Mexico Cooks!

To Market, To Market: Mercado Libertad in Guadalajara

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Food Fair: La Muestra de Gastronomía in Michoacán

The Purhépecha woman in the foreground pats out tortillas while her companion sorts through a plate of golden, freshly cut flor de calabaza (squash blossoms).

The first two mornings of the huge annual artisans' crafts fair in Michoacán begin with a food fair: la Muestra de Gastronomía.   Fifteen or so outdoor kitchens, set up around a charming plaza just a block from the crafts booths, offer cooking demonstrations and inexpensive meals of representative Purhépecha dishes.  The food, rustic and rarely seen outside a Purhépecha home kitchen, is, in a word, heavenly.  The Mexico Cooks! group trooped into the food fair just in time for Saturday breakfast.  They could have known who we were by the way our mouths were watering with anticipation.

Corn is the basis for the indigenous Mexican kitchen, and the tortilla is the lowest common denominator.  On the table in front of this woman, you can see the metate (three-legged rectangular grinding stone) and the mano (similar to a rolling pin) resting on it,  along with the prepared masa from which tortillas are made.  Both the metate and the mano are hand-carved from volcanic rock.

To your left of the table is the clay comal (similar to a griddle) that in this instance rests loosely on top of a metal drum in which the wood cook fire is built.  Prior to use, the comal is cured with cal (builders' lime).  The cal serves two purposes: it gives the comal a non-stick surface and it adds nutrients to the masa as it toasts.

In the past, all of Mexico's women prepared dried corn for masa by soaking and simmering it in a solution of water and cal.  The name of the prepared corn is nixtamal.  Once it's processed, it's ready to be ground into masa for tortillas, tamales, and other corn-dough preparations.  Some rural women still grind nixtamal-ized corn by hand using the metate and mano.  Some take the prepared corn to their neighborhood tortillería (tortilla vendor's shop) for grinding, and some prepare their masa using commercial dried corn flour.  In urban areas, the majority of Mexican families buy tortillas hot off the tortilla baker at the tortillería and carry them home, wrapped in a special towel, just in time for a meal.

This woman prepares her stove, made of part of a metal drum with an opening cut away for firewood.  She's spreading a paste made of wood ash and cal on and around the top of the the drum to hold the comal in place.  The white streaks on the red clay comal are cal.  The volcanic rock metate and mano are on the bench in the background.  Her well-used clay cooking pot is visible to your left.

This joyous woman is patting out blue corn tortillas.  The masa and mano are on the metate in front of her.  She's toasting the tortillas and roasting tomatoes and chiles on her clay comal.  The comal is set into a clay stove fired by wood.  The haze that you see is woodsmoke.

The Purhépecha kitchen repertoire includes numerous atápakuas (literally, a type of thick, soup-like salsa served plentifully over prepared food).  The Purhépecha word atápakua has meaning deeper than its simple definition.  Its connotation is food that is picante (spicy), nutritious, and life-sustaining in a spiritual sense.  Mexican culinary historians agree that the preparation of atápakuas dates from as long as 400 years before the Spanish Conquest, around 1100 AD, when the Purhépecha were strong rulers in the area of Mexico that is now Michoacán. 

An atápakua can be made from the ingredients that are easily found in the region.  The specialty of one tiny village of the Meseta Purhépecha is atápakua del talpanal (wasp larvae).  Another town's specialty is xururi atápakua, the principal ingredient of which is cotton seeds.  More commonly, indigenous cooks prepare their atápakuas of seasonal and readily available vegetables along with a bit of meat, poultry, or fish.

We of Mexico Cooks! didn't eat wasp larvae or cotton seeds.  We inhaled bowls of atápakua de flor de calabaza (thick, soupy salsa served over squash flowers, fresh corn kernels, and chunks of corundas de ceniza (unfilled tamales made with masa and wood ash).

In the closeup of the atápakua you can clearly see the corn kernels (closest to the bowl of the spoon), small pieces of calabacita (similar to zucchini), orange squash flowers, and a piece of white corunda.   For flavor and color, chiles serrano and cilantro are blended into the cooking liquid.  The thin, soupy salsa is then thickened by blending a small ball of masa into the hot liquid.  This atápakua is deliciously spicy and tastes as fresh as the garden.  I finished my portion and wanted another bowl.

And here's part of the Mexico Cooks! breakfast crew.  We had already gobbled our atápakua (witness the empty bowls) and had moved on to snarfing down the jahuácatas we're holding. Jahuácatas are similar to gorditas.  Purhépecha women prepare the jahuácatas by folding freshly patted tortillas and refried beans into multiple thin layers, then toasting the finished product on the comal.

Photo by Steve Sando, www.ranchogordo.com

Churipo, shown above, is one of my favorite Purhépecha specialties.  Churipo is a hearty soup, the delicious broth flavored by long cooking with beef, cabbage, calabacitas, xoconostle (the sour fruit of a specific nopal cactus), onion, chile, and other ingredients.  Served with a squeeze of limón (Mexican lime), a sprinkle of coarse sea salt, tortillas hot off the comal and corundas de ceniza broken up in the bowl, it's a wonderful meal in one dish.  If your palate will take the heat, eat some raw chiles serrano along with your bowl of churipo.  Remember that the tip of any chile is less picante than the stem end, where most of the seeds are.

Late in the afternoon, after we'd investigated as many of the crafts booths as we could, we were all in need of something very light and fresh for our comida (middday meal).  We ordered a fruit plate and a plate of guacamole with totopos (triangular fried tortilla chips) at a local restaurant.

For dessert we found limones, with the pulp scraped away, candied and stuffed with cocada (coconut candy).  Half of one of these is plenty!

This was such a sweet finish to a fascinating day in Michoacán.  If you'd like to travel to this event in 2008, be sure to email Mexico Cooks! in time to save your place for adventure.

 

 

 

Mexico Cooks! in Michoacán

During the first week of April, Mexico Cooks! traveled with a group of friends to Michoacán's Zona Lacustre (Lake Zone).  Our trip had three purposes: to taste every regional food specialty we could find to eat, to attend an enormous annual Michoacán-only artisans' fair, and to enjoy one another's company to the fullest.  The trip was a huge success on all three counts.

Come to the artisans' fair opening day parade with Mexico Cooks!

Parade of Artisans, 2007.  Most of the many Purhépecha (the indigenous group of Michoacán) villages in the Zona Lacustre specialize in a particular form of artesanía (arts and crafts).  The annual Feria de Artesanía opens as representative artesanos (artisans) from each village parade through the fair site.  Each town delegate proudly bears a placard emblazoned with the town name.  All along the parade route, some of the artisans carry stellar examples of their work.

Joy!  

 
Ribbons and masks from Tócuaro.

A Purépecha woman from Uruapan, vestida de gala (dressed in her finest) and speckled with festive confetti, shows off an example of fine maque (regional lacquerware).

Dance masks, Danza de los Viejitos (the Dance of the Little Old Men).
             

 
Rain Dance mask, Tócuaro.

Young Purhépecha women festooned with beads, lace, velvet, and ribbons.  The baskets they carry are filled with confetti, ready to be tossed at the spectators.  The young woman in red stopped directly in front of me, grinned, and showered me with color from head to toe.

This beautiful young woman danced with her face covered by the mask of a toothless grandmother, wearing typical ribbons in her long white braids.

            
Purépecha women in Michoacán's Zona Lacustre ordinarily use a region-specific blue and black striped rebozo (shawl).  Legend has it that this traditional style rebozo became popular in Colonial times: the black stripe symbolizes Spanish hair, the blue stripe symbolizes the Spanish eye.  In daily life, the rebozo is utilitarian.  Mothers use it to carry their babies slung on their backs, to carry wood for the kitchen stove and other burdens, and for simple warmth.  Folded and placed on the head, the rebozo protects from the sun and balances pots and jars.

Beauty, tradition, and personal pride hallmark the Feria de Artesanía.  One of Mexico Cooks! dearest friends says, "Cada que veo tus fotos siempre me dan la cara de volver."  'Every time I see your pictures, it always make me want to come back.'

In just a few days, we'll show you some of the incredible meals Mexico Cooks! ate along the way.  We'd like to invent a scratch-and-sniff computer monitor to give you all but the taste of regional cooking. We're sure the photos will make your mouth water.

If you'd like to travel to the 2008 Feria de Artesanía in Michoacán, contact Mexico Cooks! and we'll start now to make your plans for adventure.

 

 

 

The Michoacán Kitchen

Home cooking for you might be your mother's macaroni and cheese. For my friend Shana it's her grandmother's potato latkes, for Danny it's the fond memory of his Aunt Ethel's apple crumble. And for me? For the last 25 years, my taste buds and heart have been drawn by the smells and flavors of the Michoacán home kitchen. The first fragrance that fills my memory is that of pine wood burning in the clay stove centered in the mountain kitchen. One note behind the wood smoke is the scent of beans boiling in a clay pot, and the fragrance chord is finished by a top note of tortillas toasting on the clay comal (a large flat clay griddle). The home kitchen closest to my heart belongs to Débora, my friend who lives at more than 9500 feet above sea level on the highest mountain in Michoacán.

When I visited Débora at home for the first time, my entire notion of how a house looks was turned upside down. My friend Celia (Débora's sister) had invited me to travel home with her for two weeks:"Ven conmigo a mi tierra, a conocer a mi mamá," she said. ("Come with me to my hometown, to meet my mother.") Twenty-nine years ago, we traveled for 52 hours, from Tijuana to what I often tease Débora as being el último rinconcito del mundo (the last little corner of the world), by train and by three different classes of bus.  The last 27 kilometers of the trip (approximately 15 miles) was a jolting three hour ride in a converted school bus. You read that right. We were traveling on a washed-out dirt road that wound nearly straight up the mountainside.

From the bus stop in front of the mayor's office we walked two blocks up another hill and opened a small door in a long wall.  We walked up three wide slate steps into a dirt patio—and the house? I looked around, wondering where the house was.

I could see one room with a door (the bedroom, I found out later, complete with three rope beds and their corn husk mattresses), and a sitting-eating-sewing-talking room that had only three walls and was open to the air.  The kitchen was a tiny room with an opening but no door to close. That was the entire home.

Looking around, I saw chickens picking and scratching all over the dirt floor of the central patio, the pila (a single-tap cold water concrete sink used for washing clothes and dishes), an outdoor beehive clay oven, a path that I later discovered led to the outhouse, and a tiny, elderly woman wrapped in a rebozo (typical shawl) sweeping with a broom made of twigs: Celia's mother. Flowering trees and shrubs surrounded the patio; enormous dahlias in all colors blessed the wildness of the garden.

Tired from the long trip, I was soon put to bed at Aunt Delfina's house  next door.

Early, early the next morning, I stuck my head out the spare bedroom door and saw mist hanging among the mountains. I sniffed the clean scent of pine smoke in the chilly air. A hint of coffee fragrance followed, and the toasty corn smell of freshly handmade tortillas cooking. I dressed and went to see what Débora was doing next door in that tiny kitchen.

Débora was outside, standing near an outdoor stove made of a vertical oil drum. She was grinding nixtamal (dried corn prepared for making dough) on a metate (grinding stand) and patting out tortilla after tortilla, placing them onto the clay comal on top of the stove to cook. We smiled buenos días to one another and she gestured to offer me a fresh hot tortilla. I ate it eagerly and excused myself and went to peek into the kitchen.

What I saw astonished me. In the center of the dim windowless kitchen was a rectangular stove made of clay, plastered over and colored deep brick red.

The four burners were six-inch diameter holes on top of the stove. Below each burner hole was a long horizontal compartment for inserting and burning split pine wood. The center chimney took most of the smoke out through the roof.

Wooden shelves holding dishes and clay cooking pots hung on the neatly whitewashed walls. On a low ledge, several kinds of fresh and dried chiles were piled on reed mats. A few cobs of dried corn, a plate of fresh pan dulce,and some fruits I didn't recognize were arranged on a small wooden table. Above my head, aged woven reed baskets filled with foodstuffs—dried corn, flour, coffee, a bag of beans—hung from smoke-blackened beams.

A votive candle burned in the corner near a small print of Our Lady of Guadalupe.  A jelly glass filled with garden dahlias graced the tiny altar.  A steaming clay pot of beans for the midday meal burbled on a stove burner.

I gazed at this amazing kitchen with awe. There were no modern conveniences at all, not even a sink or refrigerator. As I stared, Celia stepped in and smiled at me. "This is the way the kitchen has been since long before I was born," she said. "My great-grandmother cooked here, my grandmother cooked here, my mother cooked here, and Débora and I learned to cook here. All that we know of the kitchen is from here." She gestured to encompass the tiny space.

"How does Débora keep food like milk and leftovers cold?" I asked.

Celia thought for a minute. "The milkman comes on his horse every morning and sells her just what she thinks she'll need for the day. He dips the milk out of his big metal milk can with a liter measure and pours it into one of her clay pots. If there's a bit left over at the end of the day, she gives it to the cat or she mixes it with really stale tortillas for the pig.

"Débora only buys enough meat for today, and it's always meat that is recién matada (butchered today). The meat that's killed and wrapped in plastic to be sold in the big markets—who knows how old that is! It never tastes as good as today's freshly cut meat.

"Then if there is food left over from la comida (the midday meal), we eat it for supper later. If there's still a little left, she gives it to the pig. Nothing goes to waste. And if she buys a few limones (Mexican limes), she buries them in the ground to keep them fresh."

"What else will you teach me while I'm here?" I asked.

Celia shook her head. "This time you just watch and pay attention. Next time you can try your hand in the kitchen."

Many of the traditional recipes from Michoacán have their roots in the Purhépecha culture. Corundas, uchepos, minguiche, churipo—two types of tamales, a cheese dish and a soup—are pre-Hispanic Purhépecha recipes and make the cuisine of Michoacán extraordinary.

There are other Mexican recipes that, while not unique to Michoacán, have strong ties to the state. There are some recipes which you may want to try to duplicate in your home kitchen. If you're not able to purchase all of the ingredients you need for these recipes, buy a ticket instead and come to taste the cuisine of Michoacán in its natural habitat. I'd be glad to take you on a food-tasting adventure.

Many recipes from Michoacán include both corn and cheese, cornerstones of the daily diet. Corn is one of Mexico's native grains and Mexico, especially the state of Michoacán, is famous for its cheeses. Cotija (coh-TEE-hah), a town in Michoacán, has given its name to the aged cheese used for topping refried beans and other dishes. If you can't find it in your grocer's cheese case, you can substitute another aged, crumbly cheese.

Chiles are also an important part of the Michoacán diet. Nearly all of the fresh and dried chiles available everywhere in Mexico are found in the state, as well as at least one variety that grows almost exclusively in Michoacán, the chile perón. Chile perón is approximately the size of a golf ball and is bright yellow to orange in color. It has black seeds, a fruity flavor, and is extremely hot. On a scale of one to 10, it registers about an eleven!

The corunda is a traditional Michoacán tamal that can be made either with or without a filling. These are made with a cheese and mild chile filling and are served with cream and a spicy salsa.

Corundas Michoacanas (Michoacán Corn tamales)

For the corundas:
3 kilos masa (soft corn dough) (if there is a tortillería near you, buy it there)
2 cups water
1 kilo (2.2 pounds) pork lard or vegetable shortening
5 Tablespoons baking powder
Salt to taste
30 fresh green corn stalk leaves (NOT the dried corn husks sold for ordinary tamales)

       For the filling:
1 kilo requesón (soft white cheese, similar to farmer or ricotta cheese) or ricotta cheese
1/2 kilo chile poblano, roasted, peeled, seeded, and cut into strips 2" long by 1/4" wide

Preparation:
With a large wooden spoon, beat the corn dough and the water together for approximately 30 minutes. Set aside.

With another large wooden spoon, beat the lard until it is spongy. Add the beaten dough to the lard, together with the baking powder and the salt. Continue beating until, when you put a very small amount of the masa in a cup of water, it floats.

Take a fresh corn stalk leaf and place three tablespoons of dough on the thickest side of it. Make a small hollow in the dough and put a tablespoon of the cheese and three or four strips of chile in the hollow. Cover the cheese and chile with another three tablespoons of the dough. Fold the corn stalk leaf over and over the dough until it has the triangular shape of a pyramid.

Continue making corundas until all the dough is used.

Put three cups of water in the bottom of a large steamer pot or tamalera. Use the rack that comes with the steamer pot to hold the first layer of corundas. Place all the corundas in the pot, cover, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat so that the water is actively simmering but not boiling. Be careful during the steaming process that the water does not entirely boil away; check this from time to time.  Put a coin or two in the bottom of the tamalera; as the water boils, the coins will rattle.  When you no longer hear the rattle, add more water immediately.

Allow the corundas to steam for one hour and then uncover to test for doneness by unwrapping one to see if the dough still sticks to the corn stalk leaf. If it still sticks, steam for another half hour. When the leaf comes away from the dough without sticking, the corundas are done.

Salsa:
1/2 kilo (1 pound) tomates verdes (called tomatillos North of the Border), husks removed
6-8 chiles perón (substitute chiles serrano if necessary), washed
1 small bunch fresh cilantro, washed
Sea salt to taste

Wash the tomatillos until they are no longer sticky. Fill a large saucepan half full with water and bring to a boil. Add the tomatillos and the chiles and boil until the tomatillos begin to burst open. With a slotted spoon, remove each tomatillo

When all the tomatillos are in the blender, add the chiles to the blender. Cover and blend at a low speed until the ingredients begin to chop well, and then stop the blender. If your blender has a removable center piece in the cover, add the cilantro little by little through that hole as you turn the blender back on to 'liquefy'. If the cover has no center hole, add some cilantro, blend, stop, and add more cilantro until all is blended. Do not chop the cilantro too finely, as you want flecks of it to help give the salsa both color and texture. Add salt to taste and stir.

To serve the corundas:
Unwrap a corunda and place it in a shallow soup bowl. Spoon unsweetened heavy cream over the corunda and top with several spoonfuls of the salsa.

Making any sort of tamales (including corundas) is hard work and is always more fun if you can plan to do it with a friend or two. Let the kids help, too. Make a party of it, with the big reward—the eating—at the end.

There will be plenty of corundas left over for everyone to take some home for the next day. It's easy to reheat them. Just leave them wrapped in their corn stalk leaves when you put them in a plastic bag to refrigerate them. Then when you're ready to reheat, place as many as your microwave will hold in a Pyrex dish. Cover them with paper toweling and microwave on high until they are hot throughout. They're just as good left over and they also freeze well.

After that long and complex recipe, let's try something a little faster and easier. The next regional dish is called minguiche, a lightly fried combination of cheese, eggs, and chiles that you'll enjoy. Served with fresh hot tortillas, fruit, and a beverage, it's satisfying and simple to make for brunch--and it's a great change from the usual brunch foods.

Minguiche (meen-GEE-cheh)
(The 'g' sounds like the 'g' in garden, the 'u' is silent)

1 kilo (2.2 pounds) requesón or ricotta cheese
6 eggs, beaten
Minced chiles serrano to taste, as few as two or as many as your palate tolerates
Salt to taste
3 Tablespoons vegetable oil 6-8 chiles húngaro (long yellow-orange chiles available in Latin markets) or banana chiles

On a griddle, roast the chiles húngaro until well-toasted and deep golden brown. Place them in a plastic bag for approximately 10 minutes to sweat; then peel them. Make a long slit down one side of each chile and use your fingers to scoop out the seeds. Fill each chile húngaro with one or more tablespoonfuls of the cheese. The chiles need not be filled to capacity.

With a wooden spoon, beat the remaining amount of the cheese until it is soft and fluffy. Add the beaten eggs a little at a time and beat until well incorporated into the cheese. Add the minced chiles serrano.

Heat the vegetable oil in a 10" heavy skillet. Allow the oil to become as hot as possible without smoking. Add all the cheese, egg, and chile mixture to the skillet and lower the heat to medium.

Cook the cheese mixture until it is slightly golden brown on one side. With a spatula, flip it over and allow it to brown slightly on the other side. The browning process is quick. For ease in flipping the cheese mixture, you can do this step in several smaller batches.

To serve the minguiche:
Divide the minguiche among six or eight plates. The minguiche should be mounded slightly on each plate. Drape one stuffed chile húngaro over each mound of minguiche.

This dish looks beautiful served with fresh ripe papaya slices arranged on the plate and garnished with a thin round slice of lime.

Be sure you have plenty of hot tortillas to serve with the minguiche. The hot tortillas and cool fresh fruit act as a delicious foil for the spicy cheese.

Buen provecho!