Mexico Cooks!

Newest Kid on the Block For Tortillas :: Molino El Pujol

Enrique Olvera, creator of Restaurante Pujol, has recently opened a tortillería (a place to make tortillas) cum snack shop, right in the smack-dab middle of ever-trendy Colonia Condesa.  At Molino "El Pujol", a lot goes on in a tiny space: nixtamaliz-ation of native corns, chocolate-making, mole-making, preparation of a few other items, and some on-the-spot eating, both inside and outside the shop.

I was quite happy to be invited to visit Molino (it means 'mill') "El Pujol".  A young chef friend who has been working with the establishment as a freelancer offered to talk to chef Jorge León, the in-charge person at the tortillería, to see if he could receive me a couple of weeks ago.  "Sure, tell her to come on over on Monday around three o'clock."  Ooooh, by all means.  

Chef Jorge is a native of the Mixteca Alta, Oaxaca, a rural area approximately two and a half hours into the mountains northwest of Oaxaca city.  He got his start in the kitchen when he applied for a job as dishwasher at Casa Oaxaca (in Oaxaca city).  He told me, "I started working in the kitchen out of necessity, not because I knew I loved the kitchen.  My family needed income--I had no idea what Casa Oaxaca was, or what working there implied.  I was washing dishes, I could give my family income: that's what I knew.  Little by little I learned my way around and discovered my passion."  He's 32 years old, worked at Casa Oaxaca for three years and has now worked for chef Enrique Olvera for five years.


Interior at Molino "El Pujol".  In addition to selling tortillas, masa (corn dough) and a few other items para llevar (to go), the little shop also sells a few vegetables to use at home, and a few menu items to eat on the premises or take out.  All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.


Jitomates riñón (kidney shaped tomatoes) are endemic to the state of Oaxaca; the tortillería brings them from there to Mexico City.  They are an heirloom fruit, one of the very few heirlooms cultivated in Mexico, with a deep tomato taste that brings unique flavor to whatever recipe requires it.  They're very hard to find outside Oaxaca.


It's likely that these miltomates (tiny tomate verde--what you might know in a larger size as tomatillos) are brought from the state of Oaxaca, although they grow and are eaten all over Mexico in sauces, green moles, and other prepared dishes that require them.  The wee miltomate (it measures about 2cm in diameter) is a more flavorful variety of the larger tomate verde; it grows among the corn, squash, and beans in the milpa, the ancient farming method of Mexico, still used today
.


Molino "El Pujol" nixtamal-izes corn for its tortillas.  The shop nixtamal-izes a new pot of dried corn every day.  The huge kettle of corn for this day was a black corn from southern Oaxaca.  All of the corn for "El Pujol" is sourced by don Amado Ramírez, a Oaxaca-based specialist in the biodiversity of corn.

Nixtamaliz-ation of corn involves simmering it for approximately 30 minutes in a large amount of water mixed with a small amount of cal (calcium hydroxide) and allowing the corn to rest overnight in the water mixture.  After its overnight rest, the corn is washed thoroughly in several waters and drained, removing all of the cal cooking water.  The prepared corn is then ready to be ground for making masa (in this case, corn dough) for tortillas, tamales, and other corn-based products. 


Traditionally, corn masa is ground on a hand-made volcanic stone metate while kneeling on the floor or the ground.  Enlarge the photo to see that this Purépecha indigenous woman has placed a petate (hand-woven reed mat) in the place where she is kneeling.  She's kneading the blue corn dough on her metate; the long stone object just in front of the masa is the metlapil, a volcanic stone rolling pin used to grind corn that she nixtamal-ized the previous night.  Molino "El Pujol" uses a mechanized grinding system in order to maintain the correct masa consistency and texture. 


The finished product: fresh-off-the-comal (griddle) tortillas, both black and white, being wrapped in chef Enrique's invention: a 'newspaper" called totomoxtle (the word means corn husk) that offers information about corn as well as protection for one's tortillas.  Tortillas at Molino Pujol are offered (as of this writing) at 21 pesos for 12.  They're totally natural, traditionally made, and really delicious.  Tortillas from a standard neighborhood tortillería usually sell for between 13-14 pesos a kilo, but these days aren't often made the old-fashioned way, with nixtamaliz-ed corn.  Photo courtesy Eater.


The day that I visited Molino "El Pujol", chef Jorge 'El Moles' León told me that a team of young chefs would be preparing mole after the shop closed for the day.  I was astonished to see the sheer quantity of each of so many ingredients involved in producing what turned out to be 40 kilos--nearly 100 pounds--of mole paste that would be used for the several of Enrique Olvera's restaurants where mole is served.  This photo is a tiny glimpse of the huge tub of tomatoes ready to be incorporated into the mole.  Huge, you can't even imagine.


Here, an enormous pot of peanuts, some with and some without skin, turning golden over the fire before being used to make the mole.


Here, a wide, wide pot containing about 18 inches of dried, reconstituted chiles, including chile ancho.  The two young chefs who prepared the mole worked from 5:00PM on Monday until 4:00AM on Tuesday to complete the job.  


A tiny portion of the enormous quantity of plátano macho (plantain) used to give both sweetness and consistency to the mole.  


Mole madre/mole nuevo, as served at Restaurante Pujol.  I took the photo during a meal there in January 2015, when the mole madre was about 600 days old.  Chef Jorge explained mole madre to me by saying, "It's like what happens when you have leftovers after a big family meal or a party.  You don't want anything to go to waste, so you add a little of this and that and invite people to finish it up the next day.  Or the next day."  The mole madre is currently nearly 2000 days old.


Chef Jorge brought me this really unusual (and really delicious) taco to try.  The dark green on the outside of the tortilla is hoja santa, an herb that when cooked tastes like anise.  The tortilla on the inside of the hoja santa is black corn, the same corn that is in the photo of nixtamaliz-ation.  Toasting the two together on the comal (griddle), the flavors combine to create a marvelous taste.  And inside the taco is a thick slice of perfectly ripe avocado, served with a white salsa that El Molino Pujol calls "guacachile".  In fact, it's made of onion, chile serrano, and a bit of oil, blended together with some kind of secret Pujol alchemy.  In the glass, the white liquid is agua de maíz: a fantastically refreshing agua fresca made with corn.  Wonderful.


Chef Jorge also brought me this tamal de huitlacoche (a tamal [remember: one tamal, two or more, tamales] filled with corn smut).  I would happily eat another one right this minute.  


A view of the tamal filling.  The black/beige-y part is the huitlacoche, the reddish part around that is a spicy, rich sauce that perfectly complements the corn fungus and the surrounding masa is of course house-nixtamaliz-ed corn.  Now se me truenan las tripas--my stomach is growling! 


The menu board at Molino El Pujol.  Prices effective July 2018 and subject to change without notice.


My young friend with the fire in his hair, chef Eríc Martínez, who asked chef Jorge if I could visit Molino El Pujol.  Eríc is pictured in my kitchen, making his own mouth-watering version of mole for my birthday dinner this year.  Write down his name, remember his face.  The culinary world is going to hear from this young man.  You deserve it all, amigo.

A huge shout-out to chef Jorge 'El Moles' León, for kindness, generosity, and information--and for taking so much time to talk with me at Molino El Pujol.  I asked him for a photo, but no, thanks. 

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

You Can't Go Home Again :: Restaurante Teocintle Maíz :: Ajijic, Jalisco

Restaurante Teocintle Maíz, at the corner of Calle Miguel Blanco and Calle Constitución, Ajijic, Jalisco.  You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather.  This charming restaurant is about three doors from where I once lived, more than 15 years ago.  Back then, the location was called La Frontera, a tiny corner grocery store, owned by my wonderful neighbors don Alfredo Villaseñor and his wife, doña Simona Pineda (may they rest in peace).  Today, Gloria Rodríguez Villaseñor, a delightful young woman and granddaughter of my longtime friends the grocers, operates Restaurante Teocintle Maíz together with her business partner, Ricardo Robles.

A couple of memories:


The wall of the house where I lived on Calle Miguel Blanco.  The wall is all that one one sees from the street--a Mexican street-side wall is usually very plain, giving away nothing of what might be just inside the door.  When I lived in the house, it was simple but comfortable, with lots of character.  Now--I don't know what the house behind the wall looks like.


Open the street door and here's the lovely garden.  My gardener and friend, Jorge Velázquez (RIP), worked with me to make barren ground into a showcase in the late 1990s.  The current owner has made a few changes--the old orange tree is gone, the gazebo at the back left used to be a fountain--but the form is pretty much what Jorge and I created.

Fast forward to July 6, 2018:


Where there once were shelves filled with cans of chiles and soups, boxes of laundry detergent, crates of eggs sold by weight, bottled soft drinks, boxes of juice, infant formula and disposable diapers, and doña Simona reading a book on her stool behind the counter, we have the cozy interior of Restaurante Teocintle Maíz.  The rooms were beautifully created on a shoestring by Gloria and Ricardo, and the restaurant opened just over 18 months ago.


Today, Teocintle Maíz is listed on TripAdvisor as the #1 restaurant in Ajijic.  Here, it's casa llena--full house--and it's almost always like that.  If you want a reservation, call ahead--way ahead!  It's that popular, both with Mexican locals, with the large expatriate community in Ajijc, and with visitors to the area. 


Ricardo Robles manages Teocintle Maíz, works the front of the house, and is an excellent host.  He has also built a great deal of the furniture in the restaurant, including this beautiful table.  The table was delivered the day I was there.



Ajijic is a picturesque little town on the north shore of Lake Chapala, about an hour south of Guadalajara.  The town is filled with life-long Mexican residents, a large quantity of gentrified shops and galleries, 164+ restaurants and innumerable street food stands.  It suffers from horrendous traffic and boasts a population of foreign retirees who are alway looking for the next good place to eat.  Several friends had told me about this delightful restaurant, and a few weeks ago, I was able to sneak in without a reservation, just before closing time, to see what all the buzz was about. I was, quite frankly, as dubious as I usually am about reportedly great restaurants, especially in the hinterlands.


Chef Gloria Rodríguez Villaseñor, in charge of the kitchen at Teocintle Maíz.  We chatted for a few minutes and she asked if I'd had supper.  No...  She sat me at a little table by a window and gave me the menu.  Ricardo came to take my order, and I asked him to choose something for me.  "I prefer traditional Mexican food over modern Mexican food, and I leave myself in your hands."


My magnificent supper: one of the most traditional meals from Jalisco, the chamorro (pork shank), accompanied by superb, lardy, frijolitos refritos, arroz a la mexicana, avocado slices, and house-made corn tortillas.  Chamorro is cooked over very low heat in a spicy red sauce until it is fall-off-the-bone tender.  This one was perfect--no ifs, ands, or buts, perfect--and I ate the whole enormous thing.  When you go, order it--and you'll eat the whole enormous thing, too.  And the beans!  It's extraordinary to be served beans of this quality: home-style, smooth and well-fried in just enough lard to make you think you've gone to what I've heard called 'hog heaven'.  The tortillas were corny and delicious, and wrapped in a napkin as God intended.  To drink, I had a refreshing house-made, just-sweet-enough agua fresca de jamaica ('fresh water', made from roselle, a type of hibiscus).

Chef Gloria studied at the acclaimed Centro Educativo Jaltepec and now gives courses at that culinary school.  Her resumé shows tremendous drive and direction; she is extremely accomplished in all facets of a person moving toward a specific goal: owning a restaurant of her own.  She has worked with the most outstanding and talented chefs in the Lake Chapala and Guadalajara area, and always with the goal to succeed and move forward.  It's a joy to see that she absolutely knows what she's doing, both in the kitchen and in the front of the house, and yet is very humble about her accomplishments and her talents.  


My dessert: house-made pastel de elote (a sweet fresh corn cake) and coconut ice cream, with locally grown fresh blueberries and a coulis of red fruits.  Look behind the ice cream: it's a little square of corn kernels, carefully sliced from the cob.  The bill for my meal, everything included, was under $200 pesos. 


The restaurant's multiple uses of corn bring me to the name of the restaurant: why Teocintle Maíz?  It's not an easy name for Ajijic's foreign community to pronounce, many Mexicans have no idea what it means, and the evening I was there Ricardo and chef Gloria called the kitchen staff into the dining room to talk about teocintle--and to show them what it is.  What you see in the photo above is my 'trademark'--an actual mazorca (ear) of the ancient grain that was domesticated approximately 8,000 to 11,000 years ago by Mexico's Stone Age people to become what we know today as corn.  Teocintle the grain still exists in Mexico; several years ago, a friend of mine cultivated quite a lot of it and was able to harvest a zillion seeds and 10 whole ears.  He framed those 10 whole ears in silver, and I wear mine as a necklace every day--first, because I love it, and second, because it is a teaching tool about corn's domestication.  I was touched to the heart to know that this small restaurant in this tiny town is named for the thousands of years old grain that became Mexico's heritage food and gift to the entire world.  You can read more about that here.


At the end of the evening, Ricardo, Mexico Cooks!, and chef Gloria posed for posterity.  We had a wonderful time together.

A menu board announces each day's offerings.  Clients truly rave about everything, and I need to go back soon to try some other dishes.  Meantime, until I can get there, you go.  Tell them Mexico Cooks! sent you.  You'll be so glad you went.

Restaurante Teocintle Maíz
Constitución 52, at the corner of Miguel Blanco
Ajijic, Jalisco
01 33 1547 8968 for hours and reservations

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

Matatlán and Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca :: Mezcal and Traditional Cooking on the Road Home

The Ilegal mezcal palenque (in a big stretch of translation, it's a mezcal distillery) is right on the road between Tlacolula and Teotitlán del Valle, in the little town which is arguably the mezcal capital of Oaxaca: Santiago de Matatlán.  The animal's job is to keep that stone wheel moving over wood-fire roasted maguey fibers, crushing them to prepare them for the fermentation and subsequent distillation process.

The first week of May, 2018, Chef Silvana Salcido Esparza (Barrio Cafe Phoenix) and I were on the last leg of our Oaxaca trip, driving north from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec to Oaxaca City, when we saw a sign on the side of the road for ILEGAL (in Spanish 'illegal' has just one 'L') mezcal.  She braked and swerved into the parking lot: "I can't believe we found this!  It's one of the best mezcales that we serve at the Cafe!"  We spent about an hour, fascinated, talking with an Ilegal mezcalero about its production.

From the Ilegal building's porch, I took this photo of the company's espadín maguey cactus fields.  Maguey grew as far as the eye could see.  This maguey is cultivated, not wild, and each plant takes between seven and ten years to mature enough to harvest.  Ilegal's joven (literally 'young', it means un-aged) mezcal gives you full-bodied espadín agave flavor. Barely smokey, its gently lemony flavors leave a slightly peppery sensation on your palate.  Ilegal also produces a reposado (briefly aged) mezcal as well as an añejo (longer aged) mezcal. 

Founded in approximately 2002-2003 by an American expatriate, John Brexer, in just 15 years the Ilegal brand has become one of the best-quality mezcales from Oaxaca.  Because our time was so short at the palenque, we had little time to talk at depth with the producer.  Click on this link to read the full story of the brand: ILEGAL MEZCAL.   Nonetheless, we took a lot of pictures and it's fun to share them with you here.


"Working from sun-up to sundown, life goes by this way in my village.  MATATLÁN the steam from your factories is the hope of all of us poor."


Just-filled bottles of Ilegal mezcal, sealed by hand-dipping each bottle top in emerald green wax.


View from inside the Ilegal building.


Antique sea-green glass garrafones (20-liter bottles, about five US gallons), used for holding water--or for bulk mezcal!  Today, it's difficult to find a garrafón like these; nearly all are now made of plastic.


Do you know what the Spanish word 'pendejo' means?  If not, here's your Spanish vocabulary lesson for today, just click here: not for children.

After our relámpago (lightning strike--i.e., really quick) stop at Ilegal, we headed for our much anticipated time prior to Oaxaca's airport: my dear friends Carina Santiago Bautista and her husband, Pedro Montaño, both soon to be equally dear to chef Silvana, had invited us to go to Tierra Antigua, their restaurant and gallery in Teotitlán del Valle, for a private comida with them.  Carina is a celebrated cocinera tradicional, and Pedro is a prize-winning Zapotec master weaver.  Silvana and I had been looking forward for days to being with them.

Tierra Antigua Restaurant and Gallery, Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca, exterior.  Photo courtesy TripAdvisor.

Carina and Pedro and their family have been working for years to build the complex of restaurant, gallery, and bungalows for visitors.  The installations are beautiful; prior to our meal, Carina gave Silvana and me a tour of their beautifully designed and constructed buildings.  The interiors are modern and charming, the outdoor kitchen is rustic and traditional and designed for cooking classes.  And the restaurant/gallery!  Every wall shows off Pedro's extraordinary textiles (primarily wool rugs and wall hangings), all of which are for sale.  Their talented son, Diego Montaño, is also a weaver and is represented in the gallery.  His weaving incorporates whimsy and beauty into his designs. 


This small rug/wall hanging, woven by young Diego Montaño, represents the symbolism and traditions of the milpa, the ancient farming system of Mexico which is still used today.  Click on the link for information about that.  Chef Silvana bought this marvelous weaving for her home.


The completely delightful Carina Santiago in her outdoor kitchen, standing at the stove.  Those are clay comales (comparable to griddles) coated with cal, the white substance on each comal's surface.   It's put there to make the comal non-stick!  If you're thinking of going to Oaxaca, schedule a cooking class with her.  She is fluently bilingual (Spanish/English) and will teach you Zapotec food preparation methods and flavors that go back hundreds of years. 


First thing at the table: home-made Oaxaca-style blue corn tortillas and salsa verde cruda--raw green salsa.  This salsa is so bright, so vibrant in one's mouth, and so wonderfully delicious that it awakened our palates for the rest of our meal to come.  Carina and her assistants prepare dried corn in the evening for grinding into masa (dough) the following day.


What's on the plate?  Hoja santa leaf, with its light anise flavor, and quesillo (Oaxaca cheese), melted together with toasted chapulines (limón and chile-flavored grasshoppers).  A squeeze of limón and wow!


Mole negro (black mole), the king of Oaxaca's moles.  Prepared with more than 30 ingredients, the intense flavors of this dish become more complex and more developed as one continues eating it.  The component that gives mole negro on of its most distinctive tastes is dried and reconstituted chile chilhuacle negro, a rare Oaxacan chile.

First quality chile chilhuacle negro, for sale at the Mercado 20 de noviembre, Oaxaca City.  The sign shows an interesting and uncommon spelling.


Chiles rellenos Oaxaca style: a fresh chile jalapeño, in this case seeded and stuffed with picadillo (a kind of Mexican hash), then covered with an egg batter and fried.  I'll be seeing Carina in a few weeks and would love to eat this again--and everything else, too!  Carina 


It's obligatory in Mexico to have a photo taken for posterity.  From left, chef Silvana, cocinera tradicional Carina, Mexico Cooks!, and weaver Pedro Montaño.  Behind us are two of Pedro's gorgeous rugs.  If you're anywhere near San Diego, California, you'll find him and his wonderful work at Bazaar del Mundo's annual Latin American Festival, August 3-5, 2018.  Click on the link for more information!


On the way out of town, we stopped for ice cold bottled water in a tiny grocery store across the street from the church.  This is the Mexico I've known since 1981: a little bit of this, a little bit of that, just what you need when you need it, and the friendliest owner in town. I know I'll go back in August to say hello.

Tierra Antigua Restaurante y Galería
Benito Juárez 175 (left-hand side of the street)
Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca
Telephone from the USA: 011-52-951-166-6160 for reservations, cooking classes or to eat at the restaurant. 
Spanish and English spoken
Tell them Mexico Cooks! sent you!

Next week: where to next?  It's going to be as much a surprise to me as it is to you!  I hope you've enjoyed coming along as chef Silvana and I traveled through one small part of wonderful Oaxaca.  I'd be happy to take you touring there--in real life.  Let me know if you'd like to schedule a trip!  

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

Salina Cruz, San Blas Atempa, and San Mateo del Mar :: Traveling in the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, Oaxaca

As we drove through Tehuantepec, we were looking for a nearby comida of fresh seafood and had no idea where to go; we stopped to ask a taxi driver and he led us to Salina Cruz, to a beach restaurant that was his favorite.  Salina Cruz, Oaxaca: wide open beaches, surfing, seafood!  This seaside city of approximately 24,000 people is only about half an hour south and west of Tehuantepec. Salina Cruz is the third largest city in Oaxaca and is a major port in southern Mexico.  Its main industry is the enormous oil refinery that one can see from almost everywhere in the area.  


He led us to Restaurante Delicias del Mar (Delicacies from the Sea), right on the beach in an area called Las Escolleras (the breakwaters).  That's chef Silvana Salcido Esparza (Barrio Cafe Phoenix) at the restaurant doorway, and you can see the incredible stretch of beach behind her--and beyond the beach, the open sea.  And may I say that it was hot, hot, hot--around 108ºF--and intensely humid.  Salina Cruz is known for its frequently high winds, though, and a stiff breeze helped the comfort level.  Inside the restaurant the high, shady palapa roof kept the breeze flowing.


At the right of the plate is the kind of clawless langosta (lobster) caught in the Salina Cruz area.  To the left of the lobster (which we ordered) are four cucarachas de mar (sea cockroaches), which we ordered despite their completely unappealing name and appearance.  The lobster was excellent and the flesh of the cucarachas was delicious; after cooking, the texture as well as the flavor are similar to those of lobster tail.  Who knew!  

"Silvana, hold up the huachinango (red snapper) so I can take a picture of it!"  I thought she'd hold it up on the plate, but this was far more fun. Whole, slashed, and fried till the skin is crispy and the flesh is moist and delicious--my favorite preparation of red snapper.  We left only the skeleton.  


The word "salina" means salt lagoon.  High tides bring abundant sea water into marked-off areas like the one you see in the photograph, and the intense sunlight dries the water, leaving salt that workers harvest from any remaining water.  For many generations, the entire region around Salina Cruz has benefited economically from the salt.  After I took this photo, I was amazed to see the clear reflection of the hill in the water.  Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better view.


The motocarro (three-wheeled taxi) transportation in San Blas Atempa, where we went after we finished our comida in Salina Cruz.  The piles of sand are building materials for earthquake damage repairs.  


Daily dress, daily life in San Blas Atempa.  The town, founded in 1530, feels like a trip to Oaxaca's past.  The community speaks Zapotec; the population is descended from a warrior race that takes much pride in preserving its traditions, customs, and language.  The townswomen received us with great good humor and much shared laughter.  We were sent to a street party down the street and around the block, sponsored by DIF (Desarrollo Integral de la Familia, Mexico's state and national social service agency).  It was el Día del Niño (Children's Day) in Mexico, celebrated to the max all over the country.  How could we resist! 


Of course we went!  The party vibrated with music, dancing, a funny clown, games and prizes for all of the many children, babies to nuzzle--we had a great time.  Chef Silvana saw to it that every child in our proximity received a big cold glass of home-made agua fresca made with fresh fruit: healthy, refreshing, and delicious.


Home-made aguas frescas at the DIF party.  Left to right: guayaba (guava), limón (Key lime), and wow, ciruela criolla (native wild plum)!  It's my all-time favorite, only available during the short wild plum season in the spring.  See the plastic bag between the jar of agua de limón and the jar of plum (orange ladle)?  The bag is filled with my serving of agua fresca de ciruela, a straw is stuck into the bag, and the opening of the bag is twisted and tied tightly around the straw.  It's the typical Mexican way of sending you off with any kind of soft drink to go.


A bucket of agua fresca de ciruela criolla, to replenish the vitrolero (large glass jar) as needed.  The plums are about two inches long, and inch and a half in diameter.  The pulp is minimal but delicious.  The stone is almost as big as the entire plum.



Oxcart is another much-used mode of transportation in San Blas Atempa.  We saw probably 20 of these, always with the driver standing up.  Occasionally other workmen were riding on the tail end.


There was a time when most signage in Mexico (if it existed at all) looked just like this, or was hidden behind a tree, or obscured behind a billboard, or was broken in half.  Chef Silvana and I are old Mexico hands and immediately recognized that we were on the right track for San Mateo del Mar.  We didn't know how many kilometers away it was, though.  Turns out that it wasn't far at all, just a few minutes from where we saw the sign.


Parroquia de San Mateo Apóstol, San Mateo del Mar, Oaxaca.  The brown part of the facade is a design, but much of the church was damaged in the September 7, 2018 earthquake.  If you click on the photo to enlarge it, you'll be able to see how the facade continues to be propped up and where there is other damage.


San Mateo Apóstol with flowers and a candle, patron saint of San Mateo del Mar, in a niche in the market.


Doña Agustina Sánchez, who sells a little bit of everything in the San Mateo del Mar market.  Chef Silvana and I spent a long time talking with her.  Hearing her wisdom was a particularly wonderful part of our day.  We laughed a lot, cried a little, and loved being there with her.  Doña Agustina gave each of us a shell necklace and her blessing when we left.


We happened to be in San Mateo for its día de plaza (market day).  The market is broken up into several sections because of earthquake damage to streets and homes; you can see the piles of both rubble (bottom right) and sand for new construction (middle left).  There was produce and other food available for purchase, but many, many of the community's houses were destroyed by the earthquake and many people continue to be without a place to live and a fixed place and way to cook.


Earthquake damage in San Mateo del Mar.  Photo courtesy Oaxaca news sources.

The Huave indigenous population of San Mateo del Mar and its surrounding region is known in the community's own language as ikoots (it means "us"), and in Spanish the people often call themselves mareños, or people of the sea.  They have lived in this tiny area of Oaxaca for more than 3000 years, predating the Zapotec population and obviously predating the arrival of the Spanish.  Men of the community have always been fishermen, and many of the women have been weavers since pre-hispanic times.  The Huave speak four distinct varieties of their language in their various communities; some of their Huave languages aren't understood by other Huave-speakers.  The total population of this ethnicity is approximately 29,000, divided into five towns: San Mateo del Mar, San Dionisio del Mar, San Francisco del Mar, and Santa María del Mar.  All are seaside villages or small towns; San Mateo del Mar has the largest population, with about 12,000 people.


Most of these typical Huave homes were destroyed by the September 7, 2017 earthquake.  Many other homes, with stick walls made of carrizo (similar to bamboo) and thatched roofs, were also either flattened or otherwise made uninhabitable.  Chef Silvana and I had the privilege of being invited into one of the carrizo homes and could see first hand the living conditions caused by the quake.  

As we drove into San Mateo del Mar, a tiny black sign with white lettering, above the door of a house, caught my eye.  In Spanish, it read: "Woven things sold here."  We braked fast and backed up to the corner to park.  As we walked through sand to the house, a very young woman with a baby on her hip came out to greet us.  "Buscan tejidos?" ('Are you looking for weavings?')  She got in the car with the baby and guided us a few hundred feet down the road, where we parked in front of another house, built of sticks and with a thatched roof.  You can see part of the inside in the video below.

In the video, the woman weaving with a back strap loom is Elena Villaseñor Rangel, a daughter of Sra. Justina Oviedo Rangel.  Doña Justina passed away in September 2013; her three daughters (Cristina, Victoria, and Elena Villaseñor Rangel) are carrying on her weaving tradition. You can see parts of the house, as well as our young 'guide', taking various types of textiles from a bag.    

We were extremely fortunate to have found Doña Justina's relatives, who told us a little of her story.  Born in 1938 and raised in San Mateo del Mar, she--like all the girls of her village--wasn't encouraged to go to school.  She started weaving when she was just eight years old, initially practicing with palm leaves and soon picking up any bits of thread she could find to use for her child-like projects.  She wasn't formally taught to weave; she learned by observing the women of her family.  She became more and more proficient at her craft and gained some recognition as a weaver.  Years of weaving later, she began to think about the "blank" side of a napkin; the design was always woven onto the front, and the reverse was blank.  She announced to her daughters that she was going to figure out a way to weave a design on both sides of a single layer.  Her daughters pretty much said, "Yeah right."  It seemed like an impossible task, and was something that had never been thought of, much less done. Doña Justina kept trying until she figured it out.

In those days, there was very little market outside San Mateo del Mar for ikoots textiles.   Doña Justina sold the textiles she wove then to women in the town.  Today, the servilletas (cloths for wrapping tortillas), rebozos (long rectangular "shawls" used for everything from carrying babies to carrying wood), and  huipiles (traditional women's blouses and dresses) made in the village are coveted by museums, individual collectors, and just about anyone who sees them.  Doña Justina has been honored many, many times for her fine work and for her impact on the town and its weavers.    


Chef Silvana standing next to a poster for an homenaje (homage) that was to be given in honor of doña Justina the day after we had to leave Oaxaca.  We were so disappointed not to be able to go.  Silvana is wearing a just-purchased huipil made from a fabric very similar to the fabric that you saw being woven in the video above.


Poster in San Mateo del Mar promoting breastfeeding.  "Amamantar Compromiso de Todos" (Breastfeeding is a Commitment for All).

Next week, Silvana and I head back to the city of Oaxaca to catch a plane back to Mexico City.  On the way to the city, we get to have two more wonderful experiences: a visit to the Ilegal mezcal operations in Matatlán, and comida at the home of cocinera tradicional Carina Santiago Bautista and her husband, extraordinary weaver Pedro Moreno, in Teotitlán del Valle.  Come with us!

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