Mexico Cooks!

What's the Straight Story on Mexico's Mealtimes? Here's Comida, the Main Meal of the Day

Back by popular demand!  So many Mexico Cooks! fans ask questions about what we eat at mealtimes--and when exactly DO we eat?  Last week, this week and next week, we'll take a close look at what's to be found on the Mexican table, and at what time of day.

In Mexico, a complete main meal will most often start with an entrada (appetizer).  This dish of guacamole is meant to be scooped up with its garnish, crispy chicharrón (fried pork skin).

Mexico's main meal of the day is comida, which is eaten sometime between two and five o'clock in the afternoon.  Prime time for comida is three o'clock; in many places all over the República, businesses still respect the old-time rule that closes business doors during mid-afternoon meal time.  In fact, unless the business mentions that it observes horario corrido (continuous work day) you can assume that from two until at least four in the afternoon, its doors are closed to business.  Its workday is from 10:00AM to 2:00PM and from 4:00PM to 8:00PM.

Crema de cilantro (cream of cilantro soup).  The soup course, which can be a caldo (clear broth), a consomé (another kind of clear broth, usually chicken), or a crema (cream soup), comes after the entrada. 

In cities and towns all over Mexico, you'll find fondas, comida económica, and comida corrida restaurants.  All of these small, usually family-run restaurants specialize in full meals that stoke your furnace for the rest of your workday and beyond.  In addition, in many cities there are high-end restaurants that specialize in comidas for professional and business lunches, others that are designed for the ladies-who-lunch trade, and still other, family-style restaurants that invite everyone from the oldest great-grandpa to the newest newborn to enjoy time together.

A variety of prepared salads for sale in a market.  Sold by the kilo or portion of a kilo, these salads are meant to be taken home and eaten along with your comida.

Mexico's signature mole con pollo (mole with chicken) is popular for the platillo fuerte (main dish) at a comida, whether served at home or in a restaurant.  Many regions of the country have special mole recipes; some, like those found in Puebla or Oaxaca, are very well known.  Others, especially some from the state of Michoacán, are less well known but equally delicious.

These Jalisco-style albóndigas (meatballs) are traditional and typically served as a platillo fuerte for comida, along with their delicious sauce, a big helping of steamed white rice, a garnish of avocado, and a tall stack of tortillas.

Many soon-to-be-visitors to Mexico write to me saying something like this: "I want to plan for breakfast in the hotel and a meal in such-and-such a restaurant at lunchtime.  Then we want to go for dinner at such-and-such restaurant."  Unless you are a professional eater--and I know that some of you are!--it's difficult to fit all of that food into one day, given the times of day that meals are usually eaten here.  If you're having breakfast at your hotel, many of the available dishes will look like those featured here last week.  They're very, very filling.  Just a few hours later, it's time for comida, an even more filling meal when eaten in a restaurant.

Carne de cerdo en salsa verde (pork in green sauce) is a typical home-style dish (in this instance, just being put into the Mexico Cooks! oven) often served for comida.  Of course it is preceded by an appetizer, a soup, and perhaps a salad; it's accompanied by red or white rice, refried beans, and a stack of tortillas--and followed by dessert!

Lonche de pechuga de pollo (cold chicken breast sandwich, garnished with lettuce, tomato, and pickled chiles jalapeños).  This kind of sandwich is neither lunch nor comida.  Photo courtesy Big Sky Southern Sky.

"Lunch" as it is eaten in the United States or elsewhere does not exist in Mexico.  You might see a restaurant sign reading "LONCHERÍA", but it refers to a kind of cold sandwich known as a 'lonche', not to a place where you can have lunch.  A lonche can be eaten at any old time--between meals, instead of meals, before or after a movie, and so on.

This is a boiling pot of Michoacán carnitas--huge chunks of lean pork, boiled in freshly rendered lard until the pork is fork-tender with crisp, chewy outsides.  Coarsely chopped and served by the platter, ready to stuff into hot-off-the-fire tortillas and top with minced onions, chopped cilantro, super-spicy salsa, a sprinkle of sea salt and a squeeze of lime, carnitas can be a rustic and delicious comida all on their own.

Gelatina is a common light dessert following a heavy comida. 

On the other hand, you will almost always have room for a slice of old-fashioned creamy flan.

Next week, we finish our day of Mexico's meals with cena--supper!

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Are You Looking for the Straight Story on Mexico's Mealtimes? Here's Your Buenos Días...

Back by popular demand!  So many Mexico Cooks! fans ask questions about what we eat at mealtimes--and when exactly DO we eat?  This week and for the next two weeks, we'll take a close look at what's to be found on the Mexican table, and at what time of day.

A classic quick breakfast in the USA, circa 1950s: cold unsweetened cereal, a banana (sliced), milk, and sugar.

Several times a month, Mexico Cooks! receives queries from folks in the United States about mealtimes and what's eaten when in Mexico.  It can be challenging to plan a trip to any country, including Mexico, where mealtimes are different from what you might think of as 'normal'.  This week and for the next two weeks here at Mexico Cooks!, you'll learn more about meals and mealtimes.  

In Mexico, a huge variety of pan dulce (sweet bread) is available for breakfast.  These are conchas (shells), so-called because of the design impressed into their sugared tops. Have your pan dulce with either hot chocolate, coffee, or a steaming cup of atole (a corn-based hot beverage).

It can be even more challenging for anyone raised in one frame of reference to understand that breakfast isn't always about what you have always thought of as your earliest meal of the day.  Many years ago, when I was first living in Mexico, the light bulb came on for me: breakfast food is whatever you happen to eat for breakfast.  You know how leftover pizza straight from the refrigerator is a guilty breakfast for a lot of people in the States?  A slice is really a perfectly adequate breakfast.  Lots of Mexican breakfasts are just like that: whatever food is available at the moment.

The corunda is a regional tamal from Michoacán.  This corunda, filled with cream cheese and topped with Mexican table cream and a sauce made of roasted tomate verde (known in the USA as tomatillo), chile perón (a Michoacán-grown chile), makes a great desayuno when accompanied by a cup of hot locally-grown blackberry atole.

People in Mexico frequently eat two morning meals. The first is desayuno, which comes from the root word ayunar, to fast.  Desayuno literally means "I un-fast" and is ordinarily eaten first thing in the morning, maybe before work while you are standing in the pre-dawn kitchen thinking about the coming day on the job or gobbled while you are hurrying the kids into their school uniforms.  This breakfast consists of something quick and simple or a smear of yesterday's frijolitos refritos on a leftover tortilla, washed down with a glass of fresh orange juice; a pan dulce still hot from the corner bakery, accompanied by a cup of té de manzanillo (Mexico's ubiquitous chamomile tea).  It's just enough to help your brain kick into gear.

This Mexico Cooks! desayuno includes home-made calabaza en tacha bathed in hot milk plus a slice of pan relleno con chilacayote (bread filled with sweetened chilacayote squash paste), served with fresh juice or coffee.

At home, Mexico Cooks! occasionally prepares molletes, an old-time family favorite.  I butter and grill a bolillo (a dense-textured and crusty white bread roll), add a thick smear of chile-spiced refried beans, and top them with huevos volteados (over-easy eggs) and salsa cruda (raw salsa).  With a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice and a big mug of coffee, this almuerzo is really stick-to-your-ribs.

Around 10.30 or eleven o'clock in the morning, when the stomach starts to require something more substantial to keep the body going, many people take a break for almuerzo.  There really is no adequate word in English for this meal.  It's not breakfast and it's not a snack.  Almuerzo is typically a larger meal than desayuno.  Workers on a construction job, for example, often stop work, build a little fire, and heat up yesterday's leftover main meal of the day that they've brought along in a 'tupper'--the generic word for a covered plastic container.  Warmed-up leftovers, a stack of tortillas, and a fresh-made pot of coffee keep the girders going up. 

Another really hearty almuerzo: a plateful of enchiladas verdes con pollo deshebrado (enchiladas with shredded chicken in green sauce) topped with finely grated white cheese and minced onion, accompanied by a guarnición (side) of refried beans.

Here's another typical almuerzo in Mexico: chilaquiles verdes (fried tortilla strips simmered in green sauce), topped with grated white cheese and thinly sliced white onions, then crowned with huevos a gusto (eggs however you like them).  Add a side of frijolitos refritos, a plate of ripe papaya, a warm-from-the-oven bolillo, either salsa or butter for the bread, and a great cappuchino, all served on a sunny terrace.  Heaven...

Next week, next meal!  We'll save your place at the table. 

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Albóndigas de Jalisco, Estilo Diana Kennedy :: Meatballs As Made in the State of Jalisco, Diana Kennedy Style

These and just a few other ingredients for albóndigas de Jalisco (Jalisco-style meatballs) combine to become a simple but delicious meal.

The weather was cool during the day today here in Morelia, Michoacán, and it seemed an ideal day to make this truly wonderful soup for our comida (Mexico's mid-afternoon main meal of the day).  Subtly-flavored albóndigas--especially as prepared from this recipe, adapted from Diana Kennedy's book The Cuisines of Mexico--are the perfect comfort food.

You only need to blend eggs and a few herbs and spices to give a most wonderful Mexican touch to the meat mixture for these albóndigas (meatballs).  Be sure to use mint in the meatballs--fresh if you can grow it or get it, dried if you can't.  The flavor is marvelous.

This is a dandy recipe for cooks of any level: if you're a beginner, you'll love the simplicity of the flavors of the end product.  If you're a more advanced cook, the people at your table will believe that you worked for hours to prepare this traditional Mexican meal. 

All the ingredients you need are undoubtedly easy for you to get even if you live outside Mexico.  Here's the list, both for the meatballs and their sauce:

Ingredients
Albóndigas (Meatballs)
1.5 Tbsp long-grain white rice, rinsed 
Boiling water to cover
3/4 lb ground pork
3/4 lb ground beef
2 eggs
1/4 scant teaspoon dried oregano
4 good-sized sprigs fresh mint (preferably) OR 1 tsp dried mint
1 chile serrano, roughly chopped
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 scant teaspoon cumin seeds OR ground cumin
1/3 medium white onion, roughly chopped

Add the liquified eggs, onions, chile serrano, herbs, and spices to the ground meats and mix well with your hands.

Sauce
3 medium tomatoes (about 1 lb)
1 chile serrano, roughly chopped (optional if you do not care for a mildly spicy sauce)
Boiling water to cover
2 to 3 Tbsp lard, vegetable oil, peanut oil, or safflower oil (I prefer lard, for its flavor)
1 medium white onion, quartered
5 cups rich meat or chicken broth, homemade if possible
About 3/4 teaspoon of the adobo (thick sauce) from a can of chiles chipotle en adobo (a smoky chile in sauce)
Salt to taste

For serving
2 or 3 carrots, cut into sticks or cubes (I prefer sticks)
2 large white potatoes, cut into sticks or cubes (I prefer sticks)

 Utensils
A small bowl
A large bowl
A blender (2 uses)
A saucepan
A fork
A large flameproof pot with cover

Preparing the meatballs
Put the rice in a small bowl and cover with boiling water.  Allow to soak for about 45 minutes.  I use the glass custard cup that you see lying on its side in the initial photo--it's just the right size.

While the rice is soaking, put both kinds of meat into the large bowl.  

Put the eggs, onion, and all herbs and spices--in that order--in the blender jar.  Blend until all is liquified.  Add to the meat mixture and, using your hands, mix well until the liquid is thoroughly incorporated.

Rinse out the blender jar for its next use in this recipe.

Drain the rice and add it to the meat mixture.  Form 16 meatballs, about 2 inches in diameter, and set aside.

Preparing the sauce


Bring about 2 cups of water to a full rolling boil.  Cut a skin-deep cross through the stem-end of the skin of the tomato.  Add the whole tomatoes to the boiling water and allow to cook for about a minute, until the skins split.  Watch the pot, though: this procedure might take a bit less or a bit more time.  You don't want the tomatoes to cook, you just want to be able to take the skins off.


When the tomato skins split, take the tomatoes one by one out of the water and peel them.  If you've never tried it, believe me: this is miraculously easy--the skins are not too hot to handle and they slip off the tomatoes like little gloves.  You can see that I have stuck a fork into the stem end of the tomato for ease of handling.

Skin the tomatoes and put them in the blender jar.  Add the roughly-chopped onion and the chile serrano.  Blend until thoroughly puréed.

Freshly rendered manteca (lard) for frying the sauce.  If all you can get in your store is a hard brick of stark white, hydrogenated lard, don't bother.  It has no flavor and absolutely no redeeming value.  If you want to use lard, ask a butcher at a Latin market if he sells freshly rendered lard.  If none is available, use the oil of your choice.

In the flameproof cooking pot, heat the lard or oil and add the tomato mixture you have just puréed.  Bring it to a boil and let it cook at a bubble for about three minutes.  Splatter alert here!

Turn the flame down to a simmer and add the chicken broth to the tomato purée.  Bring it back to a simmer.  Add the meatballs, cover the pot, and let them simmer in the liquid for about an hour.


After the first hour of cooking, add the carrots and the potatoes to the tomato broth and meatballs.  Cover and cook for an additional half hour.  When I made the albóndigas this time, I cubed the vegetables.  I think the finished dish is more attractive with the vegetables cut into sticks.

The rich fragrance of the cooking albóndigas and their broth penetrates every corner of our home.  By the time they're ready to eat, we are more than eager!

Albóndigas de Jalisco served with steamed white rice (you might also like to try them with Mexican red rice), sliced avocado, and fresh-from-the-comal (a Mexican griddle--mine is made of clay), hot tortillas.  This soup plate filled with albóndigas and vegetables needed more sauce; we prefer to eat them when they're very soupy.  A serving of rice topped with two meatballs plus vegetables and sauce is plenty. 

A clay comal with fresh-made tortillas toasting over a wood fire.

Albóndigas freeze really well, so I often double the recipe; I use a flat styrofoam meat tray from the supermarket to freeze the uncooked meatballs individually, then prepare the sauce, thaw the meatballs, and cook them as described.

The recipe as posted above serves eight, abundantly.

Provecho!

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Rosalba Morales Bartolo :: The Newest Maestra Cocinera Tradicional (Master Traditional Cook) in Michoacán

On March 8, 2021 (International Women's Day), several women in Michoacán received the designation "maestra cocinera tradicional" (master of traditional cooking), named as such by members of a committee well-familiar with each of their achievements in the cocina tradicional de Michoacán (Michoacán's traditional cooking).  The criteria for naming each of them as maestra cocinera were arduous and included participation in health and safety issues for diners, in community efforts, in the development and promotion of their own small restaurants, and in the promotion to the public--both in Mexico and internationally--of Michoacán's cuisines.  Seven new maestra cocineras were named: Calletana Nambo, Paula Campoverde, Concepción López, Blanca Delia Villagómez, Carmen Vidales, Norma Alicia Urbina, and Rosalba Morales Bartolo.  What happy news!  Each of these women deserves enormous accolades for her trajectory as one of the greatest cooks in the state.


All seven of the new maestras cocineras are featured in this photomontage provided last Monday by the government of Michoacán.


Rosalba Morales Bartolo with her brand new document naming her a maestra cocinera de Michoacán.

Rosalba, born and raised in San Jerónimo Purenchécuaro, Michoacán, grew up cooking alongside her mother in their indigenous Purépecha kitchen. Purépecha women are well known for their regional cuisine and extraordinary cooking abilities. Rosalba, who learned recipes and techniques from her grandmother and her mother, beginning in her childhood, has become one of the most exemplary cooks living in Mexico. In the photo, Rosalba oversees a restaurant dining room during a 2015 homage dinner she prepared for Diana Kennedy and many attendees. All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! unless otherwise noted.


San Jerónimo Purenchécuaro--Purenchécuaro translates to 'place of visitors'--nestles at the shore of the Lago de Pátzcuaro, in central Michoacán.  Eighty per cent of the town's approximately 2,000 inhabitants are indigenous Purépecha and a large number continue to speak their native language and teach it to their children.  The town continues its millennia-old social customs, some of which are incorporated now into Roman Catholic religious practices.  Mexico Cooks! took the photo from a scenic overlook in San Jerónimo; you can see the town, including the parish church tower, one tiny portion of Lake Pátzcuaro, and the tiers of Michoacán's mountains stretching out beyond the other shore. 


Lake Pátzcuaro fishermen, in an old postcard.  Today, the butterfly nets typical of the lake region have been largely replaced by other styles of hand-woven nets. Fishing continues to generate income as well as family sustenance for the towns around and close to the lake. Photo courtesy Mexico en Fotos.


Charales, freshly caught and cleaned.  Rosalba's father was a fisherman, working on Lake Pátzcuaro.  From him, she learned how to fish with a net. She learned how to prepare tiny charales (genus Chirostoma) her grandmother's old-fashioned way.  Once the fish are caught, she scales them (yes, these tiny fish, one by one), then eviscerates and washes them.  The heads are typically left on the charales.  Next, Rosalba spreads them out in the sun to dry on petates (mats made of palm fronds).  Once the fish are dried, she uses them for a variety of different dishes: fried for a filling in tacos or gorditas, simmered in a richly flavored broth, crushed into a salsa, or cooked in a guisado (a type of main dish that can also be used as a taco filling).


Petate (mats made of palm fronds), rolled up to be transported on a bicycle.  The petate, of pre-Hispanic origin, has multiple uses, including use as bedding, as a drying floor, and as a burial shroud. Image courtesy Pinterest.


At home in her kitchen, Rosalba shows off a plateful of her famous charales.  Restaurants and individuals in cities and towns all over Mexico order kilos of Rosy's charales to be shipped to them.  I confess that I always thought I hated them: strongly fishy, thickly breaded, greasy, and often overly picante (spicy), charales were for years the very last item on my list of things I wanted to eat.  One day a few years ago, Rosalba stood in front of me with a lightly fried, delicately golden brown charal held out between her fingers.  "You haven't tried mine, Cristina," she insisted, as she poked it into my mouth. There was no way to say no. What a surprise, it was absolutely delicious!  Now I crave them--but only Rosalba's.


Your family's food preparation probably begins with a trip to a well-stocked supermarket.  Once your ingredients are at home, you simply turn on a modern stove, either electric or gas. Rosalba's food preparation begins with a trip into the woods near her home, where she gathers branches to be used as fuel in her wood stove.  In addition, she grows much of her food in her large back garden: she tends and harvests tomatoes, chiles, squash, cilantro, avocado, and various fruits, among other delicious items that end up on her table.

Recently, Rosalba has been featured on several Mexican television programs, including this one called "Cocineros Mexicanos" (Mexican Cooks). Take a few minutes to watch how she cleans the charales, prepares a simple soup and salsa, and delights Nico (the program's host) with her simplicity, directness, honesty, and skill as a cocinera.

Rosy's route to her present renown hasn't been fast and it hasn't been easy.  Her life has had numerous ups and downs, its path twisting from her birthplace to a risky life as an undocumented person in the United States and back again.  In 1984, she graduated from primary school in San Jerónimo and left the next day to work as a cook in a private home in Guadalajara.  Her employer asked her to prepare food that was completely unfamiliar to her--fish cooked in white wine!  She remembers, "That day marked my life and was incredibly special, because it confirmed and reconfirmed the love, my deep feeling for cooking, as I experimented with different flavors."


In 2013, Rosalba won honorable mention in Raíces, Platillos que Cuentan Una Historia (Roots, Dishes Which Tell a Story) at the annual Encuentro de Cocineras Tradicionales de Michoacán (Meeting of Michoacán's Traditional Cooks).  Her first entry, in 2010, won her a first prize.

Twice Rosalba entered the United States as an undocumented worker, each time laboring in Mexican restaurants and sending money back to her native San Jerónimo Purenchécuaro.  Over the course of 25 years, she was able to construct her own home, where she lives today and has made her "Cocina Tradicional Rosy" well known to Mexicans and foreigners who are intent on dining well in Michoacán. 


Everybody's favorite chile in much of Michoacán: chile manzano, known in Michoacán as chile perón. Approximately 1.5"-2" in diameter, the perón is only chile in the world with black seeds.  It ranks between 30,000 and 50,000 'heat' units on the Scoville scale--about the same heat level as the chile de árbol.   "While I was living in the United States, I really missed caldo de trucha (trout soup) with chile perón," Rosalba reminisced.


Rosalba at Morelia en Boca 2015, with chef Aquiles Chávez of La Fishería Restaurant in Houston and Restaurante Sotero in Pachuca, Hidalgo, Mexico.  Morelia en Boca, an annual international high-end food and wine festival, featured a conference given by cocinera tradicional Rosalba together with chef Aquiles, demonstrating the preparation of Rosy's tiny charales and chef Aquiles' enormous pejelagarto (freshwater gar), native to the waters in chef Aquiles' home state, Tabasco. Their conference was so knowledgeable, so well-presented, and so funny that the huge and enthusiastic audience gave them a standing, cheering ovation at its end.


Chef Aquiles roasted the pejelagarto over a charcoal fire; this photo shows only the head and a small portion of the giant fish's body.  To roast the fish, chef Aquiles inserted a broomstick into the gaping tooth-filled mouth; the broomstick stopped at the fish's tail.  With the end of the broomstick that protruded from the mouth, chef Aquiles was able to turn the fish as it roasted.

Rosalba serves a taco de charales to chef Joaquín Bonilla, director of the Colegio Culinario de Morelia (Morelia's Culinary School).  Not only has Rosy prepared and served her extraordinary dishes all over Mexico, but she has traveled to a number of foreign destinations as well.  In 2016 alone, she thrilled Chicago, Illinois, for several weeks with her food. Later that year she participated in the Slow Food International Terra Madre event in Turin, Italy.  The current year has brought more much-deserved recognition throughout Mexico.


Rosalba's caldo de pata de pollo.  She prepared this rich chicken broth using just chicken feet as the base.  She added fresh vegetables just prior to serving.


Rosy's delicious guisado (a casserole or stewed dish) made with nopales (cactus paddles) and calabacitas (a squash similar to zucchini).


One of Rosalba's many talents is the ability to create utterly wonderful food from whatever is seasonably available.  Salsa de zarzamora (blackberry sauce) is a molcajete-ground spicy, sweet, and savory concoction of roasted chile perón, roasted ripe tomatoes, and native Michoacán blackberries.  A pinch of salt, a moment's grinding in the volcanic stone mortar, and it's ready for the table.  I would cheerfully have eaten it with a spoon, it was so heavenly.


Mexico Cooks! with Rosalba.  It's a privilege to share close friendship with her.

Please contact me if you'd like to visit Rosalba and enjoy a meal in her kitchen.  I'd be delighted to take you to meet my dear friend and talk with you about the food and its preparation.

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Mexico Cooks! Ignores Her Mother :: La Nueva Viga, the Second Largest Fish Market in the World

Mexico Cooks!' mother, circa 1980.  She tried her best to give me good advice, but I was often loathe to listen.

In November 1969, she suggested that the March on Washington, against the war in Vietnam, might be overcrowded.  I went anyway, and it was packed--but the experience was entirely worth being smooshed like a sardine in a can. 


Over the course of several years, she warned me about wanting to do battle with the New Year's Eve crowds in New York City's Times Square. Although the idea of squeezing in still piques my interest, I haven't been there yet.


My mother didn't know about Mexico City's wholesale fish market, La Nueva Viga, but had she known, she would have insisted that Viernes Santo (Good Friday) was not the day to go. This photo, taken on Good Friday 2017, barely does justice to the incredibly jammed aisles at La Nueva Viga, Latin America's largest fish market and the second largest fish market in the world.  Only the Tsukiji fish market in Tokyo, Japan, surpasses the volume of fish and seafood sold annually at La Nueva Viga.  The Tsukiji market averages 660,000 tons of fish and seafood in yearly sales; La Nueva Viga racks up around 550,000 tons. I think 549,000 tons must sell just on Good Friday, the last Lenten day of abstinence from meat.   See that short-ish person in red in the middle of it all?  That's me, squished.


The main entrance at La Nueva Viga is on Prolongación Eje 6 Sur, Colonia San José Aculco, Iztapalapa. The facility extends over nearly 23 acres (9.2 hectares), with 202 wholesale warehouses, 55 retail warehouses and 165 sellers in total.  On any given ordinary day, the market receives between 20,000 to 25,000 customers, mostly restaurant owners in Mexico City and the areas immediately around it.  On Good Friday, the clientele is mainly retail: home cooks looking for bargain fish and seafood for the Friday before Easter.  Both fish and good prices abound and it seems like half the city is there to buy--what a challenge!

On Good Friday 2017, friends Rondi Frankel, Magdalena Mosig, and I made the trek to La Viga.  Rondi drove and Magdalena acted as our guide; she at one time owned a restaurant and always bought fish and seafood at the market.  It was a great treat--not to mention an enormous help!--to have her show us the ropes.  From my street, south of Mexico City's Centro Histórico, the trip to La Viga took about 45 minutes. Because it was Good Friday, there was no traffic at all until we were close to the market--and then--yikes!  Bumper to bumper, several lanes of near-parking lot, hundreds of street vendors of everything from cold bottled water to kites, partial sleeves (wrist to above the elbow) to wear while driving so your arm doesn't get sunburned, thin, crisp, sweet fried morelianas (a kind of cookie), chewing gum, single cigarettes, bags of ready-to-eat mango with chile, limón, and salt, soft drinks, straw hats--anything at all that a person might want.  

The massive parking lots for La Viga were completely filled, so we drove a couple of blocks past the fish market and found a private lot. Once we were finally at the market, we sloshed through salty puddles, thousands of fish scales flying through the air, and the ear-jangling clang of huge knives hitting long fish-cleaning tables. Then up a few stairs and we were smack in the middle of the jostling, shoving crowds, pushing between rows of vendor stalls. 


Extra-jumbo shrimp!  That's Rondi's normal-size adult hand, for comparison.  Each shrimp measured approximately 8" long with the head on. The price?  $280 pesos (approximately $15 USD) per kilo--or $8.00 USD per pound.  If I had to guess, I'd say these huge shrimp are about 4 or 5 to the pound.


Beautiful, fresh, and enormous huachinango (red snapper) were everywhere.  These measured about two feet long--great big ones!--and looked fresh as the morning. According to the sign, they were caught in the waters off the state of Veracruz, on the southeastern Gulf coast of Mexico. The darker fish to the left are mojarra (sea bream, a salt-water fish related to the perch), delicious but very bony.


Another vendor displayed his mojarra with the gill flap raised.  It's easy to see by the condition of the gill that the fish is wonderfully fresh. This is exactly how a gill should look when you're buying: firm and pink.


Many vendors had huachinango for sale; these were offered at a booth farther down the aisle from the first photo of huachinango.  You can tell by the condition of the eye that this lovely fish was freshly caught.  The eye is shiny, not sunken into the head, and full of light.  My only hesitation in buying a fish was the length of time that I would be carrying it around in a bag prior to getting it home and into the refrigerator: too long in the very warm Mexico City springtime weather.


The smallest of these almeja gallo (rooster clams, at the rear) carried a sign reading, "For soup".  Their price was $20 pesos (about $1.40 USD) per kilo.  As the sizes increased, the prices increased.  The most expensive were the ones on the right, at 35 pesos the kilo.


Look at this incredible tower of live blue crabs, tied up with reeds!  Mexico Cooks! has always seen blue crabs in retail markets, always quite dead, so it was wonderful to discover that they actually arrive at La Viga still alive and kicking.

Proof positive!  Watch these babies wiggle!  The first thing that crossed my mind to prepare was a big platter of Chinese blue crabs in black bean sauce.


Fresh red octopus, piled high.  $245 pesos the kilo.


Spanish mackerel.


These are langostinos--where you live, they may be known as crayfish (although they are a completely different species). 


Oysters: piled-up huge costales (in this case, open-weave polypropylene sacks) of oysters.  Oysters are sold by the costal, or shucked in their liquid in plastic bags as long as your arm, and also in smaller containers for home consumption.  Some oysters come from the southeastern Mexican states of Tabasco and Campeche; others come from the Pacific Coast states of Baja California and Sinaloa.  Mexico is the fourth-largest producer of oysters in Latin America.  These particular oysters were for sale at $150 pesos the sack.  "Isn't that about $8.00 USD?" Why yes, it is.


Oysters, ready to eat.  Served with fresh Mexican-grown limones (Key limes), a dozen cost 100 pesos at this sit-down restaurant in La Viga.


What would Mexican seafood be without a bottled table salsa to season it--along with limón and maybe a wee pinch of salt?  What we see here is a small selection of the hundreds of salsas from which to choose.  


And truly, it wouldn't be right to serve seafood without a splash of home-made salsa bruja: witches' sauce!  I keep mine on my counter and top it off with more vinegar as needed.  The salsa is a mixture of vinegar with onion, garlic, carrot strips, bay leaf, rosemary, split-open chile (I use serrano), oregano, a couple of cloves, salt, and pepper. Stuff all the vegetables and herbs into an empty wine bottle, fill with vinegar, cork, and allow to sit for several days.  Voilà, salsa bruja!

The next time I go to La Nueva Viga, I will abide by what my mother surely would have advised: go on a day when half of Mexico City isn't there!  You come, too--we'll have a marvelous time!

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Meatless Mexican Meals for Lent :: Comida Sin Carne Durante la Cuaresma

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


Tortitas de papa (potato croquettes, left) and frijoles negros (black beans, right) from the state of Chiapas in far-southern Mexico are ideal for a Lenten meal.

Roman 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.  

Lent began this year on February 18, Ash Wednesday.  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, a slightly acidic green vegetable, is in season at this time of year.  Although it looks a little like rosemary, it has the texture of a succulent and its taste is relatively sour, more like verdolagas (purslane).


Beautiful fresh romeritos at a market in Morelia, Michoacán.

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 grilled and 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.


Caldo de habas secas (dry fava bean soup), delicious and thick even though meatless, warms you up from the inside as if your days are still frigid at the beginning of Lent.  Easter Sunday marks the end of Lent; this year, Easter falls on April 4.

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 in Morelia in December 2008.  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.


At left, Mexican canela (long cinnamon sticks).  At right, dark raisins.  You'll need both of these for preparing capirotada.


Two different sizes of cones of piloncillo (raw brown sugar).  For making capirotada, you'll want the bigger cones.


Pan bolillo (dense white bread), Tangancícuaro, Michoacán.  Photo courtesy Silvia Sánchez Villegas.

CAPIROTADA (Mexican Bread Pudding for Lent)
Ingredients
*4 fresh bollilos, in 1" thick slices--after you slice the bread, dry it in a slow oven
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, two uses
*3 cones of 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.

Spread the dried bolillo slices 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!  Photo courtesy Heraldo México. 

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

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What Do YOU Think of As Authentic Mexican Food? Here's What I Think.

I wrote and first published this article in 2010, in response to inquiries from readers who were confused about other authors' articles about "What is authentic Mexican food?"  The subject comes up again and again, most recently in comments and queries from readers and food professionals about Mexican and other cuisines. Less than a month ago, the question required the magazine Food & Wine to apologize to the two chefs who created a traditional Mexican recipe for its pages--and the food stylists completely blew the dish and its components into something unrecognizably bad.  I still stand behind what I wrote nearly 11 years ago--it's as applicable today as it was then.

"Real" Mexican chile relleno (stuffed, battered, and fried chile poblano), caldillo de jitomate (thin tomato broth), and frijoles negros de la olla (freshly cooked black beans).  Notice that the chile is not suffocated with globs of melted cheese: the cheese is inside the chile, as its filling.  

More and more people who want to experience "real" Mexican food are asking about the availability of authentic Mexican meals outside Mexico. Bloggers and posters on food-oriented websites have vociferously definite opinions on what constitutes authenticity. Writers' claims range from the uninformed (the fajitas at such-and-such a restaurant are totally authentic, just like in Mexico) to the ridiculous (Mexican cooks in Mexico can't get good ingredients, so Mexican meals prepared in the United States are superior to those in Mexico).

Much of what I read about authentic Mexican cooking reminds me of that old story of the blind men and the elephant. "Oh," says the first blind man, running his hands up and down the elephant's leg, "an elephant is exactly like a tree."  "Aha," says the second, stroking the elephant's trunk, "the elephant is precisely like a hose."  And so forth. I contend that if you haven't experienced what most writers persist in calling "authentic Mexican", then there's no way to compare any restaurant in the United States with anything that is prepared or served in Mexico. You're simply spinning your wheels.

It's my considered opinion that there is no such thing as one definition of authentic Mexican. Wait, before you start hopping up and down to refute that, consider that in my opinion, "authentic" is generally what you were raised to appreciate. Your mother's pot roast is authentic, but so is my mother's. Your aunt's tuna salad is the real deal, but so is my aunt's, and they're not the least bit similar.  And Señora Martínez in Mexico makes yet another version of tuna salad, very different from any I've eaten in the USA.


Carne de puerco en salsa verde (pork meat in green sauce), a traditional recipe as served at the restaurant Fonda Margarita in Mexico City.


Carne de puerco en salsa verde from the Mexico Cooks! home kitchen.  The preparation looks similar to that at Fonda Margarita, but I tweak a thing or two that make the recipe my personal tradition, different from the restaurant's.

As you can see, the descriptor I use for many dishes is 'traditional'. We can even argue about that adjective, but it serves to describe the traditional dish of--oh, say carne de puerco en chile verde--as served in the northern part of Mexico, in Mexico City, in the Central Highlands, or in the Yucatán. There may be big variations among the preparations of this dish, but each preparation is traditional and each is considered authentic in its region.

I think that in order to understand the cuisines of Mexico, we have to give up arguing about authenticity and concentrate on the reality of certain dishes.


A nearly 200-year-old tradition in Mexico that shows up every September on Mexico's home and restaurant tables: chiles en nogada (stuffed chiles poblano in a creamy sauce made with fresh (i.e., recently harvested) walnuts.  It's the Mexican flag on your plate: green chile poblano, creamy white walnut sauce, and red pomegranate arils.  But hoo boy--there are arguments to the death about the "authentic" way to prepare these chiles: battered or not battered?  Put up your dukes!  (I fall on the not-battered side, in case you wondered.  God help me.)

Traditional Mexican cooking is not a hit-or-miss let's-make-something-for-dinner proposition based on "let's see what we have in the despensa (pantry)." Traditional Mexican cooking is as complicated and precise as traditional French cooking, with just as many hidebound conventions as French cuisine imposes. You can't just throw some chiles and a glob of chocolate into a sauce and call it mole. You can't simply decide to call something "authentic" Mexican x, y, or z when it's not. There are specific recipes to follow, specific flavors and textures to expect, and specific results to attain. Yes, some liberties are taken, particularly in Mexico's new alta cocina mexicana (Mexican haute cuisine) and fusion restaurants, but even those liberties are based, we hope, on specific traditional recipes.  As Alicia Gironella d'Angeli (a true grande dame of Mexico's kitchen) often said to me, "Cristina, you cannot de-construct a dish until you have learned to construct it."  Amen.

In recent readings of food-oriented websites, I've noticed questions about what ingredients are available in Mexico. The posts have gone on to ask whether or not those ingredients are up to snuff when compared to what's available in what the writer believes to be more sophisticated food sources such as the United States.

Deep red, vine-ripened plum tomatoes, available all year long in central Mexico. The sign reads, "Don't think about it much--take home a little kilo!"  At twelve pesos the kilo, these Mexico-grown tomatoes, brought to market red-ripe, cost approximately 75 cents USD for 2.2 pounds.

Surprise, surprise: most readily available fresh foods in Mexico's markets are even better than similar ingredients you find outside Mexico. Foreign chefs who tour with me to visit Mexico's stunning produce, fish, and meat markets are inevitably astonished to see that what is grown for the ordinary home-cook end user in Mexico is fresher, riper, more flavorful, more attractive, and much less costly than similar ingredients available in the United States.

Chicken, ready for the pot.  The chickens raised in Mexico for our food are generally fed ground marigold petals mixed into their feed--that's why the flesh is so pink, the skin so yellow, and why the egg yolks are like big orange suns.

It's the same with most meats: pork and chicken are head and shoulders above what you find in North of the Border supermarkets. Fish and seafood are direct-from-the-sea fresh and distributed by air within just an hour or two from any of Mexico's long coastlines.


Look at the quality of Mexico's fresh, locally grown, seasonal strawberries--and the season starts right now, in February.  Deep red to its center, a strawberry like this is hard to find in other countries.

Nevertheless, Mexican restaurants in the United States make do with the less-than-superior ingredients found outside Mexico. In fact, some downright delicious traditional Mexican meals can be had in some north of the border Mexican restaurants. Those restaurants are hard to find, though, because in the States, most of what has come to be known as Mexican cooking is actually Tex-Mex or Cal-Mex cooking. There's nothing wrong with Tex-Mex and Cal-Mex cooking, nothing at all. It's just not traditional Mexican cooking.  Tex-Mex is great food from a particular region of the United States. Some of it is adapted from Mexican cooking and some is the invention of early Texas settlers. Some innovations are adapted from both of those points of origin.  Fajitas, ubiquitous on Mexican restaurant menus all over the United States, are a typical Tex-Mex invention.  Now available in some of Mexico's restaurants, fajitas are offered to the tourist trade as prototypically authentic. 


Pozole blanco (white pozole) with delicious clear broth that starts with a a long-simmered whole pig's head, nixtamalized native white cacahuatzintle corn, and lots of tender, flavorful pork meat.  Add to the pot some herbs and spices.  Then add hunks of avocado at the table--along with a squeeze or two of limón criollo (you know it as Key lime), some crushed, dried Mexican oregano, crushed, dried chile de árbol, a raw egg fresh from the shell (it cooks in the hot broth), and, if you like, a tablespoon or two of mezcal.  Traditional and heavenly!

You need to know that the best of Mexico's cuisines is not found in restaurants. It comes straight from somebody's mama's kitchen. Clearly not all Mexicans are good cooks, just as not all Chinese are good cooks, not all Italians are good cooks, and so forth. But the most traditional, the most (if you will) authentic Mexican meals are home prepared.


Diana Kennedy, UNAM 2011.  Mrs. Kennedy was at the Mexican National Autonomous University to present her book, Oaxaca Al Gusto.

That reality is what made Diana Kennedy who she is today: she took the time to travel Mexico, searching for the best of the best of the traditional preparations. For the most part, she didn't find them in fancy restaurants, homey comedores (small commercial dining rooms) or fondas (tiny working-class restaurants). She found them as she stood facing the stove in a home kitchen, watching doña Fulana prepare desayuno (breakfast), comida (the midday main meal of the day), or cena (supper) for her family.  Ms. Kennedy, an English woman, took the time to educate her palate, understand the ingredients, taste what was offered to her, and learn, learn, learn from home cooks before she started putting traditional recipes, techniques, and stories on paper. If we take the time to prepare recipes from any of Ms. Kennedy's many cookbooks, we too can take advantage of her wealth of experience and can come to understand what traditional Mexican cooking can be.  Her books will bring Mexico's kitchens to you when you are not able to go to Mexico.  But please: do follow the recipes, or your dish will come out different from what it is supposed to be.


My dear friend Abigail Mendoza, cocinera tradicional (traditional home cook) from Teotitlán del Valle, Oaxaca, prepares a vat of mole negro (black mole, the king of moles) for a large party she invited me to attend at her home.

In order to understand the traditional cuisines of Mexico, we need to experience their riches. Until that time, we can argue till the cows come home and you'll still be just another blind guy patting the beast's side and exclaiming how the elephant is mighty like a wall.

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La Casa del Abuelo Antojería, Morelia, Michoacán :: Fill Your Stomach, Fill Your Heart

Update May 10, 2021: Mexico Cooks! is sorry to report that La Casa del Abuelo Antojería has closed permanently.  A victim of COVID-19, lack of business during the recent few months of the pandemia made the closure necessary.  Best of luck to Ulises and Karina as they move forward to other endeavors. 


The inviting entrance to La Casa del Abuelo (Grandpa's House) in the Centro Histórico of Morelia, Michoacán, México.  This tiny restaurant is the epitome of Mexico's "3 Bs": bueno, bonito, y barato (good, pretty, and inexpensive).  We're very lucky: it's just a couple of blocks from our house and we eat there as often as possible.

Who among us is always on the lookout for a restaurant that serves delicious food, in a pretty atmosphere, without spending an arm and a leg (or as we say in Mexico, el ojo de la cara (the eye out of your face)?  In mid-summer 2020, Luisa and I were walking the three or so blocks from our house to Avenida Madero (Morelia's main downtown street) and noticed a woman standing in the doorway of a restaurant we had often passed on our way to or from--somewhere.  Karina Bonilla Pointelin--the woman in the doorway--waved to and grinned at Luisa, and it turned out that several years ago, she was a student in a class Luisa was teaching.  It further turned out that the doorway she was standing in was the entrance to La Casa del Abuelo, a restaurant that she and her spouse, Ulises Ramos Estrada, had opened in December, 2018.  And what?  We hadn't been there yet?  How embarrassing!  We vowed to eat there as soon as possible.


The menu cover at La Casa del Abuelo.  The drawing--made by a niece when she was only five years old--depicts the home of Ulises's father, the "Grandpa" in the restaurant's name.  The extensive menu offering breakfast, comida, and supper, is also available using QR, that newish scanning technology for your cellular phone.


Available at all three mealtimes (or as a really hearty snack in between meals, if you're feeling peckish), carne en su jugo (meat in its juice) is one of my particular favorites at La Casa del Abuelo.  The large peltre (enameled metal) bowl is served as you see it--filled to the rim with lots of long-simmered small pieces of beef, chopped onion, bacon, flavoring spices, frijoles de la olla (freshly cooked beans, straight from the pot) and beef broth.  Topped with more chopped onion, freshly chopped cilantro, and jugo de limón (Key lime juice), this dish is topnotch old-school Mexican comfort food.  We were there for breakfast the other day, and I'd been craving their carne en su jugo; I ordered it with a papaya/orange juice combination and a napkin full of hot tortillas.  The meals at La Casa del Abuelo are always bien servidos--satisfying portions that fill you up.  The carne en su jugo, as of this writing, is priced at 60 pesos, including tortillas.  Click on any photo to enlarge it for a better view.


Creamy, foamy hot chocolate, in this case made with milk--Luisa's preference--and topped with multi-color miniature marshmallows.  


Another terrific breakfast or anytime option are the chilaquiles, in this case, a mountain of house-fried tortillas topped with freshly made salsa roja (red sauce) and a tender fried egg.  Luisa ordered them for breakfast, along with a big glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.  How newly squeezed was the juice?  I went to the kitchen and watched Ulises squeeze it!  


Here's Ulises, squeezing our breakfast juice.

One corner of the main dining room.  The restaurant is cozy and intimate, if you're going with a group of relatives or friends, it would be best to make a reservation in advance.


Ulises and Karina talked to me quite a bit about the philosophy of their cooking, service, and restaurant in general.  They are strong fans of the international Slow Food movement and follow its precepts closely.  Almost nothing on the restaurant menu is prepared in advance: for a salad like the one in the photo above, the greens and the additional vegetables are chopped when a customer orders a salad, the cheese is crumbled when your order is ready to eat, and nothing on the plate will have come from a bag of mixed salad ingredients. 

Everything that arrives at your table is hand-chosen by Karina and Ulises--they go to the Morelia markets themselves (and have their favorite markets)--and everything is purchased not much prior to preparation.  Nothing is comes frozen from a package.  They are also firm believers in cooking and serving local foods and supporting local farmers.  Service here takes a bit longer than you might be accustomed to--they only have one other occasional employee, but truly, it's worth the wait for your food.  During the pandemic, all health requirements are met at the restaurant: use of masks required, temperature taken at the entrance, antibacterial gel required and provided.  


Ulises created this appetizer plate, and we have loved sharing it with our table companions ever since.  A bar of slightly softened cream cheese topped with bacon, chopped onion, pieces of toasted nuts, fried dried chile rings, a touch of maple syrup, rosemary, house-fried tortilla strips, and sesame seeds combine to make you want to eat the entire thing!  The whole is truly greater than the sum of its parts, and we are always amazed to taste this dish.


Costra filled with grilled beef and chorizo.  Costra simply means crust--and in this case, it's a crust made of crispy-grilled cheese.  The dish is  wonderful for a light supper!

In addition, the couple explained the name of the restaurant.  Karina said, "There are several restaurants called variations on a 'Grandma's House' theme, so we didn't want to intrude on that idea.  And we wanted to honor Ulises's father, who helped us get the restaurant going--we only had a month from the time we decided to open up, and finding the right place for the restaurant here in Morelia's downtown.  He helped us so, so much.  And Ulises himself is now a grandfather, so all of the pieces fell into place--La Casa del Abuelo was the right choice!"


A taquito (small rolled and fried taco) filled with jamaica flowers.  Jamaica (in English, roselle) is a flower used to make agua de jamaica, a cold, red, slightly tangy agua fresca that is one of the most popular in Mexico.  Once the flowers are used to make the "fresh water", they can be squeezed dry and used for other dishes, like this taquito.  Like many of Ulises's dishes, this one is a mix of several different textures.


My favorite dessert on the menu: the buñuelos del abuelo--again, created by Ulises.  Fried dough, coated with a piloncillo (Mexican raw brown sugar) syrup, crystals of sugar, fresh apple slices, and crushed nuts.  A winner--it's very hard to resist ordering it, it's so delicious.


Ulises, Karina, and Mexico Cooks! pose for a photo during a December 2020 event at La Casa del Abuelo.  We took new friends to enjoy the atmosphere and the food; it's such a pleasure to spread the word about this great place to eat.

La Casa del Abuelo Antojería
Calle Abasolo 186
Between Calles Corregidora y Allende
Centro Histórico
Morelia, Michoacán, Mexico
Reservations or questions: 011-52-443-312-1963 (from the USA and Canada)
Hours due to COVID-19:
Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday 10:00AM until 9:00PM.  Post 9:00PM, call for takeout.
Thursday-Friday-Saturday 10:00AM until 7:00PM.  Post 7:00PM, call for takeout.
Sunday  CLOSED (or call for takeout)


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Tamales, Tamales, Tamales :: Who Wants Tamales?

Tamales in the tamalera (the steamer) at Tamalería (tamales stand) Méndez, on the street at the corner of Av. Baja California and Av. Insurgentes, Colonia Condesa, Distrito Federal.  You can see that the tamalera is divided into three sections.  Each section can hold a different kind of tamal (that's the word for ONE of a group of tamales).  In this case, the tamales at the bottom left of the photo are Oaxaqueños (Oaxaca-style).  On the right of the divider are tamales rojos (with a red chile sauce) and tamales de mole (both with pork meat).  The third section of the tamalera holds just-out-of-sight tamales verdes (with chicken, in green chile sauce) and tamales con rajas y queso (with cheese and strips of chile poblano).

Older than an Aztec pyramid and fresh as this morning’s breakfast, a pot of newly-steamed tamales whets Mexico City’s appetite like nothing else in town.  Dating to pre-Hispanic times—most historians say tamales were made even before the advent of the tortilla and date to the time long before the Christian era—the tamales of what is now Mexico were first documented in the Florentine Codex, a mid-16th century research project crafted in the "new world" by Spanish Franciscan monk Fray Bernadino Sahagún.


Traditionally and to this day, tamales are made by hand, not by machine.  At first, they seem to be exhaustingly labor-intensive and difficult.  Just as with most wonderful food, once you learn the techniques and tricks of making the various styles, they're not so hard to prepare--and they are so worth the time and effort!  In the photo above, Carmen Titita Ramírez Degollado, owner of Mexico City's Restaurante El Bajío, prepares masa cocida (cooked corn dough) for her special tamales pulacles from Papantla, Veracruz.

The ancients of what is now Mexico believed that humankind was created from corn.  Just as in pre-history, much of Mexico’s traditional and still current cuisine is based on corn, and corn-based recipes are still creating humankind.  A daily ration of corn tortillas, tacos, and tamales keeps us going strong in the Distrito Federal, Mexico’s capital city of more than twenty-five million corn-craving stomachs.  Tamales are created from dried corn reconstituted with builder’s lime and water.  The corn is then ground and beaten with lard or other fat into a thick, smooth masa (dough).  Filled with sauce and a bit of meat or vegetable, most tamales are wrapped in dried corn husks or banana leaves and steamed, to fill Mexico City’s corn hunger and keep her hustling.

Tamal-to-be at El Bajío: cut the banana leaf to the size and shape of the tamal you're making, then lightly toast each leaf to soften it for folding.  On the banana leaf, place a layer of masa, a strip of hoja santa (acuyo) leaf, and a big spoonful or two of cooked, shredded chicken in a sauce of chile guajillo, onion, and garlic.

Mexico’s capital city makes it easy to buy tamales any time the craving hits you.  Every day of the week, nearly five million riders pack the Metro (the city’s subway system) and are disgorged into approximately 200 Metro stations.  At any given Metro stop, a passenger is likely to find a tamales vendor.  Her huge stainless steel tamalera (tamales steamer) hisses heartily over a low flame until the tamales are sold out.  Each steamer can hold as many as two hundred tamales, and the vendor may preside over two or three or more of these vats.

Titita folds the tamal so that the banana leaf completely wraps the masa and filling.

Hungry students on the way to and from classes, office workers with no time to eat breakfast at home, construction workers looking for a mid-morning pick-me-up: all line up at their favorite vendor’s spot on the sidewalk closest to a Metro exit.  Near the vibrant Chilpancingo Metro station at the corner of Av. Insurgentes and Av. Baja California, Sra. María de los Ángeles Chávez Hernández sells tamales out of two huge pots.  “Qué le doy?”  (‘What’ll you have?’) she raps out without ceremony to every hungry arrival.  The choices: rojo  (with pork and spicy red chile); verde (with chicken and even spicier green chile); rajas con queso (strips of delectable chile poblano with melting white cheese); mole (a thick spicy sauce with a hint of chocolate); some Oaxaca-style tamales wrapped in banana leaves; and dulce (sweet, usually either pineapple or strawberry).  The stand sells about 200 tamales a day.  Sra. Chávez’s father, Ángel Méndez Rocha, has been selling tamales on this corner for more than 60 years.  Even at age 80, he alternates weeks at the stand with his brother, selling tamales by the hundreds.  

The masa and filling are centered in the banana leaf.  Titita is simultaneously pressing the masa toward the middle of the leaf and folding each end of the banana leaf toward the middle.


The pair of tamales in the center of the photo are filled with chicken and chile guajillo sauce.  The tamal closest to the bottom corner of the photo is stuffed with black beans crushed with dried avocado leaves.  Avocado leaves give a delicious anise flavor and fragrance to the beans.  These tamales are ready to be steamed in the tamalera.

The tamal de chile guajillo, fresh out of the tamalera and unwrapped on my plate.

A specialty breakfast, unique to Mexico City, is the guajolota: a steaming hot tamal, divested of its corn husks and plopped into a split bolillo, a dense bread roll.  Folks from outside Mexico City think this combo is crazy, but one of these hefty and delicious carbohydrate bombs will easily keep your stomach filled until mid-afternoon, when Mexico eats its main meal of the day.  When I asked Sra. Chávez Hernández about the name of the sandwich, she laughed. “Nobody knows why this sandwich is called guajolota—the word means female turkey.  But everybody wants one!” 

If you'd rather take your tamales home to eat them, Sra. Chávez of Tamalería Méndez or her employee, Sra. Lucina Montel, will gladly wrap them in paper and send them along in a bag.

For steaming tamales, the bottom portion of a tamalera is filled with water.  Add a coin to the water and put the tamales vertically into the steamer, atop the perforated base that rests just above the water.  When the water boils, the coin will rattle.  When the rattle slows or stops, add more water.

Tamales can be a massive guajolota to eat on the street or the most delicate, upscale meal in a restaurant.  These, prepared by chef Gerardo Vázquez Lugo of Restaurante Nicos, are a degustación (tasting) at the Escuela de Oficios Gastronómicos operated by online magazine Culinaria Mexicana, where chef Vázquez offered a workshop teaching the history, ingredients, and preparation of tamales.  From left to right, the four tamales are: carnitas de pato en salsa de cítricos y chile chipotle (shredded duck confit in a citrus and chile chipotle sauce), tamal de tzotolbichay (with the herb chaya), tamal de mole negro (black mole),and tamal de frijol (beans).

Chef Gerardo Vázquez Lugo of Mexico City's Restaurante Nicos.

In addition to being daily sustenance, tamales are a fiesta, a party.  In Mexico City and every other part of Mexico, Christmas isn’t Christmas without tamales for the late-night family feasting on Christmas Eve.  Gather the women of the family together, grab the neighbors, and the preparation of tamales becomes a party called a tamalada.  Mexico City chef Margarita Carrillo tells us, “Mexican grandmothers from time immemorial say that the first ingredient for great tamales is a good sense of humor.  Tamales like it when you sing while you prepare them, they love to hear a little friendly gossip while you work, and if you make tamales in the good company of your family and friends, they’re sure to turn out just the way you want them: with fluffy, richly flavored corn dough on the outside and a delicious filling on the inside.”

A small and elegant tamal de chocolate for dessert, prepared by Restaurante Nicos for the tamales workshop.

Señora Elia Rodríguez Bravo, specialty cook at the original Restaurante El Bajío, strains masa cocida for tamales.  She gently shook a wooden spoon at me as she proclaimed, “You can’t make tamales without putting your hands in the masa (corn dough).  Your hand knows what it feels.  Your hand will tell you when the masa is beaten smooth, when the tamales are well-formed in their leaves, and when they have steamed long enough to be ready to eat.  Your hand knows!”

Señora María de los Ángeles Chávez Hernández (left) and her longtime employee Señora Lucina Montiel (right) sell tamales at the street booth Tamalería Méndez seven days a week.  They and Sra. Chávez's staff prepare hundreds of tamales every night, for sale the next day.

Let's go on a Mexico City tamales tour!  Let Mexico Cooks! know when you're ready, and we'll be on our way.

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

El Niño Dios, the Christ Child on the Feast of La Candelaria: Candlemas Day in Mexico

Much of this article was originally published in very early February 2016.  Due to COVID-19, we are currently unable to visit markets and other venues as we would like--here in Morelia, Michoacán, as well as in most of Mexico, we are prohibited from making other than essential trips to stores other than for food shopping, buying medicines/doctors' appointments, and taking care of other absolutely necessary business.  This article and its accompanying photographs have been enormously popular and I thought you would like to re-visit them.  Stay well.

Niños Dios: one Christ Child, many colors: ideal for Mexico's range of skin tones. The sizes range from that of a child approximately two years old (at the top) to tiny infants measuring just three to four inches long.  Mercado Medellín, Colonia Roma, Mexico City, December 2013. 

For about a month prior to Christmas each year, the Niño Dios (baby Jesus) is for sale everywhere in Mexico.  Mexico Cooks! took this photograph in 2013 at the annual tianguis navideño (Christmas market) in front of the Mercado Medellín, Colonia Roma, Mexico City.  These Niños Dios range in size from just a few inches long to nearly the size of a two-year-old child.  They're sold wrapped in only a molded-on diaper.

When does the Christmas season end in your family?  When I was a child, my parents packed the Christmas decorations away on January 1, New Year's Day.  Today, I like to enjoy the nacimientos (manger scenes), the Christmas lights, and the tree until the seventh or eighth of January, right after the Día de los Reyes Magos (the Feast of the Three Kings).  Some people think that date is scandalously late.  Other people, particularly my many Mexican friends, think that date is scandalously early.  Christmas in Mexico isn't over until February 2, el Día de la Candelaria (Candlemas Day), also known as the Feast of the Presentation.

The Holy Family, a shepherd and some of his goats, Our Lady of Guadalupe, an angel, a little French santon cat from Provence, and some indigenous people from a museum diorama form a small portion of Mexico Cooks!' nacimiento.  Click on the photo to get a better look.  Note that the Virgin Mary is breast feeding the infant Jesus while St. Joseph watches over them.

Although Mexico's 21st century Christmas celebration often includes Santa Claus and a Christmas tree, the main focus of a home-style Christmas continues to be the nacimiento and the Christian Christmas story.  A family's nacimiento may well contain hundreds--even thousands--of figures, but all nacimientos have as their heart and soul the Holy Family (the Virgin Mary, St. Joseph, and the baby Jesus).  This centerpiece of the nacimiento is known as el Misterio (the Mystery).  The nacimiento is set up early--in 2013, mine was out at the very beginning of December--but the Niño Dios does not make his appearance until the night of December 24, when he is sung to and placed in the manger.

Niños Dios at Mexico City's Mercado de la Merced.  The figures are dressed as hundreds of different saints and representations of holy people and ideas.  The figures are for sale, but most people are only shopping for new clothes for their baby Jesus.  All photos copyright Mexico Cooks! except as noted.

Between December 24, when he is tenderly rocked to sleep and laid in the manger, and February 2, the Niño Dios rests happily in the bosom of his Holy Family.  As living members of his family, we are charged with his care.  As February approaches, a certain excitement begins to bubble to the surface.  The Niño Dios needs new clothing!  How shall we dress him this year?

One of the oldest traditions is to dress the Niño Dios in hand-crocheted garments.  Photo courtesy Manos Mexicanos. 

According to New Testament teaching, the Virgin Mary and St. Joseph took the baby Jesus to the synagogue 40 days after his birth to introduce him in the temple--hence February 2 is also known as the Feast of the Presentation. What happy, proud mother would wrap her newborn in just any old thing to take him to church for the first time?  I suspect that this brand new holy child was dressed as much to the nines as his parents could afford.  


Veladoras (candles in their holders), San Francisco Pichátaro, Michoacán.

The February 2 feast day is also known as La Candelaria, due to the primarily European tradition of blessing new candles for the church and for the home on that date.  St. Anselm (1033-1109), Archbishop of Canterbury, speaking about the mystery of the Feast of the Presentation, invites us to consider three aspects of the blessed candles. He says, “The wax of the candles signifies the virginal flesh of the Divine Infant, the wick figures His soul, and the flame His divinity.”

The Niño Dios dressed as San Juan Diego, the indigenous man who brought Our Lady of Guadalupe to the Roman Catholic Church.  Juan Diego was canonized by now-Saint John Paul II on July 31, 2002.  His feast day is December 9, in commemoration of the date he is traditionally said to have first seen and talked with Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe.

Every February 2, churches are packed with men, women, and families carrying their Niños Dios to church in his new clothes, ready to be blessed, lulled to sleep with a sweet lullaby, and tucked gently away till next year.

The Niño Dios as el Santo Niño Doctor de los Enfermos (the Holy Child, doctor of the sick).  He has his stethoscope, his uniform, and his doctor's bag.  This traditionally dressed baby Jesus has origins in mid-20th century in the city of Puebla.

Every year new and different clothing for the Niño Dios comes to market.  In 2011, the latest fashions were those of the Archangels--in this case, the Archangel Gabriel.

The Niño Dios dressed as Peruvian San Martín de Porres, the patron saint of racially mixed people and all those seeking interracial harmony.  He is always portrayed holding a broom.

Niño Dios de la Eucaristía (Holy Child of the Eucharist).

Niño Dios dressed as San Benito, the founder of the Benedictine Order.

Niño Dios dressed as a Chinelo (costumed dancer from the state of Morelos).

Niño Dios de la Abundancia (Holy Child of Abundance).

The ceremony of removing the baby Jesus from the nacimiento is called the levantamiento (lifting up).  In a family ceremony, the Niño Dios is raised from his manger, gently dusted off, and dressed in his new finery.  Some families sing:

QUIERES QUE TE QUITE MI BIEN DE LAS PAJAS, (Do you want me to brush off all the straw, my beloved)
QUIERES QUE TE ADOREN TODOS LOS PASTORES, (Do you want all the shepherds to adore you?)
QUIERES QUE TE COJA EN MIS BRAZOS Y CANTE (Do you want me to hold you in my arms and sing)
GLORIA A DIOS EN LAS ALTURAS.  (Glory to God on high).

One of the most popular 'looks' for the Niño Dios in Mexico City is that of San Judas Tadeo, the patron saint of impossible causes.  He is always dressed in green, white, and gold and has a flame coming from his head.


Mexico Cooks!' very own Niño Dios.  He measures just 7" from the top of his head to his wee toes.  His new finery is very elegant.


Several years ago, I photographed this Niño Dios on his wee throne, seated in his nicho in a Pemex station, near Tehuantepec, Oaxaca, Mexico.  Surely someone at the gasoline station made his Pemex uniform especially for him!

 
This lovely video from Carapan, Michoacán shows both the gravity and the joy (and the confetti!) with which a Niño Dios is carried to the parish church.

Carefully, carefully carry the Niño Dios to the parish church, where the priest will bless him and his new clothing, along with you and your family.  After Mass, take the baby Jesus home and put him safely to rest till next year's Christmas season.  Sweet dreams of his next outfit will fill your own head as you sleep that night.

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