Category: Travel

Tamales, Tamales, and More Tamales in Mexico City

Tamales in the tamalera (the steamer) at Tamalería (tamales shop) Méndez, on the street at the corner of Av. Baja California and Av. Insurgentes, Colonia Condesa, Distrito Federal. You can see that the tamalera is divided into three sections. Each section can hold a different kind of tamal (that's the word for ONE of a group of tamales). In this case, the tamales at the bottom left of the photo are Oaxaqueños (Oaxaca-style). On the right of the divider are tamales rojos (with a red chile sauce) and tamales de mole (both with pork meat). The third section of the tamalera holds just-out-of-sight tamales verdes (with chicken, in green chile sauce) and tamales con rajas y queso (with cheese and strips of chile poblano).

Older than
an Aztec pyramid and fresh as this morning’s breakfast, a pot of newly-steamed
tamales whets Mexico City’s appetite like nothing else in town. Dating to pre-Hispanic times—most historians
say tamales date to the time before the Christian era—the tamales of New Spain (now
Mexico) were first documented in the Florentine Codex, a mid-16th century
research project crafted by Spanish Franciscan monk Fray Bernadino Sahagún.

Traditionally, tamales are made by hand, not by machine. At first, they seem to be exhaustingly labor-intensive and difficult. Just as with most wonderful food, once you learn the techniques and tricks of making the various styles, they're not so hard to prepare–and they are so worth the time and effort! Here, Carmen Titita Ramírez Degollado, owner of Mexico City's Restaurante El Bajío, preparaes masa cocida (cooked corn dough) for her special tamales pulacles from Papantla, Veracruz.

The
ancients of the New World believed that humankind was created from corn. Just as in pre-history, much of Mexico’s traditional and
still current cuisine is based on corn, and corn-based recipes are still
creating humankind. A daily ration of corn
tortillas, tacos, and tamales keeps us going strong in the Distrito Federal,
Mexico’s capital city of more than twenty million corn-craving stomachs. Tamales are created from dried corn
reconstituted with builder’s lime and water.
The corn is then ground and beaten with lard or other fat into a thick,
smooth masa (dough). Filled with sauce and a bit of meat or
vegetable, most tamales are wrapped in dried corn husks or banana leaves and steamed, to fill Mexico
City’s corn hunger and keep her hustling.

Tamal-to-be: cut the banana leaf to the size and shape of the tamal you're making, then lightly toast each leaf. On the banana leaf, place a layer of masa, a strip of hoja santa (acuyo) leaf, and a big spoonful or two of cooked, shredded chicken in a sauce of chile guajillo, onion, and garlic.

Mexico’s capital city makes it easy to buy tamales any time the craving
hits you. Every day of the week, nearly
five million riders pack the Metro (the city’s subway system) and are disgorged
into approximately 200 Metro stations.
At any given Metro stop, a passenger is likely to find a tamales vendor. Her huge stainless steel tamalera (tamales steamer) hisses heartily over a low flame until
the tamales are sold out. Each steamer
can hold as many as two hundred tamales, and the vendor may preside over two or
three or more of these vats.

Titita folds the tamal so that the banana leaf completely wraps the masa and filling.

Hungry
students on the way to and from classes, office workers with no time to eat
breakfast at home, construction workers looking for a mid-morning pick-me-up:
all line up at their favorite vendor’s spot on the sidewalk closest to a
Metro exit. Near the vibrant
Chilpancingo Metro station at the corner of Av. Insurgentes and Av. Baja California, Sra. María de los Ángeles Chávez Hernández sells tamales out of two huge pots. “Qué le doy?”
(‘What’ll you have?’) she raps out
without ceremony to every hungry comer.
The choices: rojo (with pork and spicy red chile); verde (with chicken and even spicier
green chile); rajas con queso (strips
of chile poblano with melting white
cheese); mole (a thick spicy sauce
with a hint of chocolate); some Oaxaca-style tamales wrapped in banana leaves; and
dulce (sweet, usually either
pineapple or strawberry). The stand
sells about 200 tamales a day. Sra.
Chávez’s father, Ángel Méndez Rocha, has been selling tamales on this corner for
more than 60 years. Even at age 80, he alternates
weeks at the stand with his brother, selling tamales by the hundreds.

The masa and filling are centered in the banana leaf. Titita is simultaneously pressing the masa toward the middle of the leaf and folding each end of the banana leaf toward the middle.

The pair of tamales in the center of the photo are filled with chicken and chile guajillo sauce. The tamal closest to the bottom is made with black beans crushed with dried avocado leaves. Avocado leaves give a delicious anise flavor and fragrance to the beans. These tamales are ready to be steamed in the tamalera.

The tamal de chile guajillo, fresh out of the tamalera and unwrapped on my plate.

A specialty breakfast, unique to Mexico City, is the guajolota: a steaming hot tamal, divested
of its corn husks and plopped into a split bolillo,
a dense bread roll. Folks from outside
Mexico City think this combo is crazy, but one of these hefty and delicious
carbohydrate bombs will easily keep your stomach filled until mid-afternoon,
when Mexico eats its main meal of the day. When I asked Sra. Chávez Hernández about the name of the sandwich, she laughed. “Nobody knows why this
sandwich is called guajolota—the word
means female turkey. But everybody wants
one!”

If you'd rather take your tamales home to eat them, Sra. Chávez of Tamalería Méndez or her employee, Sra. Lucina Montel, will gladly wrap them in paper and send them along in a bag.

For steaming tamales, the bottom portion of a tamalera is filled with water. Add a coin to the water and put the tamales vertically into the steamer, atop the perforated base that rests just above the water. When the water boils, the coin will rattle. When the rattle slows or stops, add more water.

Tamales can be a massive guajolota to eat on the street or the most delicate, upscale meal in a restaurant. These, prepared by chef Gerardo Vázquez Lugo of Restaurante Nicos, are a degustación (tasting) at the Escuela de Oficios Gastronómicos operated by online magazine Culinaria Mexicana, where chef Vázquez recently offered a workshop teaching the history, ingredients, and preparation of tamales. From left to right, the four tamales are: carnitas de pato en salsa de cítricos y chile chipotle (shredded duck confit in a citrus and chile chipotle sauce), tamal de tzotolbichay (with the herb chaya), tamal de mole negro (black mole),and tamal de frijol (beans).

Chef Gerardo Vázquez Lugo of Mexico City's Restaurante Nicos.

In
addition to being daily sustenance, tamales are a fiesta, a party.
In Mexico City and every other part of Mexico, Christmas isn’t Christmas
without tamales for the late-night family feasting on Christmas Eve. Gather the women of the family together, grab
the neighbors, and the preparation of tamales becomes a party called a tamalada. Mexico City chef Margarita Carrillo tells us,
“Mexican grandmothers from time immemorial say that the first ingredient for
great tamales is a good sense of humor.
Tamales like it when you sing while you prepare them, they love to hear a
little friendly gossip while you work, and if you make tamales in the good
company of your family and friends, they’re sure to turn out just the way you
want them: with fluffy, richly flavored corn dough on the outside and a delicious filling
on the inside.”

A small and elegant tamal de chocolate for dessert, prepared by Restaurante Nicos for the tamales workshop.

Señora Elia Rodríguez Bravo, specialty cook at the original Restaurante
El Bajío, strains masa cocida for tamales. She
gently shook a wooden spoon at me as she proclaimed, “You can’t make tamales
without putting your hands in the masa (corn
dough). Your hand knows what it
feels. Your hand will tell you when the masa is beaten smooth, when the tamales
are well-formed in their leaves, and when they have steamed long enough to be
ready to eat. Your hand knows!”

Señora María de los Ángeles Chávez Hernández (left) and her longtime employee Señora Lucina Montel (right) sell tamales at the street booth Tamalería Méndez seven days a week. They and Sra. Chávez's staff prepare hundreds of tamales every night, for sale the next day.

Let's go on a Mexico City tamales tour! Let Mexico Cooks! know when you're ready, and we'll be on our way.

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

9 de February de 2013
Día de la Candelaria : February 2 : Candlemas Day in Mexico

For about a month prior to Christmas each year, the Niño Dios (baby Jesus) is for sale everywhere in Mexico. Mexico Cooks! took this photograph in 2006 at the annual tianguis navideño (Christmas market) in front of Templo San José in Guadalajara. These Niños Dios range in size from just a few inches long to nearly the size of a two-year-old child. They're sold wrapped in only a diaper.

When does the Christmas season end in your family? When I was a child, my parents packed the Christmas decorations away on January 1, New Year's Day. Today, my wife and I like to enjoy the nacimientos (manger scenes), the Christmas lights, and the tree until January 7, right after the Feast of the Three Kings. Some think that date is scandalously late. Other people, particularly our many Mexican friends, think that date is scandalously early. Christmas in Mexico isn't over until February 2, el Día de la Candelaria (Candlemas Day), also known as the Feast of the Presentation.

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

Although Mexico's 21st century Christmas celebration often includes Santa Claus and a Christmas tree, the main focus of a home-style Christmas continues to be the nacimiento and the Christian Christmas story. A family's nacimiento may well contain hundreds–even thousands–of figures, but all nacimientos have as their heart and soul the Holy Family (the Virgin Mary, St. Joseph, and the baby Jesus). The nacimiento is set up early–in 2012, ours was out at the end of November–but the Niño Dios does not make his appearance until the night of December 24, when he is sung to and placed in the manger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2 de February de 2013
Las Apariencias Engañan :: Appearances Deceive (Frida Kahlo’s Recently Discovered Belongings)

Magdalena Carmen Frida Kahlo y Calderón, age three or four, and friend. Photo by her father, Guillermo Kahlo.

Which is the Frida Kahlo who most touches your imagination? The innocent toddler in her beribboned shoes?

The iconic self-portrait dressed as a Tehuana (woman from Oaxaca's Isthmus of Tehuantepec)?

The pain-wracked, alcoholic, drug-addicted, unadorned, exhausted Frida? This photo was taken on July 2, 1954, at her last public appearance. She (in her wheelchair), Diego Rivera, and a group of friends and colleagues marched in Mexico City to protest the involvement of the United States Central Intelligence Agency in the overthrow of Guatemala's president. Frida Kahlo died on July 13, 1954.

There was a time, and not too long ago, when I thought I understood the moments that these photos purport to reveal. Photos and self-portraits are a record of life, just as black-and-white as the first and last of these three. Except–perhaps not. Perhaps, as the on-going exhibit at Casa Museo Frida Kahlo is titled, las apariencias engañan. Appearances deceive. What we see is tricky. Appearances are as fluid as blood in the veins, as liquor down the throat, as dye seeking fabric, as paint on a palette. And as Anais Nin is alleged to have said, "We do not see things as they are. We see things as we are."

The original drawing used for the exhibit poster is part of Frida Kahlo's diary.

When Frida Kahlo died, Diego Rivera insisted that the places in her home where the majority of her personal effects were stored (two bathrooms, some trunks and closets) be sealed for the following 50 years. In 2004, under the close supervision of museum directors, workers knocked down bathroom walls and pried open long-locked doors. They found literally thousands of items belonging to the couple, including more than 300 of Frida Kahlo's dresses, some of her jewelry, some hair ornaments, shoes, and orthopedic appliances.

A few of the Oaxaca-style skirts and huipiles (blouses) from Frida Kahlo's closets and trunks, currently showing in Room 2 of the exhibit space. If you are familiar with her paintings, you may recognize one or two.

Detail of encaje (lace) and other fabrics from the skirts shown second and third from the right in the above photo.

Las Apariencias Engañan opened in late November 2012. According to museum personnel, the exhibit will be on display for approximately one year, during which time the mannequins' clothing will be changed every three to four months. Not only will these changes give the public an opportunity to see more of the 300 dresses found when the walls were knocked down, but long-stored delicate fabrics will not be subjected to the stress of their own weight as they are displayed.

The Tehuana headdress from the self portrait shown above. Click on any photograph to enlarge it for a better view.

The restoration period has lasted nearly eight years. Despite the conditions under which Frida's clothing and other belongings were stored for 50 years, what we see is a marvel of both natural preservation and expert resurrection. The mounting of the exhibit, supervised by curator Circe Henestrosa and mounted by prominent British architect and designer Doctor Judith Clark, stuns with its mix of the lovely, the grotesque, and the matter-of-fact.

You may well be familiar with some of Frida's famous hand-painted plaster of Paris corsets, decorated with her fabled fantastical flowers, animals, and even the Communist hammer and sickle. They are beautiful. About five years ago, the museum's exhibit of the artist's night bedroom included both her death mask, wrapped in a rebozo, and a plaster of Paris corset.

These three corsets suspended (by white ribbons meant to evoke bandages) from white-tile walls that are symbolic of the bathrooms where the items were found, are not beautiful to any eye. They are what they are: early 20th century medical appliances meant to bind, to support, and inevitably to inflict pain on the wearer.

A pair of Frida's black suede shoes. Srta. Maricarmen Rodríguez López, my personal guide to the exhibit, said, "People ask why Dr. Clark insisted that we mount these shoes showing the back rather than the pretty front with bows on the toes. Look closer. The right shoe has an elevated heel to compensate for the shortness of Frida's right leg." Srta. Rodríguez also mentioned that the entire exhibit is designed to emphasize the disabilities that Frida suffered from the time she was a child of six, when she had polio which left her right leg thinner and shorter than the left.

Frida's calf-high, crimson leather lace-up boot–the left boot, with its wedge heel, decorated with panels of Chinese embroidery and a bell on a ribbon (…rings on her fingers, bells on her toes…).

The right boot and prosthesis, quite literally the other side of the story. Compare the wedge heel on this boot with the wedge on the other. Due to gangrene, doctors were forced to amputate Frida's long-injured right leg in 1953.

The metal supports for this and other items in the exhibit symbolize the iron handrail that pierced her abdomen and uterus in the 1925 trolley-car accident in which she suffered other serious injuries: a broken spinal column, a broken collarbone, broken ribs, a broken pelvis,
eleven fractures in her right leg, a crushed and dislocated right foot,
and a dislocated shoulder.

Arguably the most famous page from Frida's diary: Pies para qué los quiero si tengo alas pa'volar. (Feet, what do I need them for, if I have wings to fly.) Dated 1953 and painted just prior to the amputation of her right foot.

From Frida's trunks, a hair ornament. The tiara includes aluminum and textile flowers and green linen leaves.

Another hair ornament, in the form of a butterfly.

Gold chokers and other necklaces.

Who will see my brokenness, when the glory of my wardrobe hides my pain? In the exhibit, even the limbs of the mannequins resemble prostheses.

A full cabinet of Frida's long-stored belongings: clothing, jewelry, shoes, even a pair of golden cat's-eye sunglasses came from the closets and trunks.

Las Apariencias Engañan is intended to be a revolving, year-long exhibit. Sponsored in large part by Vogue Magazine, as well as BMW, The Anglo Mexican Foundation, British Airways, The BBVA Bancomer Foundation, the Japan Foundation, Lasalle College of the Arts, Montblanc, the University of the Arts London, and Valentino Parfums, the exhibit also includes a roomful of newly created items of haute couture based very loosely on Frida's wardrobe. This dress and jacket are by GQ's 2012 Designer of the Year Riccardo Tisci of Givenchy. Still more designer dresses are by Costume National and Jason Wu, among the other couture houses involved in the show.

From Frida's diary: arrows point to all of the parts of her body where she had surgeries. A tear falls from her right eye. I asked Srta. Rodríguez, "But she never had surgery on her head…?" "No, la flecha esa simboliza el daño psicológico…" ('No, that arrow represents the psychological damage.') Although the drawing shows only a few arrows, Frida actually had 22 or more surgeries.

Frida Kahlo chose her very Mexican wardrobe with extreme care. Each item was
designed to flatter this part, cover that part, hide the other part.
Under her embroidered and boldly colorful square-cut huipiles
(in this instance, Oaxaca-style blouses), terrible leather-and-metal
corsets were barely noticable to others. A maimed foot, a withered leg, a missing
leg? Let the boots take center stage, let the lace-bordered skirts be a
frothy smoke screen. Don't attend to my limp, look at the wreath of flowers in
my hair. Pay no attention to this wheelchair, raise your eyes to my multiple
gold necklaces, the bracelets on my arms, the rings on my fingers.

The exhibit reveals in a way that a photo, an article online, or a
biography cannot show how and why Frida Kahlo invented the appearance of festive
health for herself. The psychology that moved her to create this way
of life and this wardrobe, the fractures (both physical and mental) that shaped her need
for window dressing: all is apparent in the exhibit, and we see both the color and the shadow, the harsh reality and the fugue of fashion. Frida stands naked before us, a human being rather than a souvenir. ___________________________________________________

With profound thanks to Hilda Trujillo Soto (Directora Casa Museo Frida Kahlo), Patricia Cordero (Coordinadora de Difusión y Contenidos Digitales, Casa Museo Frida Kahlo), and Maricarmen Rodríguez López (Redes Sociales y Difusión, Casa Museo Frida Kahlo) for their time and effort in arranging a private guided tour of Las Aparencias Engañan for Mexico Cooks!.

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

19 de January de 2013
Signs of the Times at Mexico City’s Mercado de Jamaica

This man carries his purchase: cempasúchil (marigolds) and crisántamo (chrysanthemums) for the Day of the Dead. Most of the flowers at the market are grown in the State of Mexico, which is separate from but almost completely surrounds Mexico City. In the State of Mexico, flower growing generates a yearly economic bounty of $2,700,000,000 pesos: two billion seven hundred million, folks. It's not a typo.

This truckload of wholesale flowers for the Day of the Dead–golden cempasúchil, white nube (baby's breath), and wine-red cordón del obispo (cockscomb)–was undoubtedly destined for someone's retail flower shop.

In late October, Mexico Cooks! went to the Mercado de Jamaica specifically to find flowers and decorative items to build a home altar for the Day of the Dead. We were quite taken with these veladoras (candles in their holders). We found exactly what we wanted, but that became our secondary objective once we passed into the produce section of the market.

Many of Mexico City's markets use this sort of printed sign to advertise the price of what's for sale–in this case, vine-ripened Roma tomatoes–and every sign has a bit of advice to offer about your potential purchase. I've loved these signs since long before moving to Mexico's capital. On this market jaunt, the lightbulb went on: all of you would love these typical and sometimes funny signs, too. This one urges, "Don't think about it too much…take home a little kilo!".

For already-cut-up calabaza de castilla (a hard-shell Mexican squash): 'money well spent'.

For limón criollo (Mexican limes): I'll be right with you!

Limas–and there really is no translation for this uniquely Mexican fruit. They are neither limes nor lemons, nor are they oranges. But as the sign says: it's scrumptious!

Chile jalapeño: pretty and cheap, at four pesos the quarter kilo.

White potatoes for 10 pesos the kilo: smile.

Beautiful crisp cucumbers: ask for more.

At six pesos the kilo: 'Don't look any further!'

This merchant is offering his chiles jalapeños at 14 pesos the kilo: 'Like you saw on TV'.

This sign is my current favorite. "Ni hablar mujer" means 'Lady, don't even talk about it!'. The phrase is also part of a Pedro Infante song.

Next year, plan to come along with us to this marvelous market. Ahorita la atiendo!

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

12 de January de 2013
Próspero Año Nuevo (Happy New Year), Mexican Style

In Mexico and other Latin American countries, women wear yellow
underwear on New Year's Eve to bring good luck and wealth in the year to
come. Red underwear indicates a New Year's wish for an exciting love
interest!

Sweeping the Feathers, by Victor Gabriel Gilbert. It's the custom in Mexico to thoroughly clean the house prior to the start of the New Year–you don't want to bring any leftover mugre (dirt) into the clean, fresh year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5 de January de 2013
Pastorela in Cuitzeo: Devil Take the Hindmost
This article, originally published at Christmastime 2007, has been extremely popular every Christmas since then. We think you will enjoy this slightly updated version…

A Seattle Christmas pageant, circa 1953. Thanks, Sandy in Seattle!

My school put on a Christmas pageant when I was in the third grade,
back in the days before the law specified generic holiday greetings. Remember how Joey
and Jimmy, Ralphie and Bobby, were the shepherds in their father's striped
terrycloth bathrobes, the sashes tied three or four times around their
waists? Chuck got to be Joseph and that prissy little Amy got to dress
in blue and white as the Virgin Mary when everybody KNEW it should have
been you up there nuzzling the Baby Jesus. Here's a sweet little
reminder:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clSUr9fLapY&w=320&h=240]

A 19th Century pastorela photograph showing Bartolo, the indolent shepherd who overslept and missed his chance to go to Bethlehem to see the Niño Dios.

In Mexico, a Christmas pageant, like almost everything, is different from Christmas plays North of the Border. Called a pastorela,
the Mexican Christmas play is part very naughty topical comedy, part
traditional drama, part Sunday school lesson, and 100% morality play. Pastorela means pastoral, or a play that takes place in the countryside, and concerns the activities of pastores, or shepherds. First introduced to Mexico by Franciscan missionaries in the 1500's, pastorelas
continued to grow in favor here. Today the plays are one of the most
popular Christmastime entertainments. The theme portrays the eternal
conflict between good and evil. The plot revolves around the pilgrimage
of the shepherds to Bethlehem to see the newborn Niño Dios (Christ Child).

The devil is not ordinarily associated with Christmas. In Mexico, however, Satanás
plays a very solid role in the holiday festivities. He is actually the
star! Lucifer works all his worst wiles to detour the shepherds away
from their destination. Costumed as various alluring personages, Satan
and his associate devils do their best to trick the shepherds into
abandoning their journey to redemption. At the end, Satan is trumped,
good triumphs, the shepherds meet the Holy Family, and all is well.

Mexico Cooks! recently spent a week or so looking for a pastorela to be presented at a time we could attend. Last week, Judy noticed an article in the newspaper about a pastorela that was being offered that very night in Cuitzeo, a small town about an hour north of Morelia. The title of the play (El Ermitaño.com:
The Hermit.com) was intriguing, the photo of the performers in costume
looked exciting, and the timing was right. We called our friend Bunny,
who jumped at the chance to accompany us to the evening performance, and
we were off to Cuitzeo.

Cuitzeo reached the status of Mexican Pueblo Mágico, the third in Michoacán, in 2006. The requirements for the Pueblo Mágico designation are:
- a town or city rich in tradition
- located in an area of high interest to tourists
- that it have a strong history
- that it have ready access from major highways
You'll see in this video that Cuitzeo easily meets Pueblo Mágico criteria.

Our pastorela took place outside, on the grounds of the
Ex-Convento de Santa María Magdalena, a 16th Century Augustinian
convent. Judy, Bunny, and I stopped first in the church to see the
Christmas decorations.

Cuitzeo's 17th Century Virgin Mary wears a charming straw sombrero, carries a lace-trimmed basket, and rides a donkey as she and Joseph travel to Bethlehem.

The presentation of El Ermitaño.com was sponsored by Adopt a
Work of Art, the Michoacán Secretary of Tourism, the Cuitzeo city
government, the National Institute of Anthropology and History, and the
newspaper La Voz de Michoacán. We discovered that this pastorela was not a simple country town's Christmas caprice. It is a sophisticated, professional play of great good humor.

According to Miguel Sabido, the creator of El Hermitaño.com,
"The culture which distinguishes Mexico is both vast and rich, but it's
composed of more than our country's admirable buildings. Mexico has
its greatest patrimony in its popular rituals, and its recipes like the pinole cookies that are only made here in this region, and the pastorelas. These are Mexico's legacies and we must make a commitment to spread her traditions."

The pastorela characters mounted the stage dancing, singing, and rejoicing.

Adam and Eve were the first to take the devil's bait: Adam bit the apple and all hell broke loose.

Still singing, the shepherds, in typical indigenous Purhépecha dress, started their trip to Bethlehem.

El ermitaño (the hermit), portrayed as a post-elderly (think
200 years old) fellow, leads the shepherds (in this case, indigenous
Purépecha from Michoacán) on the long trip to Bethlehem. The Archangel
Michael warns them that they'll see the devil in the disguise of famous
and fascinating people. When Satan begins to tempt the simple
shepherds, they easily fall into his traps.

El ermitaño (the hermit) co-starred with Satan.

Famously rival Mexican soccer teams, a drunken debauch complete with
Caribbean dancers in flounced skirts and turbans, and an angelic choir
are all devils in disguise. In every encounter, Archangel Michael has
to intervene to prod the shepherds on their way. Topical jokes ran
wild, references to the famous and the infamous flew, and we loved it
all.

Finally, Bethlehem! The Virgin Mary holds the Niño Dios as St. Joseph and the shepherds look on.

The pastorela story was typically good conquers evil, but
what a production! Acted, danced, and sung by professionals, the
morality play kept the crowd (packed into bleachers on two sides of the
open stage) laughing, clapping, booing and hissing, and singing along
with Mexico's treasured and iconic villancicos (Christmas carols).

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07FjX4R1d-s&w=350&h=263]
Listen to this lovely version of Los Peces en el Río. Can you hear the lyric 'la Virgen lava pañales'? It means 'the Virgin is washing diapers'!

Mexico Cooks! wishes everyone a very joyous New Year, filled with good health, great happiness, and many delights.

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29 de December de 2012
Christmas–Piñata Time in Mexico!

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

Among clean ollas de barro (clay pots), plastic receptacles filled with engrudo (flour/water paste), and colorful, neatly stacked rounds of papel de china
(tissue paper), Sra. María Dolores Hernández (affectionately known as
Doña Lolita) sits on an upturned bucket. She'll celebrate her 82nd
birthday on December 24, and she still lights up–just like a Christmas tree–when she talks about her business and her life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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15 de December de 2012
Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe en Imágenes :: Images of Our Lady of Guadalupe

The actual tilma (cape-like garment woven from maguey cactus fibers) worn by San Juan Diego in December 1531. The framed tilma hangs over the main altar at the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, Mexico City.

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

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

The enormous Basílica of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe in
Mexico City is the most visited pilgrimage site in the Western
Hemisphere. As many as 18 to 20 million people visit the shrine each year. Its location, on the hill of Tepeyac, was a place of great
sanctity long before the arrival of Christianity in the New World. In
pre-Hispanic times, Tepeyac had been crowned with a temple dedicated to
an earth and fertility goddess called Tonantzin, the Mother of the Gods.
Tonantzin was a virgin goddess associated with the moon, like Our Lady
of Guadalupe who usurped her shrine.

Our Lady of Guadalupe tattoo.

Read the full story of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe here.

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

Holy water bottles in rainbow colors of plastic, for sale at the booths just outside the Basílica.

Art casket, Our Lady of Guadalupe and the Basílica.

Folk art depiction of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Statue
in resin of Our Lady of Guadalupe and Pope John Paul II, who was
devoted to her. This image continues to be reproduced as calendars, statues of all
sizes, and pictures to hang on the wall. Pope John Paul II still has millions of devotees in Mexico.

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

Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, 19th century image on metal. At the top of this antique memento you can see the words, "Santuario de Guadalupe, 12 de Diciembre".

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

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8 de December de 2012
Colonia La Condesa Bakery Crawl–Un Paseo por las Panaderías de Colonia la Condesa

Pan de muertos (special bread for Day of the Dead), almost ready for the oven at Panadería Maque, Calle Ozululama 4, at the corner of Calle Citlatépetl, Colonia La Condesa.

Late in October, my baker-friend Jane suggested that in honor of Mexico's Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), we go poking around in bakeries. Pan de muerto is one of the traditional treats set out on altars to entice the spirits of the dead back for a visit with the living, and every bakery has its own recipe. As it happened, neither of us had a lot of time on the appointed day, so we made a list of eight spots to visit in Colonia La Condesa. We set off on foot with high hopes of finding sublime breads.

The family-size pan de muertos at Panadería Maque, wrapped in cellophane and ready to go home with you. We calculated that it would serve eight or more people, with a good-sized slice or more for each person. It cost just under 400 pesos.

Our first stop–we arranged our bakeries in a big oval starting with the one closest to Mexico Cooks! home and ending as near as possible to the same spot–was at Panadería Maque. Maque is a several-bakery/coffee shop chain open from 8AM breakfast to 10PM light supper in Col. Condesa. We were impressed by the big crowd at the outdoor and indoor tables, the long line waiting to be seated, and the bustling wait staff whizzing by with coffee, great-looking sandwiches, and lots of pan de muertos. We took some pictures and made a note to return for breakfast another morning when we both had more time.

Not on our list but in our path, at the corner of Calle Ozululama and Av. Amsterdam: Louis Robledo's Tout Chocolat, where the pan de muertos was made with chocolate. Jane bought one hot out of the oven to take home. She also bought each of us a delicious macarrón. They were very nearly as good as the ones I tried last spring in Paris.

Next on our list was Panadería La Artesa, at Alfonso Reyes 203, corner Calle Saltillo. Mexico Cooks!' wife often stops at La Artesa for baguettes and pan de agua, both of which are good but not spectacularly so. The owner noticed that both Jane and I had cameras with us; he started berating us with, "No photos! No photos! Put the cameras away!" If you want to put up with that kind of behavior, fine. Neither Jane nor I will be going back.

As we strolled along, we noticed this sign: MANDUCA. Recently opened at Calle Nuevo León 125-B, this terrific bakery was also not on our list–but what a find! Trendy but not precious, all its bread is baked on the premises.

Real bread! Manduca's delightful manager, Alejandra Miranda Medina, told us that the baker is German.

We couldn't leave; hunger suddenly overcame our need to step lively. Jane ordered a pan de muerto and coffee; I asked for one of the pretzel bread individual loaves and butter. The pretzel bread was marvelous, the heavily anise-flavored pan de muertos a little less so. The outside seating (there are also tables inside) was comfortable and pleasant.

Manduca's pan de muertos enticed us to stay, but Jane and I both prefer this bread with more orange flavor and a lighter touch of anise.

We continued to meander down Calle Nuevo León, looking for Panadería La Victoria, our next destination.

La Victoria, at Calle Nuevo León 50 (almost to the corner of Calle Laredo), bills itself as a Rioplatense (from the River Plate area that lies between Argentina and Uruguay) rotisserie and bakery. The chef is from Uruguay. These little sweet breads, called vigilantes (watchmen), are filled with a sweetened creamy cheese and topped with ate de membrillo (sweet quince paste). In Uruguay, these are said to be the favorite sweet bread of policemen–hence vigilantes.

Pan de muertos from La Victoria. These mini-breads (compare them with the ordinary size of the tongs at the right of the photo) are just the right size for two or three bites.

We spent a few minutes looking for Panadería Hackl (Calle Atlixco 100, between Calles Campeche and Michoacán, but realized distance and our rapidly disappearing time meant that we would have to come back another day.

We walked through Fresco by Diego (Fernando Montes de Oca 23, near the corner of Calle Tamaulipas), which offers some breads but is primarily a restaurant.

Our last stop was Pastelería Suiza, at Parque España 7 (between Calles Oaxaca and Sonora). It's a 70-year-old Mexico City institution with several sucursales (branches); this location is the original. Mention this bakery to almost anyone who loves pan dulce (sweet bread) in the Distrito Federal and the response will be a sigh of blissful longing.

On November 2, the only bread for sale at Pastelería Suiza was pan de muertos, and the only pan de muertos left, in several sizes, was split horizontally and stuffed with a huge schmear of nata (thick sweet cream). It looked like the Holy Grail of pan de muertos. I could not resist buying two individual-size panes de muertos.

You choose your bread, take it to the wrapping station, pick up your ticket, pay at the cashier, and then go back for your bread. The wrapping staff put the pan on a tray, then surrounded it with a cardboard collar.

Wrapped up in paper and string, the package has a come-hither look equal to the bread itself.

We could hardly wait–the Pastelería Suiza pan de muertos and a cup of hot tea would be our cena (supper) that night.

The verdict? The thick mound of nata was quite honestly an overkill of creamy sweetness. And the bread itself? The texture was wrong, more like a dry, crumbly, unpleasant muffin than like traditional pan de muertos. The bread had no flavor–not a drop of orange, not a drop of anise, nothing. It was a tremendous disappointment. Big sigh…but not blissful in the least.

So, you might ask: you walked all over Colonia La Condesa, you sniffed breads, you tasted breads, and nothing really satisfied Your Pickiness. What now?

A few days prior to Mexico's Día de los Muertos, my wife and I stopped at what is essentially our corner bakery, located at the corner of Av. Insurgentes and Av. Baja California, hard by the Metro station a couple of blocks from our house. Panificadora La Espiga (the Spike of Wheat bread maker) is large but ordinary, with not much to recommend it other than its proximity to us. A seasonal craving for pan de muertos had us by the innards, though, and we bought two small ones. They looked generic, with the traditional sprinkle of sugar: no nata, no chocolate, nothing special at all.

Pan de muertos, La Espiga.

When I tasted the pan de muertos, I was surprised. My exclamation was, "A poco!" (I don't believe it!) The texture was dense, slightly layered, and moist. The not-too-sweet flavor leaned toward the orange, with just a hint of anise. Who could have guessed! It was perfect. Jane and I had wandered far afield, spent time and money in all those uppity Condesa bakeries, and I had already tried the best bread of the bunch. Next year, Jane. I promise to take you to La Espiga first.

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1 de December de 2012
9º Encuentro de Cocina Tradicional de Michoacán: Ninth Annual Festival of Traditional Michoacán Cooking

At the 9th Annual Festival of Traditional Michoacán Cooking (October 19-21, 2012), Mexico Cooks! photographed alcatraces (calla lilies), an ear of blue corn, and a basketful of hypomyces lactifluorum, known in English as lobster mushroom and in Spanish as oreja de puerco (pig's ear). During Michoacán's rainy season, the mushrooms grow wild and are harvested in the pine forests around Lake Pátzcuaro. The lilies grow in home gardens. Point of interest: Alcatraz, the ominous sounding name of the infamous California prison, simply means calla lily.

For the last six years, Mexico Cooks! has been a proud part of a uniquely Michoacán food festival. This Encuentro de Cocina Tradicional de Michoacán was the impetus and the paradigm for which in 2010 UNESCO awarded Mexico's food Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity status. Every year, we feature stories and photos about the food that makes this festival an inimitable part of Mexico's richness. Those stories are here: Fourth Annual Encuentro, Fifth Annual Encuentro, Sixth Annual Encuentro, Seventh Annual Encuentro, and Eighth Annual Encuentro.

A huge bunch of freshly cut flor de calabaza (squash flowers), used in a variety of Michoacán's regional dishes. Did you know that only the male flowers are cut for cooking? The female flowers are left to develop squash on the vines.

If asked about pre-Spanish conquest regional food, few people would think of
frogs. These great big frogs, for sale at Morelia's Mercado de
Independencia on the Sunday of the Encuentro, are caught around Lake Pátzcuaro and skinned for traditional preparations. Only the ancas de rana (frog legs) are eaten.

This year, rather than focus primarily on festival food, Mexico Cooks! wants to introduce you to some of the now-elderly masters of Michoacán's regional home cooking, women who have annually brought the best of their family kitchens to the fair, who have proudly participated in the festivals, and who have given their hands, hearts, and hearths to the rescue and preservation of Michoacán's ingredients and techniques.

Doña Paulita Alfaro Águilar lives in Nuevo San Juan Parangaricutiro, Michoacán. She has participated in all of the Encuentros to date and has long operated her own restaurant. We chatted for a while this year; she told me she thinks this might be her last Encuentro. She told me that she is over 85 years old now and that in the last few months, her health has begun to be less trustworthy. "I've had to go to doctors a lot lately. And I don't feel as strong as I used to. See, I have to walk with a cane." When it was time to say our farewells, she added, "If I don't see you again next year, tell everyone I'm glad to know that so many people tasted my food."

Doña Matilde Apolinar Hernández from Charapan, Michoacán. Doña Matilde, who is also over 85 years old, prepared atápakua de queso (cheese in an herb-based sauce), atápakua de charales (tiny whole fish in an herb-based sauce), churipo (Purépecha beef soup), and atápakua de frijol (beans in an herb-based sauce) as well as corundas (Michoacán-style unfilled tamales). She participated in the the 2012 competitions with atápakua verde (a green herb-based sauce).

Doña Celia Moncitar Pulido shows us with her expressive hands one of the four elements of the Purépecha kitchen altar. The mazorcas (dried ears of corn) and beans represent Mother Earth, who gives us our food. Purépecha cooking–and eating–depend as much on spiritual elements as on earthly elements.

Doña Amparo Cervantes, legendary cook from Tzurumútaro, Michoacán. The 2011 Encuentro named Doña Amparo one of a handful of official maestras of the annual festival. The small group of recognized maestras had won the Encuentro competitions so often–really, every year–that the organizing committee retired these fabulous cooks from competition. Nonetheless, at nearly 90, Doña Amparo continued to cook (but not compete) at the 2012 Encuentro. In addition to her participation at the Morelia event, she has also been an impetus and support for the cocina comunitaria (community kitchen) in Tzurumútaro, her hometown. A few of her specialties are mole with chicken and rice, pork with strips of chile poblano, corundas, and uchepos.

Doña Ana María Gutiérrez Águilar and her husband, don Espiridión Chávez Toral, who live in Calzontzin, in the municipality of Uruapan. At the 2012 Encuentro, I sat near the couple as we listened to a young and extremely talented woman sing a traditional Purépecha pirekua. When the song was over, Doña Ana María asked the singer who wrote the song. The singer mentioned a name. Doña Ana María stood up and said, "No señor! That song was written by my father, Valentín Gutiérrez Toral from Paricutín. He was too poor to afford to have his pirekuas registered and most of them have been stolen. I've sung them all my life, just as he taught them to me." The young singer invited Doña Ana María to the stage, where she sang her father's song a capella and wowed the crowd.

Doña Lupita works selling onions at Morelia's Mercado de Independencia. At more than 85 years old, she continues to accompany her slightly younger sister to work. When asked how much longer she hopes to be at the market, she smiled and merely shrugged. "Hasta que Dios me de licencia." ('As long as God lets me.')

These beautiful and highly respected old women will not be with us forever. It's far better to honor them while they are still with us than to carry flowers to them after they have gone.

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17 de November de 2012