and all those seeking interracial harmony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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7 de February de 2015
Mercado de Flores, Guadalajara–Guadalajara’s Wholesale Flower Market

When I lived in Guadalajara, it was my great pleasure to wander the city's wholesale flower market, talking with the long-time vendors and taking more pictures of glorious blooms than will fit on these pages.

I confess that on the day I went on my investigative trip to the wholesale flower stalls, I was in a funk and would have preferred to stay at home. I scowled my way through traffic to the Mercado Mezquitán in downtown Guadalajara and barely managed a brief smile when I found a handy parking place near the flower stalls. And then I was on the street, the flower-filled street, and my bad mood vanished in a heartbeat. How could my funk hang on when the sight and fragrances of literally millions of blossoms were all around me?

It was hard to know where to look first. The narrow old market street, clogged with belching pickup trucks, beat-up flower-crammed cars, overloaded handcarts and people carrying enormous bundles of flowers, runs parallel to super-busy, super-modern Calzada Federalismo. I smiled as the blatant contrasts of Mexico once again showed me that I was definitely not north of the border.

A scruffy yellow dog sniffed the greenery in his path as he hunted for something more promising than flower trimmings for his almuerzo (late breakfast). What looked like a moving tower of bright red roses jostled me as I stood in the street. It was a workman, hurrying along with dozens and dozens of paper-wrapped bundles of beautiful blooms on his shoulder.

Mounds of multi-colored statice wait on a hand truck.

For two city blocks, tiny Calle Mezquitán is a sea of blooms. I've often driven along Federalismo and noticed the market building; it's just across from a municipal cemetery. But the actual flower market, a small enclosed building of perhaps 30 stalls, is insignificant compared to what happens in the street.

I walked along asking permission to take pictures and marveling at the variety of flowers. My eye was caught first by girasoles (sunflowers), then by leticia (statice), then pompones (pompom chrysanthemums).

The vendors greeted me as I strolled past. "Qué va a llevar, señora? Hay de todo." (What are you buying, lady? Everything's here.) Over and over again I asked permission to take photographs. The quantity of flowers was completely overwhelming, their fragrances perfuming the air.

This basket of at least four dozen roses, asters, and assorted greenery cost 250 pesos, less than $20.00 USD at today's exchange rate.

I stopped to ask one of the vendors about the cultivation of flowers in Mexico. Flowers, he told me, are grown commercially primarily in one area of the small State of Mexico, both for export and for use here in the República. Flower business is big business in that fertile valley not far from Mexico City. Flower-growing land sprawls over more than five thousand hectares. That's well over 12,000 acres. In addition, the cultivation of flowers provides either direct or indirect employment to more than 225,000 people in that state.

Gerbera daisies and stargazer lilies.

In the State of Mexico, flower growing generates a yearly economic bounty of $2,700,000,000 pesos: two billion seven hundred million, folks. It's not a typo. The brief selling season just prior to the Day of the Dead in November generates $617,000,000 pesos—in only a few days. The profits from just those late-October flower sales represent nearly one-fourth of the economy produced in the State of Mexico's fields.

Here's just one small example of Mexico's Day of the Dead flower power. In 2003, growers planted ninety hectares of roses which were to be harvested in the last week of October. Those roses produced 11.3 million stems, which were bundled 25 to a package. Each package of 25 roses sold at wholesale for 37 pesos. Total earnings for the brief October rose harvest were 17 million pesos.

In addition to roses, the flower growers of the State of Mexico also cultivate huge numbers of chrysanthemums, vast quantities of gladiolas, millions upon millions of carnations, and most of the rest of the flowers that are available in wholesale markets all over this country and the world. Many, many of the flowers that you who live North of the Border will purchase or be given on Valentine's Day and Mother's Day come from the sunny lands South of the Border.

Claveles (carnations) are among the most popular flowers for sale at the market.

Everywhere I looked, I was tempted to buy. Huge bundles of pink, red, candy-striped or white carnations, each bundle containing 60 or more flowers, sell for 40 pesos–less than $3.00 US dollars. Gorgeous, enormous ready-to-sell flower arrangements, perfect for a banquet table centerpiece, sell for 250 pesos–less than $20.00 US dollars. Bundles of 25 roses sell for 70 pesos.

After walking along the market street for an hour and then investigating the market itself, I stopped to ask a young vendor how long the market had been operating on Calle Mezquitán. She admitted that she wasn't sure and encouraged me to ask Dr. Roberto Avila, the owner of the business where she worked. He was busy taking a large wholesale order on the telephone. "Dr. Avila knows everything about the market, from the time it began until today," she assured me. I waited and watched the action on the street as hundreds of thousands of flowers glowed in the morning sun.

Dr. Avila graciously took the time to answer my questions. "This flower market has been here for more than 50 years," he began. "I'm 57 years old and I was born two blocks from here. My grandmother and my father brought me here to work with them when I was seven. I've had this business for 25 or 26 years now.

Long-stemmed roses sell in bundles of 40 for 70 pesos, about $5.00 USD.

"Look across the street, right over there." He pointed to a small house on the corner. "That house is made of adobe–sun-dried bricks made of mud and straw. All the houses along here were made of adobe, that's how old this section of Guadalajara is. Over the years, they've fallen down because of the rains, but people build them right back up again.

"Some years ago, Calzada Federalismo was widened to accommodate all the traffic that comes this way. Before the street was widened, the market building was more than twice the size it is now. The market building back then wasn't just for flowers. There were meat markets, tortillerías, and plenty of stands where you could eat. The government took most of the market to build the street. Now there's no tortillería there at all, the meat markets have mostly moved out, and there are only a couple of food stands left." He shook his head. "There used to be a kindergarten here. And there were frontón (a ball game played with a kind of basket-shaped racquet) courts." He smiled. "There are many other frontón courts in the city, but the ones right here are gone."

Fronton paddles. Photo courtesy Google Images.

"There are more flower markets in Guadalajara, you know. One is right in front of Parque Agua Azul, on Calzada Independencia near González Gallo. Another is at the corner of Manuel Acuña and Contreras Medellín, just about ten blocks from here. But none of those markets sells the amount of wholesale flowers that we sell here."

I thanked Dr. Avila and walked up and down the street once more. The flower market had lightened my mood and I knew I'd come back on other days just for the lift. Although I was determined to buy a bundle of carnations, my eye suddenly lit on a huge bucket of tight yellow Siberian iris buds. "Cuánto cuestan?" I asked the vendor. "How much do they cost?" Thirty-five pesos for ten long stems! I bought two bunches and strolled happily to my car.

Back home, after I arranged the flowers in a tall vase, I checked my favorite online florist for the price of Siberian iris in the United States. Suffice it to say that I would never have been able to afford them. If you go to Guadalajara, be sure to make a field trip to the wholesale flower market, where you can afford to buy all the flowers you could possibly want.

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31 de January de 2015

The Tianguis: Mexico’s Prehispanic Street Market in Today’s World

Fresh red corn at a Pátzcuaro, Michoacán tianguis (street market).

The typical Mexican tianguis (street market) is a multi-layered event. It combines wonderful shopping with catching up on gossip and meeting friends. It's a place to restock your larder and recharge your spirit at the same time. The tianguis is the perfect spot to buy lovely and inexpensive flowers, delicious field-fresh produce, and succulently sweet tropical fruits. I also buy all of my fresh fish, chicken, cheese, and meat right there at the tianguis. When I tell them where I shop, many friends from North of the Border exclaim, "What! Aren't you afraid of—afraid of—" and their questions fade into puzzled silence.

Beautiful Mexican papaya, sold year-round at almost every tianguis. It's beautifully cut to show the ripe, sweet flesh to prospective buyers.

No, I am not afraid. Not of food poisoning, not of communicable diseases, not of spoilage. After years of purchasing nearly all of my produce, meats and dairy products at the tianguis, I believe that it's just as safe and healthy to buy those items from the tianguis vendors as it is to buy them from a supermarket refrigerator case. I've never been sick nor had any sort of problem from any of the foods I buy from the market vendors. The friends I've convinced to try the vendors report the same thing: unequalled satisfaction and never a problem.

It took me some time to figure out not only what I needed but also where at the tianguis I wanted to buy. You can figure it out, too. My main rule of thumb is to buy where the crowds have gathered to shop and to make my purchases where the fresh foods I want are clean and free of flies. I haven't been disappointed. The quality of meat (particularly chicken and pork) is far superior to anything I've bought from a butcher. The cheeses are unbeatable. The fish is inevitably fresh and clean. Not only are the eyes clear but the fish still smell of the ocean.

Seedless red grapes, ready to be weighed at a small tianguis in Morelia, Michoacán.

It's always best to go to the tianguis early to buy products that need refrigeration. During those first hours of the market, the meats, fish, and dairy products are still chilled and the selection is good. Later in the day, some items may not be available and what's left might look a bit tired.

There are usually several fishmongers at any good-sized urban tianguis. A fishmonger's booth is usually large and filled with a variety of fish. Dorado (mahi mahi), huachinango (red snapper), lenguado (sole), robalo (sea bass), mackerel, crabs, shrimp, octopus, tilapia, and a full assortment of others fresh from the sea compete for space on a bed of ice.

You can request your fish entero (whole), filete (fillete), or even molido (ground, for ceviche). If the fish is small, expect to pay by weight for the whole fish even if you ask for it filleted. If the fish is very large, like a dorado, you'll be charged only for the fillets. Occasionally it's possible to make an advance order for a special request. I've asked for fresh sea scallops when they're in season. If you're making a request for a party menu, it's always best to have an alternative in mind: sometimes the special item you want isn't available.

All of the fish sold by these vendors in the state of Jalisco comes from the Atlantic or Pacific oceans to the main fish market in Zapopan, a suburb of Guadalajara. The vendors are at the market before dawn to purchase the freshest fish to sell in the tianguis.

At some tianguis (but not all) you'll find vendors selling pork and some beef from a tiny table. The table is just big enough for a few large pieces of fresh pork ready to be cut to order, a scale, and a roll of plastic bags. Some days they also have freshly rendered lard for sale.

The first time I shopped for meat at a tianguis, I requested a kilo (approximately two pounds) of maciza (solid boneless leg of pork) that I could use to prepare carne de puerco con chile verde. You can also have maciza ground for albóndigas (Mexican meatballs) or to mix with ground beef for a meatloaf or Italian meatballs. While I was waiting for my maciza, I noticed a beautiful bone-in lomo (in this case, pork loin) and made a mental note to add it to my shopping list another week.

Browned cubes of pork in salsa verde (green sauce). All of the ingredients for this dish (pork, lard, tomate verde [tomatillos], chile serrano, cilantro, and onion) came from my local tianguis. It's ready to go into the oven.

The butcher told me that he buys only first class hogs and has them butchered at the municipal slaughterhouse. At the tianguis, he and his mother sell either lomo or maciza cut to your specifications. The price for either meat on the day that I talked with Sra. Gómez, his mother, was $60 pesos per kilo. The meat is not refrigerated at the tianguis, but it is meat-locker cold when it is placed in the cooler where it is kept until it's sold out, usually by 10 AM.

A little over a year ago I noticed that a new chicken seller had set up shop at the tianguis where I shop. When I prepared the first skinless, boneless chicken breast that I bought from Jaime Ribera, I was hooked. Brought freshly killed to the tianguis on Wednesday mornings, Mexican chicken is the freshest, pinkest, plumpest, most flavorful chicken I have eaten in my life. This chicken is immaculately clean, as is his booth.

A whole Mexican chicken. It weighs approximately three kilos (about six and a half pounds). This one was destined for the soup pot.

The pallid birds of the USA grow even paler in comparison to these glorious creatures. Chicken this good was not available even in the markets I frequented during two months I recently spent in France.

Fresth pata de pollo (chicken feet).

Jaime sells his chicken any way you want it, from a whole bird to just the feet. Breasts can be had with or without skin and bones. If I want the nearly paper-thin breast meat that is used here for preparing milanesa de pollo (breaded chicken), Jaime either has it ready or cuts it for me while I wait. Although the livers are mixed with hearts, I always ask him to sell me just the livers. He carefully picks the hearts out of the mix. When I buy the golden yellow feet—I use them when preparing chicken stock—he always makes sure the toenails are well-trimmed.

Part	Price In Pesos per kilo
Breast (skinless, boneless)	$120
Breast (with skin and bone)	$90
Leg (with thigh, back portion attached)	$40
Leg (with thigh, no back)	$45
Wings	$25
Whole chicken	$40
Chicken livers	$15
Chicken feet	$15

The vendors also sell a variety of cheeses, thick crema (Mexican table cream, similar to French creme fraiche), requesón (Mexican-style cottage cheese, similar to Italian ricotta), and corn or flour tortillas. All of the dairy products are kept fresh and cold in coolers during the selling day.

Products	Price in Pesos
Yogurt	$25/liter
Queso Panela (Mexican fresh cheese)	$35/per cheese 650-700 grams
Queso Oaxaca (Oaxaca-style cheese)	$60/kilo
Crema (Mexican thick cream)	$26/kilo
Queso Cotija (Mexican sharp cheese)	$60/kilo
Queso Asadero (Mexican melting cheese)	$25/half kilo
Requesón (Mexican cottage cheese)	$30/kilo
Flour Tortillas	$20/packet

My dairy product buying isn't confined to just one vendor. I usually purchase cheeses from another booth. Santiago and Ana Isabel Valdomillos specialize in cheeses, cream, yogurts, honey, and chicken nuggets, smoked pork chops, and other easy-to-prepare meats. You'll also see small bottles of Yakult, a drinkable live-bacteria yogurt.

More_cheeses
I'm particularly fond of Santiago's queso cotija, a cheese named for the town in Michoacán where it originated. It's a sharp and fairly dry cheese which crumbles easily. As it ages, it becomes drier and sharper. It's delicious crumbled over refried beans and enchiladas or stirred into soups as a thickening agent.

Santiago smiled when I asked how long he had been selling at the tianguis. "Altogether, it's been more than 28 years." He gestured with his index finger held straight up near his waist to indicate the height of a small child. "I used to help my Dad when I was no taller than this." The dairy and other products are kept cold in coolers throughout the day. The products kept out for sale on the tables are also covered with cheesecloth to protect them from flies.

I think you'll be wonderfully surprised by the freshness, quality, and prices of the fish, meats, chicken, and dairy products offered for sale by these vendors. There's no reason to shop elsewhere for what you'll find–of better quality and for less money–on your regular outing to the tianguis.

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24 de January de 2015

There’s Nowhere Else Like Mexico City: Como México, No Hay Dos

Como México, no hay dos…there's nowhere else like Mexico!

That old saying, 'Como México, no hay dos', is so true. It's used with enormous pride, it's used ironically, it's used with colors-flying patriotic fervor. In the photo above, for example, the signs at these Mexico City outdoor fondas (food booths) read (left to right): Soft Drinks, Beer, and Fruit Drinks. Chicken Soup. We Repair Baby Jesuses. Only in Mexico can you find such wonderfully surrealistic juxtapositions. Como México, no hay dos.

Mexico Cooks! tacked four days in Mexico City onto the end of our February 2008 trip to Chiapas. It was Judy's first trip to Mexico's capital city and we packed in a lot. We'd been invited to stay at the home of a friend, and our time with her was a fast-forward speed combination of eating, yakking, and running around the city. Boy, did we have fun!

Our first order of business was a trip to the Basílica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the second most-visited religious shrine in the Western Hemisphere and a must in Mexico City.

This handy key chain with an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe comes complete with a bottle opener. Judy shook her head and rolled her eyes, but ended up buying this memento of the Basílica for her son.

Frida Kahlo's bedroom with her death mask.

Among our many recorridos (running around), we visited the Museo Frida Kahlo (also known as La Casa Azul), as well as the central plaza of Coyoacán.

The coyote fountain in the plaza principal of Coyoacán. The name means 'place of the coyote' and the fountain commemorates the animal.

One of the best times was a pozole outing with our newest acquaintances, Jim Johnston and Nick Gilman. Jim is the author of Mexico City: An Opinionated Guide for the Curious Traveler; Nick wrote Good Food in Mexico City: A Guide to Food Stalls, Fondas, and Fine Dining.

Who would know the best pozolería in Mexico City better than a passel of foodies? Our friend drove; she's intrepid behind the wheel, even in this city of nearly 25,000,000 souls. We voyaged north from our digs in south central Colonia Condesa, heading for Colonia Santa María La Ribera, near Alameda Norte. Mexico Cooks! has spent a lot of time in the Distrito Federal, but this was our first time in Colonia Santa María La Ribera. Nick assured us that we would love the pozolería.

The back of our waiter's shirt at La Casa de Toño, 'the home of eating well'.

Nick was right. La Casa de Toño is sheer heaven, from the salsas to the postres. The restaurant has been a Mexico City stronghold forever. It's open every day of the year, including Christmas. You can pay a virtual visit to La Casa de Toño here. We had a blast eating our way through a goodly part of the menu. We know we'll go back again next time we're in the city.

A night view of one of the patios at La Casa de Toño. The restaurant is housed in a converted mansion.

Of course we ordered pozole, the specialty of the house, but we also tried a quesadilla or two, a tostada de tinga, and some flautas. Four of us ordered pozole con maciza de puerco, the white meat of the pig. Jim ordered the pozole vegetariano, made with squash blossoms, mushrooms, and corn. I'm a confirmed meat-eater, but Jim's vegetarian pozole was just as delicious as the meat-filled bowl I ate.

Pozole con tostadas, the traditional combo.

Condiments for pozole: minced onion, thinly sliced radishes, shredded lettuce, and a variety of salsas. We also crumbled dried orégano into the bowl, along with powdered chile and sea salt.

Waiting for our cena (supper): Judy, Jim, Nick, and our friend.

The kitchen at La Casa de Toño is a hive of buzzing cooks, waiters, and busboys.

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17 de January de 2015
Mexican Traditions from the Day of the Three Kings to Candelaria

Most Mexicans eat traditional rosca de reyes (Three Kings' Bread) on January 6. Its usual accompaniment is chocolate caliente (hot chocolate) made in the traditional way–with water, not milk.

The Día de los Reyes Magos (the Feast of the Three Kings) falls on January 6 each year. You might know the Christian feast day as Epiphany or as Little Christmas. The festivities celebrate the arrival of the Three Kings at Bethlehem to visit the newborn Baby Jesus. In some cultures, children receive gifts not on Christmas, but on the Feast of the Three Kings–and the Kings are the gift-givers, commemorating the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh that they presented to the Baby Jesus. Many, many children in Mexico still receive special gifts of toys from the Reyes (Kings) on January 6

Typically, Mexican families celebrate the festival with a rosca de reyes (Three Kings' Bread). The size of the family's rosca varies according to the size of the family, but everybody gets a slice, from the littlest toddler to great-grandpa. Accompanied by a cup of chocolate caliente (hot chocolate), it's a great winter treat.

Chef Arturo Camacho Domínguez of Tampico, Tamaulipas.

My friend, chef Arturo Camacho Domínguez, who lives and works in Tampico, Tamaulipas, recently wrote a bit about the significance of the rosca. He wrote, "The rosca de reyes represents a crown; the colorful fruits simulate the jewels which covered the crowns of the Holy Kings. The Kings themselves signify peace, love, and happiness. The Niño Dios hidden in the rosca reminds us of the moment when Saint Joseph and the Virgin Mary hid the Baby Jesus in order to save him from King Herod, who wanted to kill him. The three gifts that the Kings gave to the Niño Dios represent the Kings (gold), God (frankincense), and man (myrrh).

"In Mexico, we consider that an oval or ring shape represents the movement of the sun and that the Niño Dios represents the Child Jesus in his apparition as the Sun God. Others mention that the circular or oval form of the Rosca de Reyes, which has no beginning and no end, is a representation of heaven–which of course is the home of the Niño Dios."

On January 6, 2009, Paty Mora de Vallejo, wife of Morelia's mayor Fausto Vallejo, served a slice of the enormous rosca de reyes monumental moreliana, prepared jointly by bakeries from everywhere in the city.

In many places in Mexico, including Morelia, Michoacán, bakers prepare an annual monumental rosca for the whole city to share. The rosca contains nearly 3000 pounds of flour, 1500 pounds of margerine, 10,500 eggs, 150 liters of milk, 35 pounds of yeast, 35 pounds of salt, 225 pounds of butter, 2000 pounds of dried fruits, and 90 pounds of orange peel. The completed cake, if stretched out straight, measures two kilometers in length! Baked in sections, the gigantic rosca is the collaborative effort of ten bakeries in the city. The city government as well as grocery wholesalers join together to see to it that the tradition of the rosca continues to be a vibrant custom.

The plastic Niño Dios (Baby Jesus) baked into our rosca measured less than 2" tall. The figures used to be made of porcelain, but now they are generally made of plastic. See the dent from a bite on the Niño's head? Mexico Cooks! is the culprit. Every rosca de reyes baked in Mexico contains at least one Niño Dios; larger roscas can hold two, three, or more. Morelia's giant rosca normally contains 10,000 of these tiny figures.

Tradition demands that the person who finds the niño in his or her slice of rosca is required to give a party on February 2, el Día de La Candelaria (Candlemas Day). The party for La Candelaria calls for tamales, more tamales, and their traditional companion, a rich atole flavored with vanilla, cinnamon, or chocolate. Several years ago, an old friend, in the throes of a family economic emergency, was a guest at his relatives' Three Kings party. He bit into the niño buried in his slice of rosca. Embarrassed that he couldn't shoulder the expense of the following month's Candelaria party, he gulped–literally–and swallowed the niño.

El Día de La Candelaria celebrates the presentation of Jesus in the Jewish temple, forty days after his birth. The traditions of La Candelaria encompass religious rituals of ancient Jews, of pre-hispanic rites indigenous to Mexico, of the Christian evangelization brought to Mexico by the Spanish, and of modern-day Catholicism.

In Mexico, you'll find a Niño Dios of any size for your home nacimiento (nativity scene). Traditionally, the Niño Dios is passed down, along with his wardrobe of special clothing, from generation to generation in a single family.

Mexico Cooks!' Niño Dios.

The presentation of the child Jesus to the church is enormously important in Mexican Catholic life. February 2 marks the official end of the Christmas season, the day to put away the last of the holiday decorations. On February 2, the figure of Jesus is gently lifted from the home nacimiento (manger scene, or creche), dressed in new clothing, carried to the church, where he receives blessings and prayers. He is then carried home and rocked to sleep with tender lullabies, and carefully put away until the following year.

The Niño Dios Doctor from Puebla.

Each family dresses its Niño Dios according to its personal beliefs and traditions. Some figures are dressed in clothing representing a Catholic saint particularly venerated in a family; others are dressed in the clothing typically worn by the patron saints of different Mexican states. Some favorites are the Santo Niño de Atocha, venerated especially in Zacatecas; the Niño de Salud (Michoacán), the Santo Niño Doctor (Puebla), and, in Xochimilco (suburban Mexico City), the Niñopa n(alternately spelled Niñopa or Niño-Pa).

This Xochimilco arch and the highly decorated street welcome the much-loved Niñopa figure.

The veneration of Xochimilco's beloved Niñopan follows centuries-old traditions. The figure has a different mayordomo every year; the mayordomo is the person in whose house the baby sleeps every night. Although the Niñopan (his name is a contraction of the words Niño Padre or Niño Patrón) travels from house to house, visiting his chosen hosts, he always returns to the mayordomo's house to spend the night. One resident put it this way: "When the day is beautiful and it's really hot, we take him out on the canals. In his special chalupita (little boat), he floats around all the chinampas (floating islands), wearing his little straw hat so that the heat won't bother him. Then we take him back to his mayordomo, who dresses our Niñopan in his little pajamas, sings him a lullaby, and puts him to sleep, saying, 'Get in your little bed, it's sleepy time!" Even though the Niñopan is always put properly to bed, folks in Xochimilco believe that he sneaks out of bed to play with his toys in the wee hours of the night.

Trajineras (decorated boats) ready to receive tourists line the canals in Xochimilco.

Although he is venerated in many Xochimilco houses during the course of every year, the Niñopan's major feast day is January 6. The annual celebration takes place in Xochimilco's church of St. Bernard of Sienna. On the feast of the Candelaria, fireworks, music, and dancers accompany the Niñopan as he processes through the streets of Xochimilco on his way to his presentation in the church.

Gloria in Xochimilco with Niñopan, April 2008. Photo courtesy Colibrí.

Blue papel picado (cut paper decoration) floating in the deep-blue Xochimilco sky wishes the Niñopan welcome and wishes all of us Feliz Navidad.

El Día de La Candelaria means a joyful party with lots of tamales, coupled with devotion to the Niño Dios. For more about a tamalada (tamales-making party), look at this 2007 Mexico Cooks! article.

From the rosca de reyes on January 6 to the tamales on February 2, the old traditions continue in Mexico's 21st Century.

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10 de January de 2015
Ritos del Año Nuevo: Happy New Year, Mexican Style

In Mexico and other Latin American countries, women wear yellow underwear on New Year's Eve to bring good luck and wealth in the year to come. Red underwear indicates a New Year's wish for an exciting love interest! Whatever the color, be sure your unmentionables for Año Nuevo are newly purchased–recycling a former year's undies won't do the trick!

Superstition or not, many here in Mexico have the custom of ritos del Año Nuevo (New Year's rituals). Some rituals include foods, others prescribe certain clothing, and still others warrant attention for religious interest.

As the clock strikes midnight, it's common to eat twelve grapes–one at each ding, one at each dong of the bell. While eating the grapes, you make a personal wish for each one you consume, welcoming the new year that's beginning. Mexico Cooks! finds that it's helpful to write down the twelve wishes so as not to forget one or choke in the rush to swallow the grapes before the clock finishes striking the hour!

Eating a tablespoonful of cooked lentils on New Year's Eve is said to bring prosperity and fortune. You can also give raw lentils–just a handful–to family and friends with the same wish.

On a small piece of paper, write down the undesirable habits and customs you'd like to let go of in the New Year that's just starting. Burn the paper, then follow through with the changes!

Choose three stones that symbolize health, love, and money. Put them in a place where you will see them every day.

Light candles: blue for peace, yellow for abundance, red for love, green for health, white for spirituality, and orange for intelligence.

Spill clean water on the sidewalk in front of your house as the clock rings in the New Year. Your house will be purified and all tears will be washed away.

To have money for your needs all year, have some bills in your hand or in your pocket to welcome the arrival of the New Year. Some people fold up the money and put it in their shoes!

Take your suitcase for a walk. Legend is that the farther you walk with your suitcase, the farther you'll travel. Several New Year's Eves ago, Mexico Cooks! and a few friends celebrated by walking our suitcases around the block, and we all traveled far and wide during the new year that followed.

Mexico Cooks! wishes all of you a muy Próspero Año Nuevo–and especially wishes that your red underwear brings you (or keeps you) the love of family, friends, and that special someone.

We'll see you in 2015!

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3 de January de 2015
Puros Tamales: For Christmas in Mexico, It’s All About Tamales

Sweet tamales de zarzamora (fresh blackberry tamales) are a specialty of the Meseta Purhépecha, Michoacán.

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

The first Christmas season I that I lived South of the Border, my neighbor came to my door to deliver a dozen of her finest home made tamales, fresh from the tamalera (tamales steamer). I knew enough of Mexican culture to understand that to refuse them would be an irreparable insult, but I also was guilty of what I now know as contempt prior to investigation. I did not want tamales. The memory of those childhood tamales was disgusting. I smiled and thanked her as graciously as I could.

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

"Pruébalos ya!" she prodded. "Taste them now!" With some hesitation I reached for a plate from the shelf, a fork from the drawer (delay, delay) and unwrapped the steaming corn husk wrapper from a plump tamal she said was filled with pork meat and red chile. One bite and I was an instant convert. My grin told her everything she wanted to know. She went home satisfied, wiping her hands on her apron. I downed two more tamales as soon as she was out of sight. More than 25 years later, I haven't stopped loving them.

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

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

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

I asked the woman who grooms my dog. "Pues, tamales, que más!"

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

And my gardener. "What's your Mom making to eat for Christmas Eve, Jorge?"

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

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

Doña Martha Prepares Tamales for Christmas

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

Doña Martha begins to take the meat off the cooked pig head.

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

Doña Martha needs a strong arm to beat lard into the prepared corn for the masa.

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

Corn husks with masa, ready for filling.

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

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

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

The photos only show part of the process of making tamales. You can access Rolly's entire photo essay on his website. Rolly graciously allowed Mexico Cooks! the use of his wonderful pictures.

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

Recalentados (Reheated Tamales)

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

Provecho y Feliz Navidad!

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27 de December de 2014
Seven Points of Tradition: The Piñata in Mexico

Traditional piñatas ready for sale decorate the door to the Hernández family's tiny taller (workshop) on Av. Lázaro Cárdenas.

Among clean ollas de barro (clay pots), plastic receptacles filled with engrudo (flour/water paste), and colorful, neatly stacked rounds of papel de china (tissue paper), Sra. María Dolores Hernández (affectionately known as Doña Lolita) sits on an upturned bucket. She celebrates her birthday on December 24, and she still lights up–just like a Christmas tree–when she talks about her business and her life.

The last point of the star-shaped piñata is in Doña Lolita's hands, nearly ready to be glued into place.

"When I was a young woman, raising my family together with my husband, it was hard for us to make a good living here in Morelia. We had eight children (one has died, but six girls and a boy survive) and we struggled to make ends meet. My husband was a master mason, but I wanted to help out with the finances. I knew a woman who made piñatas, and I thought, 'I can do that.' So I started trying my hand, nearly 60 years ago."

Doña Lolita adds another layer of newspaper to this piñata in progress. "You can't put too much newspaper on the pot, because it will take too long to break," she explained. "And you can't put too little on it, either, because then the first child to hit it will break it. That's no good, either. You just have to know how much to use." Click on the photo to enlarge it and get a good look at the clay pot inside the paper maché.

"The woman who made piñatas wouldn't give away her secrets, so I had to figure everything out for myself. You should have seen me the first time I tried to make a bird's beak for a parrot-shaped piñata! A man I knew told me to make it out of chapopote (a kind of tar), so I did. It hardened all right, but later in the day the weather warmed up and that beak dripped down to here! What a mess! I finally figured out how to make the shape out of paper, but I just about broke my head thinking about it!"

Pre-cut rounds of papel de china (tissue paper) wait to be glued onto a piñata. The black plastic bag holds strips of newspaper.

Doña Lolita told me about the different grades of paper used to create different styles of decoration on the piñata, and she explained different kinds of paper-cutting techniques; she's absolutely the expert. Here, her son-in-law Fernando cuts tissue paper for fringe. His hands are so fast with the scissors it made my head spin; he can even cut without looking.

"In those days, the clay pots cost four and a half pesos for a gross–yes, for 144. In the old days, I usually sold about 7,000 piñatas every December, so you can imagine the investment I made just in clay pots. In the 1960s, I could sell a large piñata for seven pesos. Now–well, now the pots are much more expensive, so naturally the piñatas cost more, too. The large ones cost 45 pesos. This year, I'll sell about 1,000 piñatas just for the posadas. "

Piñatas in various stages of completion hang from every beam in Doña Lolita's tiny workshop.

"When my daughter Mercedes was about eight years old, she wanted to learn to make piñatas. She'd been watching me do it since she was born. So I taught her, and I've taught the whole family.  Piñatería (making piñatas) is what's kept us going." Doña Lolita smiled hugely. "My children have always been extremely hard workers. There was a girl for each part of making the piñatas. Every year, we started making piñatas in August and finished at the beginning of January.

This gigantic piñata, still unfinished, measures almost six feet in diameter from point to point.

"One time, we had so many piñatas to finish that I didn't think we could do it. So I thought, 'if we work all night long, we can finish them by tomorrow morning.' Only I couldn't figure out how to keep the children awake to work all night." She laughed. "I went to the drugstore and bought pills to stay awake. I knew I could keep myself awake, but I gave one pill to each of the children. And in just a little while, I was working and they were sleeping, their heads fell right down into their work! What! Those pills didn't work at all! The next day I went back to the drugstore and asked the pharmacist about it. 'Oh no! I thought you asked me for pills to make them sleep!' he said." Doña Lolita laughed again. "We finished all the piñatas in spite of those pills, but you had better believe me, I never tried anything that foolish again."

Doña Lolita builds piñatas with her son-in-law, Fernando Cedeño Herrera (left), her daughter Mercedes Ayala Hernández, her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren. A close friend, Oswaldo Gutiérrez López (background), works with the family. Her grandson Enrique, 19, says he intends to keep the family business going.

Oswaldo Gutiérrez works on this piñata in the doorway of the tiny taller. Doña Lolita has taught many people the art of creating traditional piñatas, but her family and her loyal customers say she's the best piñatera (piñata maker) in Morelia.

"People come from everywhere to buy my piñatas. I don't have to take them out to sell; I only sell them here in the taller. Because they're so beautiful and well-made, all the best people in Morelia–and lots of people from other places–come to seek me out and order piñatas for their parties. I've taught my family that our work is our pride and our heritage, and my children have all taught their children the same. That is our legacy, our family tradition."

Fill the piñata with candy like these bags of traditional colación (hard candies especially for Christmas).

But why piñatas, and why in December? During the early days of the Spanish conquest, the piñata was used as a catechetical tool. The body of the piñata represented Satan; each of the seven points symbolized the seven capital sins (pride, lust, gluttony, rage, greed, laziness, and envy). Breaking the piñata equated with the triumph of good over evil, overpowering Satan, overcoming sin, and enjoying the delights of God's creation as they pour out of the piñata. Doña Lolita's most sought-after piñatas continue the traditional style, but she also creates piñatas shaped like roosters, peacocks, half-watermelons, deer, half moons, and once, an enormous octopus!

Now, for the nine nights from December 16 through December 24, Mexico celebrates las posadas. Each evening, a re-enactment of the Christmas story brings children dressed as la Virgencita María (ready to give birth to her baby) and her husband Sr. San José (and a street filled with angels, shepherds, and other costumed children) along the road to Bethlehem, searching for a place to stay. There is no place: Bethlehem's posadas (inns) are filled. Where will the baby be born! For the re-enactment, people wait behind closed doors at certain neighborhood houses. The santos peregrinos (holy pilgrims) knock, first at one door, then another. At each house, they sing a song, begging lodging for the night. At each house, the neighbors inside turn them away in song: 'No room here! Go away! Bother someone else!' Watch a lovely slide show: Las Posadas.

Freshly toasted cacahuates (peanuts) also stuff the piñata. The wooden box holding the peanuts is actually a measure, as is the oval metal box.

After several houses turn away la Virgen, San José, and their retinue, they finally receive welcome at the last designated house. After the pilgrims sing their plea for a place to stay, the guests assembled inside sing their welcome,  "Entren santos peregrinos…" (Come in, holy pilgrims…). The doors are flung open, everyone piles into the house, and a huge party starts. Traditional foods like ponche (a hot fruit punch), buñuelos (a thin fried dough covered with either sugar or syrup), and tamales (hundreds of tamales!) pour out of the kitchen as revelers sing villancicos (Mexican Christmas carols) and celebrate the coming of the Niño Dios (the Child Jesus). Finally, all the children line up to put on a blindfold and take swings at a piñata stuffed with candy, seasonal fruits, and peanuts.

This five-pound bag of hard candies shows a blindfolded (but peeking) boy ready to break open the filled piñata. Luis Gómez, a merchant at Local 290, Mercado Independencia in Morelia, offers these and other bags of piñata candies.

Mandarinas (tangerines) are in season at Christmastime and round out the goodies in lots of piñatas.

The piñata, stuffed with all it will hold, hangs from a rope during the posada party. A parent or neighbor swings it back and forth, up and down, as each child takes a turn at breaking it open with a big stick. Watch these adorable kids whack away.

The piñata, lovely though it may be, is purely temporary. Nevertheless, happy memories of childhood posadas with family and friends last a lifetime.

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20 de December de 2014
How Mexico Sees Our Lady of Guadalupe: Images of Love

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

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

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

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

Our Lady of Guadalupe tattoo.

Read the full story of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe here.

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

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

Art casket, Our Lady of Guadalupe and the Basílica.

Primitive folk art depiction of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

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

Portrait of Monseñor Diego Monroy, rector of the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. The painting is part of Monseñor Monroy's private collection.

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

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13 de December de 2014
There’s Always Room for…Gelatina!

My friend Sra. Abundis prepared this clear gelatina. It's approximately 15" in diameter and stuffed with fresh red and green grapes, canned pineapple, and peaches.

Whether you're having a midday meal at a traditional Mexican restaurant anywhere in the República or celebrating at a private party at the home of Mexican friends, you can be almost 100% sure that a prominent item on the dessert menu will be gelatins. As you browse the produce at any town's tianguis (street market) or elbow your way through the crowds at a fiesta patronal (patron saint's celebration), you'll see vendors selling plastic cups and glasses of—you guessed it, jewel-colored gelatin desserts. Gelatina is a shimmering sweet fact of life in Mexico, popular with young and old alike.

What is this Mexican obsession with a food that smacks of 1950s Middle America? Delight in gelatin desserts has been prevalent in Mexico for years; marketing experts here report that it's eaten daily in nearly 90% of Mexican homes. Mexicans consume more gelatin desserts than nearly any other country in the world—three times the quantity of gelatin consumed in the United States alone. In restaurants, the dessert tray will almost always include a variety of gelatin desserts. When Señora Fulana (Mrs. So-and-So) is invited to a party at the home of her best friend, it's very traditional for her to take along a gelatin dessert, all fancied-up and ready for the admiration of the rest of the attendees. At a birthday party, the dessert of preference is rarely cake and ice cream. It's almost always a plate of cake and a jiggling serving of gelatin, which requires no refrigeration to maintain its shape.

There are far more ways to prepare gelatin desserts in Mexico than your mother's Jell-O™ mixed with fruit cocktail or shredded celery and carrots. Some of the desserts are prepared with water, some with milk, and some are prepared as a layered combination of both. Some are major productions involving hours of labor intensive preparation time.

Sra. Abundis and Cristina prepared and painted this marvelous tiger gelatina for a child's birthday party.

Several months ago it was my task to prepare individual serving cups of gelatin for a two-year-old neighbor's birthday party—it seemed like I made hundreds. I thought it would be a complicated and difficult project, but it turned out to be quite a lot of fun. After asking another neighbor's advice, I learned that it's possible to buy powdered gelatin at any dulcería (candy store) or grocery store. The variety of available flavors is amazing: in addition to the ordinary strawberry, lime, and orange, I also found pistachio, almond, tamarindo, and peach.

While I could have kept my project simple, I decided to get fancy. No single-flavor cups of gelatin for this party! I read the directions printed on each bag and learned to prepare this flavor with water, that one with milk. I combined a layer of strawberry (prepared with water) with a layer of pistachio (prepared with milk). Recklessly, I disregarded the instructions to use water to prepare the peach flavor and used milk instead, combining an opaque peach-flavored layer with a clear orange-flavored layer.

Commercially made in Guadalajara for sale in supermarkets, this three-layer single-serving gelatina includes a fruit layer (complete with a prune and its pit), a milk-based layer, and a clear layer. The gelatina comes with its own tiny yellow plastic spoon. These 200 gram gelatins are prepared with preservatives and artificial coloring. Each one costs 7.1 pesos, or 65 cents US.

It's so simple. Of course you can do this at home, even North of the Border. Just buy two different flavors of your favorite brand of gelatin dessert powder, some four-ounce plastic glasses, and have at it. Prepare one flavor and fill each glass to the half-way point. Refrigerate and allow that flavor to set. Prepare the second flavor, using either milk or water, pour it on top of the already jelled flavor, and refrigerate until set.

One traditional recipe is for Mousse de Rompope (eggnog-flavored gelatin dessert). It is so delicious that it bears repeating now.

Rompope (rohm-POH-pay) Mousse with Strawberry Sauce

The mousse:
2 envelopes of unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup water
1 cup heavy cream
2 cups rompope (Mexican eggnog flavored liqueur)
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 egg whites

In a small bowl, sprinkle the gelatin onto the water and let stand until absorbed, about five minutes. Meanwhile, heat the cream slightly in a small saucepan. (Do not boil.) Remove from heat and stir in the gelatin, mixing well to dissolve. Strain into a bowl; add the rompope and vanilla and mix well. Set aside.

In a large bowl, beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Fold in the eggnog mixture, and then pour into a lightly greased 1.5 quart ring-mold, bowl or specialty pan. Refrigerate at least four hours, preferably overnight.

Strawberry Sauce:
1 pound strawberries, stems removed
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon almond extract, anisette or Frangelica (hazelnut flavored liqueur)

Place strawberries, sugar and flavoring in a bowl and let stand for two hours. Purée in a blender, strain and set aside.

Just before serving, remove the mousse from its mold and drizzle with strawberry sauce. Garnish with slightly sweetened whipped cream. If desired, the mousse can be molded with a graham cracker crust.

The preparation of gelatin desserts has been raised to a fine art in Mexico. Special classes in gelatin preparation fascinate housewives and give rise to thriving cottage industry here. Recipes metamorphose from the relatively simple preparations in the preceding recipes to the most elaborate of flavor and design combinations. Recently, the craze for making individual clear gelatin desserts which contain flowers also made of gelatin has hit Mexico like a bombshell.

Flower gelatins like this one, made and copywrited by the Abundis family, are called gelatinas encapsuladas. The flowers are made with a syringe. Neither Sra. Abundis nor Cristina took classes in making the flowers, although many handicrafts schools and individuals offer those courses.

This week I was fortunate to spend some time with Sra. Abundis and her daughter, Cristina, who operate a small home-based business in Guadalajara. The Abundis family invited me to come watch and take pictures as they prepared special gelatinas for a child's birthday party. Mother and daughter have worked together for the last two to three years, preparing made-to-order gelatins for birthdays, baptisms, girls' fifteenth birthday parties, baby showers, engagement parties, and weddings.

The gelatina personality of the day was Spiderman. Cristina explained that the gelatin for the Spiderman mold and many more are milk-based, while other gelatins are water-based. Milk gives the gelatina a more nutritious aspect than does plain water and also makes Spiderman's features show up better after they're painted.

In the Abundis kitchen, Spiderman is fresh out of the mold. A selection of milk ingredients is lined up behind him, along with a small plate full of individual-serving Spiderman heads.

Sra. Abundis showed me the basic ingredients for the dessert; once the basics are assembled, they're flavored with vanilla. Spiderman is prepared with powdered milk. Other gelatinas are made with sweetened condensed milk or with evaporated milk. The Abundis family uses pure cane sugar and unflavored gelatin for its desserts. No preservatives are added. These home-prepared gelatinas must be consumed within 48 hours of their preparation.

Many fancy gelatinas are painted once they're chilled and set. Spiderman is no exception. The paints are special vegetable food coloring gel, manufactured here in Guadalajara.

Sra. Abundis watches closely as Cristina paints Spiderman's red base coat.

While Cristina painted, Sra. Abundis told me that when her relatives moved from Mexico City to Guadalajara in 1940, there was no gelatina in the city. Finally the relatives found a source–one stall at the Mercado Corona in Guadalajara's Centro Histórico sold it.

Cristina starts the initial work with black gel food coloring, outlining Spiderman's eyes. She holds a licenciatura (bachelor of arts) in graphic design from the University of Guadalajara.

"The gelatina has to be very cold in order to paint it," Cristina commented. "If it's not as cold and firm as possible, the paint will run." Spiderman stayed briefly in the freezer between coats of food coloring gel.

Spiderman's intricate thread work is complete.

I asked Sra. Abundis and Cristina which molds are most popular for parties. "Right now, Spiderman is the one all the kids want. Of course they also like Buzz Lightyear, Sponge Bob, all the Disney princesses, and Barbie. The old favorites like Winnie the Pooh, Mickey Mouse, and Tweetie Bird are always popular."

Josua Isai Abundis Linares, Cristina's nearly six year old nephew, participated eagerly in the time I spent with his family. He and I both anticipated our dessert: one of the individual Spiderman heads.

Cristina added, "For adult parties like weddings and baby showers, people want gelatinas encapsuladas, the ones with the flowers, to accompany their special cakes. And it's funny, the kids gobble down their gelatinas, but the adults want to save theirs. The flowers are so beautiful."

Cristina shows off the finished product: Spiderman in person! Sra. Abundis painted the blue base. The cost of this fantastic super hero is 130 pesos, approximately $11.50 USD.

"The people who ordered this Spiderman for their child's party will pick it up late this afternoon. The party is tomorrow." Cristina was happy that she finished the painting with no smears.

For dessert after your midday meal, for a snack or for a light supper, sweet wiggly gelatina satisfies every time. Cooling and slithery, a gelatina is just the ticket when you need a little something, but you don't want too much.

They knew what they were talking about, way back then, when they said, "There's always room for…"

If you happen to be in Guadalajara and need a gelatina for a special party, contact the Abundis family:

            Tiny Gelatinas
            Calle Ciprés #1819
            Colonia del Fresno
            Guadalajara, Jalisco
            Tel: 3812-8426 or 044-33-3815-1917

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22 de November de 2014