esperanza

Same here. I've never heard of this as a Mexican dish. I actually have heard of this dish, but not as Mexican food.

It's a rare day that I shop at Wal-Mart and I don't have a membership at Sam's. I'm grateful that there is a tianguis every day of the week in one or another of the neighborhoods near me, and most of my shopping is done at one of them. I'm a particular fan of the Friday market, the Tianguis del Sol. Not only is the produce fresh and spectacularly good, the fish, chicken, cheese and pork impeccable, and the dried chiles, beans and rice--and fantastic Colima sea salt--available in bulk, but there is a fonda with the best coctel de camarón I've ever eaten anywhere in Mexico, prepared to eat there or para llevar. That little fonda also makes a dynamite salsa from chile de arbol and toasted sesame seeds--just delicious, and it will blow the top of your head right off. They sell it by the jar, yahoo! I've come to know a CD vendor who is eager to indulge my taste for music other than the Mexican Top 40 (Tania Libertad and Eugenia León, to name two artists). One of the big pluses of this Friday tianguis is the marvelous clothing--bales and bundles and heaped up heaps of clothing--sold for almost no money at all. I recently replaced almost my entire wardrobe for about 1000 pesos--dresses, skirts, blouses, and an unmentionable or two. This is all top quality clothing, imported from the States. I shop at Wal-Mart only for the house-brand soft drinks, cleaning products, and personal hygiene junk. Ya gotta get it somewhere.

That's the nicest thing anybody's said to me all week. Thank you, Nick and Rachel.

I bought the rice today, Rachel, but haven't tried it yet. The box is quite lovely. The recipe on the back of mine is for rice, chicken, and mole. I'll report back when I do cook some--it might be a few days, life is insanely busy right now, too busy to cook, if you can imagine. But what else is new? Several weeks ago I bought a bulk rice at a local tianguis that honestly was the best rice I've ever eaten. Of course the vendor hasn't been back since... Wal-Mart in Mexico is actually Wal-Mex, a Mexican-owned offshoot of ol' Sam Walton's empire. The store stock carried here in Mexico is Mexican (and Asian import) stock, with the odd item imported from the USA or elsewhere--just the way the stock in the USA is mainly USA (and Asian import) stock, with the few odd items from elsewhere. If they'd import the same quantity of food items from China that they do plastics, electronics, clothing, etc, it would be thrilling. Imagine finding Szechuan peppercorns at my local Wal-Mart? *sigh* Wal-Mart in Mexico has several levels: (1) Superama, a sort of high end Wal-Mart supermarket. (2) Wal-Mart superstores, with a lot of everything from TVs to yoghurt. (3) Bodega Auerrera (spelling isn't quite right), a lower-end Wal-Mart. And then there's Sam's Club, the members-only part of Wal-Mart. We have several of each in Guadalajara. PS: the Virgin on the box is Nuestra Señora de Covadonga, Virgen Patrona of Asturias, Spain. Google rules.

I am going over to my friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart here in Guadalajara in a few minutes to see if they have it. My fingers are crossed. Thanks for the news, Rachel. esperanza

I hope you cooked and ate the seed along with the pale green meat of the chayote. Most of us here think the tender white seed is the prized part of the vegetable. You'd love seeing how the vines grow, above the ground on wires with the chayotes hanging in the air. When I drive people near the chayote farms here, I always ask them the trick question: What do you think that is? Inevitably they think the fields are vineyards. Indeed they do look like that.

It's a restaurant only, no hotel. I really don't know how long it will take you on a bike. I'd say ask around once you're in Troncones--someone is bound to know.

Playa Majauha is just north of Troncones. (That's the correct spelling.) Don Orlando's is a definite 'go'. You can swim on a tranquil, uncrowded beach, lie around in a hammock, have a meal of fresh huachinango (red snapper) for 100 pesos. The scenario gets tourists understandably muttering metaphors about paradise. The restaurant is attended by Orlando's ultra-hospitable wife, Doña Martha. Food and service are excellent and as for the view: a travel writer craving that commission and knowing what the editor wants would describe it as "the kind of idyllic paradise incurable romantics hanker over."

Orlando's restaurant on Playa Mahauga.

It most certainly is beautifully written and totally fascinating--and by our own Rachel Laudan, who posts here (even in this thread) as caroline. It's a great article, Rachel. esperanza

What a menu! I'm wildly envious and wish I'd been at table with all of you. On the other hand, I will be in Pátzcuaro and Uruapan over this coming weekend and plan to get a big 'fix' of corundas, uchepos, atole, and enchiladas placeras. There will no doubt be churipo, atápakuas, quesadillas de maíz azul, and other goodies as well. What a life we lead here--estamos en la gloria de veras.

Ni modo indeed. The latest is that there is a Wal-Mart going up just outside Pátzcuaro. I'm going over there on Friday and will report back on the status when I get home on Tuesday.

Mexico is a very Catholic country and Good Friday is a solemn day of remembrance and penance in the Christian calendar. Good Friday is a legal day off here, but not exactly a national holiday.. I'm sorry to tell you that Semana Santa (Holy Week)--i.e., the week prior to Easter--and the week after Easter are the main vacation times in the entire country of Mexico. Traffic on the highways is nigh-on impossible as thousands head to the beaches and other tourist areas. Think of the US holidays Memorial Day, 4th of July, Labor Day, and Thanksgiving, all rolled into one. Nearly everybody closes down for those two weeks. 'Everybody' includes government offices, private businesses, schools--and restaurants. Whatever is open is operating with a skeleton staff. It's a little like going to Paris in August: everybody is somewhere else. Things should get back more or less to normal after April 4th.

To make the table salsa that I mentioned, you roast the ingredients first on a comal (or something that serves that purpose, like a big cast iron skillet). My friend Doña Mago, who lives down the street from my old house, makes the best red salsa of this type that I've ever eaten. She roasts the deeply ripe Roma jitomates* and the green tomates* for up to an hour, until the skins burst and blacken and the juices sweeten, over a very low heat, roasts the onions until they are well-carmelized, and roasts the chiles serrano until they are well-blackened. No fat or oil of any kind is used, just roasting over that slow flame on the comal. Everything is then blended either in a blender or in a molcajete and salted to taste. I don't know her proportions, but man oh man what a salsa. Experiment! This is the most common type table salsa made in this part of Mexico. The next most common salsa is salsa verde. *jitomates: What folks north of the border call tomatoes *tomates: What you call tomatillos

The rest of the story about pozole as prepared here in Mexico is that even though the head is important to the soup, it's usually not the only meat that's in it. Other pig meat goes in the pot as well. Where I go to eat pozole, you can order it with the parts you want: trompa (snout), oreja (ear), labio (lip), lengua (tongue), cachete (cheek), etc. It will also come with some hunks of maciza (which is actually those other cheeks that bimbojones mentioned--what y'all up there euphemistically call pork butt). Or you can order pura maciza, so that you only get delicious not-from-the-head pork meat, tender and juicy, in your bowl of pozole. Where I eat it, that bowl of pozole--usually served in a basin-size portion--is filled with the long-cooked nixtamal-ized dried maíz that we've been talking about on this thread, the pork meat, the delicious rich broth, and toppings of small-diced onion, shredded cabbage, and thin-sliced radishes. At table, you add a cooked red table salsa, coarse sea salt, a squeeze or two of limón (key lime), and a pinch of crushed dried oregano--all to taste. It's been a while since I had a bowl. It's only 7AM and now I want some for breakfast. The trouble is, pozole is a night-time soup. Breakfast soup is menudo, an entirely different thread.

The whole head goes in the pot, ears to snout, eyeballs included. The first time I ever ate pozole, the woman who made it for me looked at the washbasin-size bowl of food she'd put in front of me and said, "Ay ay ay, you don't have enough meat." With that, she plunged this long two-tined fork into her vat of pozole and hauled out the entire head. I about fell off my stool, but didn't dare screech. She proceeded to slice off some cheek meat for me. Well. I gotta tell you, it was out of this world--but I must say it startled me a good bit. It looked a lot like Bimbo's avatar, only not green. Now, what the heck--I'm used to it.

Elfin, I talked to the restaurant. They will be closed all of Semana Santa (Holy Week), from the 21st of March until at least the 28th. They may or may not re-open on the 28th; the man I talked to was not sure that they would re-open quite so soon after Easter.

Elfin, I'm sorry to report that the telephone number you posted is incorrect because of area code changes. Has it been a while since you've used it? All telephone numbers in Mexico changed slightly about four years ago. If you give me an updated number, I'll try again.

If you post a phone number for the restaurant, I'll call and find out for you.

Ay Ranchito, not at all! You have it exactly right. Guajillos and pullas are the same, and they are definitely from the mirasol family. Anchos and mulatos are similar enough, as you said.

Many moles have a reddish color, but they are not in fact red mole. I know this sounds crazy, but trust me, it's not merely semantics. Mole rojo (red mole) is a specific type mole and does not include chocolate in the recipe. Mole rojo takes its color from various chiles and has a taste specifically for people who can tolerate quite a bit of picante (spicy heat). You might choose to make mole coloradito, a reddish-color mole which does include chocolate and which is not as picante as a mole rojo. You might well choose another kind of mole. In fact, you could eat a different kind of mole every day for nearly a year: there are around 300 different kinds, give or take a few. The name mole comes from a Nahautl (indigenous Mexican) word meaning *sauce*.

Mole rojo doesn't normally have chocolate as one of its ingredients. I'm not familiar with the Rick Bayless version; he may put it in, but it's not usual with mole rojo. There are lots of other moles that do have chocolate, though. Your 'he' is most likely thinking mole poblano, which is the one most folks outside Mexico think of. It's the one from Puebla, and even those of us not weaned there love it. On the other hand, I have a recipe for mole dulce con chocolate that was passed down to me by a wonderful home cook who lives near me here in Jalisco. She makes it with pork, but it would be just as delicious with chicken. I'd post it, if you're interested. And amen to what Shelora said: make your own lard. Oh, and the plat de resistance is platillo fuerte in Spanish.

No apology necessary, Maremosso, and thank you for the clarification. We all wish that level of Mexican cuisine were available worldwide! Maybe if we keep putting it out there--one day it will be. ¡Provecho!

Tacos, tamales, and enchiladas are common (and indeed, traditional) Mexican foods. However, they are not the kind of traditional Mexican cuisine that we are discussing in this thread. Many people continue to be unaware of the vast and varied treasure that is the Mexican kitchen. In a country as large as Mexico, the regional differences in cuisine are marked. A complex mole of 30 or more ingredients; the truffle-like subtleties of the elusive huitlacoche; a fine pipián made of purely indigenous seeds and flavors; 2000 or more varieties of bread; a range of soups from the clearest rich broth to the most complicated cream: these are just a few of the broad spectrum that is la cocina mexicana . I'm a little troubled by the tone of 'After all, how many tacos, tamales, enchildas etc. etc. can one eat?' My hope is that you didn't mean it in quite the elitist way that it comes across.

Aguas, allí viene la rantista... Carolina, thanks for the credit. And thanks especially to you and Nick for the well-considered posts in response to the LATimes article. I've also been pondering it. I think there's nothing wrong with experimenting with the cuisines of Mexico. Worldly young chefs have experimented with most world cuisines--Pan-asian, Pacific Rim, French/Basque, etc. I myself have occasionally shopped for supper and sighed, 'How I wish someone would invent a new vegetable.' 'Fusion' cuisines seem to be all the rage in many 21st Century kitchens, but as a friend of mine says, 'fusion' is all too easily translated 'confusion'. Experimental cuisine such as that found at El Bulli is exciting, it's electrifying, it's something that's almost beyond the experience of a mere meal--but will these 'confusions' and experiments stand the test of time? Does it even matter that they stand the test of time? Most of the new wave of Mexico City chefs de cuisine will come and go like footprints on a beach. What will endure is real food. Food that feeds more than a fad, food that feeds not only the palate and the stomach but also the heart will endure. The cocina más alta de México is the home kitchen, elevated to an art at once ephemeral and duradera by las mayoras. Diana Kennedy is la mayora postiza--sure she's crotchety, but look what she's done. No one else who writes Mexican food in English has achieved anything like what she's done: the honest home kitchen of Mexico has been taken to the world. We may venture out to taste what's new, but when we're entre la espada y la pared, we're going to look for what's old. We'll want not vertical food, but a solid plateful of elemental guisado. Late some Saturday night we might wonder whatever happened to fulano who opened that trendy little place in Polanco, but we'll shrug and end up at El Cag...uama. ¿Que no?