As I walk up the stairs of the 116 St subway station, I discover a different version of my own little memories. Although nothing looks familiar, everything feels close.

Every sign down the street is written in Spanish. Hispanic accountant offices, a funeral home, clothing and food shops, travel agencies and restaurants, and just like in Mexico, street vendors occupy every corner.

The colors of the Mexican flag tint the streets

At the carnicería [butcher shop], they sell everything from cecina, salted and dried beef meat, to quesillo, semi-hard thread fresh cheese typical from the Oaxaca region. I ask the attendant if they also have añejo cheese, a firm aged Mexican cheese, and he proudly points to something that very much resembles it.

Across the street there’s tortas compuestas, a sort of Mexican sandwich, freshly made carnitas tacos, flan, a vanilla-caramel jello, aguas frescas, fruit based beverages, and wide variety of pan de dulce, sweet pastries. Astonished, I realize they even have ojaldras, typical pastries from November’s Day of the Death celebration. In March? WOW, you couldn’t find that in Mexico!

I got a refreshing agua de horchata at El Aguila food shop

At first glance this could be another street of many Mexican cities. A short subway ride and the over two thousand miles between NY and Mexico have suddenly disappeared!

Feeling almost a local, I stop at the corner of 116 St and 3rd  to eat a quesadilla at the stand of Doña Mariagela. Under an improvised blue plastic roof, Doña Mariagela, bucket of masa by her side, makes fresh every tortilla she serves. She fills them with cheese and the fillings of your choice; I get one with papas con rajas, potato and chile peppers.

While I await she asks me how long am I visiting. With surprise I ask how did she know I don’t live here. Always smiling, she answers I look Mexican but not “from here Mexican.” I wonder what does “from here Mexican means?”

I had never seen lettuce in quesadillas, still it was excellent.

As I continue chatting I realize for Doña Mariagela it means belonging to a country she no longer knows. She has spent most of her life in Harlem and talks of Mexico as one does of exotic lands. She cooks with what other’s memories recall and relies on new arriving Mexican immigrants to assess the authenticity of her food.

After I finish my quesadilla she asks how it was.“Delicious”, I answer, “just like the ones I eat at Cholula’s market”.

Doña Mariagela hasn’t been to Mexico in over 20 years

“Cholula”, she repeats, “I one saw a picture of that place.”

Suddenly the two thousand miles between NY and Mexico seem more like a river of years, lost traditions and forgotten friends. Listening to Doña Mariagela Mexico sounds like a remote land and I feel like an uninvited guest; ashamed for remembering what for her is only a tale.

Yet we both smile at the sight of my salsa dirty hands and my empty plate. For a brief second, I feel close again. It is then I realize the only Mexico we share was in that plate.

Ingredients

  • 3 baking potatoes
  • 2 white onions
  • 4 poblano peppers (or 5 jalapeño pepper if you like them spicy)
  • Vegetable oil
  • Salt

Directions

  1. In salted water, boil potatoes until fully cooked.
  2. On a cookie sheet broil poblano peppers until black; remember to turn them from time to time so all sides blacken.
  3. Once the poblano peppers are blackened, remove them from the oven and put them in a plastic bag. Tie the bag to keep the steam inside and set aside.
  4. In a large skillet, over medium heat, heat about 3 tablespoons of vegetable oil and add the onions thinly sliced into rings. Cook until they are slightly browned.
  5. Peel cooked potatoes and cut into bite-size cubes.
  6. Increase the heat and add the potatoes and an extra splash of vegetable oil to the onions.
  7. Add salt to taste – Be generous! – Be aware of the temperature of the skillet so they don’t burn.
  8. Under running water, peel the poblano peppers’ skin off and remove stems and seeds.
  9. Chop poblano peppers into strings and add them to the potatoes and onions.
  10. Stir-fry for another 5 minutes.

* If you like spicy food, use jalapeño peppers instead of poblanos. In that case you don’t have to broil or peel them; just remove the seeds and the stems, chop into strings and add them before the potatoes so they have time to cook.

Ingredients

  • 4 cups of water
  • ½ cup of rice
  • Ground cinnamon
  • Drops of lime juice
  • Sugar to taste

Directions

  1. Rinse the rice and let soak for 3 hours.
  2. Drain the rice and boil in 8 cups of water.
  3. Save the water.
  4. Once the rice is soft, press it through a sieve with a wooden spoon.
  5. Add the sieved liquid to the water where you cooked the rice.
  6. Sweeten to taste and add a few drops of lime juice and a pinch of ground cinnamon.
  7. Let chill and drink cold.

On Saturday, March 20th, hundreds of people dressed in white climbed the steep 216ft great pyramid of Cholula to, at exactly 17:23 local time, raise their arms to the sky to receive the sun’s energy during the spring equinox.

At the feet of the pyramid a crowd gathered around a group of performers who through autochthonous dances enacted the Quetzaltlcoatl ritual, and a few feet above us, at the atrium of the church built by the Spanish conquerors over the top esplanade of the pyramid, a group of shamans played drums and sea snail shells, which are used as trumpets.

Although I’m not a great believer in this sort of practice, I was drawn in by the bizarre-mystical group and seduced by the millenarian beauty of my surroundings. The sun set behind the immutable silhouette of the Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl volcanoes while the hundreds of Cholula’s domes and towers lighted up before my eyes – The church of Nuestra Señora de los Remedios, at my back, reigning over the colonial town.

As the last winter sun gradually made its exit, some got in line to get a limpia [an spiritual healing practice performed by a shaman to cleanse the body, mind and soul], couples engaged in hopeful kisses and kids ran around flying multicolored kites. With my eyes wide opened, I stood quiet at the edge of the pyramid, trying to take it all in and transform it into beautiful energy to send to those I love.

As I climbed down, the music from the sea snail shells and the drums got lost in the distance giving place to another kind of music, at least music for my ears, that of the carrito de esquites, improvised bicycle-ridden food stalls that ride around advertising through loudspeakers their corn specialties. They usually come out in the evening and sell: elotes y esquites, corn on the cob or corn kernels seasoned with mayonnaise, lime, chile ad salt, and chileatole, a spicy corn-based beverage/soup.

Although recently re-energized, I felt suddenly hungry at the creamy thought of the esquites, and taking into consideration all those steps climbed, I treated myself to a little cup – little mayo, lots of chile and extra cheese.

Then, cup of esquites in hand, I intentionally took the long way to the parking lot allowing myself to walk slow and at times get lost among the people crowding the sidewalks and the sweet spicy flavor of the chile and corn brought together by the sinful scoop of mayo.

Definitely not a light a dish, but after all, I considered, it was worthy of a day supposed to give me energy for all the upcoming season.

Ingredients

  • 6 husked sweet corns
  • Juice of 4 limes
  • Mayonnaise
  • 1 cup of Añejo cheese crumbs (you can also use queso fresco, cotija or feta)
  • Salt
  • Chile powder

Directions

  1. Bring pot of water to a boil, add the corn and let it boil until tender.
  2. Take corn out of the water and, carefully when cool, with a knife remove kernels. Don’t dispose of all the water.
  3. Divide kernels into cups and add a few drops of limejuice into each cup and a couple tablespoons of the water where the corn was cooked.
  4. Top with a tablespoon of mayonnaise, salt and chili powder to taste, and a generous spoonful of cheese crumbs.

*Eat with spoon and don’t be afraid of making a mess.

In celebration of the birth of national revolutionary hero Benito Juárez, March 21st ,  this is a long week end in Mexico, which means endless lines of cars, getting longer by the minute, attempt to exit the city on their way to the beach. Traffic chaos, continual horn blaring and recurring swearing out the windows – Very few things can motivate you to put up with such craziness; for many, I included, beyond the sun and the sea, it is the promise of amazing seafood.

There is something about having seafood in the beach that makes it even more enjoyable; could  be the unquestionable freshness of the products, the soft ocean breeze or maybe just the thought  ofbeing there, but somehow flavors intensify.

My all-time favorite seafood beach spot in Mexico is in Zihuatanejo, Guerrero; It’s called Popeye’s. Located on Playa Larga, a 16-kilometer long unspoiled beach just a few minutes drive from the town of Zihuatanejo, this unpretentious seafront shack offers beautiful food and mind-blowing surroundings.

Only barefooted can you truly experience Popeye’s; just a few plastic tables and corona beer chairs under a palapa roof, hammocks hanging from the sides, sit right on the beach allowing you to bury your feet in the sand while you enjoy a nice cold michelada [beer with salt and limejuice].

While waiting for your meal, which can take a while, you can take a quick dip in the warm Pacific waters or a nice long walk along the beach that stretches as long as the eye can reach.

Once you are ready to eat, I recommend starting with the sopes, small, thick, made-on-the-spot tortillas garnished with avocado, lettuce, onion, tomato, Mexican sour cream, cheese and your choice of seafood, and going for the pescado a la talla, a local style grilled fish, as your main dish. The Mexican state of Guerrero is famous, among many other things, for this dish; it’s a charcoal fire grilled butterflied cut whole fish glazed with mild-spicy sauce. The tender white meat from the fish falls from the bones keeping all the juicy flavors from the fish skin and the chile based glaze. As we say here in Mexico, it’s riquísimo [‘very delicious’].

And, to end an incredible day at the beach, nothing better than to gently rock your full tummy back and forth on a hammock. Meanwhile, the sun sets in the horizon tainting the sky of redish-pink, and the sweet and salty smell of the ocean and the music of the waves breaking before your bare feet remind you of an amazing meal.

Ingredients

  • A butterfly cut 2.5 kg/5.5pound red snapper scaled and gutted
  • ¼ of a medium onion
  • 100g/3.5oz of dried guajillo chile
  • 1½ tablespoon of salt
  • 4 cups of water
  • 2 garlic cloves
  • Vegetable oil
  • Rock salt
  • 90g/3oz of butter
  • Juice of 4 limes

Directions

  1. Start your grill.
  2. Rinse the fish, pat it dry with paper towels, pour the lime juice over the flesh side and let it rest.
  3. Heat the water in a medium pot. Meanwhile, preferably using gloves, clean the chiles; cut them open with scissors and rinse them under running water to take away the seeds.
  4. Once cleaned, put the chiles in the hot water and let them boil until they are cooked, for about 7 to 10 minutes. You know they are ready when they fall apart at touch.
  5. Place chiles, onion, garlic and 1 cup of the water where the chiles were boiled in a blender and process until smooth.
  6. Add the 1½ tablespoon of salt and process for a few more seconds.
  7. In a saucepan, heat 1 tablespoon of oil and fry the sauce from the chiles, onion and garlic. Let it simmer, stirring occasionally so it doesn’t stick to the saucepan, until the water has evaporated from the sauce.
  8. Remove from fire and let it rest.
  9. Melt butter.
  10. Brush skin side of the fish with vegetable oil and sprinkle rock salt. Turn over and smear the flesh side of the fish with the chiles, onion and garlic sauce.
  11. By now your grill must be ready, not too hot so the fish doesn’t burn. Place the fish, flesh side down, over embers for 4-5 minutes.
  12. Turn the fish over and pour the melted butter over the flesh side. Grill for 6-8 minutes until the fish skin is slightly blackened.
  13. One last time, turn the fish and let it finish cooking for about 2-3 minutes.
  14. Finally, transfer to plate and bring it whole to the table.

*Refried beans and rice go very well with this dish, and with some corn tortillas, it’s also great for making fish tacos.

Every Saturday morning my family gathers at my grandmother’s for breakfast, la casa de la abuela; aunts, uncles, grandkids, nieces and friends, the house is open for whoever wants to drop by.

At the door, you are greeted by the smooth and earthy smell of coffee, the tender steam from the tamalera [a pot designed to heat tamales] and the loud voices and laughter that are heard all the way from the kitchen nook to the street – Her dinning room, which is bigger, would be best suited for these reunions but it has become tradition to sit by the kitchen.

As you approach the table, one of the youngest guests will scoot over to make room for yet another chair. At times it gets crowded but there are no complains.

On the table you find: pan de dulce [pastries], orange juice and beans, and, although the menu changes every week there is always sweet and salty tamales and envueltos rojos [corn tortillas soaked in red salsa rolled into a taco and sprinkled with cheese].

Among the family, grandma’s envueltos have become legendary. Although many have tried to replicate them, they have never got them to taste quite the same.  As for me, even though I’ve come to terms with the fact that her sazón [flavor inherent to each cook] is only hers, after countless attempts I’ve finally decided the safest bet is to strictly follow the recipe.

An obvious yet interesting revelation because the recipe is so simple it wouldn’t strike any cook as a rigorous method of preparation. Nonetheless, as my grandmother says when we tease her about not reveling the ‘real’ recipe: “simplicity is the hardest thing to emulate.”

Without question, there is something about the simple pleasures of life that makes them unique. Like these family breakfasts; the playful fighting over the last concha pastry, the sweet nostalgia of remembering those who are gone, or the pleasant relief of knowing Saturday mornings a crazy bunch awaits for you, but particularly, there is something about the simple way in which a grandmother cares for you, so effortless that it gives you the certainty someone will always love you no matter what.

Original recipe from my grandmother, Esperanza Salazar

Ingredients:

  • 8 tomatoes
  • 1 huachinango or jalapeno chile
  • 5 serrano chiles
  • 1 spoonful of chicken broth powder
  • 1 spoonful of oil
  • 10 corn tortillas
  • 1 cup of Añejo cheese crumbs (Añejo cheese can be replaced by Cotija or even Feta)

Directions:

  1. Put the tomatoes and the chiles in a pot of boiling water and boil for 7-10 minutes.
  2. Once boiled, place the tomatoes and the chiles in a blender and process until smooth.
  3. In a saucepan, heat the oil and fry the sauce from the tomatoes and chiles, adding the chicken broth powder and letting it simmer for about 5 minutes.
  4. Preheat tortillas on a skillet – on low heat turning them until they are warm and tender – and, one at a time, dip them in the tomatoes and chiles salsa.
  5. For a few seconds allow the tortilla to absorb the nice flavors of the salsa, roll into a taco and place on a plate.
  6. As a final touch, put some extra salsa over the envuelto and sprinkle with cheese crumbs to taste.

*For a more complete dish stuff the taco with shredded chicken or scrambled egg.

No one has had a real Mexican culinary experience until they’ve had a really good hand-made tortilla.

In Mexico, tortillas are the basis of the national diet. They are wrapped around eggs or meat, dipped in the soup, used as edible spoons to scoop the beans, or served as an accompaniment to any dish. We basically have them for breakfast, lunch and dinner and they can be white, yellow, red and blue depending on the kind of maize they are made with. White and yellow tortillas are by far the most common.

Before colonial times they were known as tlaxcalli, name that the Spanish changed to tortilla because of their resemblance to a little cake. Since those days, tortillas are made from nixtamal, the result of a process developed by the indigenous cultures. Nixtamal is maize that is lime treated, partially cooked, dried and grinded into a dough called masa which is pressed into a flat thin patty and cookec on a very hot griddle called comal.

Although most of the tortillas consumed in Mexico are no longer homemade but bought in tortillerias [tortilla shops], even those are still sold fresh and contain no preservatives, nixtamal tortillas have a coarser texture and a more pronounced corn flavor . Housewives buy their tortillas daily and, if they are very exigent about the quality of their tortillas, don’t mind going to the Mercado [market] to get the ones hechadas a mano [handmade] from their marchanta [indigenous women that go to the city to sell their products].

I have made tortillas many times, yet they have never come close to the ones sold by the marchantas. There is something about their understanding of the nixtamal; the skill with which they form the little balls of dough; the delicate-strength with which they press them to form the tortilla; and the caring way they put them on the grill.

Hot from the grill, tortillas fill any room with the warmth smell of expectation. I like watching them cook, as they turn a little dry and crispy in the outside and remain smooth in the interior.

And when the first one is ready, I cannot make it to the table. I usually roll it into a taco in my hands, and have it just like that; and it is like taking a little bite of Mexico.

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