esperanza

Maybe it is because I have never acutally done this, or maybe I'm just crazy, but strangely enough this doesn't sound that difficult to me. What exactly is so difficult about this? It took me a long time to figure out exactly what happens in the process of making fresh masa from reading different bits and pieces, but now that I do understand it seems relatively simple. I know that if I knew somewhere I could get ready access to the right corn here in montreal I would jump on it. My manteca is fairly good I think; I get fat from a local pig farmer who raises excellent pigs , and then render it myself at home. Is the savory lard (amber-coloured when rendered and still liquid) the most appropriate kind for tamales? Obviously, I am a tamale-virgin... ← It isn't so much that making tamales is difficult, it's just extremely time-and-energy consuming. That's why Rancho compared it most aptly to swimming the channel. Here in Mexico, the process of making tamales is usually shared among several women during the course of a day or two: one day to make the nixtamal (the cooked field corn), another day to grind it and prepare the tamales. Your manteca sounds perfect, how wonderful that you can make it yourself. And FYI (because I am a picky stickler), the singular of tamales is tamal. One tamal, two tamales. Muchísima suerte con el proyecto!

Of course I have to mention you! I wouldn't know any of this stuff if you hadn't taken the time to show/teach me It's important to give the credit where it's due. ←

Thanks to The Dining Diva for posting her excellent guide to Pátzcuaro, and for mentioning me therein (I'm Cristina). On another site, a poster asked for similar advice. Pátzcuaro would be my first choice--it always is--but this poster asked about San Cristóbal de las Casas versus Zacatecas. Here are his questions and several replies.

I'll throw my vote in for El Tajín, a definite not-to-be-missed restaurant. And I'll throw in a whole-hearted two thumbs up for Izote. GO! Azul y Oro, Ricardo Muñoz Zurita's restaurant at UNAM, is also on the do-not-miss list. And there's a terrific Oaxacan restaurant near Barranca del Muerto--La Bella Lulá. I don't have the address--maybe Ruth has it. So many places to eat...wish I were back in the DF right now. On the other hand, I'm leaving in 15 minutes to join a friend for birria, the best in the Guadalajara area. Maybe the best ever.

You DEFINITELY made the right choice of restaurants! Now you've got me drooling, flowbee. Thanks for the great pictures.

I'd pick the little place, for certain. Tacos al pastor and carnitas--if it's what it should be, you're going to go nuts.

Si, senor (or is that BC, Senor?) - skirt (or flank) steak is generally used for carne asada. ← Memo, I don't know where you've eaten carne asada, but here in Mexico (where I have lived for the last 25 years), the cut used for carne asada is usually peinecillo. Skirt steak is normally used for arrachera or tampiqueña. I've yet to see a flank steak in Mexico.

Do you mean this literally? It was my understanding that beef that has not been hung and aged is not very palatable. Tianguis is pronounced tee-AHN-geese. Yes, I mean it literally. What my friends say about their beef is that it has to be ´recién matada´--recently killed. And by recently, they mean that morning. It´s really unusual to find beef here that´s been hung and aged. Most national (i.e., Mexican-raised) beef is fairly tough, unless it is prepared properly.

I think both things are true: there has been tremendous industrialization of food in Mexico over the last 25 years, and it's still possible to find the sort of shopping your boyfriend remembers. Like Ruth of Condechi, who lives in a very upscale colonia in Mexico City and shops at her neighborhood tianguis (the Nahuatl word for street market), I live in Guadalajara (a block and a half from the Templo Expiatorio, for anyone who knows the city) and shop almost exclusively at a local tianguis. I buy all of my fruits, vegetables, spices, eggs, fish and other seafood, chicken, flour tortillas, rice, beans, nuts and dried fruit, cheeses, and (ah yes) crema there, as well as most of my clothes. While the majority of the gorgeous fruits and vegetables come from the Abastos in GDL, there are still lovely fresh things that come from other, more individualized sources. For example, during the last two weeks I've seen baskets of absolutely stunningly beautiful huitlacoche, tiny green-striped calabacitas in shapes I've never seen before (like baby gourds, like ribbons), and the smallest tomate de milpa. The tianguis vendors do not sell meats such as beef and pork (other than longaniza). Nor do they sell staples such as milk, cereals, crackers, flours, soft drinks, etc. For those, I depend on supermarkets like Gigante, Comercial Mexicana, and even the reviled Wal-Mart. For corn tortillas, there is the tortillería half a block from my house. Unless you are in a fairly rural area, chickens no longer have the run of the patio until they are needed for today's comida. One of my favorite memories of rural Mexico is arriving unannounced near time for my friends' midday meal and being greeted with, "Ay qué milagro que llegaste, ya casi está la comida--solo me falta matar la gallina!" (Oh what a miracle that you're here, dinner is almost ready--I just have to kill the hen!) Today, the Bachoco company literally rules the roost. I recently heard a GDL radio station commercial urging listeners to continue to eat national chicken. For those who aren't aware, much chicken from the USA is currently being imported into Mexico; you can always tell the difference: USA-raised chickens are pallid, thin birds while the Mexican chicken meat is deep pink, plump, and yellow-skinned. The pig being raised at the back of the garden (or running loose in the byways of a small town) is also going the way of the chicken, in urban areas. But not far from any urban area there is a rural area still thriving on the old ways. Beef comes, by and large, from feedlots and the rastro municipal (slaughterhouse). However, I still have friends who would no more eat beef from a cello-wrapped package than fly to the moon. If it wasn't raised by their friends and killed that morning, forget it! At Friday night's Independence Day party, the conversation turned to tianguis shopping. Two of the guests, Mexican yuppies, decried shopping among the populacho. "Why would you go THERE?" they screamed, horrified. "Because THERE is where the best things are sold, where everything is the freshest, where the best bargains are found, where..." my answer trailed off when I saw that they weren't really listening. And those middle class young urbanites are the wave of the future: the wave of pre-packaged lettuce, 'stoplight' peppers (a packet of three, one green, one yellow, and one red), sub-par produce, and dependence on Wal-Mart. The urban dilemma, however, includes wanting to shop in the old and much more personal way, when the new one-stop shopping is so convenient. When I shop at the supermarket, I can get in and get out of a sterile shopping trip, bim-bam-boom. When I shop at the tianguis, I know the vendors: whose daughter just had a baby, whose husband has gone to the north, whose mother was just diagnosed with diabetes, whose son got himself arrested. It takes longer to shop this way, but what of it? Once in a while I'm the recipient of a bit of this vegetable ('Ay señora, la guardé para usted.'), a bit of that conversation ('Mi abuelita siempre lo preparaba así...') that simply does not exist in the supermarkets. It keeps me connected to the community and to the earth. To me, that's as important as what I'm buying and who I'm preparing it for.

A nouveau Chinese from St. Louis Was known for his shocking chop suey With pieces and bits Of pudenda and tits Twas delicious, if just a bit chewy.

No. I've lived in Mexico for more than 25 years and I've never heard of, seen, or eaten Bistec Ranchero prepared with either whole steaks or potatoes. Here's another recipe to try: Bistec Ranchero 1 lb tender beef 4 Roma tomatoes, diced 2 cloves garlic, minced 2 medium white onions, diced 2 (or more) chiles serrano, minced sea salt to taste Oil for frying Cut the beef into small strips, about 1/2" wide by 2" long. Sauté the onions, chiles, and garlic. Add the meat and allow to brown slightly. Add the tomatoes and sauté until the tomatoes begin to give up their juices. Cover and allow to simmer for approximately 10 minutes. Serve with rice, beans, and corn tortillas. By the way, 'ranchero' simply means country-style.

Excellent thread, and thanks for such detailed posting. You're welcome to come visit Guadalajara; I'd be delighted to show you around my city. The pig's heads, by the way, are used to make pozole. That would have been a great soup for your group to prepare.

I will ask the spice vendor next time I'm at the tianguis. If I can get there tomorrow morning, I will be back here posthaste.

Look more closely at the restaurant menus in Pátzcuaro. Caldo Michi is a local specialty and is offered in many places. When I saw your photos of mole de olla, I thought--wait, that is churipo. The best churipo I've eaten is at the annual Feria de Artesanías in Uruapan, at the Muestra de Gastronomía. That fair starts this year on Palm Sunday (April 9). Maybe we can meet there! That fair is also where I ate the atápakua I mentioned. It was one of those OH MY GOD experiences--what a friend calls a mouthgasm. I took a bite and had to put down the spoon and swoon. There's nothing in it except chicken broth, epazote, cilantro, and chile perón. It's thickened with a bit of masa. Charales are meant to be eaten head, bones, and all. In 25 years in Mexico, I have never heard of Sopa Tarasca made with any kind of pork. YMMV.

Hey Panos! Congratulations on your first post on eGullet. Caroline and Jaymes, meet Panos, a good friend of mine. Panos, meet Jaymes and Caroline--good friends of mine. About a year and a half ago I was present (as interpreter) during a NYTimes interview with Don Rafa (owner of the eponymous restaurant in Pátzcuaro). He told the whole story of how he and a colleague invented Sopa Tarasca about forty years ago. He gave me a hand-written copy of his original recipe. That recipe contains no beans (and never did contain beans). It's thickened with a flour roux. Sopa Tarasca has taken on a life of its own in Mexico. Some cooks thicken Sopa Tarasca with a bean purée; some thicken it with roux, and some don't thicken the broth at all. Diana Kennedy offers recipes for Sopa Tarasca with both bean-thickened broth (The Cuisines of Mexico, p. 150) and clear broth (The Art of Mexican Cooking, p. 115). The myriad of soups in Mexico is endless. Caroline started a goodly list, but we could wreck eGullet's bandwidth with an answer. The soups particular to your region of Michoacán that I like best are: Atápakua de epazote con cilantro y chile Churipo Atole de grano Caldo Michi Sopa Tarasca estilo Don Rafa It's great that you've joined us here on eGullet. You'll find many members on this board who are incredibly knowledgeable about the cuisines of Mexico.

Another restaurant which rarely appears on any list of must-dos is Azul y Oro, on the UNAM campus. Azul y Oro is in the Centro Cultural Universitario, Sala Nezahuactlayotl. Owned and operated by Chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita, the restaurant is nothing short of outstanding. The food is sublime. I dined there in mid-December; the meal included espagueti negro, a perfectly al dente spaghetti with black huitlacoche sauce so delicious, rich, and buttery that it was difficult not to lick the plate. My main course was ravioles de pato (the raviolis looked like four-sided crisply fried wontons, stuffed with tender duck meat) served with a complexly flavored mole, sautéed rounds of calabacitas and fresh red raspberries. The mole was poured by the waiter from a little silver pitcher: you tell me how much you want, señora. Then he left the pot on the table and of course I ended up adding more, and then more. The mole was so rich and complex and picante, the duck was so ducky, the raspberries... Dessert was a hollowed pear poached in red wine, stuffed with turrón (nougat) and served bathed in a slightly sweetened red wine reduction. A drizzle of chocolate and a tiny ball of vanilla ice cream completed the dessert plate. The place is usually filled up with business and academic types for comida and stays open until nine in the evening. Don't miss it. It's worth the trip to the UNAM.

A lame duck?

Amen to what Ed said.

In the region of Mexico where I am (Guadalajara), chorizo is most commonly served grilled, as an accompaniment to carne asada. To prepare chorizo this way, simply slice the links in half lengthwise and toss them on the grill till they're cooked through and browned. The chorizo brand that's most popular here is Corona. When it's raw, this chorizo has the texture of a good quality hot dog. Grilled, it's addictive. I also like to dice the raw chorizo, sauté the pieces till they're a bit crunchy on the outside, and add the pieces to scrambled eggs, with onions, chile serrano, and a side of fried potatoes.

Three cheers for Rancho Gordo, our favorite bean purveyor. ¡Cuánto le gusta! Accept no substitutes.

In just a few hours I am once again off to the DF. MSG, I have printed your wonderful map and am planning to maraud through La Merced. Thanks so much for posting it. I'll take notes.

I was going to say the same thing about tieso but I've been too busy to post for a couple of days. Hey, it could be worse. Imagine if your memories were all about flojo. ¡Peor la cosa!

I confess that at one time I was a scoffer: salt is salt, right? Now I am a born-again convert to Colima sea salt, which is a slightly moist, slightly sweet coarse-grain salt harvested on the western coast of Mexico. The flavor is far superior to any other salt I've tried. And a kilo bag of it is only 10 pesos ($1.00 USD). It's sold everywhere near its points of production, including along the side of the roads in the area. I'm at the end of a portion of a kilo that was given to me by friends and am about ready to break open a new bag. Andie, if I had a way to send you some, I would. Your pictures are marvelous, thank you for posting them.

I first heard the long blast of the camotero's steam whistle in Mexico City, in 1982. To my mind, the sound became an auditory emblem of city life in Mexico. Tweeeeeeeee, tweeeeeeeee. One evening shortly after I moved to my house in Guadalajara (a year ago), I was startled to hear the unmistakable steam whistle of the camotero--right here on my street! The sound caused a sensation in my mind similar to an olfactory memory being aroused from slumber by a whiff of vanilla, a passing fragrance of Chanel No. 5, the scent of a steam radiator on a cold winter day. The camotero! The camotero! The caramelized edges of a roasted sweet potato! That night, I rushed from my warm living room to find him and buy a delicious wood fire roasted camote for my supper. Oh, I hope he trundles his camote cart by my house this chilly evening. Tweeeeee. Tweeeeeeeeeee.

I'm leaving for the DF on Monday for a few days of fun and frolic. Maybe I can convince my friends there to help investigate this mulato business. And my intuition tells me that it has nothing whatsoever to do with the chile. Damnation about the churros at El Moro. We'll probably go anyway and will post back here. We'll maraud around at La Ideal too. We're also going to La Merced, and I'll take the various lists of restos that all of you have posted over the last few months. See where we end up...