Mexico Cooks!

Good Friday Silent Procession of Penitence :: Procesión del Silencio, Morelia, Michoacán

Nuestra Señora de Dolores (Our Lady of Sorrows) leads the procession.  Hooded members of various Catholic cofradías (confraternities, or religious organizations founded in Europe) carry life-size statues on their wooden platforms approximately three kilometers through Morelia's Centro Histórico.

Nuestra Señora de Dolores (detail).

Drummers marked the beat of Morelia's penitential Procesión del Silencio, Good Friday's silent procession commemorating both the crucifixion of Christ and his Mother's grief.  Only the drumbeat breaks the silence along the route.

Jesus during la Oración en el Huerto (praying in the Garden of Gethsemane), just prior to his arrest on Holy Thursday night.  Boy Scouts (like the young man in red at the bottom right of the photo) hold the protective rope all along the route of the procession.

Hundreds of cofradía members marched in the still of this Good Friday night.  Foreigners, particularly those from the United States, are often shocked by the hoods, which seem to them to be tragic cultural reminders of the Ku Klux Klan.  In Mexico, there is no association between the two.  The procession is penitential and the hoods are a guarantee of anonymity and humility for the cofradía members.  They believe that humility and works of charity are best practiced anonymously.

 
Semana Santa (Holy Week) cofradías originated in 9th century Europe as pious organizations and arrived in Mexico with the earliest Spanish settlers. The figures in the 2017 photo above are from Seville, Spain, and are made of white chocolate.  Photo courtesy Jane Bachner King.

Roman soldiers.

The majority of Morelia's Procesión del Silencio takes place after dark, by candlelight.  

The Legion of Christ carry their banner and their lamps.  The Procesión del Silencio lasts about five hours.  During that time, all of Morelia's Centro Histórico is closed to vehicular traffic.

Jesus carries the cross a cuestas (on his back) to Calvary.  More than 50,000 spectators stand along the entire route of Morelia's Procesión del Silencio.

Candle holders are made of many materials, from crystal to styrofoam to metal.


Penitents from one of Morelia's confraternities carry their crosses the length of the procession.  Many march barefoot through the city streets.  This year, the procession celebrated more than 40 years' existence.

Robed and hooded members of another Catholic confraternity carry this image, the Cristo del Entierro (Christ of the Burial), nailed to the cross prior to his elevation.  Hoods cover the faces of those who march as a sign of penitence.

Clothed in gold and black, these marching penitents carry huge metal torches.

Six men of all ages carry Cristo Muerto (the dead Christ), while six others follow as relief when the burden of the image, the platform, the lights, and the flowers becomes too heavy.  The man at the far right of the photo carries one of two saw horses used to support the platform during occasional pauses in the procession.

At the end of the Procesión del Silencio, la Virgen de la Soledad (Our Lady of Solitude) follows the body of her crucified Son.  The platform bearing her image holds burning candles, a purple and gold velvet canopy, and banks of fresh flowers.

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Special Lenten Foods in Mexico :: Lent (Cuaresma), March 6 Until April 18, 2019

One year during Lent in Chiapas, Mexico Cooks! ate tortitas de papa (potato croquettes, left) and frijoles negros (black beans, right), ideal for a Lenten meal.  

Catholic Mexicans observe la Cuaresma (Lent), the 40-day (excluding Sundays) penitential season that precedes Easter, with special prayers, vigils, and with extraordinary meatless meals cooked only on Ash Wednesday and during Lent.  Many Mexican dishes--seafood, vegetable, and egg--are normally prepared without meat, but some other meatless dishes are particular to Lent. Known as comida cuaresmeña, many of these delicious Lenten foods are little-known outside Mexico and some other parts of Latin America.

Many observant Catholics believe that the personal reflection and meditation demanded by Lenten practices are more fruitful if the individual refrains from heavy food indulgence and makes a promise to abstain from other common habits such as eating candy, smoking cigarettes, and drinking alcohol.  

Atole de grano, a Michoacán specialty made of tender corn and licorice-scented anís, is a perfect cena (supper) for Lenten Fridays.

Lent began this year on Ash Wednesday, March 6.  Shortly before, certain food specialties began to appear in local markets.Vendors are currently offering very large dried shrimp for caldos (broths) and tortitas (croquettes), perfect heads of cauliflower for tortitas de coliflor (cauliflower croquettes), seasonal romeritos, and thick, dried slices of bolillo (small loaves of white bread) for capirotada (a kind of bread pudding). 

This common Lenten preparation is romeritos en mole.  Romeritos, an acidic green vegetable, are in season at this time of year.  Although romeritos look a little like rosemary, their consistency is soft and their taste is relatively sour, more like verdolagas (purslane).


Here are raw romeritos that I saw recently at the Mercado de Jamaica in Mexico City.You can see that they do look like rosemary, but the thin leaves are soft, more like a succulent.

You'll usually see tortitas de camarón (dried shrimp croquettes) paired for a Friday comida (midday meal) with romeritos en mole, although they are sometimes bathed in a caldillo de jitomate (tomato broth) and served with sliced nopalitos (cactus paddles). 

During Lent, the price of fish and seafood in Mexico goes through the roof due to the huge seasonal demand for meatless meals.  These beautiful huachinango (red snapper) come from Mexico's Pacific coast.

Chef Martín Rafael Mendizabal of La Trucha Alegre in Zitacuaro, Michoacán, prepared trucha deshuesada con agridulce de guayaba (boned trout with guava sweet and sour sauce) for the V Encuentro de Cocina Tradicional de Michoacán held annually in Morelia.  The dish would be ideal for an elegant Lenten dinner.

Capirotada (kah-pee-roh-TAH-dah, Lenten bread pudding) is almost unknown outside Mexico.  Simple to prepare and absolutely delicious, it's hard to eat it sparingly if you're trying to keep a Lenten abstinence!  This photo shows capirotada as served by Carmen Titita Ramírez Degollado at the El Bajío restaurants in Mexico City.

Every family makes a slightly different version of capirotada: a pinch more of this, leave out that, add such-and-such.  Mexico Cooks! prefers to leave out the apricots and add dried pineapple.  Make it once and then tweak the recipe to your preference--but please do stick with traditional ingredients.


A huge pile of piloncillo for sale at the Mercado de Jamaica.  On the left are large cones of light brown piloncillo, in the middle are small cones, and on the right are large cones of dark brown piloncillo.  You choose which you want!

CAPIROTADA (Mexican Bread Pudding)

Ingredients

*4 bollilos, in 1" slices (small loaves of dense white bread)
5 stale tortillas
150 grams pecans
50 grams prunes
100 grams raisins
200 grams peanuts
100 grams dried apricots
1 large apple, peeled and sliced thin
100 grams grated Cotija cheese
Peel of one orange, divided for two uses
*3 cones piloncillo (Mexican brown sugar)
Four 3" pieces of Mexican stick cinnamon
2 cloves
Butter
Salt

*If you don't have bolillo, substitute slices of very dense French bread.  If you don't have piloncillo, substitute 1/2 cup tightly packed brown sugar.

A large metal or clay baking dish.

Preparation

Preheat the oven to 300°F.

Toast the bread and spread with butter.  Slightly overlap the tortillas in the bottom and along the sides of the baking dish to make a base for the capirotada.  Prepare a thin syrup by boiling the piloncillo in 2 1/2 cups of water with a few shreds of cinnamon sticks, 2/3 of the orange peel, the cloves, and a pinch of salt. 

Place the layers of bread rounds in the baking dish so as to allow for their expansion as the capirotada cooks.  Lay down a layer of bread, then a layer of nuts, prunes, raisins, peanuts and apricots.  Continue until all the bread is layered with the rest.  For the final layer, sprinkle the capirotada with the grated Cotija cheese and the remaining third of the orange peel (grated).  Add the syrup, moistening all the layers  little by little.  Reserve a portion of the syrup to add to the capirotada in case it becomes dry during baking.

Bake uncovered until the capirotada is golden brown and the syrup is absorbed.  The bread will expand as it absorbs the syrup.  Remember to add the rest of the syrup if the top of the capirotada looks dry, and reserve plenty of syrup to pour over each serving.

Cool the capirotada to room temperature.  Do not cover until it is cool; even after it is cooled, leave the top ajar.


Try very hard not to eat the entire pan of capirotada at one sitting!

A positive thought for this Lent: give up discouragement, be an optimist.

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Ambling Around With Mexico Cooks!, the Second Half of 2018

Celebrating the first of June--with a taco made with a real tortilla: freshly nixtamalize-d native Mexican dried corn ground into damp masa (corn dough), patted or pressed out, and cooked on a comal (griddle) at Tortillería Ichuskata, in Morelia, Michoacán.  I had been to a food event in the city and brought a half-kilo home with me--they're so delicious, it didn't even matter what was in the taco--the tortilla was just perfect!  If you've never eaten a real tortilla--not from a plastic package, not even from the general run of tortillerías--you haven't enjoyed one of life's greatest pleasures.  Anything else just isn't worth it.


In Mexico, our presidential election is held every six years on July 1.  Just after casting the ballot, your thumb is stamped to show that you voted.  Every election since 2006, I've voted for the candidate who won the presidency this year: Andrés Manuel López Obrador.  I'm so thrilled and proud that he won!  That's my thumb, hiding my grin!


Pesca del día--catch of the day on July 28--at Restaurante Pasillo de Humo, Mexico City.  The robalo (Centropomus mexicanus), cooked perfectly and with a crisp, delicious skin, is served over a heap of freshly cooked vegetables.  In this case, there were fresh fava beans, fresh peas, fresh corn, and the tiniest whole fresh carrots.  Pasillo de Humo is consistently marvelous, and this fish preparation is no exception.


Mexico Cooks! spent the first two weeks of August leading two back-to-back tours in Oaxaca.  One of the must-do markets in Oaxaca is in Tlacolula, south of Oaxaca City, where my early-August group exclaimed over everything they saw, including the gorgeous rambutan displays.  The rambutan, an Asian fruit grown extensively in Mexico's southernmost state of Chiapas, is similar to the lychee, but as you can, see the red skin has long red feelers--well, maybe not quite feelers, but don't they look like feelers?  Inside the flesh is white, like the lychee, with a similar texture, flavor and a similar stone.


You can find just about anything you need at Mexico's markets, including household goods, fruits and vegetables, and brassieres of uplifting colors.


In Tlacolula this past August, we also saw wheelbarrows full of beautifully ripe, Oaxaca-grown melón (cantaloupe).  The deep orange flesh is perfect, slightly tender, running with sweet juices, and ready for your table at any meal of the day.  Mexican home and restaurant cooks also make an agua fresca (fresh fruit water) with melón; it's one of my favorites.
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Photo courtesy Mi Mero Mole.

Agua Fresca de Melón
Fresh Cantaloupe Water

1/2 ripe cantaloupe, peeled and with seeds removed
1/2 cup sugar
6 cups water

Cut the peeled cantaloupe into chunks.  

Put the chunks of fruit, the sugar, and 2 cups of water in a blender.  Blend for 30 seconds.  Add another cup of water and blend for an additional 30 seconds.

Pour the blended mixture into a pitcher and add the remaining 3 cups of water.  Stir until completely mixed.

The cantaloupe water should be chilled before serving.  Just prior to serving, stir the pitcherful again, with a large spoon.

**Note: if you prefer this agua fresca a bit sweeter, add more sugar to taste.  You can also replace all of the sugar with an equal amount of Splenda granulated no-calorie sweetener.

Serves 6
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My second August tour group was invited to a private traditional cooks' event, organized just for us by Srta. Petra Cruz González, the president of the Unión de Palmeadoras (Tortilla Makers' Union) in Tlaxiaco, Oaxaca.  Tlaxiaco is located high in the Mixteca Alta about 2.5 hours north of the city of Oaxaca.  Several of the union members demonstrated how Oaxaca-style tortillas are made, and then invited us to partake of a comida (main meal of the day) that the women had prepared for us.  In the photograph, you see a freshly made blue corn tortilla filled with requesón (a spreadable white cheese similar to ricotta), delicious frijoles de la olla (whole beans just out of the cooking pot), a bit of chicharrón (fried pork skin, the light brown square at the top left), and spicy salsa, made in a molcajete (volcanic stone grinding bowl).


Was it good?  Yes it was!  The home made food, cooked over wood fires, was simple, heart-warming, and exactly what we needed.  We ate and drank and chatted with the cocineras traditionales (traditional cooks), enjoying their company as much as we enjoyed their food.


After the tours in Oaxaca, I came home to Mexico City to this new member of the family.  When I picked her up mid-August from her rescuer, Pili was a tiny eight weeks old.  Today, she's six months old and is fully integrated into the group the boss of the bunch--and certainly MY boss.  Neither the three other cats in my household nor I stand a chance against Her Highness.


Above, a quesadilla sin queso (quesadilla without cheese).  "With or without cheese" is a perpetual discussion among people who live in Mexico City.  One faction says, "A quesadilla doesn't need cheese."  The other side says, "It has to have cheese, why else is it called quesadilla?"  The one in the photograph, prepared with chicharrón prensado (the pressed-together ends and various leavings in a pot used to fry pig skins) at a Sunday flea market just north of Mexico City's Centro Histórico, has no cheese.  Regardless of which side of the cheese/no cheese argument you're on, you'd love to have this for breakfast.  


In central highlands of Mexico, September is the middle of the rainy season, when nearly daily rains wet our mountainous oak and pine forests.  Beneath the trees, many varieties of wild mushrooms spring up each night, to be harvested in the morning and brought to market. The bounty of the nightly harvests grace both home and restaurant tables; Mexico Cooks! buys setas and oyster mushrooms like those in the photograph, as well as many other wild varieties.  Photo courtesy Rafael Mier.


Meet Sra. Georgina Gómez Mejía, who sells wild mushrooms during their season at the Mercado de Jamaica in Mexico City.  Depending on what she finds in the forests near her home in the neighboring State of Mexico, she brings lobster mushrooms, oyster mushrooms, hens and chickens mushrooms, chanterelles, and morels, the king of wild mushrooms.  In mid-September, I bought two kilos (about 4.5 pounds) of enormous wild mushrooms from her and made enough mushroom soup to eat, to freeze, and to give to friends.


Here, the October setting for a private dinner for 100 people in Morelia, to which I was invited by city government.  The dinner, prepared and mounted by Restaurante La Conspiración de 1809, took place in the Palacio Municipal de Morelia in the Centro Histórico of that city.  The building dates to the late 18th century and was the perfect location for the event, which included not only a multi-course meal, wines and other drinks, but also a play, presented on the stairway in the photo and throughout the entire room.  It was an evening of tremendous excitement and delight, in every respect.


Mid-Fall, we begin to see romeritos (in English, the awful name seepweed) in our Mexico City markets. Romeritos are a leafy herb that looks somewhat like a softer, non-woody version of rosemary. The long, skinny leaves look similar to the thin needles of the rosemary plant, growing like feathers along a central stem.  Unlike the stiff stems and needles of rosemary, romeritos are soft and floppy, more like a succulent, with a slightly acidic taste.  Generally eaten at Christmastime, they are cooked in mole and accompanied by patties of dried shrimp.


In November I was surprised to see these enormous yaca (jackfruit) in a Mexico City supermarket.  The biggest ones in the photo are about 24" long!  Usually the fruit is opened and sold in segments, by weight.  Inside, the orange-colored flesh is encapsulated into small pieces. It grows on Mexico's coasts.  To the right of the yacas is a bin of tunas--in English, they're known as prickly pear cactus fruit.


Making longaniza, a spicy sausage very similar to chorizo, at the Mercado de Jamaica.  November 2018.


The first week of December, a young friend in Baltimore and I had a ball with a long-distance bakeoff, each of us preparing the same recipe for blueberry coffee cake, at the same time, but she in Baltimore and I in Mexico City.  It was enormously fun to do this!  If you have teenage grandchildren in a city far from where you live, I think this would be wonderful to give you something to do together--choose a simple recipe that you would both enjoy, send one another photos of the process as you're doing it, and take the first bite at the same time.  I know my friend Bea and I felt that we were doing something together despite the physical distance between us.

Later in December, a visiting friend from Oaxaca and I enjoyed wandering around Mexico City to see some sights:


Sunshine and shadows at the Casa Museo Friday Kahlo, in beautiful Coyoacán.


Stairway at the Palacio de Correos de México (Mexico's main post office), Centro Histórico.  The first stone was laid in 1902, the building was finished in 1907, and was almost destroyed in Mexico City's September 1985 earthquake.  The building was restored in the 1990s.


Pozole at the Mercado Navideño (Christmas market) at the Mercado Medellín, Colonia Roma.


Finally, an arbolito de navidad (Christmas tree) at the Mercado de Jamaica.  Decorated with tiny lights and ornaments, the owner of this market booth also hung the tree with the product he makes and sells: crisp corn tostadas!  Adorable!

Mexico Cooks! hopes that 2019 brings all of you the best of everything throughout the year.  Come along with us as we see more of Mexico, her cultures and her cuisines--see you next Saturday!  

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Get Out Your New Undies, Your Old Suitcase: Mexico's New Year's Rituals Explained

In Mexico and other Latin American countries, women wear yellow underwear on New Year's Eve to bring good luck and wealth in the year to come.  Red underwear (this vendor has a lot on her tables for sale) indicates a New Year's wish for an exciting love interest!  Just remember that the underwear has to be NEW.

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

As the clock strikes midnight, it's common to eat twelve grapes--one at each ding, one at each dong of the bell.  While eating the grapes, you make a personal wish for each grape you consume, welcoming the new year that's beginning.  Mexico Cooks! finds that it's helpful to write down the twelve wishes so as not to forget one or choke in the rush to swallow the grapes before the clock finishes striking the New Year's earliest hour!  Even the most elegant restaurants promise that along with your late-night New Year's eve meal, they will provide the grapes and champagne.

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


Mexico Cooks! has often received a New Year's detallito (a little gift) of a tiny bottle like this, filled with layers of different kinds of seeds and grains.  This gift represents the giver's wish for your New Year: abundance.


Sweep all the rooms of your house, your front steps, and the street in front of your house to remove all traces of the old year.  Some people put 12 golden coins outside--to be swept into the house after the house is swept clean.  The coins are to invite money and other abundance to come into the home.  Photo courtesy Jeff Trotter.


Give someone a little woolly toy sheep as a New Year's gift--it too is a symbol of abundance!  Why?  In Mexico, a slang word for "money" is lana--wool, in English.  And what's a sheep covered with?  Lana--for an abundance of money in the New Year.  Photo courtesy Etsy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We'll see you right here in 2019!

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

Nine Days of Piñatas :: Nine Days of Posadas!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But why piñatas, and why in December?  During the early days of the Spanish conquest, the piñata was used as a catechetical tool, to teach the indigenous people about Christianity.  The body of the piñata represented Satan; each of the seven points symbolized the seven deadly (capital) sins (pride, lust, gluttony, rage, greed, laziness, and envy).  The blindfold worn by the child or adult trying to hit the piñata represents blind faith.  Breaking the points of the piñata equated with the triumph of good over evil, overpowering Satan, overcoming sin, and finally enjoying the sweet delights of God's goodness as they pour out of the piñata.  Doña Lolita's most sought-after piñatas continue to be the traditional style, with seven points, but she also creates piñatas shaped like roosters, peacocks, half-watermelons, deer, half moons, and once, an enormous octopus!

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

Freshly toasted cacahuates (peanuts) are in season now and are also used to stuff the piñata.  The wooden box holding the peanuts is actually a measure, as is the oval metal box.


Fresh caña (sugar cane) is in season now in time for the posadas.  Buy it in two-inch unpeeled sections for adding to the sweets in the piñata; buy it in 3" peeled thin sticks for adding to your hot ponche navideño (Christmas punch).

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

These very large bags of individually wrapped candies are ready to use to fill any piñata.  These are available at the Mercado Medellín in Colonia Roma, Mexico City.

Mandarinas (tangerines) are in season at Christmastime, as are tiny jícamas and fresh sugar cane, which round out the goodies in lots of piñatas.

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

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

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Day and Night of the Dead in Indigenous Mexico :: Oh Death, Where Is Thy Sting?

Remember me as you pass by,
As you are now, so once was I.
As I am now, so you will be,
Prepare for death and follow me.
                   ...from a tombstone

What is death?  We know its first symptoms: the heart stops pumping, breath and brain activity stop. We know death's look and feel: a still, cold body from which the spirit has fled.  The orphan and widow know death's sorrow, the priest knows the liturgy of the departed and the prayers to assuage the pain of those left to mourn. But in most English-speaking countries, death and the living are not friends.  We the living look away from our mortality, we talk of the terminally ill in terms of 'if anything happens', not 'when she dies'.  We hang the crepe, we cover the mirrors, we say the beads, and some of us fling ourselves sobbing upon the carefully disguised casket as it is lowered into the Astroturf-lined grave.

Octavio Paz, Mexico City's Nobel Laureate poet and essayist who died in 1998, is famously quoted as saying, "In New York, Paris, and London, the word death is never mentioned, because it burns the lips."


Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán panteón (cemetery), Mexico Cooks! photo.  These fellows sing to la Descarnada (the fleshless woman) on November 2, 2009.

In Mexico, on the contrary, every day is a dance with death.  Death is a woman who has a numerous affectionate and humorous nicknames: la Huesuda (the bony woman), la Seria (the serious woman), la Novia Fiel (the faithful bride), la Igualadora (the equalizer), la Dientona (the toothy woman), la Pelona (the bald woman), la Patrona (the boss lady), and a hundred more. She's always here, just around the next corner or maybe right over there, behind that pillar.  She waits with patience, until later today or until twelve o'clock next Thursday, or until sometime next year--but when it's your time to go, she's right there, ready to dance away with you at her side. 


November 2013 altar to La Santa Muerte (Holy Death), Sta. Ana Chapirito (near Pátzcuaro), Michoacán. Devotees of this deathly apparition say that her cult has existed since before the Spanish arrived in Mexico.

In Mexico, death is also in the midst of life.  We see our dead, alive as you and me, each November, when we wait at our cemeteries for those who have gone before to come home, if only for a night. That, in a nutshell, is Noche de Muertos: the Night of the Dead.


In the lower center portion of this photograph, you can see the Quiroga, Michoacán, panteón municipal (town cemetery).  Late in the afternoon of November 1, 2013, most townspeople had not yet gone to the cemetery with candles and flowers for their loved ones' graves. Click on any photograph for a larger view.

Over the course of the last 35-plus years, Mexico Cooks! has been to countless Noche de Muertos events, but none as mystical, as magical, or as profoundly spiritual as that of 2013.  Invited to accompany a very small group on a private tour in Michoacán, I looked forward to spending three days enjoying the company of old and new friends. I did all that, plus I came away with an extraordinarily privileged view of life and death.


A magnificent Purépecha ofrenda (in this case, a home altar) in the village of Santa Fe de la Laguna, Michoacán. This detailed and lovely ofrenda was created to the memory of the family's maiden aunt, who died at 74. Because she had never married, even at her advanced age she was considered to be an angelito (little angel)--like an innocent child--and her spirit was called back home to the family on November 1, the day of the angelitos.  Be sure to click on the photo to see the details of the altar. Fruits, breads, incense, salt, flowers, colors, and candles have particular symbolism and are necessary parts of the ofrenda.


Detail of the ofrenda casera (home altar) shown above. Several local people told Mexico Cooks! that the fruit piled on the altar tasted different from fruit from the same source that had not been used for the ofrenda. "Compramos por ejemplo plátanos y pusimos unos en el altar y otros en la cocina para comer. Ya para el día siguiente, los de la cocina tenían sabor normal, pero los del altar no tenían nada de sabor, no supieron a nada," they said.  'We bought bananas, for example, and we put some on the altar and the rest in the kitchen to eat.  The next day, the ones in the kitchen were fine, but the ones from the altar had no taste at all.'


Preparing a family member's ofrenda (altar) in the camposanto in the village of Arócutin, Michoacán. The camposanto--literally, holy ground--is a cemetery contained within the walls of a churchyard.  The beautiful beeswax candles used in this area of Michoacán are hand made in Ihuatzio and Santa Fé de la Laguna.

Come with me along the unlit road that skirts the Lago de Pátzcuaro: Lake Pátzcuaro.  It's chilly and the roadside weeds are damp with rain that fell earlier in the evening, but for the moment the sky has cleared and is filled with stars.  Up the hill on the right and down the slope leading left toward the lake are tiny villages, dark but for the glow of tall candles lit one by one in the cemeteries. Tonight is November 1, the night silent souls wend their way home from Mictlán, the land beyond life.

At the grave: candlelight to illuminate the soul's way, cempazúchitl (deeply orange marigolds) for their distinctive fragrance required to open the path back home, smoldering copal (frankincense) to cleanse the earth and air of any remnants of evil, covered baskets of the deceased's favorite foods.  And a low painted chair, where the living can rest through the night.


Watching through the night.  This tumba (grave) refused to be photographed head-on.  From an oblique angle, the tumba allowed its likeness to be made.


"Oh grave, where is thy victory?  Oh death, where is thy sting?"

Noche de Muertos is not a costume party, although you may see it portrayed as such in the press.  It is not a drunken brawl, although certain towns appear to welcome that sort of blast-of-banda-music reventón (big blow-out). It is not a tourist event, though respectful strangers are certainly welcomed to these cemeteries. Noche de Muertos is a celebration of the spirit's life over the body's death, a festival of remembrance, a solemn passover. Years ago, in an interview published in the New York Times, Mexico Cooks! said, "Noche de Muertos is about mutual nostalgia.  The living remember the dead, and the dead remember the taste of home."


One by one, grave by grave, golden cempazúchitles give shape to rock-bound tombs and long candles give light to what was a dark and lonely place, transforming the cemetery into a glowing garden.  How could a soul resist this setting in its honor?  


"Our hearts remember..." we promise the dead.  Church bells toll slowly throughout the night, calling souls home with their distinctive clamor (death knell).  Come...come home.  Come...come home.


Waiting.  Prayers.  No se me olvido de tí, mi viejo amado. (I haven't forgotten you, my dear old man.)

Next year, come with me.

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Restaurante La Conspiración de 1809 in Morelia, Michoacán :: Happy First Anniversary!

In English, the name of Restaurante La Conspiración de 1809 is, "The Plot of 1809"--plot as in spying, clandestine whispers, sneaking around, closed-door planning, state secrets, heroes, and Mexico's fight for independence.  See the upside-down crown at the base of the restaurant's logo (above)?  It's a clear sign that Spanish rule--the rule of the crown--was about to be overturned by the plotters.  And why is this important to Morelia, Michoacán?  Morelia is where the plotting started--the plot that would eventually bring about Mexico's independence from Spain.  Little clues all over the restaurant's interior let the diner in on the plot.  If you see something unusual while you're dining, ask what it means!  But shhhh...  All photos courtesy La Conspiración unless otherwise noted.


Located in the recently renovated Portal Allende, just behind and with a glorious view of Morelia's beautiful cathedral, La Conspiración offers the diner a choice of under-roof outdoor seating or seating in the elegant indoor rooms.  The owners closely monitor the entire ambience, ensuring that a client's time at the restaurant is quiet, relaxing, and filled with delight.  


In the evening, when you're relaxing at La Conspiración outside under the portales (arches), you can easily see the sky-high towers and the blue dome of the Cathedral--illuminated by soft white lighting, the lovely view will take your breath away.  Photo Mexico Cooks!.

Let's talk just a little about the history of Mexico's independence from Spain--then I promise we'll talk about what's on the menu for you at La Conspiración.


Just a few of the most important conspirators in the fight for Mexico's independence.  At bottom right, wearing a white headscarf, is José María Morelos y Pavón, one of the first conspirators to join the plot.  The city of Morelia, originally named Valladolid, was renamed "Morelia" in 1828, to honor his heroism during the struggle for freedom from the rule of Spain.

In September of 1809, in Valladolid (today known as Morelia), Michoacán, several people, including military man José Mariano Michelena, several other men born in Nueva España of Spanish parents, including a priest and a monk, began a secret movement with the goal of overthrowing the Spanish government of the country we now know as Mexico.  Among other plans, they infiltrated a meeting of indigenous people in case it were necessary to take up arms against the Spanish, even though the preference was a peaceful takeover.

The plot was discovered on December 21, 1809 and the members were imprisoned.  Nevertheless, their influence had spread roots in the states of Querétaro and Guanajuato.  In San Miguel el Grande, Guanajuato, Admiral Ignacio Allende, Father Miguel Hidalgo, and Miguel Domínguez and his wife, Josefa Ortiz de Domínguez, continued to work to plot the fight for independence from Spain.  On September 15, 1810, Father Hidalgo gave the cry for independence on the steps of the church of Nuestra Señora de Dolores, in what is today the city called Dolores Hidalgo, in Mexico's state of Guanajuato.


Father Hidalgo with the Estandarte de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, the banner with which he led the insurgents during the fight for independence.

In 1821, Spain and "Nueva España" signed the Treaty of Córdoba, ending Spain's rule over Nueva España (now Mexico).


Expect to see your attentive wait staff in elegant vintage-style uniforms at Restaurante La Conspiración de 1809.  No detail has been overlooked: from staff uniforms to bar ware to unique copper bathroom fixtures, you can count on chef Martínez and Sr. González to give you the best.

Restaurante La Conspiración de 1809 opened on October 20, 2017, exactly one year ago today.  Cynthia Martínez Becerril, the owner/chef, and her front-of-the-house partner Roberto González, head the restaurant and form an anchor in Portal Allende.  The restaurant, open every day from 12:00 noon until midnight, offers cozy, quiet dining in a truly elegant setting, a setting where you can go in casual clothing or your best gala dress, where you can enjoy live music (even on the sidewalk) vetted by the owners, and where the food is traditional, or inventive, or bar-style, but inevitably marvelous.  Everything from the courtesy-of-the-house shot glass of spicy, tangy shrimp broth to the over-the-top desserts will delight your palate.


The beautiful bar, fully stocked with just about anything you might like to drink, welcomes you to La Conspiración.


Planning a private dinner party?  Imagine yourself and your guests in this room, surrounded by the luxury of a hand-painted tropical mural.


An appetizer of machitos Michoacán style to share--traditionally made of beef small intestine--served with salsa borracha (literally "drunken" sauce--made with beer) and just-made guacamole.  

Sopa Tarasca, a classic soup from Michoacán's kitchen, is based on a recipe from Morelia's longtime chef, Sra. Livier Ruíz.  It's topped with drizzles of Mexican table cream, fried tortilla strips, and fried black chiles.  This superb version is bean-based, while another equally excellent version is not.  Both versions are traditional to Michoacán.


Cream of roasted garlic soup, served with dehydrated jamón de serrano (thinly sliced crisp Spanish-style ham), crunchy tomato, and a delicious crouton of pan de agua.  



House-made mole with pasta: chef Cynthia's creation, and one that I thought might be an extremely unlikely combination of two worlds.  The truth is, this dish works to satisfy you in a deep way that you'll really love. 


Long-cooked chamorro (pork shank), big and meaty and served in a richly spiced sauce.  Accompanied by steamed rice and refried black beans.  


Ribeye steak, broiled to your taste, with capers and potato wedges, plus a small salad.


Uchepos de nata are Michoacán's fresh corn tamales. These are served with Mexican table cream, queso fresco (a crumbly fresh cheese), and molcajete-made salsa--or if you prefer, a salsa de chile poblano (poblano chile sauce).


For dessert, a basket of house-made peanut marzipan ice cream with fresh seasonal fruits grown in Michoacán, one of Mexico's primary producers of strawberries, blackberries, and red raspberries.


Last but not least, the completely outrageous and exquisitely sinful concha con natas, served with ice cream and English-style custard, and topped with a lacy, decorative, burned tortilla.  If you've had a full meal, you might want to consider sharing this extraordinary delicacy with your dinner companion.  But order it, you won't regret it.  Photo courtesy Mexico Cooks!.  

Provecho!  (Mexico's bon appetit!)


Chef Cynthia Martínez (front, center) and part of the restaurant staff.  Happy anniversary to the whole team at La Conspiración!  May you have a joyous day and many more to come.

Restaurante La Conspiración de 1809
Portal Allende 209
Centro Histórico
Morelia, Michoacán 58000
Cell: 014431580443
Landline: 4436906820 

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Flowers, Food, and Wonderful Signs :: Mexico City's Mercado de Jamaica

The exterior of Mexico City's Mercado de Jamaica.  As is true in most Mexican markets, you'll find everything from fresh figs to duct tape, from a haircut to a great midday meal: in other words, exactly what you're looking for.  However, this particular market specializes in wholesale flowers.  In addition to its hodgepodge of everything under the sun, the vendors here sell literally millions and millions of flowers every single day.  Photo courtesy John Woods.


Nuns buying flowers for their convent.  Approximately 80% of the flowers at the market are grown in the State of Mexico, which is separate from but almost completely surrounds Mexico City.  In the State of Mexico, flower growing generates a yearly economic bounty of $2,700,000,000 pesos: two billion seven hundred million, folks. It's not a typo. 

A few of the literally millions of beautiful blooms available at either wholesale or retail prices at the market.

Freesias, one of my favorite flowers--the scent is irresistible.

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

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

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

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


Pink-fleshed guavas--take the best!  And the orange sign to the left says, "Give Trump a trumpada..." with a papaya!  Loosely translated, it means bop him one with a papaya.  You can also see plastic cups filled with pomegranate arils, whole pomegranates, bananas, clementines, and cantaloupes.

Chile jalapeño: pretty and cheap, at four pesos the quarter kilo (approximately two cents for a half-pound). 

Mexico's papa Alfa--white potatoes for 10 pesos the kilo: smile.

Beautiful crisp cucumbers: ask for more.

In Mexico, if something is super-wonderful, people say "...no tiene madre..." (it has no mother).  In this case, the merchant's sign for the apples says, "...de poca mad...", or "...it has only a little mother...", but just barely skirts accepted language boundaries by cutting the ..."re...", off the madre, leaving you to think of the word by yourself.    


Tomate verde (tomatillo, in English) at six pesos the kilo: 'Don't look any further!'

This merchant is offering his chiles jalapeños at 14 pesos the kilo by poking fun at popular advertising: 'Like you saw on TV'."

Tunas are cactus fruits, and extremely refreshing and delicious.  Their texture is like watermelon.  In this case, the sign reads, Tunas Chingonas--the best translation I can think up is badass cactus fruit!


Here's a peeled tuna.  The fruit is easier to peel than a tangerine; cut off each end, slit the thick skin, and peel it off the fruit.

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

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

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Viva México! Viva México! Qué Viva! :: Fiestas Patronales, Independence Day Celebrations in Mexico

Street vendors hawk la bandera nacional (the Mexican flag) in dozens of forms for several weeks during August and right up to September 16, Mexico's Independence Day. It's always fun to see what's the latest in patriotic tchotchkes.  In this photo, you see a vendor near the zócalo (Plaza de la Constitución) in Mexico City.  Photo courtesy Starmedia.

Mexico's official struggle for freedom from Spanish colonization began sometime between midnight and dawn on September 16, 1810, when Father Miguel Hidalgo gave the Grito de Dolores (Cry of Dolores) from the parish bell tower in the town known today as Dolores Hidalgo, Guanajuato.  Mexico celebrates its day of Fiestas Patrias (Patriotic Holidays) on September 16 with parades of school children and military batallions, politicians proclaiming speeches, and general festivity. 


Another flag vendor, this time in Morelia, Michoacán.  All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.

Hundreds of books have been written about Mexico's break from Spain, millions of words have been dedicated to exploring the lives of the daring men and women who knew, more than 200 years ago, that the time had come for freedom.  You can read some of the history on the Internet. Another excellent source for Mexican history is The Life and Times of Mexico, by Earl Shorris.  You'll find that book available to order through Amazon.com, on the left-hand side of this page.

But the best-kept secret in Mexico is the Independence Day party.  No, the biggest deal is not on September 16th.  Held every year on the night of September 15, the Gran Noche Mexicana (the Great Mexican Night), the real celebration of the revolutionary events in 1810, is a combination of New Year's Eve, your birthday, and your country's independence festivities.  Wouldn't you really rather hear about the party?  I knew you would!

Jalisco town kiosko (bandstand) decorated for the Fiestas Patrias.

For years I've attended the September 15 celebrations in a variety of towns and cities.  In Mexico City, the country's president leads hundreds of thousands of citizens in late-night celebrations in the zócalo, the enormous square surrounded by government buildings and the Metropolitan Cathedral.  Every Mexican town big enough to have a mayor holds a reenactment of the Grito de Dolores, Hidalgo's cry for independence.  The town square is decorated with flags, bunting, and ribbons.  Cohetes (sky rockets) flare and bang.  Sometime around eleven o'clock at night, the folks, assembled in the town plaza since nine or so, are restless for the celebration to begin.  The mayor's secretary peeks out from the doorway of the government offices, the folkloric dancers file off the stage in the plaza, the band tunes up for the Himno Nacional (the national anthem), the crowd waves its flags and hushes its jostling.  The mayor steps out onto the balcony of the government building or onto the stage built just outside the building's front door to lead the singing of the Himno's emotional verses. 


The bandera monumental and celebratory fireworks in front of Mexico's Palacio Nacional, the zócalo, Mexico City, September 15, 2015. Photo courtesy press.

Dressed in his finest and backed up by a military or police guard, the mayor clears his throat and loudly begins an Independence Day proclamation.  He pulls a heavy rope to ring the Independence bell, then he waves a huge Mexican flag.  Back and forth, back and forth!  In every Mexican town, the proclamation ends with Hidalgo's 205-year-old exhortations: "Long live religion!  Long live Our Lady of Guadalupe! Long live the Americas and death to the corrupt government!  Viva México!  Qué viva!"

Father Hidalgo's 1810 banner.  He carried this banner as his standard as a leader in the fight for Mexico's independence from Spain. Photo courtesy Pinterest.

The mayor and the crowd shout as one voice: "Viva México!  Qué viva!  Qué viva!"  The mayor grins and waves as the fireworks begin, bursting huge green, white, and red chrysanthemums over the heads of the attendees.

Later there will be dancing and more music, and food, including traditional pozole, tostadas, mezcal, tequila and beer, and, in larger towns and cities, all-night revelry in the plaza, in private homes, and in hotels, restaurants, and events halls.

A number of years ago my friend, música ranchera singer Lupita Jiménez from Guadalajara, invited me to a Gran Noche Mexicana where she was performing.  The event was scheduled to start at 9:30, but Mexican custom normally dictates late arrival.  By ten o'clock I was on my way to the party.  At the salón de eventos (events hall), the parking lot was already full, but a man was parking cars on the street just a block away.  As I left my car, he said, "Could you pay me now for watching your car?  It's 20 pesos.  I'll be leaving a little early, probably before the event is over." 

"How long will you be here?" I asked, a bit anxious about leaving the car alone on this night of prodigious revelry.

Lupita Jiménez in performance at a Gran Noche Mexicana in Guadalajara.

"Till six o'clock."  My jaw dropped and I handed him the 20 pesos.  Six in the morning!  Surely we wouldn't party quite so long as that! 

The sad truth is that I didn't.  I couldn't.  My stamina flagged at about 3:00 AM, after dinner had been served at 10:30, a city politician had proclaimed the Grito, the Himno Nacional had been sung, and big noisy fireworks had been set off on the indoor stage (I swear to you, indoors) of the salón de eventos.  Then the show started, a brief recapitulation in song and dance of Mexican history, starting with concheros (loincloth-and-feather-clad Aztec dancers) whirling around a belching volcano, and ending with the glorious jarabe tapatía--the Guadalajara regional dance that most speakers of English know as the Mexican hat dance.

After innumerable trios, duets, and solo singers, the show paused for intermission at close to two in the morning.  Several of my table-mates slipped away, but I thought I could make it to the end.  The first half of the Gran Noche Mexicana had been invigorating and exciting and I loved it.  During intermission, a wonderful Mexican comedian poked fun at politics, functionaries, and Mexican life in general.  We were all roaring with laughter.  When the comic left the stage, I realized that I was exhausted and needed to go home to bed.  Just as the performers stepped onto the stage to begin the next round of song, I sneaked away. 

When I called Lupita the next afternoon to congratulate her on the success of the event, she asked if I'd stayed for the last few costume changes.  "Mija, I had to go home early.  I lasted till three, but then I just couldn't stay awake.  I'm so sorry I missed the end." 

Lupita laughed.  "I'm glad you lasted that long, but next time you have to stay for the whole night!  You missed the best part!"

The Palacio Nacional (national office building, including the president's offices) on the Zócalo (Plaza de la Constitución) in Mexico City, all dressed up for the Fiestas Patrias.

Viva México!  Qué viva!

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Chiles en Nogada at Restaurante Azul Histórico :: El Rey de los Chiles (the King of Chiles)

Azul Histórico, a star of the constellation of three restaurants that make up Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's Grupo Azul, has become one of Mexico Cooks!' favorite destinations for comida (Mexico's midday main meal).  Nestled under a canopy of trees in the patio of a 17th century Mexican palace, the restaurant is among the most beautiful--and most delicious--in Mexico's capital city.

We recently insisted that a dear friend visiting from Texas accompany us to experience the once-a-year delight of chiles en nogada, stuffed with a special picadillo (meat, fruit, and vegetable hash) and then bathed with walnut sauce, as presented and served at Restaurante Azul Histórico.  In last week's Mexico Cooks! article, we shared a terrific recipe for chiles en nogada with you. Today, we'll see the chiles, considered to be the king of Mexico's cuisine, and honored as such at table in the restaurant.


Our friend, who serves sopa de tortilla (tortilla soup) in his own restaurant, wanted to try the version served at Azul Histórico.


Four of us shared a small order of mildly spicy, delicious salpicón de venado (venison, cooked, seasoned with onion, pepper, vinegar, oil, and salt, and shredded).


Once we finished our appetizers, two of our extremely competent wait staff laid the table with a long black linen tablecloth, plus colorful appliquéd individual placemats and extra candles, all in honor of the king of chiles. The plates, also in special use for chiles en nogada, are talavera pottery from the city of Puebla, where chiles en nogada originated.


The serving platter of chiles.  Each color ribbon indicates the type stuffing in each chile.  The choices are:

• red ribbons from Atlixco, Puebla.  The filling is composed of a complex picadillo with quite a lot of fruit. 
• green ribbons from Coxcatlán, Puebla.  The filling is shredded pork, with more spices and less fruit than the first.
• grey ribbons from Puebla de los Ángeles, Puebla.  The filling is beef with fruits and spices, for those who prefer not to eat pork.

I chose the chile from Atlixco, Puebla.  At the Azul restaurants and at most others, the chile is roasted, peeled, and seeded prior to stuffing, but is not coated with a stiffly beaten egg coating. The significance of the colors of the chile en nogada is the vision of the Mexican flag on your plate: green, white, and red. Were it coated and fried, the green would not be visible. The chile's red ribbon (and yellow flower) are removable.  The blue and white sphere with the red ribbon are part of the table decor that honors the chile.

 
Once the chile is on your plate, the waiter serves the nogada (walnut sauce). At the Azul restaurants, the diner may choose savory or sweet nogada, or a combination of the two.  I chose the combination. The waiter poured the thicker nogada salada (savory) onto the half of the chile near the tip; he then poured smooth nogada dulce (sweet) onto the half closer to the stem.  In the photo, you can easily see the dividing line between the two nogadas.


After the waiter bathes the chile with its walnut sauce(s), he garnishes it with seasonal pomegranate seeds and then with a sprig of parsley. Voilà, presenting Su Majestad el Chile en Nogada!


You can see the rich filling inside the chile.  Last week's Mexico Cooks! article gives you an excellent recipe to make your own chiles en nogada.  If you try it, please let us know how delicious it was!

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