Mexico Cooks!

Where Mexico Cooks! Shops for Fresh Food to Prepare at Home: Mexico's Tianguis (Street Markets)

Roma tomatoes are the type we most often see at a tianguis (street market) or at an enclosed market, or in a supermarket.  Heirloom tomatoes--even standard, everyday round tomatoes--are very hard to find here.  When I buy Roma tomatoes, I am fortunate to be able to find them fully ripe and really delicious.

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

A sign maker with a sense of humor stuck this tag on his fresh Roma tomatoes: "Like you saw it on TV".  Several years ago, these were offered at 14 pesos the kilo (about 45 cents US the pound).  Next to the tomatoes, you can see the pointed ends of chiles serrano.  Today, Roma tomatoes sell for about 30-35 pesos per kilo.

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

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

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

Beautiful cebollitas de cambray (knob onions), ready for serving with carne asada (grilled meat, usually accompanied by grilled whole onions like these.  They sell for about 12 pesos per kilo.

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

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

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

Tiny plátanos dominico (finger bananas, about 2.5 inches long) are just one of the banana varieties we usually see at the tianguis.  These sell today for about 37 pesos a kilo.  


Small ataúlfo mangos, my personal favorites.  Thirty pesos per kilo.

Prices at the Wednesday tianguis in our neighborhood, while not substantially lower than those at the supermarket, are still not higher than we care to pay.  We usually budget about 900 pesos (about $40.00 USD) to buy what we need at the tianguis for a week's meals, including pork and sometimes shrimp.  We budget another 400 pesos for purchases at the supermarket. 


Gorgeous deep red watermelons, sold by the kilo: buy as much as you like--a slice, a whole melon, whatever you need.  Twelve pesos per kilo at the tianguis!

On a recent Wednesday morning, these were our purchases:

6 large fresh white onions, 20 pesos per kilo
1 huge cantaloupe, 17 pesos per kilo 
4 ataúlfo mangos, 30 pesos per kilo 
6 red-ripe Roma tomatoes, 35 pesos per kilo
500 gr white mushrooms, 58 pesos
1/2 large white cabbage, 10 pesos
8 Gala apples, 45 pesos per kilo
1 large avocado, 60 pesos per kilo
2 large bananas, 17 pesos per kilo 
1 large papaya, 30 pesos per kilo
1 lb fresh green beans, 37 pesos per kilo
1 large head of broccoli, 28 pesos per kilo
8 ounces crema de mesa (table cream, similar to crême fraiche), about 20 pesos total
1 whole chicken, 39 pesos per kilo
250 gr cut to order bacon, 200 pesos per kilo
Total cost: 400 pesos--the equivalent of less than $25.00 USD.

The Mexican peso/USA dollar exchange rate is currently the approximately 22 pesos per dollar.  

These are the fruit of the nopal cactus, known as tunas. (The red thing to the left is a fresa (strawberry), placed for size comparison.)  Tunas are in season right now; I buy them frequently at this time of year to make agua fresca de tuna ('fresh water' made of tunas).  


Tunas are super-easy to peel--cut off each end, make a longitudinal slit in the peel, and pull the skin off.  That's it.  Eat them out of hand, slice them on a plate, or make agua fresca.  They're refreshing and delicious.

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

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One More Report About Chiles en Nogada, a Fleeting, Seasonal Joy of Mexico's Kitchen

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.

One year, we insisted that a good 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 the day we were there included:

• 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.
• silver 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.


At Azul Histórico, the chiles en nogada are served without being capeados (covered with the egg batter that traditionally coats the chiles in Puebla).  Many prefer them with the fried-batter coating; I prefer them without.  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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Beto Chef Michoacán :: Antojitos, Traditional Food, Community Care, and Hearts of Gold

This traditional wood-fired stove is the centerpiece at Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán.  The "Beto" is Alberto Ávila Espinoza; in 2016, he and his partner, Luis Eduardo (Lalo) Santiago opened this tiny restaurant in Morelia, Michoacán.  With three or four tables for hungry customers and a huge take-out business, the restaurant is also changing the face of its community.

A bit more than a year ago, Chef Beto sent me a friend request on Facebook.  We have a lot of mutual friends here in Morelia, and little by little I got to know more about Chef Beto: born in La Piedad, in north-central Michoacán, Chef Beto has lived for many years in Morelia and has worked in several local restaurants before opening his eponymous spot.  He knows standard Mexican food preparation, typical and traditional Michoacán cooking, as well as Mexican seafood dishes and Argentine cuisine.  Chef Beto and Lalo, partners in life as well as in business, have made a great success of their work together.


Over the course of several months, Chef Beto frequently messaged me to urge me to come to his restaurant, to see what he was doing there.  He told me about some of his dishes, and everything sounded terrific.  His place is on the western outskirts of Morelia, I don't have a car, and public transportation to get there isn't simple.  I am ashamed to admit that I put off going, telling him yes yes I want to go to your place--and then putting it off again.  About two weeks ago, after not hearing from Chef Beto for several months, there he was in my Messenger again, asking if I could come soon.  Luisa's work schedule was such that she had time to go one day last week, and I told Beto we'd be there for a meal and some conversation. 


Lalo seated us and I asked Chef Beto for a recommendation of what was delicious on the menu.  His suggestion was to order his famous mole de guayaba (guava mole).  He generously brought us a taste of it before we chose our meals: the 'taste' was a corunda (a Michoacán-specific traditional triangular tamal--if you look at the photo, to the left of the spoon you can see a tiny white corner of the corunda), covered with the mole de guayaba (above).  Both the corunda and the mole were sensational, truly sensational.  Between us, Luisa and I gobbled them down.


The "after" shot--what I really wanted to do was pick up the plate and lick it, but I restrained myself.

Here's a link to a recent video about Chef Beto's fantastic mole de guayaba:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-V4WCdIAqek&feature=youtu.be

The menu at Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán is lengthy and making a choice of what to eat was difficult.  People at the table next to us were eating another Michoacán specialty, a chavindeka, and it looked so good that we ordered one to share, along with a bowl of sopa tarasca (yet another Michoacán traditional dish) to split.

 
Chef Beto's sopa tarasca, accompanied by a large pitcher of agua fresca de hierbabuena (a refreshing "fresh water" made with natural mint).  Sopa tarasca is a bean-based soup served with fried tortilla strips, fried chile ancho, cheese, and a big dollop of Mexican table cream.


Our huge order of chavindeka (on the right), accompanied by refried beans and made-to-order guacamole.  The chavindeka is a street food specialty from Michoacán's Tierra Caliente (hot lowlands).  Chef Beto and Lalo prepare it with two large house-made corn tortillas, slightly crisped (in a bit of lard) on the griddle; the filling is grilled strips of tender beef and melting Oaxaca cheese.  After toasting on the griddle, the chavindeka is cut into four large triangles for serving.  

Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán is a delightful restaurant with really delicious food--AND has a huge community-oriented focus that makes the owners, their staff, and their friends genuine heroes, working to better the terribly difficult times their neighbors are living.  Economic trouble is rife in the area; due to Covid-19, many who live in the large fraccionamiento (housing development) where the restaurant is located have lost their jobs.  There are many, many needy elderly and incapacitated residents as well. 

About four months ago, Chef Beto and Lalo and their group decided to share a comedor comunitario (a community-based dining room) serving the most needy people in Villas del Pedregal and other colonias (neighborhoods).  The decision was based on the restaurant's own struggle to survive during the Covid-19 lockdown here in Michoacán.  The restaurant team decided, "We don't have business in the restaurant right now, but we have food available.  Small business owners and private individuals will help us help others."  For the last four months, Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán has depended on donations from individuals, stores, and businesses to prepare free meals for anyone who needed them.  During that time, open Monday through Friday for food delivery and pick-up by the needy, the minuscule restaurant served 300 free meals PER DAY to anyone who showed up or who asked for delivery.  No proof of need was requested; this was the philosophy put into action at the restaurant.


Today, the restaurant is still providing free meals to "abuelitos" (literally, grandparents--but it's a generalized term that includes all elderly).  In addition, donations of mattresses, blankets, unused unexpired medicines, and foods (cooking oil, raw rice, dried beans, lentils, bread, crackers, boxed juices, as well as fresh fruits and vegetables) are given to anyone in need.  The day that Luisa and I were there, a big (I mean big) donation of freshly made doughnuts arrived.  Chef Beto immediately put out the word that they were available and people started showing up.  Ten or more people arrived with plastic bags, with plates and bowls, with whatever they could use to take doughnuts home, and everyone went away happy. 

An elderly woman is choosing what she needs for preparing a meal from staple goods donated to the Comedor Comunitario.  Chef Beto also gives away fresh produce donated by local sources.


Pan bolillo (freshly baked small white bread loaves), donated to the Comedor Comunitario.  One of these small breads (half of the two baked together) costs literally 3 or 4 pesos--but that amount, multiplied by the number of loaves in those two crates, adds up and becomes meaningful to Beto and to the recipients.
 

On the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, Chef Beto fills a woman's bucket with tamales, hot out of the tamalera (tamales steamer).  Her family ate well that day.   


Chef Beto gave me permission to use this logo, which he has posted on his Facebook page.  Above the logo, Chef Beto wrote, "¿Tienes cosas en tu casa que no ocupas y quieres donar? Colchones en buen estado, ropa, abarrotes, trastes, estufas, etc.  Nosotros los recibimos para donar a abuelitos."  (Do you have things in your home that you don't use and would like to donate?  Mattresses in good condition, clothing, groceries, dishes, stoves, etc.  We will receive them to donate to the elderly.)  Chef Beto also gave me permission to request money donations to help support his tremendously important charitable work.  He doesn't have a PayPal account, but I told him I'd ask all of my beloved readers to donate to MY PayPal account (in any country's currency) and I'll personally take the money to him (in Mexican pesos). 


No amount is too small; every peso goes a long way toward feeding the needy.  My personal preference is ALWAYS to make charitable donations in Mexico directly into the hand of the person doing the charitable work, and I commit to all of you that any donations to Beto will be immediately turned over to him to use as needed for the benefit of the elderly and needy.  Your donations will be received with joy and gratitude.  Please help support this truly selfless effort. 

The bottom line about Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán: the food is delicious, the atmosphere is strictly casual, the love is palpable, and the charitable work they do is beyond reproach.  If you can't come to Michoacán right now, send money to my PayPal (it's listed below) to help Antojería Beto Chef Michoacán support those who have next to nothing.  If you're IN Michoacán right now, let me know when you'd like to go to the restaurant and we'll make sure you get there.  And if your heart simply goes out to those in dire need, any donation will be used with other donations to alleviate that need.  Be part of this seed of selfless love from Chef Beto, his partner Lalo Santiago, and the rest of the crew to the elderly and poor in Villas del Pedregal, Morelia, Michoacán--Michoacán, the soul of México.


Left to right: Carlos Alberto Guerra (aka "the other Beto", because his nickname is the same as the chef's), Luisa Ruiz Montiel, Sra. Eloisa Serrata Martínez, who untiringly helps cook and clean up and who is known with great affection as doña Licha), Chef Beto, and Mexico Cooks!.

Antojitería Beto Chef Michoacán
To make a donation to the Comedor Comunitario: PayPal account patalarga@gmail.com
Calle Cinco #30, near the corner of Calle Murano
Fraccionamiento Villas del Pedregal
Hours:  2:00PM - 6:00PM Wednesdays
            2:00PM - 10:00PM Thursdays thru Sundays
Phone: 443-360-5037
Go to the restaurant to eat or for takeout, or call to request delivery.

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Hacienda Tzintzimeo :: Antique Beauty, Gorgeous Gardens, and A Wonderful Sunday Meal To Delight You

Poster at the entrance to Hacienda Tzintzimeo, Álvaro Obregón, Michoacán.  Simple to find and close to Morelia, the hacienda has approximately 40 hectareas (approximately 100 acres) of beautiful gardens, a lake, campgrounds, villas for overnight stays, and buildings for social events.  Full information for contact is listed at the end of this article.  All photos by Mexico Cooks!.  

Two months or so ago, on a beautiful weekday afternoon, Luisa and I went out puebleando--a particularly Mexican word that means "going around to enjoy small towns".  We share a love for going out to see little towns near Morelia and often just go roaming around in the car for an afternoon, ducking into small-town churches, having a taco here or there, visiting a completely off the beaten track spiritual destination, looking at scenery and breathing crystal-clear air.  The May afternoon that we were out in this part of Michoacán, Luisa pulled into the driveway of this hacienda, where she had been several times before, so that she could show it to me.  Because it was a weekday, the restaurant wasn't open.  Because it was during Mexico's period of pandemic lockdown, the hotel was also closed.  The young man on duty said, "But of course, señoras, drive around and see whatever you like.  Enjoy yourselves."  Ooohh...thank you!  We certainly did enjoy ourselves, we spent well over an hour exploring gardens, the rock climbing wall, the villas (separate little houses to stay for an overnight or longer), one of the several large fiesta/events palapas, and the inside of the main building.  Everything we saw was beautiful, and beautifully maintained.


One of the many lovely pathways we drove or walked through in May at Hacienda Tzintzimeo.  The hacienda dates to the middle 18th century.

Toward the middle of June, Luisa asked me to set aside my birthday weekend of June 28-30 for a trip to Los Azufres, a mineral hot springs area high in the northeastern mountains of Michoacán.  Early in the afternoon of Sunday the 28th we drove out of Morelia heading east--and within a little more than half an hour, we drove once again into the entrance of the hacienda.  The surprise was enormous--wait, this wasn't Los Azufres!  This was, though, on the way to that destination, and I was flabbergasted to learn that she had made reservations for comida (Mexico's main meal of the day) at the hacienda restaurant.


Part of the restaurant terrace, looking from a dining table toward the pool.


The menu on the Sunday we were at the hacienda restaurant.  We decided to order and share different dishes, so we could taste some of almost everything.  I ask you to notice especially the price--at the bottom right-hand side of the menu.  At first I thought the cost was per "tiempo" (course) or per dish--but no, the cost was for the entire meal per person, and for the two of us, included a full pitcher of a fruity, deliciously chilled red wine concoction.


What we thought would be a choice of one appetizer each was in fact all three appetizers, to share.  Each was really delicious; I particularly enjoyed the freshly-picked elotes (tender early corn).  The hacienda grows most of its own vegetables--all organic--including this local native Mexican corn, cucumbers, melons, tomatoes, chiles, squash--et cetera.  The wine glass at top left of the photo is filled with tinto de verano--a refreshing, fruity, summery red wine.


The soups that day were (above) crema de uchepo (a creamy sweet tamal turned into soup) and (below):


Caldo moreliano.  This spicy, tomato-y, cheesy soup was just perfect for me.  The photo is pretty bad, but the soup was marvelous.  


We ordered house-made mole with chicken and rice.  The locally made mole was just spicy enough, the chicken was juicy and tender, and the rice was perfectly cooked.


Our other main dish to share was the parrillada--a mixed grill plate that included tender, beautifully seasoned carne asada, chorizo (those long reddish pieces of meat) and grilled vegetables.  The surprise was the tenderness of the carne asada; in many restaurants, it's often over-cooked and tough as the sole of your shoe, but this meat was as tender as your mother's kiss.


The buñuelo, topped with Pátzcuaro-style nieve de pasta (ice cream made with almonds, cinnamon, and other flavorings).The second dessert was sold out, so both of us asked for this--the happy ending to an astonishingly delicious meal.

Several days ago, I met with don Hedel Gasca González, to talk about the hacienda, its restaurant, and its philosophies.  Don Hedel has been, as he said, the "Estorbante Oficial" (the official bother-er) at the restaurant for the last 20-plus years.  He won't call himself the boss, or the manager: he said his function at the restaurant is to poke his head into the kitchen to ask the cooks about the availability of something, or to bother a waiter about a missing fork or salt shaker, or--you understand.  His kitchen staff has no chef; rather, the cooks are long-time home cooks as well as long-time employees who know how to prepare wonderful food for the restaurant and the hacienda's social events.  Each of the cooks knows that what she prepares is based on knowledge that has been passed down to her for generations, and is knowledge that she will pass down to future generations: "Es su herencia y su legado."  (It's her inheritance and her legacy.) 

Don Hedel said that he doesn't need to go check the cooking progress, because their philosophy and attitude is always, "Estás en tu casa," ("You're at home here,") and who in the world would go into his or her mother's kitchen to check what's happening in the cazuelas (clay cooking pots)?  The cook knows, and you have no reason to wonder!  It's always going to be marvelous.


Part of one dining room at the hacienda.  The hacienda's antique furniture, paintings, and other decorations make its ambience both relaxed and elegant, as lovely for a business dinner as for an afternoon-long Sunday meal among family or friends.  You will be in the comfort of your home for the dreamy time you are at the hacienda.  Can't quite bring yourself to leave at closing time?  They'll gladly wait till you're ready to go.


Looking down the corridor of the restaurant from a main room of the hacienda toward the under-roof terrace.

Don Hedel told me that although the hacienda grows its own regional native Mexican corn, they purchase masa (in this instance, corn dough) for use in the restaurant from a woman in the nearby town of Álvaro Obregón who nixtamalizes corn in her own home.  She's been doing it for years, and her masa is always of the highest quality.  Beef comes from the best local butcher, as does pork.  The hacienda also raises its own tilapia, its own goats, and even has a deer on the property.  All but one of the hacienda restaurant employees live in the towns of Tzintzimeo, Álvaro Obregón, La Loma, and Isla del Cirio; the headwaiter lives in Morelia.


An old-fashioned swing in one of the gardens at Hacienda Tzintzimeo.  The property has beautiful areas for walking, for children to play, for rock climbing and other exercise--anything you might need or want is available to you, because, as don Hedel says (and means with his whole heart), "Estás en tu casa.  "Do you want to try several different things from the menu?  We'll make small portions for you so you can do that.  Do you want to bring your own bottle of wine?  By all means--and we never have a corkage fee.  Anything that we can attend to so that you feel completely at home here, it's yours.  If you don't see it, please ask for whatever it might be."

The restaurant is open only on Sunday afternoons, between 2:00PM and 7:00PM.  Reservations are mandatory.  The restaurant has a base menu with some additions or subtractions depending on what meats, vegetables, and fruits are seasonally available that day from its own fields and its special providers.  I asked don Hedel, "What's the best time to get there?"  His answer--as always with the restaurant guests first in mind--was, "The best time to get there is the time you arrive."  Occasionally a dish on the menu sells out, so you might want to plan your visit to the hacienda accordingly.

Mexico Cooks! hopes to see you there very soon--we plan to go back often!

Hacienda Tzintzimeo
Carretera Morelia-Zinapécuaro km 28
Michoacán 58923
Morelia
Hours:  Sunday only for comida (main meal of the day)
           2:00PM - 7:00PM
For reservations call: 443 118 9173 (cellular phone)
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/haciendatzintzimeomorelia/

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Vanilla :: Its Origins and Its Production in Papantla, Veracruz, Mexico

Did you know that vanilla--that leathery, wrinkled, don't-know-what-to-do-with-it, dark-brown bean in the back of your pantry, that bottle of extract in your cupboard, the ice cream that drips from your cone--is the pod of an orchid that originally grew only in Mexico?  Since long prior to Spain's arrival in what we know today as Mexico, Vanilla planifolia (flat-leafed vanilla) grew in the cool forests of the low easternmost mountains near the Gulf of Mexico--specifically, in and around Papantla, Veracruz. Today, the area produces about 80% of the vanilla grown in Mexico.  The orchids were not in bloom while we were there; hence this photo, courtesy Wikipedia.com.


In our search for Veracruz vanilla, we stopped here: Vainilla Gaya, one of the original Italian vanilla growers in Mexico.  I had made an appointment for a tour, but we arrived late after erroneously going to another of Gaya's locations.  Nevertheless, we were well-attended and able to see--albeit quickly--the areas of 'beneficio' (betterment), where green vanilla pods, newly harvested from vines in commercial production rooms, are cured and fermented both in ovens and in the open air.  All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.


One of the growing rooms at Vainilla Gaya.  Vanilla is a vine that requires the support of jungle trees, of individual limbs, or, in this case, of metal and bamboo supports.  Click on any photo to enlarge it.  


Trays of vanilla pods curing at Gaya.  Of the three vanilla businesses that we visited, Gaya appears to be the most like a modern laboratory. If you're looking for jungle-grown vanilla, it's not at Gaya.  

You might well ask, "How did vanilla get its name?" It was originally called xánat, by the Totonacos; the name in Náhuatl is tlilxóchitl.  The Spanish name is vainilla, the diminutive of vaina, a pod.  So vainilla--vanilla, in English--is a little pod.  Even though most of us call it a vanilla bean, it is in no way related to phaseolus vulgaris, the common bean--pinto, black, navy, kidney, or any other you can think of, none of them and none of their relatives are related to vanilla.  If you're asking for a vanilla bean in Spanish, the commonly used phrase is "ejote de vainilla".  "Ejote" translates literally to "green bean", the ordinary vegetable on your table.


The store at Gaya.  The company produces and sells the pods, natural vanilla extract, vanilla saborizante (flavoring), vanilla powder, sugar flavored with vanilla, coffee flavored with vanilla, vanilla liqueur, and some other products.  We bought a few pods and some vanilla extract.

Our tour guide at Gaya gave us a good deal of information about what the vanilla vine requires to prosper, flower, and produce pods.  Among the various details were:

--a warm, humid, tropical climate with temperatures ranging from 71 - 90 degrees Fahrenheit.
--more than 80% humidity.
--annual rainfall of 48 to 118 inches.
--location at zero to 600 meters above sea level.
--light at 80%.
--well-drained soil with pH between 6 and 7.
--plenty of organic material as its main nutrients.

March, April, and May are the time when new vanilla plants are cut and planted from older vines.  From planting to first flowering, vanilla normally requires three years of growth.  From pollination to harvest, each pod requires nine months to the day.  


After visiting the installations at Gaya, we moved on to meet José Luis Hernández Decuir, of Eco-Park Xanath near Papantla.  Sr. Hernández is a learned and really fascinating tour guide in all aspects of the traditional cultivation of vanilla.  In the photo, he's sitting in the doorway to the temazcal (ancestral, spiritual sweat lodge) on his property.    

One of the most interesting facts about vanilla is its pollination.  The early Spanish were fascinated with the plant, its flowers and pods, and its flavor.  Of course they wanted to cultivate vanilla in Europe; Hernán Cortés introduced the plants there in the 1520s.  The orchid plants grew and flowered, but produced no vanilla pods.  


Sr. Hernández explains pollination of the vanilla orchid by the melipona bee.  The clay pots in the photo are two tiers of bee hives balanced on bamboo shelves; the dark round spot on the top and bottom hives closest to Sr. Hernández are the tiny entryways to the hives.


Vanilla vines grow naturally in the jungles of Veracruz. Here, you can see two vanilla pods among the larger flat leaves of a tree-supported vine.

The Spaniards and other Europeans didn't know that in New Spain, the flower had a symbiotic relationship with the tiny, native melipona (stingless) bee.  Only that bee is small enough to creep into the tiny hermaphroditic sex organs of the vanilla orchid and carry the pollen from the male to the female part of the flower; the melipona bee did not exist in Europe, although growers made efforts to import it.  Outside Mexico, for three centuries no one could pollinate the orchid blooms and vanilla pods grew only in their country of origin.


The melipona stingless bee is tiny, measuring between approximately .07" and .5" in length.  Photo courtesy Backyardnature.net.

In 1841, a simple and efficient artificial hand-pollination method was developed by a 12-year-old illiterate slave named Edmond Albius, who lived and worked in vanilla production on Réunion Island in the French Indian Ocean.  His method is still used today. Using a beveled sliver of bamboo, an agricultural worker lifts the membrane separating the anther and the stigma inside the orchid flower; then, using his thumb, he transfers the pollen from the anther to the stigma. The flower will then produce a fruit. The vanilla flower lasts about one day, sometimes less, so growers and their assistants have to inspect their plantations every day for open flowers, an extremely labor-intensive task.  Today, vanilla is almost entirely pollinated by hand, still using this nearly 200-year-old method.  Photo courtesy Vintage News.


Our last specifically vanilla-related stop in Papantla was at the offices of the Consejo Estatal de Productores de Vainilla Veracruzana (the Veracruz State Council of Vanilla Producers), where Council President don Crispín Pérez García toured us through the state vanilla cooperative.  Above, don Crispín talks with us about some of vanilla's characteristics.  The various people who educated us about many of the historic data about vanilla agreed on those points, but on other points there was tremendous disagreement.  Legend and myth mixed with statistics and theories to the point that it was difficult to sort out truth from fiction.  Everyone agreed, though, that vanilla is a marvelous pod with many, many uses. Don Crispín answered one of my questions about the facts and myths about vanilla by saying, "Ay señora, la vainilla es...pues, es...supernatural!" ("Vanilla is...well, it's...supernatural!")


Every year, more than 1,500 Veracruz vanilla producers from the municipalities of Misantla, San Rafael, Tecolutla, Gutiérrez Zamora, Coatzintla, Coyutla, Zozocolco de Hidalgo, Tihuatlan and Papantla bring 450 to 500 tons (that's between 90,000 and 100,000 pounds per year) of freshly harvested, green vanilla pods to the Council offices to be cured by traditional heat and sun methods. All of the vanilla that will be produced each year in Veracruz is sold prior to its harvest, as buyers are willing to pay almost any price to ensure that they get what they need.  Don Crispín told us, "Now that we have the Denominación de Origen (similar to the Appellation d'Origine, the certification granted to certain French geographical indications for wines, cheeses, butters, and other agricultural products), it's very easy for us to export vanilla.  Mexican vanilla is the best, and not just because I say so.  Those who buy from us say that it is, and with the price we sell it for, no one is complaining."  The price varies from year to year, depending on weather conditions and the projected harvest.  This year (2020), the price per kilogram (2.2 pounds) of vanilla was set at 17,000 Mexican pesos (approximately $775.00 USD).  Ninety percent of Papantla´s vanilla buyers are the countries France, Germany, Poland, the United States, Canada, and Japan.  This year (2020), the Covid-19 virus has virtually halted the exportation from Mexico to those and other countries.  Foreign buyers are currently willing to pay approximately half the predicted price--and have no assurance that shipment can be fulfilled.

Vanilla curing in the light and air of the afternoon. Consejo Estatal de Productores de Vainilla, Papantla, Veracruz.  Photo courtesy Pamela Gordon.


Another tiny section of the many, many racks of curing vanilla at the Vanilla Council offices.  Vanilla isn't dried; it's cured until it is fragrant and leathery.  If you find some pods to buy, make certain that they aren't brittle. They should be quite flexible.  Don Crispín told us that a ready-for-use vanilla pod can be used over and over again; he suggested using a whole pod to stir our morning coffee--and then he said, "Wipe it off and put it away to use again.  It won't go bad and it will last a long time." He also mentioned putting a vanilla pod into a canister of sugar; left in the sugar for just a short time, the vanilla will flavor the entire contents of the canister--and again, it's reusable.

A close-up of some of the vanilla pods at the Council offices.  These are nearly finished with the curing process.  You can see that the pods are shiny and wrinkled, exactly the state you want for your own home use.   Click on any photo for a larger view.

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La Conspiración de 1809 Restaurante y Cantina, Morelia, Michoacán :: Don't Miss the New Breakfast Menu!

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.  All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted

For the last nearly 15 years, chef Cynthia Martínez, the chef and inspiration behind Restaurante La Conspiración de 1809, has been a close friend.  Her husband, Roberto González--in charge of the front of the house--makes sure your experience at their restaurant is extraordinary, from the time you approach the hostess near the door until your "Hasta la próxima," (See you next time!) farewell. Your meal--whether desayuno (breakfast), comida (Mexico's mid-afternoon main meal), or cena (Mexico's late evening supper)--is always beautifully prepared, temptingly plated, and elegantly served.  Forced to close due to Morelia's lockdown for Covid-19 prevention, the restaurant has recently re-opened.  New to the menu are its extraordinary breakfasts; I've breakfasted twice at La Conspiración since its early June re-opening and will return in the next week or two--the dishes are that good!

Among my favorites on the new breakfast menu are the eggs Benedict, the Croque Monsieur, and the enfrijoladas.  The enfrijoladas, their bean sauce flavored Oaxaca-style with the subtly anise flavored dried native Mexican avocado leaf, are arguably the most popular breakfast dish on the menu.

Right now, most restaurants in the world are under tremendous financial pressure to survive, due to Covid-19.  Restaurante La Conspiración is battling the same consequences.  If you live in Morelia, or if you visit here regularly, be assured that the restaurant maintains all recommended health guidelines for protecting its customers: masks and/or face shields for the wait staff, extreme attention to cleanliness of all furniture, dishes, and anything else a customer might touch, and available antibacterial gel for hands of staff and customers alike.


The marvelous chef Cynthia Martínez, the guiding light (and the guiding hand) in the kitchen at La Conspiración.  Photo courtesy La Conspiración.

Really hot, steaming hot chocolate, traditionally made with Michoacán's chocolate de metate (stone-ground chocolate) with boiling-hot water rather than milk, is my favorite breakfast beverage at La Conspiración.  I have to start my morning with coffee at home, just so I can move on to drink the hot chocolate at the restaurant.  Photo courtesy La Conspiración.


Tablets of freshly stone-ground chocolate de metate, each one ready to be melted into a delicious cup of hot chocolate.


The croque monsieur at La Conspiración.  A sandwich stuffed with ham, covered with bechamel sauce, and topped with baby spinach, comal-roasted onion quarters and grilled grape tomatoes, this will definitely get you going on your day.  

 
Here are the enfrijoladas I mentioned earlier.  The plate is filled with three tortillas, dipped in bean sauce to become enfrijoladas, crammed with shredded chicken and topped with more bean sauce--plus a good-sized portion of fried plantain cubes, that avocado fan, little sprouts, and heavenly Mexican table cream!  The sauce has its origins in Oaxaca, where dried native avocado leaves are blended with freshly cooked black beans to become a silky delight.  Luisa and I split the enfrijoladas and the croque monsieur and were hard-pressed to finish each of our half-portions.  But--ahem--we managed. 

Note to Mexico Cooks! readers: the avocado most commonly seen outside Mexico is the Hass, a California hybrid avocado, and unfortunately the leaves of the Hass are flavorless and useless to make this sauce.

Another note: when you're making or ordering this sort of dish, remember the following:
--the tortillas for enchiladas are dipped in a chile sauce
--the tortillas for enfrijoladas are dipped in a bean sauce
--the tortillas for entomadadas are dipped in a tomato sauce
--the tortillas for enmoladas are dipped in--mole!


This lovely plating is the huevos benedictinos (eggs benedict) that Luisa and I shared on our second breakfast visit.  The eggs were perfectly poached, the iberico ham completely tender, and the sauce--oh my, the sauce was lemony perfection.  The icing on the cake, so to speak, was the serving of wonderful just-tender asparagus, grown right here in Michoacán.  Photo courtesy La Conspiración.


The other dish Luisa and I shared on our second breakfast visit to La Conspiración: hotcakes de elote (tender corn hotcakes).  They're offered in two options: the first with ate (a fruit paste) and cheese, and the second with house-made jams.  We took the jam option and were so delighted with these unusual and delicious hotcakes!  And yes, it's the same word in both English and Spanish.  


Part of the breakfast menu at La Conspiración.


In case you're concerned about safety and Covid-19 related regulations, have the greatest confidence that La Conspiración is taking all necessary precautions to make sure that both diners and staff are protected.  If you live in Morelia and are looking for a beautiful, comfortable, and delicious option for breakfast (or comida, or cena), by all means join Cynthia and Roberto and their team for a wonderful, relaxing meal.  Open seven days a week, you'd love it tomorrow--Sunday!  Tell them Mexico Cooks! sent you.  In addition, any meal is also available for takeout or delivery.  

La Conspiración Restaurante y Cantina
Portal Allende #209
Centro Histórico
Morelia, Michoacán
Reservations or Take-Out Service:  443 1580 0443
Hours: 
Sunday - Thursday     8:00AM - 11:00PM
Friday and Saturday   8:00AM - Midnight

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Fonda Marceva :: The Best Regional Restaurant in Morelia, Featuring Food from Michoacán's Tierra Caliente

I first ate a meal in the beautiful central patio at Fonda Marceva in 2008--12 years ago, shortly after the restaurant opened.  There has never been a time when I have not eaten there, dreamed of eating there, or wished I were eating one of their delicious house-prepared dishes from the Tierra Caliente, the southern hotlands of Michoacán.  A fonda is normally a small, family-run restaurant featuring home-style food.  Fonda Marceva fits that description--except it's quite large and decorated to a fare-thee-well with the owners' collection of Mexican artisan work.

Over the years, the owners have become very good friends: the founder, don Margarito and his wonderful wife; their incredible daughter Leonorilda Cega and her brother Héctor Celis, who manage each of Marceva's two locations, as well as other family members.  It's always a privilege and a delight to share a table with friends at Fonda Marceva, and there is very little on the menu that doesn't call my name.  My personal favorites are the aporreado, the chambarete, and the caldo de habas--oh, and the frito the uchepos, the toqueras, the frijoles--well, you can find your own favorites. 

Right now, most restaurants in the world are under tremendous financial pressure to survive, due to Covid-19.  Fonda Marceva is no different from the rest--except for its quality of food, its old-fashioned attentive service, and its moderate prices.  If you live in Morelia, or if you visit here regularly, be assured that the restaurant maintains all recommended health guidelines for protecting its customers: masks and/or face shields for the wait staff, extreme attention to cleanliness of all furniture, dishes, and anything else a customer might touch, and available antibacterial gel for hands of staff and customers alike. 

This past week, I was fortunate to have breakfast with a group of friends at Fonda Marceva.  Do plan a visit yourselves.  It's crucially important to support our local businesses, keep our Michoacán traditions alive, and spend some time--at a healthy distance--with our friends. 

Just two or three blocks south of the Cathedral in Morelia, at Calle Abasolo 455, this inconspicuous doorway is the gateway to the best regional food in town.  Stepping into the restaurant is like stepping back in time, to a gentler era, to a delightful waitstaff, and to home-style food created to please your palate.

Entradas (appetizers) include frijolitos (beans), queso fresco del rancho (freshly-made farm cheese), Mexican table cream brought from the ranch, salsa, and hot tortillas.  The red drink is a conga, a mix of freshly-squeezed fruit juices and grenadine.

Salsa, frijoles, and a fresh, hot, hand-made tortilla...heaven on your plate.

Conjunto "Vargas" plays and sings terrific música abajeña (music from the lowlands) as they stroll around the restaurant.

Even the photo of this carne asada (grilled steak) plate still makes my mouth water.  Two huge pieces of grilled steak, grilled onions, rice, sliced ripe tomatoes, avocados, and crunchy cucumbers are accompanied by fresh limones (Key limes) to squeeze over everything.

A common home-style dish, aporreado, is hard to find on a restaurant menu.  The dish combines cecina (dried beef) and scrambled egg with a spicy caldillo de jitomate (thin broth).  It's so good; during the eight years that I lived in Mexico City, I had to go to Fonda Marceva to eat it every time I came to Morelia.  Once I even took a liter of aporreado home with me, on the bus!


The Sunday buffet is a super way to enjoy a leisurely and extensive breakfast with family or friends.  You'll find everything on the buffet from fresh juice and seasonal fruits with (or without) yoghurt to house-made toqueras, six or eight delicious main dishes, and everything else you could possibly want to eat.  I can't go this Sunday, but who wants to go in July?  Name the date and time and I'll meet you there.  Photo courtesy Fonda Marceva.

Toqueras!  Mexico Cooks! has eaten in hundreds of Mexico's homes and restaurants and has never before seen these on a menu.  Similar to corn gorditas (thick tortillas), they are unbelievably delicious.  You can try making them at home if you have access to fresh field corn.

TOQUERAS

Ingredients
5 ears fresh white field or dent corn (don't try to use sweet corn, the recipe won't work)
1 egg yolk
1/2 small white onion, sliced thin
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
pinch of white sugar
1/3 cup melted butter
lard

Equipment
Blender
Sharp knife
Bowl
Spoon
Griddle

Procedure
Cut the corn kernels off the cob and grind in a blender together with the egg yolk, sliced onion, baking soda, sugar, salt, and butter. 

Heat the griddle and grease lightly with lard.  Pat the corn dough into rounds approximately 4" in diameter and 1/4" thick.  Grill until golden brown on one side; flip and grill until golden brown on the other side.  Be sure to keep the grill well-greased with lard or the dough will stick.

Serve with pure Mexican crema (or substitute creme fraiche) and a salsa de mesa muy picante (a really hot table sauce).

Provecho!

Fonda Marceva
Calle Abasolo 455
Centro Histórico
Morelia, Michoacán
Reservations: 443-312-1666
Hours:
9:00 AM until 6:00 PM Monday through Sunday
Breakfast buffet on Sunday until 3:00PM

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Mexico's Rebozo (Shawl), Witness to Life :: El Rebozo Mexicano, Testigo a la Vida

Young girl from Oaxaca, wrapped in her rebozo (a long rectangular shawl).  Photo courtesy my friend, the photographer Carlos Esteban Medina Sánchez.

A friend recently gave me a copy of an old and anonymous Mexican poem, written in Spanish, in homage to the rebozo.  The rebozo's importance to Mexican women cannot be exaggerated: from swaddled infancy to shrouded death, a rebozo accompanies our women throughout their days.  It is at once warmth, shade, infant's cradle, cargo-bearer, fancy dress, screen for delicious flirtation, and a sanctuary from prying eyes.

Enjoy my translation.

Michoacán-made rebozos and guitar, on exhibit in Morelia.  Note the elaborate fringes on both rebozos.  The traditional Purépecha indigenous rebozo is striped dark blue, black, and white.  Legend says that in this typical Michoacán rebozo, the blue is the blue of the Spanish eye, the black is the black of the Spanish hair, and the white is the ray of the sun.  All photos by Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise mentioned.

My Rebozo

Rummaging through my closet one fine day
I found this garment—my old rebozo!
How long had it been resting there?
Even I can’t say exactly.
But seeing it brought back so many memories
Tears clouded my eyes and fell one by one as I held
My beloved rebozo!

Rebozos made in Tenancingo, in the State of Mexico and exhibited in Coyoacán, Mexico City, several years ago.

What a faithful friend you have been.
Shall we relive just an instant of that far-distant past?
When I first showed you off, you were so beautiful, so new,
With your lively color and flowing fringe
Your reflection gleamed in the mirror like the morning star!


Dear friends Adán Paredes and Diana Miller during their February 2015 Zapotec wedding, wrapped together in a rebozo to symbolize their unity.

Come on, come on, let me fling you over my heart
The way I did in bygone years,
Next to this heart that disappointment has turned to ash!
Don’t you remember that beautiful blouse I wore,
Embroidered with poppies and carnations?
Don’t you remember all my triumphs and successes,
And my flounced skirt, so full of its pretty sequins, beads, and glitter?

Lavender and white rebozo with elaborate fringe.  Made by the Aranza, Michoacán, Weaver's Cooperative.

See, tightened to the span of my narrow waist and
Crossed just so over my straight young back
Showing off my fresh round breasts,
With two vertical parallel lines.
We stepped out to the beat of those long-ago songs,
That dance that determined my life.
Your fringes hung down just so!
And the two of us formed one soul.

Finely woven black and red Michoacán rebozo.

How was it that I wanted him?  You know!
Rebozo, you heard first how I loved him!
Your fringes were hopeful prisoners of my teeth
While I heard the soft slow songs of love
Oh perverse rebozo, unfaithful friend!
You were my confidante and my hiding place
You pushed me, burning, into romance
Wrapped in your fringes as if they were cherished arms.

Intricately patterned deep red rebozo.

But what’s this I see!
An ugly hole
That looks like a toothless mouth
Bursting out into furious laughter.
You laugh at my romantic memories?
You make fun of my long gone triumphs?
You know that the one who loved me has forgotten me
And that my soul, just like my love, is sacked and plundered?

Purépecha woman in the typical indigenous rebozo of Cherán, Michoacán.  She's selling flor de calabaza (squash flowers).

And you—you aren’t even a shadow of what you were
And because we don’t remember what we have been
We are betrayed!  Old!  Faded!
I’ll throw you in a box with other trash—
You, who are a traitor and so worn out!
How strange and how complicated
Just like you, I also betrayed—sometimes--in little ways!
Those sweet lies and silly nonsense
That made so many of my yesterdays happy.

White and black rebozo fringed with feathers.

Laugh, rebozo!  Don’t you see that I’m laughing--not angry?
The tears that spring from these eyes
Are just laughter, nothing more.  I’m not crying, I’m laughing!
But how can I be laughing, when I hate you so?
Let your mantel cover my head
The way it did in days long past, when I was possessed
By a kiss so strong, so violent.

Gold and salmon rebozo de gala (fancy dress).

No!  I will not throw you away, old rebozo!
You have a soul like mine
A Mexican woman's soul, wild, unmanageable
That will not bend even when faced with death itself!
I will fold you up and keep you in the closet
And there, like a holy relic,
My heart will once again put on
Your flowing fringe.

Purépecha mother and daughter in their finest clothing, including the typical indigenous rebozo from Michoacán.  Paracho, Michoacán, 2009.

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Adobo de Cerdo Huasteco, from the Cookbook "Verde Blanco y Rojo" by Ricardo Muñoz Zurita

Roma tomatoes and onion quarters toasting on a comal (in this case, a cast iron griddle).  That little tomato on the right looks downright happy to be toasting.

Several years ago, Mexico Cooks! was thrilled to receive a copy of Chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's newest recetario (cookbook), titled Verde, Blanco, y Rojo en la Cocina Mexicana.  Due to the pressures back then (February 2011) of moving and settling into a new and somewhat more frenetic life in Mexico City, the very attractive book sat patiently in the kitchen bookshelf with its 150 or so brother and sister cookbooks, waiting to be chosen.  'Choose me, choose me!' it whispered each time I passed by the shelf.  And finally I listened.

Serving-size pieces of maciza de cerdo (lean, fresh pork leg) simmering with onion and garlic.

My friends and I are very fond of traditional Mexican cuisine.  Like most people, we have our favorite dishes.  And like most people, I have a hard time breaking habits and wading into a new cookbook: it means learning a new format, a new organization of ingredients, and a new dish that I had never prepared. 

The first task was reading the recipe all the way through to the end to make sure that I had all of the ingredients and utensils on hand prior to starting to cook and that I understood the order of cooking.  It's really no fun at all to start the preparations and discover at the time of need that oops, there is no garlic and ouch, that one bowl I really wanted to use is full of last night's stew.  You'll want to organize yourself and prepare your mise en place (all ingredients in place, ready to cook) well before you turn on the stove.


Differentiating between dried chiles ancho and chiles mulato can be confusing.  If you open a chile ancho and hold it up to the light, it looks from the inside like red stained glass.  The mulato, on the other hand, looks brown when held to the light.  It's immediately apparent which this is.  Always try to buy chiles that are leathery and flexible, not brittle.

Ingredients
2 kg (approximately 4.5 pounds) lean pork meat, cut into serving-size pieces
1 white onion, cut into quarters
1 head of garlic, split in half
4 liters water
6 tsp salt
8 chiles guajillo
5 large chiles ancho
3 large tomatos, roasted
1/2 white onion, quartered and roasted
5 garlic cloves
2 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp dry Mexican oregano, crumbled
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
4 cloves
3 Tbsp pork lard (you can substitute oil if you can't get real, freshly rendered lard)
1/2 cup white vinegar

Utensils 
Comal or griddle
Mesh strainer
Several small or medium-size mixing bowls
Mixing spoons
Heavy-bottom pot with lid
Blender

Toasting the chiles ancho on the comal.

 
Toasting the chiles guajillo on the comal.

Procedure
Put the pork, onion, and head of garlic in a large pot.  Cover with water, add 4 tsp salt and bring to a boil.  Lower the heat until the water is down to a simmer and cook until the pork is tender, about an hour.  Remove the pork from the water, drain the liquid into a bowl, and reserve both the meat and the cooking liquid for later use.

Remove the stems, seeds, and veins from all of the chiles and discard them.  Lightly toast the chiles on the comal, being careful not to burn them.  If they turn black, they will be bitter.  Soak the toasted chiles in four cups of the reserved cooking liquid from the pork.

Both types of toasted chiles are then soaked for a few minutes in some of the freshly cooked hot pork broth.  Both types of chile are very mild on the spicy spectrum, and both are extremely flavorful and complement one another.

Blend the soaked chiles with enough of the cooking liquid to make a smooth, somewhat liquid paste. 

Roast the tomatoes, onions, and garlic on the comal, then blend them until they make a very smooth sauce.  If necessary for blending, add just a little of the reserved meat cooking liquid.  Using the wire mesh strainer, strain into a bowl and reserve. 


The mix of various seasonings (foreground), the blended and strained chiles (left rear) and the blended tomato/onion/garlic mixture (right rear).  

Using a spice grinder or your blender, grind the cumin, the oregano, the pepper, and the cloves together until they are powdered.  Set aside for later use.

Over a high flame, heat the lard or oil in a heavy-bottomed pot until it smokes slightly.  Add the ground chiles (splatter alert!) and fry for about 15 minutes or until the mixture is reduced by about one-fourth.  Add the blended tomato mixture, the spices, and two tablespoons of salt.  When the mixture comes to a boil, lower the fire and allow to simmer until the sauce has reduced a little.


The pork now needs to simmer in the adobo for an hour or more, either in the oven or over a very low fire.  The fragrance will drive you crazy, it is so tantalizing.  Mexico Cooks! prepared this recipe on top of the stove using the cast iron comal as a heat diffuser.

Add the meat, the vinegar, and three cups of the reserved meat cooking liquid.  Correct the seasonings and cook with the lid ajar over low heat (or bake covered in a 350° oven) for about an hour.  The finished sauce should be thick enough to cover the meat without sliding off the pieces.  

Adobo de cerdo huasteco, ready to eat!  Serve the dish with steamed white rice and plenty of hot-off-the-comal corn tortillas.

The finished recipe also freezes very well.  Mexico Cooks! served half the recipe as comida for six and froze the rest for a later meal. 

Serves 12. 

The wonderful Spanish-language Verde, Blanco, Rojo en La Cocina Mexicana, written by my friend Chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita of Restaurante Azul/Condesa, Restaurante Azul y Oro, and Restaurante Azul Histórico.

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Cold Drinks That Tell a Story :: Typical Regional Beverages in Mexico

If you've shopped at any of Mexico's thousands of tianguis (street markets), municipal markets, or fairs, you may have wondered what certain vendors were ladling out of their frosty glass jugs.  Those are aguas frescas, made in every fresh fruit flavor you can imagine. In general, these fruit waters are made from purified water and are safe to drink.  The aguas frescas in the photo are at Aguas de Casilda, Mercado Benito Juárez, in the city of Oaxaca.  This large, beautiful stand is an icon in Oaxaca.

In addition to aguas frescas, there are numerous fresh or fermented drinks along Mexico's way.  At various hole-in-the-wall supper restaurants, pineapple tepache is the order of the day, served fizzing with a pinch of bicarbonate of soda.  And on the outskirts of one small town as you drive toward Guadalajara, a sign hangs from a guamúchil tree. It reads "Aquí Se Vende Pajarete" (Pajarete Sold Here) and advertises yet another unusual beverage.


Along many highways and byways, you'll regularly see someone selling aguamiel and pulque, the ancient drink of the Aztecs, offered from large jars positioned on a tiny table. By the same token, pulque, both unflavored and curado (flavored with fruit, vegetables, or nuts) is a favorite in bars called pulquerías. 

Tuba

Tuba vendor, Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco.

If you've wandered along the magical beaches bordering Mexico's western coastlines, you may have noticed a man with a yoke-like pole across his shoulders, a red painted gourd suspended from the pole by a rope. His cry is "Tuba! Tubaaaaaaaaaaa!" and his hands are full of plastic cups. 

In Mexico, tuba is primarily a coastal drink. Several years ago I was surprised to see a tuba vendor at a tianguis in Guadalajara. Later I started seeing the same man selling tuba in Tlaquepaque, and at the Thursday and Sunday artisans' tianguis in Tonalá. If you happen to be in the area, look for him—he's easy to spot, with his bright-red gourd of tuba suspended from a pole across his shoulders.


A glassful of tuba, served with freshly chopped apple, salted peanuts, and ice.

Coconut palm sap is fermented to make the clear, white, sweet wine called tuba. To collect the sap, workers climb the palm tree in the morning and evening and bruise the coconut flower stalk until it starts to ooze its liquid. The stalk is tied with bamboo strips into a special bamboo container to catch the sap. Crushed tanbark from the mangrove tree is dropped into the container to give the sap a reddish color and to hasten its fermentation. As many as three flowers from one coconut tree can be made to yield sap. Each flower produces tuba for two months, after which it dries out and is cut from the tree.

The liquid actually begins to ferment while still in the bamboo container on the tree, but the alcohol content increases considerably with longer fermentation. Tuba quenches the thirst, is good for indigestion, and makes conversation flow easily.

Tejuino

Since long-ago times, cooling tejuino has refreshed Mexico. It's made from the same corn masa (dough) that's used for tortillas and tamales. The prepared masa is mixed with water and piloncillo (cone-shaped Mexican brown sugar) and boiled until the liquid is quite thick. It's then allowed to ferment slightly—but just slightly. I've never known anyone to get so much as a buzz from sipping a cupful of cold tejuino.


Tejuino vendor, Tlaquepaque, Jalisco.

Once the tejuino is thickened and fermented, it's mixed as needed with freshly squeezed jugo de limón (key lime juice), a pinch of salt, water, ice, and a big scoop of lemon sherbet. Just about everywhere in Mexico, it's sold in plastic glasses—small, medium, and large—or in a plastic bag with the top knotted around a drinking straw.

Some people say that tejuino is an acquired taste. I acquired the taste for it the very first time I tried it and often crave it on hot afternoons. There is nothing more refreshing. Fortunately, there was a tejuino vendor just a block from my house in Guadalajara,  so I could buy a glassful when the spirit moved me. Cup after cup of freshly prepared tejuino is ladled out to customers every day.  Although tejuino is only a slightly sweet drink, the masa base makes tejuino very filling. A small glass is usually very satisfying.

Tejate


Tejate, a cold and foamy nixtamal-ized corn and chocolate drink, is particular to Oaxaca, especially found in the city's markets and in the small towns all around the area. Tejate is very refreshing on a hot day at the market--in this case, at the weekly market in Zaachila, Oaxaca. Compare the size of the jícara (the red enameled bowl afloat in the tejate) to the size of this very large clay vessel. 

Tepache

I've found tepache in several cenadurías (restaurants open for supper only, usually from 7:30 PM until midnight) in Mexico, as well as at street stands and, occasionally, market stands. Tepache is simple to make and the ingredients are readily available whether you live North or South of the Border. You might like to try this at home. 

Tepache (teh-PAH-cheh)
1 whole pineapple (about 3 pounds)
3 quarts water
1 pound piloncillo or brown sugar
1 cinnamon stick, approximately 3" long
3 cloves

Wash the skin of the pineapple well. Cut off the stem end and discard. Leave the skin on the pineapple and cut the entire fruit into large pieces.

Place the pieces of pineapple in a large container and add two quarts of water, the piloncillo or brown sugar, the cinnamon, and the cloves. Cover and allow to rest in a warm place for approximately 48 hours. The longer you allow the liquid and fruit to rest, the more it will ferment. If you let it sit for longer than 48 hours, taste it periodically to make sure it is not overly fermented, as it will go bad.

Strain the liquid—the tepache—and add the last quart of water.

If you prefer, do not add the last quart of water. Instead, add one cup of beer and allow to rest for another 12 hours.

Strain again and, if you have used the beer, add three cups of water.

Serve cold with ice cubes.

Tepache vendor, Zihuatanejo.  You can ask for it plain, or preparado.  Preparado includes chamoy (a spicy, sweet, and sour flavor), jugo de limón (fresh-squeezed key lime juice) and some extra chile for spiciness.

At any cenaduría, you can ask for your tepache with a pinch of bicarbonate of soda. You can also add it at home, just before you're ready to drink a glassful. The addition makes the tepache fizz and bubble, and it's said to be extremely good for the digestion. An elderly neighbor of mine swears by it as a heartburn remedy.

Pajarete

In the Mexican countryside, tequila drinking starts as soon as the sun comes up. If you drive Mexican highways early any morning—early, please, when the air is still chilly and cool gray bruma (light fog) clings to the flanks of the mountains of the Central Highlands—look for a small hand painted sign. "Aquí Se Vende Pajarete" (pah-hah-REH-teh) is all it says. The sign may hang from a tree, it may be tacked to a fencepost, and you won't see any indication of a cart or stand.


Aquí se vende pajarete: Pajarete sold here!  

Away from the road, behind the trees, past the bushes, just over there by that old wrecked pickup truck, a dairy farmer milks his cows.  As he milks the patient cows and they snuffle their hot breath into the misty morning, groups of men (sombrero-wearing men who are real men) gather around the cow lot, each man with his large clay mug.  Into each mug go a stiff shot of either charanda (a sugar cane alcohol), mezcal, or tequila, a bit of sugar and some cinnamon-laden Mexican chocolate grated from a round tablet.  The mug is then filled with warm milk, freshly squeezed directly into the mug--straight from the cow.  More a body-temperature drink than a cold drink, that's pajarete: breakfast of champions.

I don't expect you to whip up most of these six popular drinks in your home kitchen, but I thought you'd love knowing about some of Mexico's really unusual cold drinks.

There are many more interesting and unusual drinks in Mexico, everything from A (acachú, a drink that sounds like a sneeze, made near Puebla from the capulín (wild cherry) to Z (zotol, made in Chihuahua from the sap of wild yucca). Wherever you are in Mexico, you'll find something fascinating to quench your thirst, make you feel more at home in the culture, and give you a story to tell.

A toast to each of you: Salud, dinero, y amor, y tiempo para gozarlos. Health, money, and love, and time to enjoy them. 

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