Mexico Cooks!

Fresh As The Morning: Mexico's Tianguis (Street Markets)

Fresh from Mexico's fields, these gorgeous pimientos morrón rojo y amarillo (red and yellow sweet peppers) sell for about 40 pesos the kilo ($2.50 USD the pound) at the tianguis where Mexico Cooks! shops.

Nearly eight years ago, in August 2007, Mexico Cooks! featured every sort of produce, dairy product, and meat sold at a local tianguis (street market) near Guadalajara, Jalisco.  For the entire month of August 2008, you read about seasonal availability of fruits and vegetables at the dozens of regularly scheduled tianguis (it's the same word in singular and plural) in Morelia, Michoacán.  Mexico Cooks! would rather shop at a hot, crowded, and sometimes smelly tianguis than at an air conditioned supermarket, rather shop for supremely fresh foods at a tianguis than give a second glance to anything frozen, boxed, or canned that's offered for sale elsewhere.

A signmaker with a sense of humor stuck this tag on his fresh Roma tomatoes: "Like you saw it on TV".  These were offered at 14 pesos the kilo (about 45 cents US the pound).

The tianguis, wherever in Mexico it's held, is a basic part of the culture of modern Mexico.   Its name comes from the Náuhatl word tianquiztli, market.  Although Nahuatl markets are centuries old, the present-day form of the tianguis is fairly recent, originating during the 1970-76 Mexican presidency of Luis Echeverría Alvarez.  The author of the tianguis project in Mexico was José Iturriaga, Echeverría's former finance minister.

Cooked in a sweet syrup, whole calabaza de castilla (squash, left), camote (sweet potato, right), and higos (figs, rear) are available at the tianguis by the kilo or portion of a kilo.  They're to be eaten for breakfast or supper.

Although Iturriaga was himself a wealthy, educated, and cultured man, he worried about the ability of Mexico's poor to feed their families.  He was especially concerned about the availability of nutritious fresh foods sold at reasonable prices.  The tianguis, otherwise known as a mercado sobre ruedas (market on wheels), was his idea.  The government took charge of giving Mexico's working-class housewives and other food shoppers stupendous quality at the lowest possible prices.

Beautiful cebollitas de cambray (knob onions), ready for serving with carne asada (grilled meat, usually accompanied by grilled whole onions like these.

Still operated by local government, today's tianguis only sometimes reach Iturriaga's ideal.  Often the produce can be second-rate, the meats and seafood far less than fresh, and the market's hygiene questionable--while prices are often as high or higher than the días de plaza (sale days) in upscale supermarkets.

Higos--figs, at the peak of maturity and ripeness--enjoy a relatively long season here in Mexico.  We recently paid 100 pesos for two kilos of beautifully ripe figs and prepared half a dozen jars of you-don't-want-to-know-how-good fig conserve.  Later this winter, spread on a toasted and buttered bolillo (small loaf of fresh-baked bread) from our tianguis, served over ice cream, or simply licked off the finger, the conserve will be an intense memory of summer.

Mexico Cooks! is a regular customer at one of the better tianguis in Mexico City.  Our tianguis, set up early Wednesday mornings, is quite near our house.  Our normal purchases include tortillas, bread, seafood, excellent pork ranging from maciza (fresh pork leg) to tocino (bacon), marvelously fresh chicken (whole or whichever part you want), all of our fruits and vegetables, cheeses and cream, grains, and flowers for the house.  We don't eat much beef, but if we did, we'd buy it at the tianguis.

Tiny plátanos dominico (finger bananas, about 2.5 inches long) are just one of the banana varieties we usually see at the tianguis.

Prices at the Wednesday tianguis in our neighborhood, while not substantially lower than those at the supermarket, are still not higher than we care to pay.  We usually budget about 700 pesos (about $50 USD) to buy what we need at the tianguis for a week's meals, including pork and sometimes shrimp.  We budget another 400 pesos for purchases at the supermarket. 


Mangos stacked high at a tianguis.  This large variety is known as either Paraíso or Petacón.

On a recent Wednesday--when the refrigerator was bare of produce, as we had been out of the country for more than a week--these were our purchases:

6 large fresh white onions 
1 huge cantaloupe 
4 Petacón mangos 
6 red-ripe Roma tomatoes 
1/2 lb mushrooms 
1/2 large white cabbage
8 Red Delicious apples
1 large avocado 
2 large bananas 
1 large papaya 
1 lb fresh green beans
1 large head of broccoli 
8 ounces crema de mesa (table cream, similar to crême fraiche)
1 kilo freshly ground-to-order beef
Total cost: 350 pesos--the equivalent of about $23.00 USD.

Stands offering prepared foods are always popular at any tianguis.  This woman at the Tianguis del Sol in Guadalajara is preparing hand made huaraches (a long, thick oval of corn masa (dough), similar to a tortilla, served with various toppings).

Times and needs change.  Urban Mexico views the tianguis as both a terrible bother (who would want one on their street, with its attendant noise and mess) and a joy (but where else can we get produce this fresh!).  Mexico Cooks! knows people who will not shop at a tianguis, and we know people who will not shop anywhere else.  Come with us some week and see what you think.

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El Gozo de Un Manjar de Dios :: Chocolate :: Savoring the Ambrosia of the Gods

The tiny storefront with the hand-lettered sign reading Joaquinita Chocolate Supremo is at Calle Enseñanza #38 in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

In Pátzcuaro, the tradition of chocolate de metate (stone-ground chocolate) is still alive, personified by Sra. María Guadalupe García López.  Doña Lupe, as she is called by everyone who knows her, continues the work started in Pátzcuaro in 1898.  The family recipe for chocolate de metate was left to her as a legacy by her mother-in-law.  Rightly proud of her hand-ground chocolate, Doña Lupe said, "I'm convinced that by now, just about everyone in the whole world knows about chocolate de metate, and everyone who tastes it falls in love with it."

Costales (huge burlap bags) of raw cocoa beans from the state of Tabasco.  Doña Lupe stores the costales in a cool spot in her sótano (basement).

In Pátzcuaro, there are several home-based businesses which make chocolate that claims to be made on the metate, but its preparation and commercialization are not authentic.  Doña Lupe says that Joaquinita Chocolate has no locations other than her home.  "Some of the chocolate makers here in town claim to be my children or my grandchildren, but they're not.  They're not part of Joaquinita Chocolate." Joaquinita Chocolate is not only the best known, but is also completely traditional in its preparation.  

From the sidewalk, the house is unprepossessing.  It looks like most houses in the central part of Pátzcuaro: painted white, with a deep, ochre-red base.  But come closer, step up to the door: you'll be stopped in your tracks by the rich fragrance of home-made chocolate.  Breathe.  Walk in.  You'll never learn the jealously guarded secret of Doña Lupe's recipe, but you'll taste one of the legendary treats of Mexico's past and present.

Lovely Doña Lupe is ready to drop a tablet of her chocolate semiamargo (semisweet) into a pitcher of near-boiling water, just as in the novel and film "Like Water for Chocolate".  The molinillo (hand-carved wooden chocolate beater) whips the melted chocolate into a thick froth and it's ready to serve.

Chocolate was unknown to Spain and to the rest of Europe in 1519, when Cortés arrived on the shores of the New World.  Moctezuma and the highly-placed leaders in his court knew its subtleties; Cortés was soon initiated into its delights.  Mixed with vanilla and other spices including chile, xocolatl (shoh-coh-LAH-tl) needed to be mixed with water and beaten to a heavy froth before being consumed unsweetened.  Europeans quickly discovered that a bit of sugar took away the bitterness and enhanced the flavors of the new drink.  Before long, chocolate was the rage of Europe as well as a near-addiction for Europeans in the New World.

The process of making chocolate estilo Doña Lupe (Doña Lupe-style chocolate) starts with the finest beans from the state of Tabasco, in southern Mexico.  Doña Lupe says that the seed (what we usually call the cocoa bean) has to be the best, or else the chocolate loses its texture and its flavor.  She won't use a lesser bean.

Toasting cocoa beans over a wood fire requires constant stirring.  The fogón is shaped like a horseshoe to accommodate the cazuela.

While the carbón (natural wood charcoal) heated on the fogón (raised fire ring), Doña Lupe talked about making chocolate de metate.  "First we take as many beans from the costal (large bag) as we need for the day.  Normally, I make 20 to 30 kilos of chocolate tablets every day. 

"Next I clean the beans, taking out any small stones, any leaves--anything that would adulterate the chocolate"  Doña Lupe dipped into the huge bag of cocoa beans and put them by handfuls into an harnero (strainer), sifting through them as she poured them through her fingers, shaking the strainer to get rid of any tiny impurities.  She put the cleaned cocoa beans into a cazuela de barro (deep clay cooking vessel).

The large aluminum pot in the foreground holds ground cocoa beans that shortly will become a smooth, rich masa de cacao (sweetened chocolate for tablets). 

Doña Lupe's chocolate kitchen, in the lower level of her home, is furnished with traditional petate (woven reed) mats for warmth, while the room where the costales of cacao beans are stored is kept cool to preserve the beans.

Doña Lupe grinds cocoa beans the old-fashioned way, using a metate and metapil, also known as a mano.  A small fire (under the metate) keeps the metate and the cocoa beans hot during the grinding process.

The chocolate, ground smooth, rests in a wooden batea (shallow oval bowl).

Doña Lupe uses a metal mold to form the sweetened soft chocolate into individual tablets.  The top of the tablet of sweetened soft chocolate is scored into four quarters with the metal round to the left in the photograph. 

The tablets air-dry in the warmth of the chocolate kitchen.  The tablets that are scored in half are chocolate amargo: unsweetened chocolate. Both chocolate semiamargo (semisweet chocolate for making hot chocolate)) and chocolate amargo sell well.

When the chocolate is completely dry, Doña Lupe packages it in pink paper.  A packet of sweet chocolate contains nine tablets.  A packet of chocolate amargo contains seven.

She glues the label to the package and the chocolate is ready to sell.

This hand-embroidered tablecloth in Doña Lupe's dining room depicts cups and pots of hot chocolate, as well as the saying, "Chocolate Joaquinita, Industria Casera Desde 1898" (Cottage Industry since 1898).

Mexico Cooks! would love to know the proportions of chocolate, sugar, and cinnamon that Doña Lupe uses to make her chocolate tablets, but then she wouldn't have a secret recipe.  We contented ourselves with buying a package of chocolate amargo (for baking) and a package of sweetened chocolate (for preparing hot chocolate).  When you're in Pátzcuaro, be sure to stop in at Joaquinita Chocolate Supremo for your own supply of traditional chocolate.

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Restaurante Merotoro, Baja California's West Coast Cuisine in Mexico City

Restaurante Merotoro, Av. Amsterdam 204, Col. Hipódromo Condesa, Mexico City. Photo courtesy El Modo.

Sometimes we human beings wander far from home, looking for what we later discover to have been just around the corner all the time.  In our case, we found superb food and generous, attentive service in an attractive room at Restaurante Merotoro, open since 2010 and literally just around the corner from the place we've called home since 2011.  Sometimes it seems that Mexico Cooks! is the last to really *get* a completely open secret.  It's only taken us these four years to stroll up the street and plunk ourselves down at a Merotoro table.

Chef Jaír Téllez, above, partnered with Gabriela Cámara and her team (of Contramar fame) to bring Merotoro to Mexico City.  The restaurant's name refers to mero (the fish known in English as grouper) and, of course, toro--bull. Together the words make a sort of surf 'n' turf, although the only beef dishes on the menu on the day we learned to love Merotoro were oxtail and beef tongue. Photo courtesy Flickr.


The restaurant's charming surf 'n' turf logo.


The menu at Merotoro changes daily.  It's divided into four courses, appetizers through desserts, with numerous choices in each.  We were five at table, and we five proceeded to order several dishes from each of the first, third, and fourth courses--often one per person and an extra--and we managed to devour every bit without a single regret.  Now that I think of it, perhaps we did have one regret: we did not order from the second course choices.

First came the salads:


Ceviche de pez sierra (swordfish) with avocado, chile poblano, and caramelized onions.  One of our group ordered this to overlap as both a salad and a main course.


Ensalada de betabel con hinojo, nueces, y vinagreta de uva pasa (beet salad with dill, nuts, and a raisin vinaigrette.


Ensalada tibia de pulpo a la parrilla con salicornia y morcilla hecha en casa (warm grilled octopus salad with salicornia (a succulent also known as grasswort) and house-made blood sausage).  Two of us ordered this salad.


Tostadas de callo y pulpo con vinagreta de pata de res (scallop and octopus tostadas with cow's foot vinaigrette).


Ensalada de naranja sanguínea, colinabo, y aceituna negra (salad of blood oranges, turnip, and black olives).  This salad, made with an unusual mix of flavors, was placed in the center of our table to share.  It was my favorite.

The light, bright, unpretentious offerings at Merotoro are simple, but with a depth of complex flavors that make you sit up straighter at table, make your palate crave another taste (and then another).  If it weren't for your upbringing, you'd almost want to lick the juices from your dish, just before a waiter asks if he can take it away.

The main courses followed:


Lengua de res en su jugo con frijoles, aguacate tatemado, y salsa martajada (beef tongue in its own juices with beans, grilled avocado, and coarsely chopped salsa).


Dorado a la parilla con puré de chícharo y condimento de aceituna negra (grilled dorado with puréed peas and a black olive condiment).  Two of us also ordered this main course.

My good friend John Sconzo, serious food lover, writer, and photographer, first ate at Merotoro in 2012 and had this to say about it:

"The culinary ideals of Merotoro reflect chef Jaír Téllez’s own varied background. He grew up on the border and spent much time living and cooking in the United States. The cuisine that he applies to Merotoro is one that, like Contramar, relies extensively on good product, served to highlight the attributes of that product. While his dishes were well designed, original and structured, they showed strong influences from Mexican tradition, from the Mediterranean, from California and even from Japan."


Huachinango rostizado con puré de colinabo, nabos, y acelgas (roasted red snapper with a purée of two kinds of turnips and Swiss chard).  Although I tasted just a bite of each of the main courses, this is the one I ordered and this is the one I liked best.  The crisp, crystal-crunchy skin of the fish was the perfect complement to its extraordinarily flavorful, sweet flesh.

We finished with desserts, of which there were five choices. We ordered one of each item on the sweets menu, asked for five spoons, and lined the desserts up down the center of the table to share.  We did, we truly did, and we ate every morsel.


Brownie de chocolate de la Casa Tropical, crema de almendra y helado de hoja santa (Casa Tropical chocolate brownie, almond cream, and hoja santa ice cream).


Plato de queso artesanal mexicano, compotas, y pan de nuez (plate of Mexican artisan-made cheeses, compotes, and nut bread).


Pastelito de almendra con tapioca, helado, y dulce de plátano (a little almond cake with tapioca, ice cream, and candied banana).


Pannacotta de coco y litchi con granizado de Campari y tomate de árbol (coconut and litchi pannacotta with Campari ice and tree tomato, also known as tamarillo). The flavor combination was superb: creamy, tropical sweetness combined with that knife-edge of bitter Campari to make all of our taste buds sit up and take notice.


Granizado de jamaica con sorbete de naranja, mezcal, y sal de gusano (jamaica crushed ice with orange sherbet, mezcal, and maguey worm salt). Let me just say: I coulda had two.  Usually I prefer chocolate or creamy desserts, but this glass of sweet, tart, salty, and spicy crushed ice won my prize for best in show.

Word to the wise: make reservations.  Merotoro's staff went overboard to accommodate our group even without a reservation, but we certainly should have called ahead.  Would I go back?  I would--in fact, I already have a reservation!

Merotoro
Amsterdam 204
Between Iztaccíhautl and Chilpancingo
Colonia Condesa
Mexico City
Tel: 5564-7799

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Santuario de Jesús el Nazareno (Sanctuary of Jesus the Nazarene), Atotonilco, Guanajuato

The facade of the mid-18th Century Jesuit church in Atotonilco is simple.  The interior of the church is astonishing.  Built between 1740 and 1776, the Santuario is still visited and revered by religious pilgrims.

Several weeks ago, while Mexico Cooks! visited San Miguel de Allende, we took advantage of some free time to go to Atotonilco to visit the Santuario de Jesús el Nazareno (Sanctuary of Jesus the Nazarene), one of the best-kept secrets of central Mexico.  In 1996, the church was added to the World Monuments Fund, and in July of 2008, UNESCO named the Santuario to its list of World Heritage sites.

The main altar in the Calvary Chapel, the largest in the church.  Sculptural figures important to Christ's Passion give visual impact to the  meditations of the faithful. A relicuary rests on the red cloth.

The Santuario is a mixture of European Baroque and New World Mexican decoration.  It consists of a large church, and several smaller chapels, all decorated with oil paintings by Rodríguez Juárez and mural paintings by Miguel Antonio Martínez de Pocasangre.  Inspired by the doctrine of St. Ignacio de Loyola, the founder of the Companía de Jesús (the Company of Jesus, otherwise known as the Jesuits), the glowing paintings and murals in the church served in the evangelization of Nueva España, where the indigenous spoke their own languages but could neither read nor write, and where the Spanish conquistadores knew little if any of the languages they heard in the new land. 

St. John the Baptist pours baptismal waters over Jesus as a dove, symbol of the Holy Spirt, hovers above them.  In the 18th Century, the Santuario also served as a retreat house for the Jesuits.  Pilgrims still make week-long retreats at this church, praying in a chapel reserved just for their needs.

Judas Iscariot betrays Jesus with a kiss.  Note the demon monkey on Judas's back.  Every inch of the Santuario walls is covered with paintings of the many details, Biblical and apocryphal, of Jesus's life.  Nearly all (or perhaps all--stories vary) of the murals  were painted by Miguel Antonio Martínez de Pocasangre, a native of the area.  He worked for thirty years painting the murals.

St. Cristopher carries the infant Jesus on his shoulder.  Captain Ignacio Allende, for whom San Miguel de Allende is named, married María de la Luz Agustina y Fuentes in this church.  It was here, on September 16, 1810, that Miguel Hidalgo took up the standard of Our Lady of Guadalupe and bore it into battle at the beginning of the Mexican Revolution.

This side chapel, one of several at Atotonilco, is dedicated to Nuestra Señora del Rosario (Our Lady of the Rosary).  The mirrors that surround the figure of Our Lady are painted with oils, probably by Rodríguez Juárez.

Detail of the chapel window.

Detail of the Marian litany in the Lady Chapel.

The Santuario has been in the process of restoration since 1997.  Scaffolding still fills the church but detracts very little from the amazing paintings.

Off the beaten tourist track, the Santuario de Jesús el Nazareno will fill your eyes and heart with wonder.  Let's plan a visit to see it together.

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Violin Shop Querétaro: Laudero (Luthier) Alejandro Díaz Martínez

Irene Adriana Carrasco (Judy's former cello teacher, foreground) and Judy, rehearsing in our Morelia garden, just before the guests arrived for Judy's mini-recital in April 2009.  It was a delightful evening spent among friends.

Living with a cello is lovely when its deep-voiced, sweet music pours out of the rehearsal room.  Occasionally the tone is so beautiful that tears spring to my eyes.  Living with a cello is not so lovely when the cello suddenly changes its tune, as Judy's did about six months ago.  After a number of attempts to give the instrument a quick fix, she decided it needed more radical treatment.  Her then-cello teacher, Irene Adriana Carrasco, recommended Maestro Alejandro Díaz Martínez of Violin Shop Querétaro, in the state of Querétaro, and offered to take Judy's cello to him for a consultation.  A few days later, rather than send the cello with Irene, Judy and I visited Maestro Alejandro in his taller (workshop).

Maestro Alejandro Díaz with Judy's cello.  Maestro Alejandro is a Morelia native with deep family roots in the city. 

With a twinkle in his eye, Maestro Alejandro recounted a bit of his history.  "I liked the idea of studying architecture, of designing a building and watching it come to life.  But I also liked studying music, especially the violin.  When I was almost finished with my architectural studies, after three years at the Universidad de Michoacán de San Nicolás de Hidalgo, I had to switch.  Some people thought I was crazy to quit my architectural studies when I was so close to finishing my degree, but it was something inside me that I could no longer deny: I had to study violin.  It was a passion.

Clamps and other tools of the luthier's trade hang at the ready.

"I dropped my architectural courses and went to study violin at the Conservatorio de México in Mexico City.  Fortunately my parents, the rest of my family, and my friends supported my idea.  Four years of hard work were all worthwhile.  I was honored to study with Arón Bitrán, one of the founders of the Cuarteto Latinoamericano.  My grades were good and I loved to play, but something new was happening to me.  I discovered another path, that of the laudero (luthier): building and repairing stringed instruments.  It was risky to take yet another direction, but it was so fascinating!  And in some ways, laudería combined my love of architecture with my love of music.  It made sense to me, and once again, with the help of some friends, I made a new decision.

One of Maestro Alejandro's several work benches.  It may look disorganized, but he knows exactly where to find what he needs. 

"In 1985, I was studying violin for six hours a day, then studying for six hours a day at the taller de laudero (luthier's workshop) with Maestro Luthfi Becker, who specializes in baroque instruments.  I built my first violin during that same year, and I graduated in 1987 with six others, the first generación de lauderos (luthiers' graduating class) in Mexico City.

A violin in process of repair.

"In 1992, I came to Querétaro, where the Instituto de Bellas Artes in Mexico City founded the Escuela de Laudería in the mid-1950s.  In 1993, I started teaching at the school, and I've been giving classes here for 16 years.  I have nine students right now.  They're studying the full course that leads to licenciatura (similar to a bachelor's degree) in laudería. 

Various tools for cutting, piercing, and sanding new parts for stringed instruments.

Maestro Alejandro removed the top of the cello, made and replaced the bass bar, and re-glued the top.  He kept the top clamped until the glue was thoroughly dry.  Photo courtesy Alejandro Díaz.

"Learning laudería requires tremendous discipline.  It's not just about patching up an instrument that needs repair, using any wood you happen to have on hand.  The course consists of ten semesters and includes studies in everything from the biology of wood to the history of instrument building.  For example, when I looked inside Judy's cello, I could tell the age of the trees used in its construction--by the rings of the wood.  I could see the type tree the wood came from, and I can tell you exactly where those trees grow.  I could also approximate the age of the wood itself, when it was used to build the cello. 

Erick Iván Díaz Garcia polishes Judy's cello.  Erick has studied with Maestro Alejandro for two years.  The long program of studies for luthiers at the Universidad Autónoma de Querétaro is unique in Mexico.

"One of the joys of laudería is receiving an instrument, whether an ancient violin or a late-20th Century cello like Judy's, and bringing it to its fullest expression of tone, resonance, and beauty.  The instrument that still gives me chills when I think of its restoration is an 18th Century violin that came to me in dire condition.  The 'stomach' of the violin was sunken, the bridge feet were dug into the top of the violin.  Little by little I used my skills--traditonal skills as well as inventions that I thought up to overcome the obstacles of the violin's condition--and slowly brought the instrument back to life.   The violin's owner, Cathy Meng Robinson of the Miami String Quartet, insists that the quality of the instrument since I repaired it is better than a Stradivarius violin that she owns.

Maestro Alejandro explains a fine point of cello repair.

"Lauderos in other parts of the world--in the United States, for example--would like me to go work in their talleres, even take ownership of their workshops.  But how could I?  Here in Mexico, there are so few of us, maybe 100 fully trained lauderos.  I have the responsibility and the joy to teach the lauderos of the future, and to rescue the instruments of the past.  Here in Mexico, I have such a full life: my family, my work, my students.  Compared to the fullness of my life right now, what could more money, the money people in other countries promise me for my work, give me?  My son is 15; he studies violin and will soon study with me to follow in my footsteps.  My daughter is only nine; her future is yet to be told.  Laudería gives me the chance to know the world, from the United States to Canada to Cremona.  And look--I've just begun, and already happiness fills my life."

Contact
Alejandro Díaz Martínez
Violin Shop Querétaro
Calle Ángela Peralta#19
Centro Histórico
Santiago de Querétaro, Guanajuato
Tel. 01.442.243.1488
Cel. 044.442.136.9128

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