Category: Travel

Mercado Libertad, Guadalajara: Enormous, Exciting, and Enticing

In the history and urban development of Guadalajara, the church and neighborhood named San Juan de Dios are the incandescent center. Just to the east of the Historic Center of Guadalajara in the heart of the San Juan de Dios neighborhood is the intersection of Calzada Independencia and Calle Juárez.

Since the founding of the city on this very spot, a river (in truth little more than a stream) called San Juan de Dios has run under the intersection, which for hundreds of years has been a place of meeting, work, and relaxation.

The first church consecrated in then-newborn Guadalajara was the Chapel of the True Holy Cross, built on the spot where today we find the church of San Juan de Dios. At one time a hospital bearing the same name also functioned at the same location.

Around 1885, Jalisco Governor Francisco Tolentino began public works projects in the San Juan de Dios neighborhood. These projects included building potable water and sanitation systems, the first in Mexico to be made of fortified concrete. The concrete tube was 12 feet in diameter—so enormous that the street above it was built as a beautiful promenade. To complete the roadway project, a median walkway was added, with flying buttresses used to strengthen the structure. Stunning benches, great monuments, and leafy trees completed the lovely Calzada Independencia project.

Under the auspices of Tolentino's successor, Governor José Guadalupe Zuno Hernández, a small marketplace—then known as San Juan de Dios—was added.

Fast forward 50 years—to 1955. The neighborhood surrounding the church of San Juan de Dios had changed from a verdant, relaxing walkway to the dirty backyard of Guadalajara, swarming with traffic jams, dive bars, hustlers, prostitutes, and including a huge, permanent, and partially covered tianguis (street market) on its outskirts. In addition, every day enough garbage was generated in the area that the neighborhood was always filthy and reeked of vegetable, animal, and human waste. San Juan de Dios had become the most visible stain on the beautifully burgeoning young metropolis.

By luck (good as well as bad), a raging fire destroyed the majority of that old market. Jalisco Governor Agustín Yañez authorized construction of a new and permanent covered market, the enormous building we know today as the Mercado San Juan de Dios, or Mercado Libertad.

Last remodeled in 1981, the Mercado has a surface area of nearly 500,000 square feet, or slightly less than the entire area of the old Green Bay Packers football stadium in Wisconsin, including its shops and administrative offices.

It's big. Really big. Housed on three floors, it has 70 entrances and is open 365 days a year from 7 AM till 9 PM. Its enormity houses approximately 3,000 vendors. It is the largest enclosed market in Latin America and the largest of its type (housing multiple-product vendors) in the world.

Don Silverio, the market's administrator with whom I talked, said that there are larger markets in Asia and other parts of the world, but that those larger markets sell only fish, flowers, meats, or some other single item—while the Mercado Libertad sells untold thousands of different categories of merchandise.

The Mercado Libertad has been the silent witness to urban and commercial development in Guadalajara. The old Plaza de Toros (bull ring) came down to make room for Guadalajara's beautiful downtown walking area, the Plaza Tapatía; Line Two of the Metro has been installed; the central bus station was moved—and still the market looms along the skyline.

The giant market continues to be the favorite shopping place for many tapatíos (residents of Guadalajara) as well as the people from outlying towns who fill thousands of buses streaming daily into the city. In spite of the opening of Guadalajara's numerous modern malls and supermarkets, the Mercado Libertad remains a center of commerce.

The Mercado Libertad has preserved for its vendors and its shoppers some of Mexico's best traditions even as it has followed the advances in world commerce. Guadalajara's identity is tied to this market, just as the market's identity is tied to Guadalajara.

If you're visiting Guadalajara and would like to spend a fascinating day investigating all the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of the market, wear comfortable shoes and plan to spend several hours taking in as much of it as possible. The best option? Tour the market with Mexico Cooks!.

When you finally find yourself in 'overwhelm' mode, enjoy a shrimp cocktail, a taco or two, or just a soft drink at one of the many restaurants on the second floor. Rest your weary feet and refresh yourself until you're ready to head back to your hotel.

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

18 de October de 2014
Antojitos Mexicanos: “Little Whims” to Whet Your Appetite
Taquitos dorados (left) and sopes (center) are typical antojitos mexicanos. Antojo, a word that means whim, becomes antojito (little whim) when it refers to these corn-based fried treats that are eaten as street food everywhere in Mexico.

From Baja California and Nuevo León on the northern border to Oaxaca and Chiapas in the south, from Veracruz on the east coast to Nayarit on the west, Mexico loves to eat. Here in Mexico, there's nothing more common on any menu than antojitos mexicanos: literally, "little Mexican whims."

Mexicans get hungry at all hours, and it's not entirely about physical need. Seductive aromas, exciting presentations on the plate and the crunchy sounds of chewing entice them to the 'little whims'. From the hand-lettered banner at the smallest street stand to the menu of the most elegant of restaurants, antojitos mexicanos are a staple on almost any Mexican bill of fare.

Taquitos dorados. When you see tacos made in this way, they are always called by this name that means "little golden tacos".

Most Mexican restaurants in the United States specialize in only one aspect of Mexican cooking—antojitos mexicanos. These are the corn and tortilla-based specialties that include the enchiladas, taquitos dorados, tamales, quesadillas, and tostadas that all evolved directly from original indigenous cooking. In Mexico today, these corn-based antojitos mexicanos are popular with rich and poor alike.

Antojitos can include almost any traditional Mexican foods, but the term always refers to the corn kitchen. The gamut runs from budín azteca (a cream, cheese, chile and tortilla pie) to the numerous kinds of pozole (a hearty soup made with pork or chicken and fresh hominy) right through the alphabet to xolostle (a soup of chicken, corn and various spices).

Some of the most popular antojitos at restaurants and street stands are tacos, tostadas, sopes, gorditas, empanadas, enchiladas, and quesadillas. If you're North of the Border, most of those antojitos are not only easy to find in restaurants, but they're easy to prepare at home. Each is based on the same corn masa (dough).

The blue-gray oval antojitos are tlacoyos, a Mexico City specialty. They are ordinarly stuffed with either frijolitos refritos or requesón (a cheese similar to ricotta), toasted on a comal (griddle), and topped with red or green salsa, lettuce, cheese, and crema (Mexican table cream). The beige ovals to the left on the comal are for making quesadillas.

In some cities North of the Border, you can buy prepared masa at a tortillería (tortilla making shop). Even if you don't live next door to a tortillería (tortilla-making shop), masa harina (corn flour for dough) is available at supermarkets and Latin specialty shops all over the USA and Canada. You're sure to find common brands such as Quaker or Maseca. A word to the wise: don't try to use standard cornmeal to make masa. Masa harina and cornmeal are very different products. An antojito made from masa harina will not have the same texture and flavor as one prepared from a tortillería's fresh masa, but it will do in a pinch.

Once you've prepared a batch of masa, you're well on the way to a Mexican feast. Today, let's make gorditas. You'll need basic utensils:
- Large, deep frying pan or wok
- Flat strainer with long handle
- A comal or heavy griddle
These basic ingredients will be used for the two antojitos:
- Prepared corn masa
- Large quantity of oil or lard for frying
- You'll also need frijoles refritos (well-fried beans) for both the sopes and the gorditas. You can buy them in cans if you'd rather take a shortcut to preparation, but traditionally you would prepare dried beans at home.
The Michoacán gorditas in the photo are made of blue corn masa and stuffed with frijolitos refritos.

Gorditas
To prepare serving plates of the gorditas de frijoles, you'll need the following ingredients:
- Thinly shredded cabbage or lettuce
- Salsa verde or roja
- Crumbled queso Cotija or queso fresco
- Chopped fresh cilantro
- Small-diced, fresh white onion
Make a ball of masa a little larger than a tennis ball. Flatten it to about a five-inch round. On half of the round, heap a large spoonful of frijoles refritos and a small spoonful of cheese. Fold the filled masa in half and shape into a thick, flat disk approximately three inches in diameter. Fill and shape as many as you will need.

Heat enough lard or oil in the wok or large, deep frying pan to fry two or three gorditas at a time. Slide the gorditas into the fat and allow them to fry until deep golden brown. Remove the gorditas from the fat with the strainer and then keep them hot on the comal or griddle. Drain on paper towels if needed.

To serve, split each gordita in half approximately one-third of the way from one edge of the disk. Open a flap of the gordita and place on a plate. Top with either salsa verde or salsa roja, shredded cabbage or lettuce, the cilantro, the diced onion, and crumbled cheese.

These delicious antojitos mexicanos will give you a real sense of being right here in the heart of Mexico. Put a mariachi CD in the player and get the whole family to help you with the preparations for your meal. All of you will enjoy the fun of preparing these typical and simple dishes from South of the Border.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.
4 de October de 2014
Cold Drinks, Mexican Style: Tuba, Tepache, Tejate, and More!

If you've shopped at any of Mexico's thousands of tianguis (street markets), you may have wondered what certain vendors were ladling out of their frosty glass jugs. Those are aguas frescas, made in every fresh fruit flavor you can imagine. In general, these aguas are made from purified water and are safe to drink.

In addition to aguas frescas, there are numerous fresh or fermented drinks along Mexico's way. At various hole-in-the-wall supper restaurants, pineapple tepache is the order of the day, served fizzing with a pinch of bicarbonate of soda. And on the outskirts of one small town as you drive toward Guadalajara, a sign hangs from a guamúchil tree. It reads "Aquí Se Vende Pajarete" (Pajarete Sold Here) and advertises yet another unusual beverage.

Along many highways and byways, you'll regularly see someone selling aguamiel and pulque, the ancient drink of the Aztecs, from large jars positioned on a tiny table. By the same token, pulque, both unflavored and curado (flavored with fruit, vegetables, or nuts) is a favorite in bars called pulquerías.

Tuba

Tuba vendor, Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco.

If you've wandered along the magical beaches bordering Mexico's western coastlines, you may have noticed a man with a yoke-like pole across his shoulders, a red painted gourd suspended from the pole by a rope. His cry is "Tuba! Tubaaaaaaaaaaa!" and his hands are full of plastic cups.

In Mexico, tuba is primarily a coastal drink. Several years ago I was surprised to see a tuba vendor at a tianguis in Guadalajara. Now I've been seeing the same man selling tuba in Tlaquepaque and at the Thursday and Sunday artisans' tianguis in Tonalá. If you happen to be in the area, look for him—he's easy to spot, with his bright-red gourd of tuba suspended from a pole across his shoulders.

A glassful of tuba, served with freshly chopped apple, salted peanuts, and ice.

Coconut palm sap is fermented to make the clear, white, sweet wine called tuba. To collect the sap, workers climb the palm tree in the morning and evening and bruise the coconut flower stalk until it starts to ooze its liquid. The stalk is tied with bamboo strips into a special bamboo container to catch the sap. Crushed tanbark from the mangrove tree is dropped into the container to give the sap a reddish color and to hasten its fermentation. As many as three flowers from one coconut tree can be made to yield sap. Each flower produces tuba for two months, after which it dries out and is cut from the tree.

The liquid actually begins to ferment while still in the bamboo container on the tree, but the alcohol content increases considerably with longer fermentation. Tuba quenches the thirst, is good for indigestion, and makes conversation flow easily.

I don't expect you to whip up most of these six popular drinks in your home kitchen, but I thought you'd love knowing about some of Mexico's really unusual cold drinks.

Tejuino

Since long-ago times, cooling tejuino has refreshed Mexico. It's made from the same corn masa (dough) that's used for tortillas and tamales. The prepared masa is mixed with water and piloncillo (cone-shaped Mexican brown sugar) and boiled until the liquid is quite thick. It's then allowed to ferment slightly—but just slightly. I've never known anyone to get so much as a buzz from sipping a cupful of cold tejuino.

Tejuino vendor, Tlaquepaque, Jalisco.

Once the tejuino is thickened and fermented, it's mixed as needed with freshly squeezed jugo de limón (key lime juice), a pinch of salt, water, ice, and a big scoop of lemon sherbet. Just about everywhere in Mexico, it's sold in plastic glasses—small, medium, and large—or in a plastic bag with the top knotted around a drinking straw.

Some people say that tejuino is an acquired taste. I acquired the taste for it the very first time I tried it and often crave it on hot afternoons. There is nothing more refreshing. Fortunately, there was a tejuino vendor just a block from my house in Guadalajara, so I could buy a glassful when the spirit moved me. Cup after cup of freshly prepared tejuino is ladled out to customers every day. Although tejuino is only a slightly sweet drink, the masa base makes tejuino very filling. A small glass is usually very satisfying.

Tejate

Tejate, a cold and foamy nixtamal-ized corn and chocolate drink, is particular to Oaxaca, especially found in the city's markets and in the small towns all around the area. Tejate is very refreshing on a hot day at the market–in this case, at the weekly market in Zaachila, Oaxaca. Compare the size of the jícara (the red enameled bowl afloat in the tejate) to the size of this very large clay vessel.

Tepache

I've found tepache in several cenadurías (restaurants open for supper only, usually from 7:30 PM until midnight) in Mexico, as well as at street stands and, occasionally, market stands. Tepache is simple to make and the ingredients are readily available whether you live North or South of the Border. You might like to try this at home.

Tepache (teh-PAH-cheh)
1 whole pineapple (about 3 pounds)
3 quarts water
1 pound piloncillo or brown sugar
1 cinnamon stick, approximately 3" long
3 cloves

Wash the skin of the pineapple well. Cut off the stem end and discard. Leave the skin on the pineapple and cut the entire fruit into large pieces.

Place the pieces of pineapple in a large container and add two quarts of water, the piloncillo or brown sugar, the cinnamon, and the cloves. Cover and allow to rest in a warm place for approximately 48 hours. The longer you allow the liquid and fruit to rest, the more it will ferment. If you let it sit for longer than 48 hours, taste it periodically to make sure it is not overly fermented, as it will go bad.

Strain the liquid—the tepache—and add the last quart of water.

If you prefer, do not add the last quart of water. Instead, add one cup of beer and allow to rest for another 12 hours.

Strain again and, if you have used the beer, add three cups of water.

Serve cold with ice cubes.

Tepache vendor, Zihuatanejo.

At any cenaduría, you can ask for your tepache with a pinch of bicarbonate of soda. You can also add it at home, just before you're ready to drink a glassful. The addition makes the tepache fizz and bubble, and it's said to be extremely good for the digestion. An elderly neighbor of mine swears by it as a heartburn remedy.

Pajarete

In the Mexican countryside, tequila drinking starts as soon as the sun comes up. If you drive Mexican highways early any morning—early, please, when the air is still chilly and cool gray bruma (light fog) clings to the flanks of the mountains of the Central Highlands—look for a small hand painted sign. "Aquí Se Vende Pajarete" (pah-hah-REH-teh) is all it says. The sign may hang from a tree, it may be tacked to a fencepost, and you won't see any indication of a cart or stand.

Aqui se vende pajarete: Pajarete sold here!

Away from the road, behind the trees, past the bushes, just over there by those old wrecked cars, a dairy farmer milks his cows. As he milks the patient cows and they snuffle their hot breath into the misty morning, groups of men (sombrero-wearing men who are real men) gather around the cow lot, each man with his large clay mug. Into each mug go a stiff shot of either charanda (a sugar cane alcohol), mezcal, or tequila, a bit of sugar and some cinnamon-laden Mexican chocolate grated from a round tablet. The mug is then filled with warm milk, freshly squeezed directly into the mug–straight from the cow. More a body-temperature drink than a cold drink, that's pajarete: breakfast of champions.

There are many more interesting and unusual drinks South of the Border, everything from A (acachú, a drink that sounds like a sneeze, made near Puebla from the wild cherry) to Z (zotol, made in Chihuahua from the sap of wild yucca). Wherever you are in Mexico, you'll find something fascinating to quench your thirst, make you feel more at home in the culture, and give you a story to tell.

A toast to each of you: Salud, dinero, y amor, y tiempo para gozarlos. Health, money, and love, and time to enjoy them.

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

27 de September de 2014
Tradition and Authenticity: What Is *Real* Mexican Food?

"Real" Mexican chile relleno (stuffed, battered, and fried chile poblano), caldillo de jitomate (tomato broth), and frijoles negros (black beans).

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

Much of what I read about authentic Mexican cooking reminds me of that old story of the blind men and the elephant. "Oh," says the first, 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.

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.

Carne de puerco en salsa verde (pork meat in green sauce), my traditional recipe.

The descriptor I use for many dishes is 'traditional'. We can even argue about that adjective, but it serves to describe the traditional dish of–oh, say carne de puerco en chile verde–as served in the 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.

A 200-year-old tradition in Mexico at this time of year: chiles en nogada (stuffed chiles poblano in a creamy sauce made with fresh (i.e., recently harvested) walnuts. It's the Mexican flag on your plate: green chile, white sauce, and red pomegranates.

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 based, we hope, 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.

Deep red, vine-ripened tomatoes, available all year long in central Mexico. The sign reads, "Don't think about it much–take a little kilo!" At twelve pesos the kilo, these tomatos cost approximately $1.00 USD for 2.2 pounds.

Surprise, surprise: most readily available fresh foods in Mexico's markets are even better than similar ingredients you find outside Mexico. Foreign chefs who tour with me to visit Mexico's stunning produce 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.

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

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

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.

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

That reality is what made Diana Kennedy who she is today: she took the time to travel Mexico, searching for the best of the best of the traditional preparations. For the most part, she didn't find them in fancy restaurants, homey comedores (small commercial dining rooms) or fondas (tiny working-class restaurants). She found them as she stood next to the stove in a home kitchen, watching Doña Fulana 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 will bring Mexico's kitchens to you when you are not able to go to Mexico.

Fresh Michoacán-grown strawberries, available all year in central Mexico.

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.

20 de September de 2014
Tropical Fruit, Mexican Style: A Market Primer

Ripe chirimoyas. Outside, the chirimoya skin is a dull green color. Inside, chirimoya flesh is creamy white; its seeds are large and black. The size can range from the diameter of a tennis ball to the size of your head. Photo courtesy Rawkyourhealth. All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

In Mexico, a first trip to a neighborhood tianguis can be mind-boggling—there are so many sights and smells of so many unfamiliar foods. For now, let's take a tour of some of the tropical fruits that you'll want to try.

I see so many marvelous tropical fruits on Tuesday at the tianguis (street market) where I usually shop: cherimoya, guanábana, mamey, and carambola (star fruit). There are stacks of papaya, mango, zapote (custard apple), maracuyá (passionfruit), and plátanos machos (bananas nearly the size of your forearm)—and other tiny bananas, the ones that are the size of your thumb.

Tunas (prickly pears). Since when is a tuna a fruit, not a fish?

The fruits available in season in Mexico can be confusing when we're used to the ordinary apples, peaches, oranges, pears and plums in North of the Border supermarkets. We have those "normal" fruits here too, but wait till you try the exotic produce that awaits you in Mexican markets.

The guanábana (soursop) can have a size range as wide as that of the chirimoya. Either fruit should be eaten when the fruit is very soft but not mushy. At home, I often cut a small ripe cherimoya in half and eat it with a spoon right from the skin. It makes a wonderful light dessert. The seeds are big, black, shiny, and easily discarded.

Guanábana flesh is eaten with a spoon or is used to make drinks and paletas (popsicles). Try this easy, delicious, and refreshing drink.

Agua Fresca de Guanábana
(Fresh Guanábana Juice Drink)
1 pound ripe guanábana
3/4 cup white sugar
8 cups water
1 cup milk (optional)

Cut the guanábana in half and scoop out the tender white flesh. Discard the bitter peel. Put the fruit flesh in a large bowl and reduce to a pulpy liquid, using a potato masher or the back of a large spoon. Discard the large black seeds as they appear.

When the fruit pulp is mostly liquefied, add the sugar and stir together with the fruit pulp and its juices. Put the fruit and sugar mixture in a 3-quart pitcher. Add the eight cups of water and the milk, if you wish. Stir well and chill for an hour or more.

The papaya and the mango are two of the more familiar tropical fruits available in Mexican shops and stalls.

The deep orange-red flesh of the Mexican papaya is much richer and sweeter than its small yellow Hawaiian relative. The papaya is best eaten when very ripe; the flavor and sweetness have developed beautifully just when you think the fruit might need to be thrown in the trash can.

When the papaya is super ripe—even a little moldy in spots—cut it in half and discard the seeds. Peel the papaya and cut away any small sections that might be overly soft (the overly ripe spots will be darker in color, translucent and softer than the rest of the fruit). It's delicious cut into chunks for breakfast, with a squeeze of limón criollo (the tiny round Mexican lime), a sprinkle of salt, and a dash of powdered chile if you like a little heat with your tropical fruit. For dinner, papaya slices combine with thinly sliced red onion, toasted pecans, and fresh watercress to make an exotic and refreshing salad. Try the salad with a raspberry vinaigrette dressing, either your own concoction or a bottled variety.

Mango petacón (very large mango, in this instance the variety is Hayden), Xochimilco, Mexico City.

There are nearly 2,000 varieties of mango grown worldwide. India produces more mangos than all other fruits produced in that country combined. The mango, king of fruits, is related—believe it or not—to poison ivy. Cultivated in Asia for more than 4,000 years, the growing of mangos has now spread to most parts of the tropical and sub-tropical world. The mango could well be the national fruit of Mexico.

A mango tree can grow 75 to 100 feet high and bears thousands of fruits each year. During mango season (June-August) here in the Guadalajara area, we use caution when walking under enormous mango trees; one of the heavy fruits could inflict a mighty thump to the top of an unsuspecting head.

Mangos are so wonderfully versatile that it's difficult to choose one particular mango recipe for you to try. Eaten fresh for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, the mango is unbeatable. One friend substitutes mango slices for fresh peaches when making cobbler, pie, or Brown Betty. Another makes a fantastic mango mousse, and yet another is renowned for her mango sorbet.

Cook's Tip:
Cutting up a mango can leave you with juice up to your elbows, stains on your clothing, and stringy shreds of fruit in your mixing bowl. Here's the simplest way to cut a mango with minimal mess, loss of fruit, and frustration. You'll be pleased that your mango, cut this way, will not be the least bit stringy.

Lay the mango on your cutting board with the narrowest side facing up. With a very sharp knife, cut completely through the mango along one side of the broad, flat seed. Then cut through the mango along the other side of the seed, leaving a narrow strip of skin and flesh around the perimeter of the seed. Set the seed portion aside.

Lay the two halves of the mango skin-side down on the cutting board. Cut through the mango flesh (but not through the skin) to make approximately nine diamond-shaped pieces in each mango half. Then gently flip each half of the mango inside out, so that the diamond-shaped pieces pop up. Use your knife to cut each piece free of the skin.

Next, cut the skin from the strip of mango surrounding the seed. Cut the flesh in pieces as large and as close to the seed as you can. Cut all the mango flesh into pieces the size you need.

Voilà, no strings, no shreds, and no lost juice.

My inviolable household rule is that the one who cuts up the mango gets to slurp any remaining fruit from the seed. Try to suck the seed until it's bone-white–that's how we do it in Mexico.

The banana is a familiar North of the Border favorite. Babies eat it as their first mashed fruit; older folks can eat one a day for an easy daily dose of potassium. Here in the subtropics, we have a huge variety of bananas that are just beginning to make their way north to Latin markets in the United States and Canada.

The guineo (similar to the ordinary banana), the dominico (a tiny banana also known as the ladyfinger), the manzano (the 'apple' banana), and the plátano macho (the 'macho' banana) are only four of the many types of this fruit that we see regularly in our markets.

The tiny ladyfinger banana, three to four inches long, is delicious eaten as a snack. The peel is almost paper-thin and the firm flesh is sweeter than most full-size bananas.

The manzano banana has reddish peel and a marked apple-banana flavor. These were for sale in the Mercado Medellín in Mexico City.

The plátano macho is my particular favorite, however. While it's still green and hard, it can be sliced, pounded thin, and fried into savory, salty chips called tostones. Fully ripened—the skin at this stage is dark brown or black—the plátano macho is called the maduro (mature or ripe). I don't get nervous even when I see that my maduros have a spot or two of mold on the skins. That's when they're the best, and this way to prepare them is my favorite. Be careful, they're addictive.

Plátanos machos, fried to a sweetly caramelized golden brown.

Plátanos Machos Fritos
Fried Sweet Plantains

2 very ripe plátanos machos (plantains)
vegetable oil

Peel the plaintains. Cut each plantain on the diagonal into pieces 1/4" thick.

Heat approximately 1/4" vegetable oil in a large non-stick or cast iron skillet. The oil should be quite hot but not smoking. If the oil starts to smoke, remove the skillet from the heat until the oil cools down slightly.

Put as many of the plaintain slices in the frying pan as will fit without touching one another. Fry on one side until golden brown. Flip each slice over and fry until golden on the other side. Add oil to the skillet if necessary and continue frying the plantain slices until all are done.

Drain thoroughly on paper toweling.

Serve for breakfast with fried or scrambled eggs, refried beans, and hot tortillas. The fried plantains are particularly delicious when topped with a dollop of Mexican crema (or sour cream).

Guamúchiles, available in central Mexico in April and May, just prior to the start of the rainy season.

This short series of photographs, recipes, and descriptions is just the beginning of your knowledge of the tropical fruits available season by season here in Mexico. Each harvest time brings new and different produce to our markets. We learn as we live here to anticipate certain local fruits at certain times of the year: fresas (strawberries) starting in February but available year-round; tiny orange-red wild ciruelas (plums) late in the summer; the tejocote (similar to a small crabapple) early in winter. There are other fruits gathered locally in the wild: the capulín (a kind of wild cherry) and the guamúchil (a small whitish, crisp fruit that grows on trees, in a twisted pod).

In central Mexico, strawberries are deliciously ripe all year long.

In addition, of course, we have oranges, grapefruit, pineapple, watermelon, cantaloupe, peaches, apricots, apples, pears, and tangerines in their seasons. All of these well-known fruits are generally picked in season and at the peak of ripeness here in Mexico and will cause you to lick your fingers, reach for seconds, and exclaim, "You know, I don't think I've ever really tasted one of these before!"

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6 de September de 2014
Herbs from a Mexican Garden: Old Kitchen Pals and Exotic New Friends

Fresh hierbabuena (mint) growing in a Morelia friend's garden.

The cuisines of Mexico–and there are many–are a fantastic amalgam of indigenous corn-based food preparations with a heavy overlay of Spanish ingredients, a strong influence of Moorish flavors, and a lagniappe of French artifice from the mid-19th Century. There is no one cuisine in this big country, although some popular dishes are found in every region. Not every cook prepares enchiladas with the same list of ingredients; tacos, although ubiquitous in Mexico, can be different at every crowded taco stand.

Mexico Cooks! stores garlic in this 3" diameter wire basket, hanging from a cup hook on the side of a cupboard. Circulating air keeps the garlic fresh for quite a while.

Many of the herbs and spices that you use in your own North of the Border kitchen are also used in the Mexican kitchen. Garlic, cinnamon, oregano, and thyme are in widespread use here. Cumin, cloves, tarragon, and mint show up frequently. Lemon grass, which we usually think of as an ingredient in Thai or Vietnamese dishes, is commonly grown in many parts of Mexico and is used to make tea.

A good part of the differences in the regional cuisines of Mexico is each region's use of herbs. Some of those herbs are completely unknown to those of us whose familiarity with Mexican food stops with Pepe's Taco Hut on Main Street, USA. Pepe, whose mother's family emigrated to the USA from the Mexican state of Hidalgo, prepares the restaurant's platillos fuertes (main dishes) from recipes passed down from his abuelita (grandmother), who lived for 97 years in the same Hidalgo village. He's adapted those recipes to include the ingredients he can find in the States and to the palates of his customers.

This herb, a large-leafed, strong-flavored variety of oregano called orégano orejón (big-ear oregano), is unusual even in Mexico. Mexico Cooks! once had a pot of it, but it has unfortunately gone to the great beyond. I'd love to have another pot of it.

Oregano is quite common in Mexican cooking. It can be used either fresh or dried. A small pot of oregano in a sunny spot of your kitchen garden will usually be plenty for all your cooking needs. If you live in a place where the growing season is short, harvest oregano periodically through the summer, tie the stems in small bunches, and hang upside down in a dark place to dry. It dries very fast and retains most of its aroma and flavor. Discard the stems and store the crisp leaves in an airtight, lightproof containers.

Because the growing season in most parts of Mexico is almost year-round, I can always cut a fresh sprig of oregano or two to use when making spaghetti sauce, pescado a la veracruzana, (fish prepared in the style of Veracruz) or other tomato-based sauces. I wash the sprigs and either strip off the leaves into the pot or put the entire sprig into the sauce for seasoning.

The Mexican kitchen uses a wide range of other herbs. The Spanish names read like a mysterious litany: albahaca, epazote, estragón, hoja santa, hierbabuena; comino, clavo, and romero. In English, they are (in order) basil, wormweed, tarragon, holy leaf, mint, cumin, cloves, and rosemary.

Epazote grows wild all over Mexico and in parts of the United States. Several months ago I paid ten pesos at a tianguis (street market) for a pot of it to plant in my garden. As I was carrying the pot home, my neighbor, Doña Mago, saw me and exclaimed, "Porque compraste eso?" ("Why did you buy that?").

"Well, you know" I answered, "I like it to cook in my beans, to make quesadillas, for the flavor—"

"No, no, no, amiga!" she cried, and pointed a finger toward the corner. "It grows up through the cracks in the sidewalk just down the street. You should have asked me to show you where to find it. You could have saved your money. When I want some, I just go over there and cut a piece." It's true. When I was out for a walk the next day, I noticed for the first time the epazote plant she had mentioned.

Regardless of my profligate waste of ten pesos, I do like to cook a big sprig of epazote in a pot of beans. The herb is originally from Mexico and Central America. The indigenous language name that was given to epazote is derived from the Nahuatl words 'epti' and 'zotle': the combined word means 'skunk sweat'. As you can imagine, the herb has a very strong and distinctive flavor. According to Mexican kitchen lore, epazote also has anti-flatulent properties, which is why it might be smart to add it to the boiling bean pot.
Pescado en hoja de plátano (fish cooked in banana leaf). Restaurante San Miguelito, Morelia, Michoacán.

Other plants used to give uncommon seasonings to the cuisines of Mexico are hoja de plátano (banana leaf) and hoja de aguacate (avocado leaf). You won't be able to run right out to your nearest Safeway or HEB store to find these. If you live in an area where there's a large Asian population, you'll find packages of frozen banana leaves in any well-stocked Asian food market. As for avocado leaves—well, if you or your neighbor are lucky enough to have an avocado tree, you can just go pick some. Unfortunately there's no seasoning substitute for them.

Hoja santa (holy leaf) is also known as acuyo.

Hoja santa is used extensively in Mexican cooking. It's a large, heart-shaped leaf that comes from a tall, bushy plant—a plant that will take over the garden space that it's planted in and then some, if you let it. It's a native of Mexico and has medicinal properties as well as seasoning uses. The flavor of hoja santa is reminiscent of licorice, and it combines exceptionally well with fish or chicken.

Banana leaves are used for wrapping meats to prepare barbacoa (southeastern Mexican barbecue, cooked in a pit) and for wrapping and flavoring tamales from the Yucatán Peninsula in far southeastern Mexico. Dried avocado leaves are also used as a flavoring agent; like hoja santa, they have a mild taste similar to that of licorice.

As you can see, Mexican home cooking is far more than tacos and enchiladas. The more unusual kitchen herbs of Mexican cuisine add intense flavor without adding that blast of spiciness that we so often mistake for the only seasoning of Mexico.

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30 de August de 2014
Beloved and Beautiful Mexico: From the Beginning

Mexico cooks. Frijoles, Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán.

At the very dawn of 2006, a dear friend wrote to me from California, insisting that I start writing a culinary report from Mexico. WHAT? I had no idea what to write about, no idea how to create interest in what I might find to say, no idea about publishing online. The result was that I told him I'll do it later… Later, of course, arrived right on schedule, but I just couldn't get started. Week after week, my friend bugged me via email: when are you going to start? When are you going to start? For one entire year he wrote: when are you going to start?

Pamela Peña cookin' in Mexico–in that other sense.

After a year, and only because he was (and continues to be) my very dear friend, I let him walk me through the rigamarole of setting up a host site for this page. I was terrified, and I couldn't think of what to name what I was thinking about. I wrote various names for the page on long yellow legal pads, scratching them out one by one. Finally se me prendió el foco–the light bulb went on. Since that moment, it's been Mexico Cooks!, in both senses. When Mexican friends ask what that means, 'cooks', I explain to them that it's a play on words, as so many Mexican phrases are. The culinary reference is immediately apparent, but the sense of moves, jumps, happenin' makes everyone grin a hearty SÍ SEÑOR!

The very first–well, not an article, but just barely a note–went live here on February 2, 2007. Mexico Cooks! looks different today, but believe me, we're still cookin'. Here's the very first step of this journey, complete with its original photograph:

Sonajas (rattles), Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

The joy of Mexico rings out multi-colored, multi-faceted, multi-flavored, the adventure of a lifetime. From the first tentative step across the border, we're led into a world that is not one we've known. Whether we cross a culinary border that shoots us into a new sphere of Mexico's rich flavors, an intellectual border that makes the mind reel with new ways of thinking, or a spiritual border that leads us to reconsider our feelings about a country so 'other' that we might as well be on the moon, we'll never look at life quite the same way as before we crossed over. Mexico, Mexico…beloved land of the sun…we greet you as we greet the dawn, with joy and gladness.

Stick with us, folks. Thanks to more than two million faithful readers, we're still plugging along.

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16 de August de 2014
YUCATÁN: Recipes from a Culinary Expedition, by David Sterling
The book: its 560 gorgeous pages cover everything Yucatecan from achiote to zapote. A 10-year-long labor of love, YUCATÁN is the finest cookbook, love story, history book, and–did I say love story?–of a glorious regional cuisine and its place of origin that I have seen in the last five years. Look over there on the left-hand sidebar of this page. See where the books are listed? Just click on the YUCATÁN cover and buy it, you know you want it. Photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Maybe you've read about David Sterling's YUCATÁN somewhere else, either in a print source (the New York Times) or on the Internet (Serious Eats). Maybe you've looked longingly at its page on Amazon.com. Maybe a friend of yours, a Mexican food buff, already has one. If you have seen the book, you are already craving sopa de lima (not lime soup–it's rich, deeply chicken-y chicken broth flavored with juice of the lima, a citrus fruit much different from the lime and particular to Mexico), or papadzules (tortillas stuffed with boiled eggs, rolled, and served in a tomato/squash seed sauce), or helado de crema morisca (Moorish style ice cream). Maybe you don't have a copy yet–but Mexico Cooks! does, and Mexico Cooks! is in love with it. Sterling has created a masterwork, a monumental volume that by its simple heft lets you know it's the boss–even before you open the cover. And then–ahhhh. Fabulous.

Chef David Sterling, an Oklahoma native, has deep roots in both French cuisine and Tex-Mex cooking. A culinary school trained chef, for the last eleven years he has studied, taught, and cooked in Mérida, Yucatán, México. He first traveled in Mexico more than 40 years ago, and today is arguably the single foreigner in the world who is most knowledgeable about Yucatán regional cuisine. Photo courtesy David Sterling.

The book, titled simply YUCATÁN, is as simple throughout as its title. Simple, yes, but it's not an easy book: to start with, it weighs a ton and isn't easy to read in bed (but maybe that's just me, reading cookbooks in bed). You may need substitutes for some of the regional ingredients (but chef Sterling tells you clearly what to use). Some recipes are complex (but so, so worth the trouble!). You'll be thrilled to know that YUCATÁN is incredibly well organized, with a terrific index to both recipes and ingredients. The bibliography is extensive and meticulous. Sources for ingredients include not only the street addresses of stores, but also Internet links for ease of online shopping. Kitchen techniques are clearly explained and include ample illustrations. And last but certainly not least, the book is accurate, beautiful, and a loving compendium of David Sterling's passionate relationship with his adopted people, his state, and their cuisine. The generous soul of Yucatán breathes in Sterling and dwells in his glorious book.

Click on this map of Mexico to enlarge it for a better view. At the far right of the map, the state colored yellow is Yucatán. It's easy to see that the state's location, at the tip-end of Mexico's cornucopia shape, is far from the central states. For example, the distance by road between centrally located Morelia, Michoacán and Mérida, Yucatán, is almost exactly 1000 miles. As in all regions of Mexico, seasonally available foods–many very different from those found in most of the country–shape and affect the regional cuisine.

Chaya (Cnidoscolus aconitifolius, sometimes known in English as tree spinach), originated and continues to be cultivated in Yucatán. More nutritious than spinach, chaya is used in a number of preparations, ranging from various types of tamales to a refreshing agua fresca (fresh juice drink).

Let's talk for a minute about the sweetly floral, barely acidic citrus used to make sopa de lima: the lima. What the lima is not is pictured above:&#0
160;the limón criollo–the native Mexican lime. If you absolutely cannot find limas in Mexican markets where you live, you can substitute limón criollo in your sopa de lima. It will be good, but not superb.

This, on the other hand, is the lima (Citrus limetta). The first notable difference is the color: it's nearly yellow. Second, the shape and size are more like a tangerine. Third, click on the photo to enlarge it. Look closely at the lima at the top center of the picture; you will notice what appears to be a nipple at the blossom end of the fruit. That nipple is the giveaway; Mexico Cooks! does not know another citrus other than the lima that has this design feature. If you live almost anywhere in central and southern Mexico, limas are seasonally available in many markets. In addition to being the classic ingredient for this soup, the lima is also eaten out of hand or prepared as an agua fresca.

Sopa de lima (classic Yucatecan chicken soup with Citrus limetta zest and juice), as prepared at David Sterling's internationally acclaimed cooking school, Los Dos, in Mérida, Yucatán. Photo courtesy Los Dos Cooking School.

Let's try this simple–and simply marvelous–soup at home. The links below are live and will take you to two other recipes that are included in this preparation.

Los Dos Cooking School's Recipe for Sopa de Lima
- 10 cups (2.5 liters) chicken consommé (preferably homemade or if absolutely necessary, substitute canned)
- 1/2 cup (120ml) lima juice
- One recipe Tsi'ik (with chicken; substitute lima or lime juice for the sour orange juice)
- One recipe Totopos
- Slices of lima
STEP 1 CHILL THE CONSOMMÉ. Allow it to rest in the refrigerator overnight. If any fat rises to the top, skim off, or pass through cheesecloth to remove. If any remaining particulate matter settles to the bottom, carefully pour the clear portion at the top into another pot and discard the residue.

STEP 2 ADD LIMA JUICE to the consommé and refrigerate 1 hour. Meanwhile, chill soup bowls. Just before serving, fill individual flan cups or other small molds with the tsi'ik. Invert into the center of a chilled bowl. Add soup to about 3/4 of the way to the top of the mound of salad; top salad with fried tortilla strips and slices of lima.

If I have failed to convince you that you and your kitchen need this book, the bowl of wildly delicious soup in front of you, the first spoonful of its deep flavors, and your craving for more when you've finished will convince you. Mark my words, the culinary masterpiece that is YUCATÁN will win major cookbook prizes during the course of the year. Be sure you have your copy.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.
9 de August de 2014
Michoacán Mezcal Uasïsï, Brought to You By Mayahuel–The Goddess of Maguey
When you read last week's article, Mexico Cooks! had just boarded a guajolotero (often called 'chicken bus', in English slang) to go with friends to meet a mezcal producer in Michoacán. I also left you with homework, class: did you read the article linked here? Give it a once-over, if you didn't already, and then let's get going down the road. Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better look. Photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Close to the northern edge of the Tierra Caliente, outside Etúcuaro, Michoacán, there's a well-hidden vinata (mezcal-making setup)–it's just beyond this field of cupreata maguey. To get there, you need to go with someone who knows how to find it. The mezcal producer, Ignacio Pérez Scott, is the fourth generation of his family to dedicate himself to production of the liquor. He produces traditional mezcal which he then sells to select bottlers for branding. We're visiting the vinata with Maira Malo Hernández, owner of the mezcal brand Uasïsï (wah-SHEE-shee), and her daughters, Viridiana and Mayra Méndez Malo. Sra. Malo's daughters and her sons, Juan, Carlos, and Jorge Méndez Malo are also part of the Uasïsï team.

In the shade of the vinata, mezcal producer Ignacio Pérez Scott shares an affectionate moment with Maira Malo Hernández.

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gprCMwmaKKc&w=640&h=360]Uasïsï, the name Sra. Malo chose for her mezcal, is the Purépecha word for bat. It's this bat that pollinates the cupreata maguey, among other magueys.

Don Nacho ("don" is an honorific title, used with great respect, and "Nacho" is the Mexican nickname for Ignacio) told me that his cupreata maguey (seen here with its spike of yellow quiote–the maguey flower) takes eight to ten years to mature. Once it matures and throws up the flower spike, the plant can be harvested.

When the producer harvests the maguey plant, the first task is to remove the quiote (flower stem); the pencas (leaves) are removed next. The pencas were removed from the places where you can see the diamond shapes on the outside of the hearts. The pencas can be used in cooking, particularly in making traditional barbacoa and mixiote. The corazón (heart) also known as piña (pineapple) of each maguey plant is then chopped into smaller pieces for baking. In the photo above, Mezcal Uasïsï owner Maira Malo Hernández pitched in to chop some of the piñas. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH (Maira Malo Hernández).

Here you can see the size of the chopped piñas de maguey. Each piña can weigh as much as 80 to 100 pounds. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

Pine logs, stacked firmly into the fire pit. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

Don Nacho is tamping the volcanic rock evenly into the pit, on top of the pine logs. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

The fire in the pit is red hot and smoking. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

The fire is burning evenly now, and the piñas are ready to be placed in the baking pit. The pit will be loaded with approximately 150 piñas weighing a total of about four tons. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

The burning pit is covered with petates (woven reed mats) and then with mounded earth. The piñas need to bake for a full week. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

After a week, the piñas are thoroughly baked and are now uncovered. At the bottom right-hand corner of the photo, you can see some petates (woven reed mats). Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

The more than six foot long pine-lined trench where the baked piñas are hand-chopped and smashed with axes.

The vinata crew has moved some of the baked piñas to the trough and are hand-smashing them with axes so that they can be placed into the fermenting tanks. Don Nacho and his crew use no machinery during any stage of their mezcal production. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

These are the tinacos (covered storage tanks) where the baked and smashed piñas are fermented. The fermentation process takes a week.

Post-fermentation, the process of double-distillation begins. This is the alambique (still), made of pine. As the mezcal distills, the metal top allows condensation to drip back into the still.

The other side of the alambique. Don Nacho explained that the wooden still will last for about one year; after that, the wood will be replaced.

This is the fire hole, where a pine wood fire actually cooks the fermented maguey piña mash to distill it. Above the metal arch of this fire hole are several inches of concrete, the top of which you can see in the photo just before this one. No fire actually touches the wooden still.

The finished product: Uasïsï Mezcal Joven. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

Both sides of the bottle. The front label, on the right, tells you that this is joven (young, unaged) mezcal with 48% alcohol content. The back label, on the left, gives all the pertinent information about the mezcal: the number and lot of the bottle, the exact provenance (village or state) of the mezcal, as well as the type of maguey used. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

Tamarind or pear flavored mezcal Uasïsï: made slightly sweet with real fruit, it's perfect for dessert. Photo courtesy Uasïsï MMH.

This Uasïsï tasting was held at UNLA (Universidad Latina de América) in Morelia, Michoacán.

And what, you ask, does Uasïsï joven actually taste like? To start with, if you have tasted other mezcales, you probably and immediately think smokey. Uasïsï is not in any way smokey. To my palate, Uasïsï joven tastes fresh, like the green of the maguey. It has slight lingering tones of Michoacán pine. It carries a hint of flowers. Because the alcohol content is high, the first sip feels strong in the front of the mouth. As it moves to the back of the tongue, it mellows. And the moment you swallow that first drop, filled with the flavors of Michoacán, you immediately want another. Uasïsï is an extraordinary drink, destined to be a star in the world of mezcal.

Now that you know you want a bottle (or two or three–don't forget about the tamarind dessert mezcal) of Uasïsï mezcal, where can you get it? The Uasïsï home base is Mex*Calli Mezcalería, Buenavista #5, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

Otherwise, my good friend Maira Malo Hernández and I (pictured at Morelia en Boca 2014 with Mexico City chef and chocolatier Luis Robledo Richards) invite you to buy Uasïsï at:
- Itacate Morelia
  Blvd. Juan Pablo II #315
  Morelia, Michoacán
- Agua y Sal Cebichería
  Campos Elíseos #199-A
  Col. Polanco, México D.F.
- La Catrina Comedor & Mezcalería
  Av. 5 de Mayo #661
  Zamora, Michoacán
It's entirely possible that Uasïsï mezcal will be coming soon to a liquor store near you. Check back with Mexico Cooks! from time to time and we'll keep you up to date on the possibility of export to countries outside Mexico. And if you're planning to be in Mexico and would like to visit the vinata, Mexico Cooks! can make that dream come true. The experience is magical.

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19 de July de 2014
A Mezcal Primer

Sign in front of a Mexican welding shop: "We weld everything except a broken heart. For that we have mezcal."

In case it hasn't hit your town quite yet, a tsunami is on its way from Mexico to you. Get ready: mezcal is on the roll! Here in Mexico City and in many other areas of the country, recently ho-hum tequila is being replaced by this high-powered delight of the hundreds-of-years-old wave of the future. Many of you may already know mezcal as that bottle from Oaxaca with the worm in it, but Oaxaca is just one of the Mexican states where mezcal is produced. And just an aside: 99.999% of the time, that bottle with the worm in it is for tourists and other rank neophytes: it's usually rotgut.

An agave atrovirens cactus–the same photo Mexico Cooks! published last week–that is used to make pulque. The maguey cactus is also the base for mezcal.

Although there are upwards of 200 varieties of maguey, relatively few of those make up the majority of mezcales. Those few are: espadín (used for 90% of all mezcal production), tobala, tobasiche, tepeztate, arroqueño, and the maguey pictured above–the cupreata which grows in Michoacán and several other states.

Mezcal is produced for personal use and for sale in all of Mexico's 31 states, but only eight of those states have received the prized Denominación de Origen (abbreviated DO: certification of geographic origin). The largest mezcal production in the country is in the state of Oaxaca, which in 1994 was the first Mexican state to receive its Denominación de Origen. Today, seven other states have the certification. Most recently (in November 2012), the state of Michoacán received its DO status.

Cupreata maguey cactus in flower, near Etúcuaro, Michoacán. The flowering spike of the maguey is the quiote. A cupreata maguey plant needs eight to ten years to mature; like its cousin the common century plant, the entire plant begins to wither and die once the cupreata flowers. By day, birds pollinate the maguey. By night, bats do the same. Once the flower dies, the plant produces runners that grow into baby plants–and the life cycle of the maguey begins again.

[youtube=://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbQBbqjUyvE&w=420&h=236]
Rocío Díaz of Michoacán, creator of the acclaimed and prize-winning video Documezcal, has graciously given Mexico Cooks! permission to use her video as a learning tool in this article. In a way that words cannot, the video gives you direct insight into artisan production of mezcal.

Mexico Cooks! recently hopped on a guajolotero (what you might think of as a chicken bus) to meet some new friends who promised to take me to meet an artisanal mezcal producer in Michoacán (west-central Mexico), where mezcal and its production are a way of life.

Every small town has at least one mezcal producer and frequently more than one; some small producers have been distilling the drink for private use for 50 years or more. Commercial production of mezcal is relatively recent; many connoisseurs consider commercial mezcales to be inferior. The good news? The best mezcal is the one you like, not the one someone–even if that someone is me–tells you to like.

Among people who drink mezcal and study its history, origins, and traditions, there is a good bit of controversy regarding its production and destinations. Until next week, I leave you with your homework: read the linked article so that you will know what the controversies are. Whether or not these matter to you is entirely up to you. Remember that the article is strictly about the mezcales of Oaxaca. Photo and article (click the link here) courtesy MezcalPhD.

Next week, we will talk about a particular mezcal from Michoacán.

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12 de July de 2014