Category: Visiting Chefs

Hog Heaven: Mexico’s Love Affair with Pork

Cochinita pibil from the Yucatán (seasoned pork, slow-cooked and then shredded), a specialty of Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's Restaurante Azul/Condesa. It's a quick route from the farm to the plate.

Mexico is one of the largest producers and consumers of pork in the world, second only to China. In spite of the 'swine flu' crisis several years ago, Mexico continues to eat pork at a record-breaking pace and, every year, to export millions of tons of pork to other countries. (FIRA)

From the growers' farms to a rastro (slaughterhouse) is a speedy ride along one of Mexico's super-highways. A truck like this one, loaded with pigs, is an everyday sight throughout Mexico. Photo courtesy ROTOV.

Mexico is not nearly as squeamish as the United States in seeing where its carne de cerdo (pork meat) comes from. In fact, a stroll through just about any city market or tianguis (street market) will give ample evidence that meat–including pork meat–comes from an animal, not from a sterile, platic-wrapped styrofoam meat tray at a supermarket.

Every part of the pig is used in Mexico's kitchens. The head is ordinarily used to make pozole, a rich stew of pork meat, reconstituted dried corn, spices, and condiments.

No pork existed in Mexico until after the Spanish conquest; in fact, no domestic animals other than the xoloitzcuintle dog were used for food. The only sources of animal protein were fish, frogs, and other water creatures, wild Muscovy-type ducks, the javalí (wild boar), about 200 varieties of edible insects, doves and the turkey, all native to what is now Mexico.

Mexico has been cooking head-to-tail since long before that notion came into international vogue. Pig tails are used here for roasting–look for recipes for rabo de cerdo asado (roast pig tail).|

No matter that just below these jolly mariachi pigs at Mexico City's Mercado de Jamaica, their once-live counterparts lie ready for the butcher's knife. These fellows play on!

Chicharrón (fried pig skin) is prepared fresh every day by butchers whose specialty is pork. Nothing goes to waste.

Just about any Mexican butcher worth his stripes can custom-cut whatever portion of the pig you need for meal preparation. In case you're not 100% familiar with the names of Mexican cuts, here are two pork cut charts, first in English and then in Spanish for comparison.

Pork cuts chart in English. Click to enlarge the image for better viewing.

Pork cuts chart in Spanish (for Mexican users). Even in Spanish, many cuts have different names depending on which country names them. Again, click to enlarge the image for a better view.

These suckling pigs were butchered at 6 weeks to 3 months old. Known in Mexico as lechón, roast suckling pig is a delicacy by any name. Many restaurants specialize in its preparation.

One of the most common and popular (and really delicious) kinds of street tacos is tacos al pastor (shepherd style tacos). Marinate thinly sliced pork meat in a sauce made of chiles guajillo, vinegar, and tomato. Next, layer the slices on a vertical spit so that they form the shape of a spinning top. At the top of the meat, place a pineapple without skin. Light the fire in the grate behind the spit and allow a portion of the meat to cook until slightly caramelized on the edges and tender within. Slice into very thin pieces, using them to fill a tortilla warmed on the flattop. With your sharp knife, flick a small section of the pineapple into the taco. Add the salsa you prefer, some minced onion and cilantro, and ahhhhh…the taste of Mexico!

Manitas de cerdo: pickled pigs' feet. The well-scrubbed feet are cooked in salted water, then added to vegetables cooked in a pickling solution of vinegar, chile, vegetables, and herbs. In Mexico, manitas de cerdo can be eaten as either a botana (snack) or a main dish.

One of my personal favorite pork dishes: carnitas from Michoacán! These carnitas in particular are the best I've ever eaten: large hunks of pork are boiled in lard until crispy on the outside, succulent and juicy on the inside. Chopped roughly and served with various salsas, they're the best tacos I know. Find them at Carnitas Aeropuerto, in Zamora, Michoacán.

Adobo huasteco, another deliciously spicy pork dish. It's been a while since this last appeared on our table–and it's high time we prepared it again. Click on the link for the recipe.

Last but not least, here's a rosy bouquet of pig heads for sale at the Mercado de Jamaica in Mexico City.

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7 de September de 2013
La Teca–Isthmus of Tehuantepec Cooking in Oaxaca: Cocina Istmeña Oaxaqueña

Good friend and chef Rodolfo Castellanos with his adorable daughter
Elisa. Chef Rodolfo owns Restaurante Origen in Oaxaca. He and his wife, Lisette, asked me to join them for comida (the main meal of the day) at Oaxaca's Restaurant La Teca, where chef Rodolfo ordered an incredible meal for us.

While in Oaxaca with a writers' group, I took a little
time away from that group to visit another group: several culinary-world
friends who live and work in this southern Mexico city. I played
hooky to eat on Friday with Pilar Cabrera at her wonderful restaurant La Olla,
and on Saturday with chef Rodolfo Castellanos and his family at La
Teca, a restaurant specializing in cooking from the Isthmus of
Tehuantepec.

The Isthmus of Tehuantepec is the skinniest part of mainland Mexico,
lying between the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico. Prior to the
opening of the Panama Canal, it was the most important route for goods
working their slow way across the relatively flat lands between the two
bodies of water. Partly in Oaxaca, partly in Chiapas, partly in Tabasco
and partly in Veracruz, the territory has its own legends, its own
history, and its own cuisines.

You
may not be aware that you are already familiar with the native dress of
the Tehuanas, as the women of the isthmus are known. Above, a Frida
Kahlo 1948 self portrait, dressed as a Tehuana. Image courtesy of: http://www.earlywomenmasters.net

Just off the beaten tourist track in Oaxaca, Restaurant La Teca serves
outstanding food from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. The welcoming owner
and cook, Señora Deyanira Aquino, will make sure that you eat your fill
of her marvelous regional cuisine.

The cooking of the Isthmus is traditionally corn-based and
idiosyncratic. Most ingredients are indigenous to its hot lowlands (for
example, armadillo and iguana) and its proximity to the sea: fresh and
dried shrimp, fresh fish, and other creatures from the ocean depths.

At La Teca we shared a platter of garnachas, a traditional entrada or botana (appetizer or snack) based on a fried disk of corn dough and topped with a mixture of meat, vegetables, and salsa.

Tamalitos de cambray from Tehuantepec, savory-sweet tamales made of chicken, raisins, olives, almonds, and capers.

These are molotes de plátano macho (small, sweetly ripe plantain croquettes) topped with crema de mesa (table cream) and queso fresco (fresh cheese). The three of us shared an order of four molotes.
We kept dividing the last one into smaller and smaller pieces so that
one of us did not hog the whole thing–although each of us would have!

Next course at La Teca: a taco filled with a small chile pasilla oaxaqueño relleno
(a regional dried chile, reconstituted, stuffed, and fried). It
doesn't look like anything special, does it? If you could just enjoy
the fragrance, I assure you that you would want to lick your monitor.

Tamales de elote (fresh corn tamales) followed, served with crema de mesa. These reminded me very much of Michoacán uchepos, another kind of fresh corn tamales.

Another traditional dish from the Isthmus, estofado de bodas
(wedding stew). It's a delicious long-cooked combination of beef,
fruits, chiles, and other spices, typically served at weddings.

Purée de papa, estilo Istmeño (potatoes, coarsely mashed and then baked, Isthmus style).

Asado de puerco con mole (pork roasted with mole, from Tehuantepec).

The owner and chief cook at La Teca is Sra. Deyanira Aquino, born and raised in the Isthmus. Women of the region are called 'tecas'–from Tehuantepec–hence the name of the restaurant.

You are probably well aware of the mythical seven moles
of Oaxaca, and although the state is best known for those, there are
many other less-well-known but equally wonderful dishes available to
visitors. By all means go see Sra. Aquino at La Teca; you will be as
thrilled by everything you eat as we were. This is not fancy, high-end
designer-plated food. Your palate will be delighted by traditional
Tehuantepec home-style cooking. And oh my god, you might exclaim, did the three of you really eat all that? We most assuredly did, every bite, and so will you.

Restaurant La Teca
Calle Violetas #200-A
Colonia Reforma
Oaxaca, Oaxaca
01.951.515.0563 (from within Mexico)

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31 de August de 2013
Home Cooking–Traditional Mexican Food, Just Like Mamá Used to Make

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

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

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

The blind men and the elephant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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3 de August de 2013
On the Table: Mexico Cooks! Dines Out and Dines at Home

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ingredients

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preparing the sauce

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The single recipe serves eight.

Provecho!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

29 de June de 2013
Restaurante Nicos, Mexico City Treasure: Traditional Mexican Cuisine, Family Comfort and Warmth

Chef Gerardo Vázquez Lugo, consummately professional executive chef at Restaurante Nicos in Mexico City. Chef Gerardo's right-hand man at Nicos (and head of La Nicolasa, their organic food shops in Azcapotzalco and in Col. La Condesa) is César Galván Arciniega.

Freshly baked, still-warm bolillo (crusty white bread roll) served from a dried guaje (gourd) and accompanied by three salsas and a wee dish of sea salt.

Mexico City's gourmands–the many of us who are heartily fond of good food and drink–often travel substantially north of the Centro Histórico (downtown) to have a marvelous meal. The magnet that pulls us to Delegación Azcapotzalco? Restaurante Nicos, a Mexico City institution since 1957. Started by María Elena Lugo Zermeño (chef Gerardo's mother) and run by the Vázquez Lugo family for the last 56 years, the restaurant offers a warmly charming atmosphere, excellent service, and simply fantastic food.

It always makes me happy to see that Nicos makes its guacamole exactly
the way I've been doing it at home for 30 years. You can see that the avocado is left in silky
chunks; it's not mashed. Add a little olive oil, some sea salt, small-diced white onion, small-diced tomato, chopped cilantro, and as much minced chile serrano as your palate can handle. No limón (Key lime) is necessary.

Prepared at tableside with perfectly ripe, perfectly fresh ingredients, this guacamole brims over in its molcajete (volcanic stone mortar) and is a plentiful appetizer for four diners. It's served with freshly-fried salty totopos (tortilla chips).

This oasis of great eating has never pretended to be more than a family restaurant serving home-style Mexican cooking. Traditional recipes prepared and served in the spirit of Slow Food are the basis of Nicos' kitchen, and attentive, non-obtrusive, closely-supervised staff continue to ensure that the customer is king. Really, what more can we want?

Another appetizer, this time doblada de tinga (delectable stewed, spiced, and shredded chicken stuffed into a folded, hot-off-the-comal (griddle) tortilla). These dobladas are offered three to an order, but our server generously provided our table of four diners with an extra doblada.

Nick Zukin, a Mexican food enthusiast and restaurant owner visiting from Oregon, recently invited me, Ben Herrera Beristain, and Jon Seymour to accompany him for comida (main meal of Mexico's day) at Nicos. An eager sí, cómo no!, and Mexico Cooks! joined Nick's group of friends at table. Faced with the truly difficult choices among Nicos' marvelous appetizers, soups, salads, and main dishes, we of course ordered far too much food, and of course we polished it all off with delight.

Our third entrada (appetizer) was this beautiful plate of trancas—taquitos (small rolled and fried tacos) stuffed with chicken and served with farm-fresh crema de mesa (Mexican table cream, similar to creme fraiche), grated queso fresco (soft white cheese), lettuce, and tomato–plus a small bowl of guacamole.

We ordered two sopas to share. This is what Mexico knows as a sopa seca (dry soup). In this case, it's the very special sopa seca de natas; a 19th century recipe from the convent of the Capuchinas (nuns) in Guadalajara. It's made of crepes, layered with shredded chicken and a sauce made of natas (unpasteurized cream from raw milk), tomatoes, and finely sliced chile poblano. Once the ingredients are layered in a baking dish, they're baked for about an hour and a half.

A soup plate arrives at table already piled with accompaniments for sopa de frijoles, the sopa aguada (liquid soup) we ordered. The shallow bowl holds strips of thinly sliced, fried tortillas, queso Pijijiapan (a white crumbly cheese from the state of Chiapas), lightly fried chile de árbol, and crema de rancho (farm-style cream). Note the name Pijijiapan: it's the only place name in Mexico with five dotted letters in a row! You can count on Mexico Cooks! for this sort of fascinating trivia.

Absolutely delicious sopa de frijoles (bean soup), based on an ayocote (white runner bean) broth flavored with fresh epazote (wormweed) is then ladled atop the soup accompaniments, and our waiter added a few drops of organic olive oil.

The first of our three platos fuertes (main dishes) was adobo de antaño con carne de cerdo con tamal de ejote tierno (pork cooked in an old-fashioned smooth, spicy adobo (sauce) and served with a fresh-corn tamal.

A tiny pot of frijoles negros (black beans), for just a spoonful each to go with our main dishes.

And another tiny pot of frijoles charros (cowboy-style beans with bacon, onion, and tomato). We couldn't have just one pot of beans, right?

Our second main dish: conejo al chile piquín (tender rabbit in a chile piquín sauce), served with ensalada de nopalitos (cactus paddle salad). Next time I am at Nicos, I'll order this dish just for myself. It was unquestionably my favorite–fall-off-the-bone tender rabbit cooked in a supremely delicious sauce. Just try and get me to give you a bite!

This dish of pollo en hoja de aguacate con pulque (boneless chicken with avocado leaf, orange juice, butter, and pulque) was, for me, a close runner-up to the rabbit. Beautifully presented and carrying the subtle flavor of anise-y avocado leaf and earthy pulque, the recipe was created by one of Mexico's foremost chefs and my friend, the great lady Alicia Gironella d'Angeli.

Can you tell that we were simply too stuffed to order dessert? We waddled out of the restaurant into the first downpour of Mexico City's 2013 rainy season, happy to have spent several hours enjoying one another's company and a superb meal. Next time you're in Mexico City, Restaurante Nicos will be a truly memorable experience for you.

Restaurante Nicos
Av. Cuitláhuac 3102, corner of Clavería
Col. Clavería
Del. Azcapotzalco
Mexico City 02080
Tel: 55.5396.7090 (reservations suggested for hours of comida, 2.30-4:00PM)
Hours: Monday through Friday 7.30AM to 7:30PM

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4 de May de 2013
Chilaquiles Caseros con Huevo :: Home-Style Chilaquiles with Egg

The ingredients for home-style chilaquiles with egg are very simple. This easy-to-prepare, traditionally Mexican dish makes a perfect lunch or supper for a Lenten Friday, or for any day.

Many years ago, long before the Internet burst onto the world scene and long before Mexico Cooks! was even a glimmer in my eye, a close friend from Michoacán taught me to prepare several platillos mexicanos estilo casero (home-style Mexican dishes). I've written about my dear friend Sister Celia Gutiérrez Cortés before; more than 30 years ago, she introduced me to many of Mexico's joys that continue to reward me today.

Sister Celia Gutiérrez Cortés in 1982

Chilaquiles are one of Mexico's most comforting of comfort foods. A mere mention of the word in casual conversation with Mexican friends will bring forth memories, stories, and recipes for their favorite ways of preparing them. They can be como mi mamá los hacía (like my Mom used to make them), estilo el restaurante en donde almorzábamos en aquel entonces (the way the restaurant where we had brunch in the old days prepared them), or–like these–como me los enseñó mi querida amiga (like my dear friend taught me). Enjoy!

Chilaquiles Caseros con Huevo
(Home-Style Chilaquiles with Egg)

Ingredients
10-12 eggs
1/4 cup milk
Sea salt to taste
Bottled red salsa to taste (the salsa in the photo is Chapala brand, but you can use salsa Cholula, Tabasco or something similar)
2 fresh chiles serrano (use just one, if you prefer your food less picante (spicy)
1 medium white onion
16-20 stale tortillas, the staler the better.
Vegetable oil

Utensils
12" non-stick skillet
Mixing bowl
Wire whisk
Spatula

Procedure

Break eggs into your mixing bowl. Add milk, sea salt, and bottled salsa. (I give the bottle 6-8 thumps on the bottom.) Whisk thoroughly until all ingredients are completely mixed together.

Finely mince the chiles. Cut the onion into 1/2 inch dice.

In your skillet, heat oil until it shimmers. Add the diced onion and minced chiles and sauté until the onions are soft and translucent, but not browned.

While the vegetables are cooking, cut or rip the tortillas into 1.5" squares, into triangles, or into 2" X 3/4" rectangles. The shape doesn't matter and each tortilla piece does not have to be exactly the same as the other.

Once the vegetables are soft, add the tortilla pieces to the skillet and sauté until they are browned and moderately crunchy. The onions will caramelize during this step.

When the tortillas are moderately crunchy–and they don't need to be as hard as packaged chips, just nicely crisped–add the beaten egg mixture to the skillet.

Cook over medium heat until the eggs are well-set but not hard. You will notice that, as the eggs begin to cook, the surfaces of the tortillas will appear to be slick and shiny. That's the egg mixture. The tortillas will lose that shine; when it's gone, you'll know that they are done.

If there is half a chicken breast left over from a previous meal, you can cut it into strips and toss it into the chilaquiles.

Divide the chilaquiles onto four plates. Drizzle with Mexican crema para la mesa (table cream–NOT sour cream), if you can find it. Serve with refried beans, sliced ripe avocado, and a refreshing cold beverage.

Makes four generous servings. Provecho!

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16 de March de 2013
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.

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9 de February de 2013
Los Reyes Magos to La Candelaria: Three Kings, Rosca de Reyes and Tamales!

Most Mexicans eat traditional rosca de reyes (Three Kings' Bread) on January 6. Its usual accompaniment is chocolate caliente (hot chocolate).

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

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

Chef Arturo Camacho Domínguez of Tampico, Tamaulipas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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26 de January de 2013