Category: Tours

Home Cooking–Traditional Mexican Food, Just Like Mamá Used to Make

Carnicería (meat market), Mercado San Juan, Morelia, Michoacán. Would you consider this big pink pig head to be 'authentic' Mexican food? It truly is; every part of the head is used in Mexico for preparing one dish or another. Most commonly, the head is used for making pozole.

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

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

The blind men and the elephant.

It's my
considered opinion that there is no such thing as one definition of authentic
Mexican. Wait, before you start
hopping up and down to refute that, consider that "authentic" is generally what
you were raised to appreciate. Your
mother's pot roast is authentic, but so is my mother's. Your aunt's tuna salad is the real deal, but
so is my aunt's, and they're not the least bit similar.

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

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

Traditional Mexican pork tacos al pastor (shepherd-style tacos) are a derivation of shawarma, traditional Middle Eastern spit-roasted lamb, chicken, or beef, imported to Mexico by Lebanese immigrants during the 19th century.

Traditional
Mexican cooking is not a hit-or-miss let's-make-something-for-dinner
proposition based on "let's see what we have in the despensa (pantry)." Traditional Mexican cooking is as complicated and precise as traditional
French cooking, with just as many hide-bound conventions as French cuisine imposes. You can't just throw some chiles and a glob of chocolate into a
sauce and call it mole. You can't simply decide to call something Mexican salsa when it's not. There are specific recipes to follow,
specific flavors and textures to expect, and specific results to attain. Yes, some liberties are taken, particularly
in Mexico's new alta
cocina (haute cuisine) and fusion
restaurants, but even those liberties are generally based on specific traditional recipes.

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

Frijoles peruanos (so-called Peruvian beans) heating in lard, almost ready to be mashed with a blackened chile serrano, resulting in Mexico's ubiquitous and iconic frijolitos refritos (well-fried beans).

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

It's the
same with most meats: pork and chicken are head and shoulders above what you
find in North of the Border meat markets. Fish and seafood are from-the-sea fresh and distributed every day, within just a
few hours of any of Mexico's coasts.

A traditional way to prepare and plate chiles poblano rellenos
(stuffed poblano chiles): a poblano chile, roasted, peeled, and seeded,
then stuffed with a melting white cheese. The chile is then dredged
with flour and covered with an egg batter and fried. It's served
floating in a pool of very light, mildly spicy caldillo (tomato broth).

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

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

The simple ingredients of caldo de pollo (Mexican chicken soup) may vary in one or two aspects from region to region, but the traditional basis is what you see: the freshest chicken, onion, carrots, chile, and cilantro give flavor to the broth.

That
reality is what made Diana Kennedy who she is today: for 50 years, she has taken the time to
travel Mexico, searching for the best of the best of the
traditional preparations. For the most
part, she didn't find them in fancy restaurants, homey comedores (small commercial dining rooms) or fondas
(tiny working-class restaurants). She found them as she stood next to
the stove in a home kitchen, watching Doña Fulana (Mrs. So-and-So) prepare comida (the midday main meal of the day) for her family. She took the time to educate her palate,
understand the ingredients, taste what was offered to her, and learn, learn,
learn from home cooks before she started putting traditional recipes,
techniques, and stories on paper. If we
take the time to prepare recipes from any of Ms. Kennedy's many cookbooks, we
too can experience her wealth of experience and can come to understand what
traditional Mexican cooking can be. Her books bring Mexico's kitchens to us when we're not able to go to Mexico.

Diana Kennedy at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma Mexicana, June 2011.

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

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

3 de August de 2013
Everything But the Squeal: Chicharrón (aka Fried Pork Skin)

Hot-out-of-the-grease porky deliciousness: chicharrón (chee-chah-ROHN, fried pork skin), as made at the Morelia tianguis (street market) where Mexico Cooks! shops every Wednesday. The piece of just-made chicharrón in the photo above is about 60cm high by 45cm wide (two feet by one and a half feet). The cazo (cooking vessel) in the photo is about three feet in diameter at the top.

Mexico
is a huge producer of pork, and not just any pork: the little piggy
that goes to market here is usually finely grained, tender, and
flavorful. The meat has just enough fat-to-lean ratio for a wonderful
feel in the mouth. Every part of the pig is consumed, from the head (pozole) to the curlicue tail (cooked in a pot of beans). Even the skin is eaten, in at least two forms: fried as chicharrón or sliced into thin strips and pickled as cueritos.

Fresh chicharrón, almost ready to eat, gets a final dowsing with boiling oil.

In the United States, pork
rinds destined for the snack food aisle begin as hard, dry pellets made in a factory. Meat processing plants
sell these pellets in bulk to snack food producers and individual pork rind vendors. The
dehydrated pellets are placed in vats of hot cooking oil, maintained at a
temperature around 400 degrees Fahrenheit (approximately 204 degrees
Celsius). A consistent cooking temperature is crucial, since colder oil
may not cause the pellets to puff out during the deep frying
stage. The individual pork
rind pellets are held
down in the near-boiling oil with a metal screen to insure consistency; after about 60 seconds, they're ready for packaging.

Typical
pork rind marketing from the United States. Crunchy pre-packaged pork
rinds and NASCAR go together like gin and tonic, bread and butter, or
mashed potatoes and gravy.

In Mexico, very little processing takes place between the on-the-hoof pig and the cazo (huge metal pot used to make chicharrones).
The slaughterer skins the pig in as large a single piece as possible,
soaks the skin briefly in brine, and sends it to market. At the tianguis where I shop on Wednesdays, the chicharrón vendor's brother kills the pig at the rancho. Another relative–the vendor next to the chicharrón
purveyor–sells the rest of the freshly killed animal: ribs, tongue,
liver, kidneys, legs, chops, tenderloin, etc. Feet sell fresh or
pickled, ears sell fresh or fried.

In Mexico, customers usually wait in line for fresh chicharrón to come out of the cazo. Although packaged chicharrón is available in supermarkets, freshly-made is infinitely better. Truly, there is no comparison.

Pork rinds, long a popular snack food in the southern United States, became
popular country-wide with the advent of high-protein food plans such as
the Atkins and South Beach
diets. Unlike potato or corn chips, fried pork rinds have no
carbohydrates at all. They are exceptionally high in protein, however,
which makes them ideal for those who prefer snack foods that have no starch component.

Fresh chicharrón can be delgado (thin, above) or gordito (thick, below). Chicharrón delgado is just the crispy, crunchy fried skin of the pig. Ask the vendor to weigh out as much or as little as you need; in Mexico, chicharrón is sold by the kilo. You can see the old-fashioned scale that my vendor uses in the photo above. Other vendors at the tianguis use digital electronic scales.

Chicharrón gordito
is fried with little squares of pork meat still attached to the skin.
The meat develops a creamy texture, which contrasts beautifully with the
crunch of the crisp-fried skin. The difference in color between this
photo and the one above is due to the red lona (tarp) that hung above the first booth and the blue lona that hung over the second booth.

The main concern about pork
rinds, however, is their high sodium content. Pork
rinds can have up to three times as much sodium as regular potato
chips. In spite of their sodium content, pork rinds are usually less
greasy than other snacks.

In Mexico, guacamole is often served with chunks of chicharrón instead of totopos (tortilla chips).

In addition to eating chicharrón as a snack food, most Mexicans also enjoy it as a high-protein yet inexpensive meal. Served everywhere in Mexico, chicharrones en salsa verde is enormously popular.

Chicharrones en Salsa Verde
Fried Pork Skins in Green Sauce

Sauce
1 lb fresh tomatillos, husked and washed
1 large bunch cilantro, washed well
4 to 6 chiles serranos, depending on your heat tolerance
Salt to taste

Mexico Cooks! already ground the tomatillos and chiles in the blender. The cilantro is ready to add.

In
a large, heavy saucepan, bring 4 quarts water to a boil. Add the husked tomatillos and the
chiles. Allow to boil until the
tomatillos begin to crack open. As each
one opens, remove it to your blender jar.
A few may not open; when the rest are done, just add the unopened
tomatillos to the rest in the blender jar.
Add the chiles as well. Blend
until roughly chopped. Using the hole in
the center of your blender top, add the cilantro little by little , blending
until the cilantro is finely chopped.
Add salt to taste.

Heat the salsa verde in the large, heavy saucepan until the sauce is simmering. Add six or so ounces of freshly-made crunchy chicharrón delgado.* Allow the chicharrón and salsa to simmer for several minutes. The texture of the chicharrón will change; during the simmer time, it will become soft and slippery.

If you prefer, you can put a portion of chicharrón into a bowl and pour the heated sauce on top. The chicharrón will stay crunchy.

*Don't try to make this recipe with pre-packaged snack food pork rinds; they will fall apart in the sauce.

Serve with hot tortillas, steamed rice, and a cold beer.

Serves two or three.

Provecho!

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

27 de July de 2013
On the Table: Mexico Cooks! Dines Out and Dines at Home

A whole frog, battered, deep fried and served with chiles toreados (chile serrano, rolled in oil and grilled or sautéed until soft), cebolla blanca (white onion, in this case caramelized), and limón to squeeze all over it. Deep fried frogs are a specialty of Queréndaro, Michoacán. It's a truly graphic presentation, but you only eat the legs–unless you care to nibble on other parts.

A Sunday afternoon on the trajineras (boats) in Xochimilco requires a refueling stop at a 'restaurant' trajinera. In this case, our midday meal was juicy carne asada (grilled meat) and quesadillas cooked to order, guacamole and tortilla chips, rice, beans, and hot-off-the griddle tortillas. Delicious!

Mexico Cooks! discovered Panadería Manduca at Av. Nuevo León #125-B during the November Col. Condesa bakery crawl and hasn't stopped buying their marvelous made-on-site pretzel bread. The bread is dense, extremely flavorful, and just the way we like it.

Still on the bread theme, here's the pan de romero (rosemary bread) from Rosetta, a lovely Italian restaurant at Calle Colima 166, Col. Roma Sur, Mexico City. Next time we eat there, I promise you a report on London-trained chef Elena Reygada's wonderful food.

Home cooking: Mexico Cooks! prepared the hot, fennel-y Italian sausage and then created sausage, peppers, and onion sandwiches for a recent meal at home.

Another home-cooked meal: eggplant parmagiana. Peter Francis Battaglia, an Italian-American friend in New Jersey, keeps me inspired to try his recipes. Once you've read his web page and seen his photos, you'll be equally inspired.

Once every six weeks or so, Azul/Condesa or Azul/Histórico call out to us. It's difficult for me to resist the pechuga de pollo en mole negro (chicken breast in black mole). For me, Chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's mole negro recipe continues to be the gold standard for this dish.

To end on a sweet note: these buñuelos–foot-in-diameter deep-fried flour pastry, finished with a dash of granulated sugar and cinnamon, broken onto a plate or into a bowl and bathed with syrup made of piloncillo–were on the fonda table (small family food booth or restaurant) next to me the last time I was in Morelia, Michoacán. Could you resist? I couldn't.

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

20 de July de 2013
Albóndigas de Jalisco, Estilo Diana Kennedy::Jalisco-Style Meatballs, Adapted from Diana Kennedy

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

It's been cool during the day here in Mexico City for the couple of
months since the rainy season finally got itself underway. Summer in
Mexico's Central Highlands is my favorite time of year: cool-to-warm
partly sunny days are nearly always followed by downright chilly rainy
nights.

For those of you who live in the USA or Canada, it's hard to realize
that at more than 7500 feet above sea level, Mexico City has weather
completely unlike what many think of as Mexico's desert or even beach
temperatures. In the last few days, the afternoon high temperatures
have hovered just under 70° Fahrenheit. In Mexico Cooks!' household, cool days always mean something warming and delicious for our comida (midday meal). Subtly-flavored albóndigas–especially as prepared from this recipe, adapted from Diana Kennedy's book The Cuisines of Mexico–are the perfect comfort food.

You only need to blend eggs and a few herbs and spices to give a most wonderful Mexican touch to the meat mixture for these albóndigas (meatballs).

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

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

Ingredients

Albóndigas
1.5 Tbsp long-grain white rice
Boiling water to cover
3/4 lb ground pork
3/4 lb ground beef
2 small zucchini squash (about 6 ounces)
2 eggs
1/4 scant teaspoon dried oregano
4 good-sized sprigs fresh mint (preferably) OR 1 tsp dried mint
1 chile serrano, roughly chopped
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 scant teaspoon cumin seeds OR ground cumin
1/3 medium white onion, roughly chopped

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

Sauce
3 medium Roma tomatoes (about 1 lb)
1 chile serrano, roughly chopped (optional if you do not care for a mildly spicy sauce)
Boiling water to cover
3 Tbsp lard, vegetable oil, peanut oil, or safflower oil (I prefer lard, for its flavor)
1 medium white onion, roughly chopped
5 cups rich meat or chicken broth, homemade if possible
Salt to taste

For serving
2 or 3 carrots, cut into cubes or sticks
2 medium white potatoes, cut into cubes or sticks

Utensils
A small bowl
A large bowl
A blender
A saucepan
A fork
A large flameproof pot with cover

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

While the rice is soaking, put both kinds of meat into the large
bowl. Trim the ends from the zucchini and discard. Chop the squash
very finely and add to the meat mixture.

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

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

Drain the rice and add it to the meat mixture. Form 24 meatballs, about 1.5" in diameter, and set aside.

Preparing the sauce

Bring
about 2 cups of water to a full rolling boil. Add the whole tomatoes
and allow to cook for about five minutes, until the skins split. Watch
the pot, though: this procedure might take a bit less or a bit more
time.

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

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

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

In the flameproof cooking pot, heat the lard or oil and add the
tomato purée. Bring it to a boil and let it cook fast for about three
minutes. Splatter alert here!

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

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

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

Albóndigas de Jalisco
served with steamed white rice (you might also like to try them with
Mexican red rice), sliced avocado, and fresh, hot tortillas. This flat
soup plate filled with albóndigas and vegetables needs more
sauce; we prefer to eat them when they're very soupy. A serving of rice
topped with three meatballs plus vegetables and sauce is plenty.

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

The single recipe serves eight.

Provecho!

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

13 de July de 2013
Flaneur Redux: Mexico City Places to Go, People to See, Things to Eat and Drink…

Chocolate a la española (Spanish-style hot chocolate), Café El Popular, 5 de Mayo #40, Centro Histórico.

San Antonio de Padua
(St. Anthony of Padua), José Guadalupe Posada. Collection Carlos
Monsiváis, Museo del Estanquillo, Isabel la Católica #26, Centro
Histórico.

Pepitorias for sale at San Ángel's delightful Bazar Sábado.

Just a shell of its former self, a shadow of its former glory. Remains of private home, Colonia Roma.

A bolero is not always a song. Shoeshine stand, Centró Histórico, DF.

Santuario de San Charbel (Sanctuary of Saint Charbel), Calle Uruguay, Mexico City.

MetroBús stop, Glorieta Insurgentes. Another kind of shadow.

MetroBús, Glorieta Insurgentes.

Gradas al Atardecer (Stairway at Dusk), Escuela de Gastronomía Mexicana, Col. Roma.

Cocktail hour sunglasses from the 1960s, modeled by the vendor. La Lagunilla.

18th
Century barroque Templo de la Profesa, Isabel la Católica esq.
Francisco Madero, Centro Histórico. From the rooftop, Museo del
Estanquillo.

Champurrado (atole, a thick, hot corn-based drink, in this instance made with chocolate), Restaurante Flor de Lis, Col. Condesa.

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

6 de July de 2013
Izote de Patricia Quintana: History on Your Plate

Izote, Patricia Quintana's groundbreaking Mexico City restaurant, will close permanently on June 30, 2013. This article, originally published on November 19, 2011, recounts just one of Mexico Cooks!' wonderful experiences there. Thank you, Chef Paty, for your incredible contribution to the cuisines of our beloved Mexico. Adelante, amiga!

Sr. Brandon Milmo, director of Casa Madero Winery (Parras, Coahuila,
Mexico), chef Patricia Quintana, and don Pedro Poncelis, Mexico's
premier sommelier, at Restaurante Izote de Patricia Quintana.

Rain! As Mexico Cooks! was leaving the house, as we finally
grabbed a cab, while we were traveling (in rush hour traffic, of
course) to Mexico City's upscale Colonia Polanco, the unseasonable rain
bucketed down. But like magic, just as we pulled onto slightly
nose-in-the-air Av. Presidente Masaryk (Mexico City's equivalent to New
York's Fifth Avenue) the rain–and the cab–stopped. Respectably late,
we strolled, blessedly dry and with umbrellas tightly furled, into
Patricia Quintana's little piece of heaven: Restaurante Izote.

Casa Madero sponsored the Casa Grande Shiraz cata vertical
(vertical wine tasting). In a vertical wine tasting, each of the wines
served is the same, but from several different years. In this case,
the Casa Grande Shiraz was from 2005, 2006, and 2007. Grown on the same
vines but under slightly different climatic conditions, each year's
crop had different fragrances, colors, and flavors.

Judith
McKnight, left, enjoys the company of Mexico City wine expert Rondi
Frankel (center) and Fabiola de la Fuente, editorial director of
Food+Travel México magazine. We all found plenty to talk about before
we were seated for the wine tasting and dinner pairings. A tidbit of
information: Casa Madero, founded in 1597, is the oldest winery in the
New World.

At first glance, these Casa Madero placemats appeared to have been already used, stained by circles of vino tinto (red wine). Several people (including Mexico Cooks!)
not-so-surreptitiously touched the wine stains, only to discover that
they were cleverly printed on the paper mat. Below each supposed stain
was space for notes about each year's wine. Jorge Luis Trejo
Villaseñor, Casa Madero's national sales manager, called my attention to
the outstanding legend at the bottom of the placemat: A qué sabe un vino con 5 siglos de pasión? (What is the flavor of a wine with five centuries of passion?)

Casa
Madero's director, Brandon Milmo, listens intently as elegant sommelier
(highly trained wine steward) Claudia Juárez discusses the special
characteristics of each of the three Shiraz wines. She wears the
sommelier's formal uniform, including the tastevin on its chain.

The tastevin (saucer-like silver cup) was originally created
by French winemakers to enable them to judge the clarity and color of
wine that was stored in dim, candle-lit wine cellars. Regular wine
glasses were too deep to allow for accurate judging of the wine's color
in such faint light. Tastevin are designed with a shiny
faceted inner surface. Often, the bottom of the cup is convex in shape.
The facets, convex bottom, and the shiny inner surface catch as much
available light as possible, reflecting it throughout the wine in the
cup, making it possible to see through the wine.

With the advent of modern electric lights, the tastevin has
very little practical use, although sommeliers often wear them on a
ribbon or chain around the neck as a nod to tradition and a symbol of
pride in their profession.

The three Casa Grande Shiraz pours; from left to right, 2005, 2006, and 2007.

While sommelier Claudia Juárez instructed us, we 50 guests of the house carefully tasted the three wines. Mexico Cooks! is a relative neophyte in the world of oenology, but the lessons of the evening were well learned. Really tasting
wine isn't about pounding down a tumblerful of the rosé that you've
poured from the cheap boxed wine in your refrigerator. Instead, there
are qualities to look for in your glass: how does the wine look, from
its color to its 'legs'? How does it smell–fruity, nutty, leathery,
spicy? How does it taste–floral, peppery, acidic, light, heavy? Most
important of all, of course, is whether or not you like what you're
drinking.

A
wine's 'legs' (also called 'tears') are the subtle traces left on the
inner bowl of the glass after the wine is gently swirled around several
times. Once thought to be an indicator of quality, experts now say that
the legs are in fact a product of surface tension and an indicator of
alcohol content. In the photograph, you have the best view of the legs
at the bottom left corner of the flower arrangement.

After carefully tasting each individual Shiraz and then comparing the
various merits of the three years, we began to enjoy the food maridaje
(pairings with the wines). Chef Patricia Quintana, internationally
known for Restaurante Izote, for her many cookbooks, her television
shows, and her annual Aromas y Sabores tours, prepared a twelve-course tasting menu (yes, twelve courses!) consisting of eight savories and four sweets.

First course: timbal de frijol con morillas, queso pijijiapan y chile ancho con mezcal.
In this case, the timbale is a cylindrical mold of beans filled with
minced morel mushrooms and topped with cheese from Pijijiapan, Chiapas.
You can see the sauce on the side.

Next, a taquito de cabrito con salsa verde–a
freshly made corn tortilla wrapped around shredded goat meat, then
fried and bathed with green sauce, Mexican table cream, and dusted with
aged cheese. A chopstick, inserted into one end of the taquito, made for ease of handling.

Third course: enchiladas de queso asadero en salsa de jitomate con chile verde. Queso asadero
is a melting cheese, used in this instance to fill the enchilada. The
tomato and green chile sauce, along with the topping of thinly sliced
onion, finely grated aged cheese, and shredded lettuce, were traditional
accompaniments raised to a celestial level.

Fourth: pescado al vapor a la tinga con papa
(steamed fish, in this case red snapper, in a spicy red sauce–all
sitting on a slice of potato and wrapped for steaming in a banana leaf).

The banana leaf spread open, showing the pescado al vapor a la tinga con papa. This dish was my hands-down favorite. The mixture of flavors in the tinga combined with the sweet tenderness of the fish to explode in a sensational fiesta in my mouth.

Fifth course: ensalada de jitomatitos con vinagreta al Shiraz Casa Grande 2007.
This salad is made of tiny grape tomatoes dressed with a vinaigrette
made with the 2007 wine we were tasting. The presentation of this
salad, as well as that of all the courses, was exquisite.

Sixth: camarones con azafrán y municiones
(shrimp in saffron sauce with little pasta 'bullets'). Perfectly
cooked shrimp-on-a-stick combined beautifully with the richly delicate
flavor of saffron, but in my opinion the municiones were a mistake. The pasta gave the dish a texture that reminded me–and not in a good way–of tapioca pudding.

Seventh: enchiladas de mole negro
(black mole enchiladas). Black mole is one of Mexico's most delicious
sauces and this one was no exception. The combination of mole, sesame
seeds, crisp tortilla, and shredded onions–wow!

All of us guests were of different opinions about which of the three
years' Shiraz wines paired better with each of the courses we were
eating, but many preferred the 2006 to the earlier or later year. The
2006 was Mexico Cooks!' favorite. Waiters circulated with
bottles of each Shiraz, replenishing our wine glasses as we emptied
them. At this point in the meal–after most of the courses had been
served–many of us began requesting water rather than more wine!

Eighth: filete Doña Manuelita de Parras.
This seared and crusty filet mignon was cooked exactly to medium rare.
The accompaniments, including the stuffed chayote seen at the top, were
excellent.

Chef Patricia Quintana gently tapped two copas
(wine glasses) together to quiet the crowd before she spoke to us about
the meal in progress. The flower in the photo's background images is
the izote (the edible flower of the yucca cactus)for which she named her restaurant.

After the first eight courses, which were of course accompanied by
liberal pourings of each of the three wines, most of the invited guests
were simply unable to continue to the four-course dessert menu. Even
though each of the savory courses was a small portion, their accumulated
richness overpowered all but the most hardy souls. In addition, we
finished the last of the savories at midnight! Reluctantly we
congratulated the chef and kissed her goodbye, shook hands with the
remaining guests, and made our way out into the starry late night, the
chilly air cleansed by the earlier rain.

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

29 de June de 2013
Passion and Metamorphosis: Travis Whitehead, Artisans of Michoacán

Painted children's chairs from Quiroga, Michoacán. All photographs by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Today's Mexico Cooks! article celebrates the artisans, ancient traditions, and glorious representation of the state of Michoacán. It also celebrates the recent publication of Artisans of Michoacán: By Their Hands, my friend Travis Whitehead's several-year-long project of interviews and photographs of Michoacán's artisans at work. Rather than express my thoughts about Travis's passion and dedication to his work, Mexico Cooks! prefers to let him tell his own story. He generously allows me to publish the text of the speech he gave earlier this year in Morelia, Michoacán. I give you Travis Whitehead:
_____________________________________________________________

Working copper, Santa Clara del Cobre, Michoacán.

Forty-five years ago, I saw something that grabbed my attention and never let go: a caterpiller evolving into an elegant monarch butterfly. Witnessing this display of metamorphosis would leave a lasting impression on me, one that would eventually lead me on an odyssey of change, of release, and of the discovery of identity.

Rolling hand-ground clay for high-fired ceramics in Patamban, Michoacán.

The journey toward that odyssey began the day my mother showed me how to remove a monarch caterpillar from the milkweed plant outside my Texas house, place it in a jar with plenty of leaves, and watch it grow. Soon it would wrap itself into a green chrysalis, and I would wait anxiously for it to emerge into an entirely different form of life. My curiosity was forever ignited by this process of change, and I kept a close eye on the milkweed plants so I could capture more caterpillers and observe this process again.

Hand-painted batea (wooden tray), state of Michoacán.

When the butterflies finally emerged, I would take them outside and watch as they flew into the blue sky. I didn't know then what we all know now: they were headed for Michoacán. I wonder if perhaps the butterflies I released took a part of me with them, bringing a trace of myself into an enchanting place. I wonder if perhaps that part of my soul born on the wings of the monarchs hibernated, even gestated, in the magical wonderland of Michoacán, awaiting my arrival when I would regain part of myself, taking full possession of my poetic voice.

Weaving a huinumo (pine needle) hot pad, Paracho, Michoacán.

I found the place I'd been seeking my whole life quite by accident, stumbling across it while working on another project. That project failed to materialize, but by then I had become intoxicated by the state's metamorphic personality. That metamorphosis was everywhere, in the food, the language of the Purépecha indians, the crafts, and even the very landscape. The state, I learned, even has two local varieties of the tamal–the corunda and the uchepo–and I discovered that in the Meseta Purépecha, even these and other regional recipes vary from one village to the next, and that the language has slight changes in communities only a short distance from each other: a metamorphosis taking place in food and words. The very landscape itself is a metamorphic experience, ranging from pine-covered hills to stark deserts, from winding rocky shoreline to tropical jungles.

Spoon rack on red door, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

So strong was Michoacán's power over me that I felt compelled to spend an extended amount of time with her, so I moved there in 2008 and spent eight months visiting artisans in their homes and workshops. I was quickly charmed by the way they welcomed me into their lives. I was a stranger who came knocking on their doors, and they quickly extended their friendship to me. They allowed me to observe them practicing their crafts and take as many pictures as I wanted. They patiently answered my endless questions. I was intrigued to discover that even their crafts were continuously evolving into innovative forms, revealing still another experience of metamorphosis. With every Michoacán experience, my artistic life constantly split and then coalesced into an ever-evolving consciousness. It was a revolving kaleidoscopic experience of dissonance and resolution, crescendo and diminuendo, soaring to enormous heights and then crashing miserably so that I would have to hibernate for a while until my previous perspective acquiesced to the new insights I had achieved.

Several types of hand-made, hand-painted clay tableware, Capula, Michoacán.

However, as my poetic voice matured, so did my perspective about culture. Initially, my experiences with the artisans were conduits through which I could communicate my ever-changing poetic voice. The artisans, though, offered me genuine friendship and even a chance to participate in their daily lives. I sat with them around their hearth fires; they shared their meals with me. I took them to a cornfield so they could pick loads of corn; then I helped shuck that corn to make uchepos. I watched with delight as their children laughed and played together, sneaking up behind me with their toy pistols–BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!–before giggling and running away. I participated in one of their festivals, and soon 'my' project became less about me and more about giving them a voice to the rest of the world, sharing the story behind the crafts for which they are so famous.

Counting threads while weaving a fine rebozo (shawl) from Aranza, Michoacán.

As I observed the pace of their daily lives and the way they related to one another, I began to wonder if the crafts, the festivals, and dances are really what define a culture. Are those the things that really define culture, or are they merely details? I'm not so sure. Perhaps the real cultural experience is the way a group of people relates to one another and interacts with each other. It's a question I still ask myself.

Seventeenth century Michoacán Cristo (Christ) made of pasta de caña.

The crafts and artisans and the metamorphic life of Michoacán still have a hold on me. But I think that Michoacán has taught me a much greater lesson: the value of life and the way people experience that life, and the warmth and friendship people extend toward one another–and even to strangers who come knocking on their doors. This was truly the greatest of my metamorphic experiences in Michoacán.

Hand cross-stitched guayanga (blouse), Pichátaro, Michoacán.
____________________________________________________________

Juego de Huarukua (ancient Purépecha fireball game), Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán. Photo courtesy Jesús Alejandre G., Uruapan.

On June 27, 2013, Travis Whitehead will present Artisans of Michoacán: By Their Hands at Pátzcuaro's Museo Regional de Artes Populares, in conjunction with an important exhibit of new photographs of Michoacán by Uruapan native Jesús Alejandre. The opening of photographer Alejandre's exhibition and the presentation of Whitehead's book will be June 27, 2013 at 5:00PM.

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22 de June de 2013
Mexico’s Dichos de la Cocina: Kitchen Sayings, Part Two

A beautiful pink and golden Mexican chicken, ready for the soup pot.

What, you might wonder, the title of this article says it is part two? Where is part one? As Mexico Cooks! spent some time this week reviewing old articles, we suddenly realized that way, way back in March 2009 we promised a second article about kitchen sayings 'later this year'–and suddenly it's four years later! Can we blame our lack of follow-through on one of my favorite sayings, "Life is what happens while you're making other plans"? Or maybe let's just leave it at 'más vale tarde que nunca'–better late than never!

Chile relleno con frijoles negros de la olla (stuffed poblano chile served with freshly cooked black beans). Photo courtesy Conde Pétatl.

Mexico's dichos de la cocina (kitchen sayings) number in the hundreds, if not the thousands. Just like sayings and proverbs in any language, Mexican dichos usually have a double meaning: what the words of the saying are, and then how they are interpreted. In English, the phrase "the early bird catches the worm" make sense just as you read it, but it has a secondary import: if you start your endeavor sooner rather than later, you have a much better chance of success. So it is with all of these!

Pig head, ready to buy and take home to make pozole.

Here are some of Mexico Cooks!' personal favorites:

Vale más pan con amor, que gallina con dolor. Bread eaten with love is worth more than chicken eaten with pain.
Se cambia mas fácilmente de religión que de café. It's easier to change your religion than to change your coffee.
Quien hambre tiene, en pan piensa. The hungry person thinks of bread.

Café con leche (coffe with milk) served with a basket of pan dulce ( sweet Mexican breads).

El que parte y comparte, se queda con la mejor parte. The one who portions and shares, gets the best part.
Al hablar, como al guisar, su granito de sal. In speaking and cooking, a grain of salt.
Frutos y amores, los primeros son los mejores. Fruits and loves–the first are the best.

A street vendor's fresh fruit in Paracho, Michoacán. He sells seasonal fruits, including papaya, sandía (watermelon), and mango. Enlarge any photo for better detail–in this photo, you'll see the bees.

Guajolote que se sale del corral, termina en mole. The turkey that gets out of the yard ends up in mole.
La vida es como una cebolla, uno la pela llorando. Life is like an onion, you cry while you peel it.
Mata el pollo y pon la mesa. Kill the chicken and set the table.

Frijol peruano ('Peruvian' beans), ready to cook in a clay pot filled with water.

Mentir y comer pescado quieren cuidado. Be careful when lying and eating fish.
Nunca falta un negrito en el arroz. There is always a black speck in the rice.
Al hambre de siete días, no hay pan duro. To a week's hunger, there is no such thing as hard bread.

Champurrado (chocolate atole) at Restaurant Flor de Lis, Mexico City.

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15 de June de 2013
Witness to Life: The Rebozo in Mexico :: El Rebozo en México, Testigo de la Vida

Lovely young Agustina in her pink silk rebozo (long rectangular shawl).

A friend recently gave me a copy of an old and anonymous Mexican poem, written in Spanish, in homage to the rebozo. The rebozo's importance to Mexican women cannot be exaggerated: from swaddled infancy to shrouded death, a rebozo
accompanies our women throughout their days. It is at once warmth,
shade, infant's cradle, cargo-bearer, fancy dress, screen for delicious
flirtation, and a sanctuary from prying eyes.

I hope you enjoy my translation.

Michoacán-made rebozos and guitar, on exhibit in Morelia. Note the elaborate fringes on both rebozos.

My Rebozo

Rummaging through my closet one fine day
I found this garment—my old rebozo!
How long had it been resting there?
Even I can’t say exactly.
But seeing it brought back so many memories
Tears clouded my eyes and fell one by one as I held
My beloved rebozo!

Mother and infant daughter wear matching rebozos, Fiesta de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe 2010.

What a faithful friend you have been.
Shall we relive just an instant of that far-distant past?
When I first showed you off, you were so beautiful, so new,
With your lively color and flowing fringe
Your reflection gleamed in the mirror like the morning star!

Fine lace rebozo still on the loom, from the Reboceros de Aranza (Aranza Rebozo Weavers Cooperative).

Come on, come on, let me fling you over my heart
The way I did in bygone years,
Next to this heart that disappointment has turned to ash!
Don’t you remember that beautiful blouse I wore,
Embroidered with poppies and carnations?
Don’t you remember all my triumphs and successes,
And my flounced skirt, so full of its pretty sequins, beads, and glitter?

Lavender and white rebozo with elaborate fringe.

See, tightened to the span of my narrow waist and
Crossed just so over my straight young back
Showing off my fresh round breasts,
With two vertical parallel lines.
We stepped out to the beat of those long-ago songs,
That dance that determined my life.
Your fringes hung down just so!
And the two of us formed one soul.

Finely woven black and red rebozo.

How was it that I wanted him? You know!
Rebozo, you heard first how I loved him!
Your fringes were hopeful prisoners of my teeth
While I heard the soft slow songs of love
Oh perverse rebozo, unfaithful friend!
You were my confidante and my hiding place
You pushed me, burning, into romance
Wrapped in your fringes as if they were cherished arms.

Intricately patterned deep red rebozo.

But what’s this I see!
An ugly hole
That looks like a toothless mouth
Bursting out into furious laughter.
You laugh at my romantic memories?
You make fun of my long gone triumphs?
You know that the one who loved me has forgotten me
And that my soul, just like my love, is sacked and plundered?

Two elderly women share a secret joke in Pátzcuaro.

And you—you aren’t even a shadow of what you were
And because we don’t remember what we have been
We are betrayed! Old! Faded!
I’ll throw you in a box with other trash—
You, who are a traitor and so worn out!
How strange and how complicated
Just like you, I also betrayed—sometimes–in little ways!
Those sweet lies and silly nonsense
That made so many of my yesterdays happy.

White and black rebozo fringed with feathers.

Laugh, rebozo! Don’t you see that I’m laughing–not angry?
The tears that spring from these eyes
Are just laughter, nothing more. I’m not crying, I’m laughing!
But how can I be laughing, when I hate you so?
Let your mantel cover my head
The way it did in days long past, when I was possessed
By a kiss so strong, so violent.

Gold and salmon rebozo de gala (fancy dress).

No! I will not throw you away, old rebozo!
You have a soul like mine
A Mexican woman's soul, wild, unmanageable
That will not bend even when faced with death itself!
I will fold you up and keep you in the closet
And there, like a holy relic,
My heart will once again put on
Your flowing fringe.

Elderly flower seller, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

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8 de June de 2013
Mexico’s Home-Made Hash: Delicious Picadillo (pee-cah-DEE-yo)

Elisabeth Lambert Ortiz (1915-2003), a proper British woman married to Mexican diplomat César Ortiz Tinoco, learned Mexican cuisine in Mexico City, her husband's home town. She published her wonderful The Complete Book of Mexican Cooking in 1967, which introduced the English-speaking world to some of the regional cuisines of Mexico. I've cooked from this ever more raggedy, taped-together, yellowing, food-stained, still-magical paperback edition since the middle 1970s, starting years before I moved to Mexico. The first truly Mexican recipe I ever prepared was picadillo, from Elisabeth Lambert Ortiz's book. It's Mexico's traditional home-style hash.

The ingredients for picadillo are available in almost any supermarket. Starting with the bowl of ground pork at lower left in the photograph and moving clockwise, you see the raw meat, Mexican cinnamon sticks, bright orange carrots all but hidden in the dish, chiles serrano, Roma tomatoes, white potatoes, a Red Delicious apple, raisins and dried cranberries, freshly dried hoja de laurel (bay leaves), a whole white onion, and, in the little dish in the right-center foreground, freshly dried Mexican oregano. I dried the bay leaves and the oregano myself, but you can make substitutions: use ground cinnamon rather than the cinnamon sticks, store-bought bay leaves, and the oregano you normally use instead of the Mexican type; the rest of the ingredients are commonplace.

Minced chile serrano and diced white onion.

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

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

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

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

Equipment
A large pot with a cover. I use a 4-quart enameled casserole.
Cutting board
Sharp knife
Large wooden spoon

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

After sautéeing the onion, chile, and meat, add the rest of the solid ingredients to the pot and stir to incorporate them all. Then add stock or water; the liquid should come to about 1/3 of the way up from the bottom of the pot. Enlarge any photo for a bigger view; you'll be able to see that I used a combination of raisins and dried cranberries. I had about a quarter cup of dried cranberries on hand; a neighbor loaned me the raisins to make up the difference in measurement. The section at the bottom of the photo is blurred due to rising steam.

Cover the pot, leaving the cover just slightly ajar. Lower the heat to its lowest. Set your kitchen timer for 30 minutes and go do something else! When the timer rings, check the pot for liquid. If the picadillo has absorbed most of the original liquid, add the same amount again. With the cover ajar, continue to cook over a very low flame for another 30 minutes and correct for salt. Voilá! It's picadillo, ready to serve!

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

Delicious, spicy picadillo, served over rice. You and your family will love this traditional Mexican meal. By all means let me know how it goes over at your house. A huge thank you to Elisabeth Lambert Ortiz.

Provecho! (Good eating!)

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1 de June de 2013