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San Miguel de Allende

Spice of Life: Unpacking the Heat of San Miguel de Allende

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By Michael Solof—

San Miguel de Allende is not just a feast for the eyes with its cobblestone streets and stunning architecture; it’s also a culinary haven, especially when it comes to the use of spices. The history of spices in this region tells a story of cultural exchange and adaptation, revealing how local and international influences have shaped the way we experience flavor and heat in our food today.

I’ve got a lot of territory to cover in this month’s article. In researching the history and uses of both traditional and non-traditional spices in Mexican cuisine, I had the pleasure of speaking with Marco Masseroti, Owner and Executive Chef of Casa Nostra; Donnie Masterson, culinary entrepreneur and master chef behind several of the town’s dining establishments; and Chef Odin Camacho, an up-and-coming private chef and creative cooking instructor in Querétaro. All generously took time out of their busy schedules to share how they incorporate traditional spices into their cooking and how these ingredients continue to shape the evolving culinary landscape of central Mexico.

A Brief History of Spices in Mexico
Spices have played an essential role in Mexican cuisine since ancient times. Indigenous peoples, including the Aztecs and Maya, relied heavily on local spices and herbs for both flavor and medicinal purposes. Key ingredients in this early culinary tradition included chili peppers, vanilla, and cacao. When the Spanish arrived in the 16th century, they brought with them a host of spices from Europe, Asia, and Africa, including black pepper, cinnamon, and cloves. This melding of flavors helped shape what we now recognize as traditional Mexican cuisine.
In San Miguel, much of the heat in food comes from local chile varieties, each offering its own unique flavor profile.

Jalapeño: Widely recognized and used, jalapeños add a moderate level of heat to salsas and sauces.
Serrano: With a sharper bite, serranos are often used in dishes such as pico de gallo.
Chipotle: Smoked and dried jalapeños, chipotles lend a rich, smoky flavor to many traditional dishes.

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These peppers are frequently paired with other ingredients to create some of Mexico’s most beloved foods. One seasonal favorite is Chiles en Nogada, featuring poblano peppers stuffed with a mixture of meat and fruit, then topped with a creamy walnut sauce and pomegranate seeds. The balance of sweet, savory, and spicy flavors has made it both a local favorite and a symbol of Mexican culinary heritage.

Chef Marco Masseroti, who has been running Casa Nostra for more than eight years, specializes in Italian comfort food but has developed a deep appreciation for Mexican spices.

“I love spices like cumin and oregano that give a lot of flavor without adding a lot of heat from chilies,” he says. “Pasilla and Guajillo are two of my favorites to work with. All my spices are sourced locally. Many foreigners have the misconception that all chilies are spicy, but many are much more flavorful than they are hot. A typical mole can cook for over 24 hours, with countless ingredients and spices needed to get the flavor just right.”

Chef Donnie Masterson, who moved to San Miguel 24 years ago and is currently celebrating the 18th anniversary of his restaurant, The Restaurant, agrees.

“Two of my favorite spices are cumin and coriander seed,” he says. “I love cumin for its warmth and versatility, which work beautifully across so many cuisines. I often use it in rubs, especially for pork, because it brings a deep, earthy backbone to a dish. Coriander seed adds brightness and a slightly citrusy note that balances richer flavors. One dish where I use both is an albóndigas soup that my Mexican grandmother used to make. It’s a Mexican meatball soup layered with cilantro, jalapeños, cumin, and coriander, and it’s incredibly comforting and aromatic.”

Chef Odin Camacho sees spices as something even more profound.

“My passion stems from understanding that Mexican cuisine is deeply rooted in the intelligent use of spices, not just for their heat but for their complexity,” he explains.

“Throughout my training and professional experience, I’ve come to understand that spices are a language: each one tells a story of region, tradition, and technique. That narrative is what continues to inspire me.”

One of Odin’s favorite ingredients is smoked dried chiles, particularly Chilhuacle and Pasilla varieties.

“They add depth beyond just spiciness,” he says. “I like to lightly toast them to release their oils and then incorporate them into sauces, emulsions, or even modern applications like foams or reductions, creating multi-layered flavor profiles.”

He is also passionate about lesser-known regional ingredients such as Querétaro saffron.

“It adds a distinct earthy flavor and vibrant color. It’s fundamental in traditional dishes like Garbanzo en Amarillo, where its presence defines the dish’s identity.”

Signature Dishes Built on Spice
San Miguel’s culinary scene is rooted in traditional dishes that showcase Mexico’s remarkable spice heritage. While recipes vary from region to region—and often from family to family—certain dishes highlight the depth, complexity, and versatility of the spices that define Mexican cuisine.

Mole Poblano: Often referred to as Mexico’s national dish, mole is a complex sauce made from dozens of ingredients, including chiles, chocolate, nuts, seeds, and spices such as cinnamon and cloves. Every family has its own recipe, making each mole a unique expression of tradition.

Tacos al Pastor: A local favorite, these tacos feature marinated pork cooked on a vertical spit and served with onions, pineapple, and cilantro. The marinade typically contains a blend of spices that creates the dish’s distinctive sweet, savory, and slightly smoky flavor.

Tamales: Wrapped in corn husks and filled with everything from meats to sweet ingredients, tamales are a staple throughout Mexico. The masa itself is often seasoned with spices, adding another layer of flavor to this beloved comfort food.

For Chef Odin Camacho, the quality of the spices behind these dishes is every bit as important as the recipes themselves.

“Quality is everything,” he says. “A fresh, well-preserved spice can completely transform a dish, while a low-quality one flattens it. In Mexican cuisine, where preparations like moles or adobos depend on the complexity of spices, using high-quality ingredients is non-negotiable; it defines the final result.”

Odin believes innovation works best when it begins with a strong understanding of tradition.

“I always start with respect for tradition: the basic structure of the dish. Once that base is well constructed, I allow myself to reinterpret techniques or presentations. For example, I might maintain the classic spice profile of a mole but present it through modern textures or unexpected elements, creating a bridge between heritage and innovation.”

One dish that embodies this philosophy is his deconstructed Chiles en Nogada.

“The blend of spices in the filling—cloves, cinnamon, and pepper—creates a warm, aromatic base that contrasts with the freshness of the walnut sauce. By reinterpreting it with contemporary techniques, the spices become more present and intentional in every bite.”

Technique, he says, is essential.

“Toasting is fundamental, as it activates the essential oils and deepens the flavors. Grinding spices fresh is also key. I also use infusion techniques, incorporating them into fats or liquids to extract more complex nuances and integrate them harmoniously into the dish.”Chef Marco shares a similar philosophy when it comes to creativity in the kitchen.

“Techniques like fermenting garlic versus using regular garlic really help bring out exceptional layers of flavor,” he says. “I work closely with all my chefs, experimenting with different recipes, ingredients, and spices to create new dishes. I’m always on the lookout for new spices to try, both in our restaurant and at home. Every ingredient needs a reason to be on the plate.”

For Marco, spices do far more than season food.
“Spices are storytellers. They tell us about culture, how ingredients are used, how they are treated, and how they are grown. I don’t think there’s any end to blending traditional, centuries-old Mexican techniques with modern international cuisine. My Nonna probably would have killed me for mixing Cannelloni with Mexican meats, but I think it’s important to open new doors.”

Chef Donnie Masterson believes freshness is equally important.

“I always prefer buying whole spices and toasting and grinding them myself with a mortar and pestle. Freshness is everything. Spices lose their potency over time, so I try not to overbuy. Keeping them fresh makes a huge difference in the final dish.”

For Masterson, quality spices are often the difference between a good meal and a memorable one.

“The quality of your spices can completely make or break a dish. If your spices are old or stale, you’re not going to get the depth, aroma, or intensity you’re looking for. Fresh spices bring life to food; they create layers, complexity, and balance. Without that, even a well-executed dish can fall flat.”

Whether they are preserving centuries-old traditions or experimenting with new techniques and flavor combinations, San Miguel’s chefs share a common belief: spices are far more than a source of heat. They are an essential part of the stories, cultures, and traditions that continue to shape Mexican cuisine.

For visitors interested in exploring this world for themselves, a walk through Mercado Ignacio Ramírez, a cooking class, or simply a meal at one of the city’s many outstanding restaurants offers a delicious introduction to the flavors that have defined Mexico for centuries.

Michael Solof leads SMA Adventure Hound, a group which takes locals and newcomers to brunches and dinners at different restaurants every week and he also offers classes in the art of smartphone photography. You can contact him at WhatsApp +1-443-310-9214 for more info and to reserve.

You may enjoy these articles:

The French Food Connection

5 Kinds of Tacos—and When to Eat Them

Your Guide to Asian Delights in SMA

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Huatulco

Why Oaxaca Is One of the Most Fascinating Cuisines in the World

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By Alicia Flores—

Travelers often arrive in Oaxaca, Mexico expecting tacos and margaritas. What they discover instead is one of the most intricate and culturally rich cuisines on earth.

Oaxacan cooking is not simply a collection of recipes; it is a living expression of geography, agriculture, and tradition. Corn, chile, cacao, herbs, seeds, and seasonal ingredients combine in ways that have evolved over centuries. Many techniques still used today predate the arrival of the Spanish.

At the heart of this cuisine is corn.

For thousands of years, Indigenous communities across Mexico have cultivated and refined maize varieties adapted to different climates and soils. The process of nixtamalization—soaking corn in an alkaline solution before grinding it into masa—is a technological achievement that transformed corn into a nutritionally complete food.

From this simple ingredient comes the tortilla, the foundation of daily life throughout Mexico.

Visitors are often surprised by how different a handmade tortilla tastes compared with the versions they may know from supermarkets. Fresh masa, pressed and cooked on a hot comal, produces tortillas that puff slightly as they cook, releasing a warm aroma of toasted corn.

It is a small moment that reveals just how deeply food and culture are intertwined.

Another hallmark of Oaxacan cuisine is mole. These complex sauces can contain dozens of ingredients—various chiles, seeds, spices, chocolate, and nuts—slowly toasted and blended into a deeply layered flavor profile. Every region and family has its own variation, and recipes are often passed down through generations.

Sourcing food play an essential role in the culinary landscape. A walk through the street of Huatulco reveals mountains of chiles, fresh herbs, cacao beans, cheeses, tropical fruits, and handmade tortillas. Cooking here begins with the ingredients themselves.

For travelers who want to understand these traditions more deeply, cooking classes can offer an extraordinary window into local culture. Learning how ingredients are prepared, how flavors are balanced, and how techniques have evolved over centuries brings the cuisine to life in a way that simply eating at restaurants cannot.

Food becomes a story.

In Huatulco,  cooking experiences give visitors the chance to explore this culinary heritage firsthand—preparing traditional dishes, learning about regional ingredients, and discovering why Oaxaca has earned a reputation as one of Mexico’s great gastronomic destinations.

Those curious to explore further can learn more about the experience offered by Chiles and Chocolate Cooking Classes, where guests dive into the history of Oaxacan cooking through hands-on preparation and discussion of the ingredients and traditions that define the cuisine.

Discover Oaxacan Cooking in Huatulco

For travelers who want to go beyond restaurant dining and truly understand the ingredients and traditions behind Oaxacan cuisine, hands-on cooking classes offer a unique perspective.

In Huatulco, Chiles and Chocolate Cooking Classes, led by Chef Jane Bauer, invite guests into the kitchen to explore the foundations of Mexican cooking. Participants learn about regional ingredients, traditional techniques, and the cultural stories that shape the cuisine of Oaxaca.

The cooking studio has eight stations which allows everyone to take part in the preparation of several dishes while discussing the role of corn, chiles, cacao, and other essential ingredients in Mexican food traditions.

By the end of the experience, guests leave not only with recipes but with a deeper understanding of why Oaxaca is considered one of the most important culinary regions in Mexico.

Classes run regularly in Huatulco and advance booking is recommended.

Learn more or reserve a spot here: http://www.huatulcofoodtours.com

Alicia Flores writes about food, culture, and travel in southern Mexico. She is particularly interested in traditional ingredients and the culinary heritage of Oaxaca.

Huatulco

The Chilies of Mexico

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By Julie Etra

While there are chilies – some of them (in)famous for their heat – from around the world, like the medium hot Hatch chilies from New Mexico, or hot Thai chilies, or even hotter Scotch Bonnets, this article focuses on the chilies of Mexico. Note, both spellings are acceptable: chili and chile.

The common name “chili” is from the Náhuatl word chilli. Chilies have been cultivated in Mexico for over 6,000 years. Although their precise origin is unclear, they no doubt come from Latin America. The Nahua (Aztecs) had various uses for the fruit besides consumption, including using the smoke to punish children or to combat military enemies; the smoke from charred chiles caused extreme eye irritation (anyone who has chopped a fresh or roasted high-Scoville-unit chili and then rubbed their eyes knows this firsthand).

Taxonomy and Biology

Chilies are in the genus Capsicum, derived from a Greek word meaning “capsule” (botanically speaking, that is incorrect since the fruit is a berry). They are in the nightshade family (Solanaceae), along with tomatoes and potatoes. Capsicum consists of 20–27 species, five of which are widely cultivated, with C. annuum being the most important. C. annuum includes chili de arbol, jalapeño and poblano, and others such as the domesticated sweet orange, red, and yellow bell peppers, Which are mature versions of the green bell pepper and not considered chilies.

The other four widely used chilies are C. baccatum (the domesticated ají pepper found in many South American countries), C. chinense (habanero chilies), C. frutescens (the Tabasco chili), and C. pubescens (the Mexican manzano, Bolivian locoto, and Peruvian rocoto). Many specific Mexican chilies have Náhuatl language equivalents (tlalchilli = chili de arbol).

Chilies found today have been bred from their wild ancestors, most likely the chiltepin or similar small but picante chilies that are found everywhere, since birds are one of the vectors and spread the seed with their waste. The chiltepin or pequin (or piquin) chilies that sometimes appear in the wild in Huatulco are consumed by the chachalacas (loud partridge-like birds with a red eye – chachalaca means chatty, which they are!). I have quit trying to cultivate these chilies, hoping to cut down on the chacalaca conversations in my yard! Wild chilies are pollinated by honeybees, bumblebees, other species of bees, and ants (and no doubt other insects).

What is the best way to describe chilies? Should we classify chilies by their heat? Fresh versus dried? By region? By size? By preparation?

CONABIO, Mexico’s National Commission for the Knowledge and Use of Biodiversity, puts out a fabulous poster of Mexican chilies with the slogan “Si no le pusiste chile, no esperes que te sepa.” This is the short version of a quote from David Alonso López, a graduate of the International Gastronomy program at the Universidad Mexicana: “Si no le pusiste chile, no esperes que te sepa la comida, aunque hay de picantes a picantes”: “If you didn’t add chilies, don’t expect you know our food [culture], although there’s hot and then there’s really hot.”

Chiles are often categorized by their heat or level of picante (spiciness), measured in Scoville units. For example, the habanero pica (bites), so it rates as very hot at 350,000 Scoville units, while the proletariat poblano, typically associated with the chili relleno, is considered mild at 1000-2000 units. (This might not always be the case with individual peppers, since chilies cross pollinate and hybridize.)

How to Use Mexican Chilies

Chilies can be used fresh or raw in salsas (immature/green; mature/red). They can be smoked, pickled (as in escabeche, that dish of pickled chilies, carrots, etc. that appears on many restaurant tables), or roasted. I like to roast poblanos, chop them up and add them to a batch of pinto or black beans, along with other ingredients, of course. Roasting usually adds heat; a roasted serrano is hotter than its fresh form. Typically, when chilies are roasted, the seed and the membranes are removed.

Dried chilies can be used in many ways; the red chili de arbol flakes are often served with pizza; chilies can be dried and ground into powders; whole dried chilies can be reconstituted by soaking in vinegar or water for use in salsa, e.g., guajillo salsa.

Poblano chilies can be stuffed (chili relleno; relleno = “filled”), not just with cheese but with almost anything. The poblanos first need to be roasted to char and remove the skin, which is hard to digest.

My favorite relleno is the very complicated chilies en nogada – chilies in walnut cream sauce, stuffed with meat and fruit and garnished with the sauce, pomegranate seeds, and parsley, the colors of the red, white, and green Mexican flag. The dish originated in the city of Puebla, where the struggle for Mexican independence began. It is said to have been prepared for Emperor Augustín de Iturbide (first president and then emperor after the war of independence – a long story for another time). It is a source of pride for the inhabitants of the state of Puebla; people from Puebla are known as “poblanos,” although that really means “people of the pueblo/town,” and not people of the pepper! You can order this exquisite dish at Campestre Santa Clara in La Crucecita.

Here’s a list of the varieties of chilies mostly commonly available in Huatulco, in fresh, dried, or smoked form, along with a few unusual chilies you might look for. The most popular are available in the supermarkets, but you’ll have better luck checking out the baskets at the produce markets and the Organic Market held on Saturdays in Santa Cruz (Mercado Orgánico de Huatulco – MOH). The Saturday schedule varies by the season.

The bola chili comes from Coahuila, Durango, Guerrero, Jalisco, and Veracruz. When it is dried, it is called cascabel. It’s used in salsas and “jams” (paste form), and has a nutty flavor.

The chawa chili grows in the Yucatán, and is used fresh (green) in salsas or pickled in escabeche.

The chilaca chili is from the state of Chihuahua, and is used green or red. A dried chilaca is called pasilla. Use chilacas in stews or roast them with cheese.

Chile verde del norte is similar to the anaheim chili or perhaps the Hatch chilies; green is spicier than red, which can be almost sweet. If it is dried while green, it is called chile seco del norte; if red, chile colorado. It can be used for chilies rellenos, in stews, soups (especially posole, the broth made with pork, hominy, and chilies, plus all the chopped toppings you want), and marinades and sauces.

Chile de arbol grows everywhere, is used fresh, either green or red, and dried, usually ground (molido). It’s picante – hot – and is used in everything.

Chile chicuarote (sometimes criollo) comes from the Valley of Mexico, and is grown in the San Gregorio Atlapulco neighborhood of Xochimilco, the floating gardens south of Mexico City. It is used fresh (green/red) or dried in salsas and moles. It’s also the title of a 2020 film directed by Gael García Bernal that portrays two young chicuarotes – the informal name for Xochimilco residents, meaning “pretty spicy” – who go from unsuccessful clowning to armed robbery while riding public transportation.

Chile chilhuacle is a rare chili that grows in Oaxaca, and is used dried. Considered essential in mole negro.

Chile costeño is also from Oaxaca, also used dried in moles and salsas. It adds a fruity flavor.

The chile loco comes from Puebla and is available in the rainy season. It used fresh or dried in salsas, pastes, or roasted and sliced. Picante.

The rare chile tuxta or tusta is from Oaxaca. It is dried and used in traditional recipes.

The small Chiltepin chilies grow throughout Mexico and are used fresh in salsas and aguachile (chili-water), a shrimp dish from northwestern Mexico like ceviche but without the marinating time that “cooks” the fish. Picante.

Güero chilis (güero = blond) are basically the same as banana peppers. They are grown in northern Mexico and used fresh in yellow mole, salsas, and escabeche.

Jalapeño chilies are available everywhere. When jalapeños are smoked, they are called chipotle; the canned version is called chipotles en adobo (sauce). Because it is smoked for less time, the morita chili is a milder type of chipotle. Jalapeños have many fresh uses (salsas, pickled for escabeche), while chipotles are used in stews and moles, among other dishes.

Manzana chilies come from the state of Michoacán in the Central Mexican Valley. They can be roasted or grilled, and are often used in salsas.

The mirasol chili grows upright – its name means “look at the sun.” Mirasol chilies come from the central Mexican altiplano (plateau). The dried form is called guajillo, a mild, sweetish pepper that adds rich flavor to moles, salsas, and stews.

Pequin chilies come largely from Coahuila and are used dry, mostly in salsas. Of course, the supermarkets all carry shaker bottles of “chili piquin,” sometimes with lime, which is great for sprinkling atop corn, eggs, avocado toast, and tropical fruit.

Poblano chilies are grown, predominantly in the state of Puebla, but are available everywhere; once the fresh poblanos are roasted, they can be stuffed (see above – delicious for chiles en nogada). Smoked poblanos are called ancho chilies, and good in bean dishes and stews. Serrano chilies are widely grown and available across Mexico. They are used fresh, both green and red, especially for salsa. Dried, they’re called chile seco. For more information and fun, check out these sites.

Lila Downs’ fabulous tribute to the chili, Son del Chile Frito. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_U1ZuI5rw3U.

  1. Conabio Poster: https://en.ihuitl.com/fullscreen-page/comp-jlojikxq/8c30da01-6084-4b6d-888b-80ebaafe6435/20.
  2. Scoville Chart: http://www.titlemax.com/discovery-center/lifestyle/peppers-ranked-by-scoville-heat-units/.
  3. On bola chilies: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zs-hZ22iyM
  4. On loca and poblano chilies: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7JUdreyC-XU
  5. On the chicuarote chili: http://www.mexiconewsdaily.com/culture/cdmx-pueblo-chile-chicuarote/?utm_source=jeeng&utm_medium=email&trigger=click.
Huatulco

Seven Regions of Mexican Flavors

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By Brooke O’Connor

When someone asks about Mexican food, the iconic taco springs to mind (see the article by the Chaikens elsewhere in this issue). While tortillas are served everywhere throughout Mexico, and provide the basis of some dishes, Mexican cuisine itself varies sharply by region, and offers much more. The regions vary – there might in fact be a dozen distinct Mexican cuisines. When we see a dish described as a la Veracruzana or Oaxaqueña, what does that mean?

With each cuisine comes history and culture – another example of how diverse and colorful Mexico is.

OAXAQUEÑO

Starting close to home, the state of Oaxaca offers a unique cuisine that can’t be mistaken for any other region. Apart from being known as “The Land of Seven Moles” (more on mole later), Oaxaca produces cheese, chocolate and mezcal.

Because of the diversity of Oaxaca’s climates, and 17 different indigenous groups with their own cooking traditions, Oaxaqueños are proud of their cultural cuisine. They represent the most pre-Hispanic traditions in Mexico, and many families cherish recipes handed down for thousands of years.

What Is Mole, Anyway?

Mole comes from the Náhuatl word mōlli meaning “sauce.” It refers to a family of sauces and not one recipe. There are hundreds of mole recipes throughout Mexico. In Oaxaca alone, there are over 200 known mole preparations. Some are quite complicated, made with over two dozen ingredients like chili peppers, fruits, nuts, seeds, cacao beans, and spices.

It should be noted that the next-door state of Puebla also claims to be the birthplace of mole. Here are seven well-known moles oaxaqueños.

Mole negro (black), perhaps the most popular mole, contains 20-30 ingredients – including chocolate – and is sweet, savory and very rich. Mole Rojo (red) is sweet, savory, and rich like mole negro, but has other flavors like guajillo and pasillo chiles, tomatoes, almonds, peanuts, sesame seeds, and spices. Mole amarillo (yellow) is much lighter, less rich and contains things like green tomatoes, ancho and guajillo chili peppers, hoja santa, and spices. Mole verde (green) includes green chili peppers, tomatillos, pepitas (pumpkin seeds), hoja santa, epazote, and other leafy greens.

Mole coloradito (reddish) includes ancho chili peppers, garlic, tomatoes, sesame seeds, and spices. Mole manchamanteles (tablecloth stainer) is named because of the bright red chorizo grease and ancho chili peppers used in the recipe, but also includes tomatoes, onions, garlic, almonds, plantains, and fresh pineapple. Mole chichilo (made from chilhuacle chile peppers) is also rare; it is similar in color to black mole but not quite as thick, and it’s the only mole among the seven that’s flavored with beef.

Oaxaca is famous for some other dishes. Tlayudas are large, thin, crunchy, partially fried or toasted tortillas, covered with a spread of asiento (lard melted to grease), refried beans, lettuce or cabbage, avocado, meat, Oaxacan cheese, and salsa. Memelas are fried or toasted cakes made of masa topped with different fresh ingredients. An empanada de amarillo is a handmade corn tortilla folded over and stuffed with chicken and yellow mole. Enmoladas are essentially enchiladas covered in mole sauce. A tetela is a triangular empanada or quesadilla that predates the Spanish conquest of Mexico. Garnachas istmeñas, coming from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, are crispy, thin masa cakes with finely ground beef and pickled cabbage. Caldo de piedra is a famous soup of fish and shrimp soup, heated with hot river rocks. (Don’t eat the rock). Tamales oaxaqueños are filled with cornmeal encasing shredded meat and mole sauce, then wrapped with banana leaves and cooked.

Some miscellaneous Oaxacan specialties include chapulines, grasshoppers of the genus Sphenarium, toasted on a comal with or without spices (see the article by Kary Vannice elsewhere in this issue). Nicuatole is a pre-Columbian gelatinous dessert made from ground maize and sugar. Pan de yema is a rich, sugar-coated egg bread; and Oaxaca’s coffee and chocolate are both highly prized.

YUCATECO

After Oaxaca, the cuisine of the Yucatán Peninsula is recognized for the variety and originality of its cuisine. There are culinary influences from Africa, the Caribbean, and the Middle East; Yucateco cuisine is unique in its use of spices like cumin and allspice, and herbs like large-leafed Yucatecan oregano. They also make seasoning pastes with ingredients unique to the Yucatán.

It’s interesting to note that the people of Yucatán Peninsula, which comprises the states of Campeche, Quintana Roo, and Yucatán, consider themselves a bit set apart from the rest of Mexico. Probably due to geographic position, they have been culturally isolated and have their own unique ways and beliefs. Many locals consider themselves “Yucateco” as readily as “Mexicano.”

This is where we get cochinita pibil (roast pork marinated in achiote and orange, cooked in an underground oven called a píib), panuchos and salbutes (types of tostadas), sopa de lima (tortilla soup with lime), tzik de venado (shredded venison salad), and pavo en escabeche (pickled turkey).

NORTEÑO

Nearly half of Mexico is considered northern territory, and Tex Mex border food got its inspiration from this region. States considered norteño are Sonora, Chihuahua, Coahuila, and Nuevo Leon, all on the border; Sinaloa is on the lower Sea of Cortez, and Durango is landlocked right next door.

We find meat, particularly beef, with very large white flour tortillas and rice everywhere. Pinto beans and Spanish rice are common side dishes. There is also some seafood near the coast, and roast cabrito (baby goat). Nachos and burritos originated here, as well as caldo de queso (simple soup featuring potatoes, green chiles, chicken broth, and cheese) and aguachile (a type of ceviche of fresh raw shrimp, cucumber, red onion, lime juice, and water-pulverized chilis).

Sonora produces coyotas, which are traditional cookies made from flour dough and filled with piloncillo, an unrefined brown sugar. The coyota is named for a female coyote; the term is also slang for a female of mixed Indian and Spanish heritage.

VERACRUZANO

The state of Veracruz lies along the Gulf of Mexico, where the port city of Veracruz is located; the state capital, Jalapa/Xalapa, is high in the mountains. Veracruzano cuisine gives seafood a leading role. There are heavy Caribbean, Mediterranean, and African influences in the traditional dishes. This is also the home of the beloved jalapeño pepper; it is believed that vanilla originated here as well.

In many veracruzano dishes, you can find capers and olives, which rarely appear in the rest of Mexico. Pescado a la veracruzana is fish, particularly huachinango – red snapper – with tomatoes, capers, and olives. Other Veracruzano seafood dishes are arroz a la tumbada (a type of thick saucy paella), chilpachole (thick seafood soup), and acamayas (a shrimplike river crustacean often prepared al mojo de ajo).

Not to be missed if you see it on a menu in Veracruz is mole de Xico – Xico is a city in central Veracruz, the mole from Xico is very rich and sweet.

POBLANO

The state of Puebla produces two of Mexico’s most iconic dishes: mole poblano (an especially complex sauce of dried chiles, chocolate, nuts and seeds) and chiles en nogada (picadillo-stuffed chiles with a walnut sauce and pomegranate seeds – see Julie Etra’s article elsewhere in this issue). There are also cemitas and chanclas (Poblano tortas, or cakes, the latter soaked in salsa), chiles capones (simple cheese-stuffed chiles). Puebla also gives the U.S. one of its most popular Mexican dishes, chiles rellenos (again, see Julie Etra’s article).

Puebla is also famous for its soups: sopa poblano (a smoky chili soup), chileatole verde (broth and chiles thickened with masa), and sopa de hongos y poblano (made with mushrooms, roasted and diced poblano chili peppers, corn, tomatoes, chipotles, epazote, onions, garlic, and zucchini flowers)

JALISCENSE

The state of Jalisco is particularly proud. They have a saying that translates to “Jalisco is Mexico,” because many things we would recognize as traditional Mexican culture originate here – tequila, the rodeo and mariachi bands.

The variety of geography from coastline, snow covered peaks, and the largest freshwater lake in the country allow for a variety of foods. The most well known may be birria (chile-stewed goat or lamb), torta ahogada (the Mexican style French dip – ahogado means drowned), caldo michi (a fish soup), pacholas (a ground meat patty with chili), pozole rojo de Jalisco (a broth-based soup with posole [white corn or hominy], vegetables and a variety of meat and condiments).

BAJA CALIFORNIANO

Last but not least, let’s not forget that the state of California was Mexican land until 1848. So much of what is considered Cali-Mex cuisine is in actuality a fusion of norteño and Baja traditional cuisine.

There are unexpected influences here of Russian and Chinese immigrants. Moreover, Japanese colonies established the fishing industry in Ensenada and even today, fish and shellfish from these waters are sold to Japan’s global auction market.

Caesar salad and margaritas originated here. Seafood is all around you, so you’ll find an abundance of tacos of tempura fish and shrimp, ceviches, grilled lobster, and seafood cocktails. This area now also boasts vineyards, cheese and olives.

Wherever you travel in Mexico there are bound to be delicious food, hearty smiles and gregarious hospitality. However, I’ve found making a point of eating the traditional food, in the areas where it originated, is particularly satisfying.

There is one caveat. Unless you are a connoisseur of salsas, and have a craving for surprises, it is better to ask how spicy hot the salsa or sauce is. Some salsas are made to be used in very small quantities, while others are to be used liberally all over the plate. I often ask, Este nivel de picante es adecuado para los niños? (Is this spice level ok for kids?) Asked with a smile, people are happy to guide me in the right direction.

Huatulco

Chefs Conquer – Cooks Nourish

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By Kary Vannice

March is traditionally “The Women’s Issue” here at The Eye. And this year, the staff decided to focus the majority of our articles on Mexican women in the culinary industry. However, one unarguable fact comes up in every “Top Mexican Chef” Google search – the majority of chefs listed are men. How can this be in a country where women so clearly dominate the household kitchen? Why don’t more women rise up to the ranks of Top Chef in Mexico or even on the global stage?

María Canabal, a food journalist and founder of Parabere Forum, dedicated to promoting the work of women in restaurant kitchens around the world, put the numbers in perspective. Canabel points out that “93% of the people who cook at home are women. 48% of the graduates of culinary schools are women. 39% of the cooks in restaurants are women, but only 18% of the women in the industry are head chefs.”

In 2018, Kantar Worldpanel Mexico, a consumer behavior research center, reported that men do the majority of the cooking in only 8% of Mexican households, and yet 15 of the “Top 20 Chefs of Mexico” are men. Consistently, ranking after ranking, 80% of the most recognized and acclaimed Mexican chefs are male.

As María Canabal puts it, “Talent has no gender. Either you have it, or you don’t.” So why the gender gap in handing out accolades? Surely, with nearly 50% of culinary school graduates being female, there has to be more than 20% of female chefs with talent equal to that of male chefs. If culinary distinction is based on talent alone, the numbers just don’t add up.

Are there differences between the dishes prepared by a man and those by a woman? Is it even about the food? Perhaps it’s more about the industry of culinary arts and its history?

Research shows it’s actually a bit of all of the above.

Decades ago, many culinary schools admitted disproportionately fewer women than men, some admitting only 10% female students. Many of today’s Top Chefs are older males, so it could be said that this is a contributing factor. However, not all of the top recognized chefs are classically trained. Another major factor in becoming an acclaimed chef is one must have a place to showcase their talent, in other words, a restaurant. However, when female chefs approach investors for a startup restaurant, they are often turned away, whereas male chefs often get the backing they seek based on the belief that men are better in business than women.

Not only does one need a well-backed restaurant, chefs who want to be recognized also need to be active in mainstream and online social media. Rising culinary stars must become comfortable in the limelight, spending time in front of a camera and giving interviews for print and television, all of which take time. Female chefs with families often have less time to dedicate to PR than single male chefs do. And the industry takes note of chefs the media is “buzzing” about. When asked about the role media plays in “making it” in the industry, one chef put it this way, “It’s hard to know which comes first – great food that attracts media attention, or great PR that attracts media attention pushing you to be a better chef.”

In today’s world, to be considered for high-profile awards or high-profile media coverage in the culinary world, you have to be a chef capable of presenting a certain kind of narrative. So, it could be said that both history and the industry have stacked the decks against female chefs, but what about the question of whether there are differences between the dishes that a man prepares and those of a woman?

From a purely culinary perspective, the answer is “no.” However, look deeper into the motivation, inspiration, and intent behind the dishes prepared and the answer may be “yes.” Men, it could be said, picked up the ladle for a very different reason than did women. They aspired not to nourish, but to create and conquer.

French chef Hèlène Darroze said of the difference between men and women chefs, “They want to teach their techniques, show something new, be the first. We cook to generate an experience, to care, and this is a very different approach.”

Traditionally, in the world of haute cuisine, more daring and avant garde cooking is more rewarded and awarded than traditional methods of cooking. “Women don’t usually do extreme cooking because they don’t seek to assert themselves through the act of cooking. For them food is nutrition long before stupor, supremacy, jealousy or envy,” Italian chef Licia Granello says of female chefs.

Could this be the ultimate differentiating factor? Men simply approach the job differently, with a different aim in mind and, thus, seek recognition more than women because they are driven by a different ambition?

French chef Olivier Roellinger certainly agrees. He is famously quoted as saying, “All kitchens in the world are feminine, they were created by grandmothers and mothers. But Spanish cuisine only began to be talked about when men began to cook.” Regardless of the reason, the fact remains that women are disproportionately under represented in the upper echelons of culinary culture. Whether it’s industry, history, or ego, women have a long way to go before they gain equality in the world’s top kitchens.

The online news outlet Chefs 4 Estaciones published a beautifully written article on this topic in Spanish noting that forty years ago, our books were the cookbooks of our grandmothers, mothers, great-aunts, and aunts. Without women in gastronomy, there would be no roots, no inheritance, no tradition in the kitchen. Definitely, much of what culinary cooks know today is thanks to women. They deserve our thanks and our tribute. And an equal place in the world of the professional restaurant.

Huatulco

In Search of Diana Kennedy’s Huachinango Veracruzana

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By Deborah Van Hoewyk

In 1979, seven years after British-born Diana Kennedy published The Cuisines of Mexico, I went to Veracruz, both the city and the state. I thought the food was extraordinary.

The culinary website Serious Eats describes “Jarocho” (the colloquial term for being native to Veracruz) cuisine as “one of Mexico’s simplest,” but “one of its richest.” It was on the shore of Veracruz where Hernán Cortés first set foot, and Spanish cooking – already Mediterranean and Moroccan in its heritage – was quickly adopted and adapted to Jarocho ingredients and techniques, followed by West African influences. (Cortés brought the first six African slaves to Mexico; eventually, over 200,000 Africans came through the port of Veracruz, to be sold in the town of Antigua, about 28 km [±17 miles] west of the port).

The food of coastal Veracruz thus offers all kinds of fish and seafood, cooked in all kinds of ways, served with all kinds of sauces – and Huachinango Veracruzana – Red Snapper a la Veracruz – was the queen of all the dishes I tasted there.

On returning to the States, I went out and bought the Sunset Mexican Cookbook. My copy was from 1977, and was subtitled Simplifed Techniques, 155 Classic Recipes. The American palate of the 1970s was not yet familiar with Mexican cooking, but the Sunset Mexican cookbook sold over a million copies, through 20 printings, with at least five updates between 1969 and 1983.

And one of its recipes, from Diana Kennedy but adapted to American ingredients, was “Snapper Veracruz (Huachinango a la Veracruzana).”

Loved that recipe. Loved especially the green olives, orange juice, golden raisins, cinnamon, and capers. After six moves to three states, I lost my Sunset Mexican cookbook – not that I don’t have others, but none has that exact recipe. That, according to Diana Kennedy, is because the recipe is anything but exact!

The Woman Who Wrote My Remembered Recipe

Culinary anthropologist, cookbook author, chef by default, Diana Southwood was born a hundred years ago (March 3, 1923), in the town of Loughton, England, about 20 miles north of London. The daughter of a kindergarten teacher and a salesman, she lived to be 99, dying at her home in Heroica Zitácuaro, Michoacán, on July 24, 2022. In her twenties, she was a “Lumber Jill” with the Women’s Timber Corps, replacing the men who had gone to fight in WW II, and a housing manager in Scotland, working with mining families. When she was 30, she emigrated to Canada and worked in a film library and sold Wedgewood fine china. She loved to travel, and loved to explore new cuisines; from Canada she started visiting the Caribbean.

On a 1956 trip to the Caribbean, she stopped over in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, on her way home. Staying in the same hotel was American journalist Paul P. Kennedy, the New York Times chief correspondent for Latin America. Kennedy was covering civil unrest in Haiti, where the people were using strikes and demonstrations to force their dictatorial president, Paul Magloire, out of office. She was 33, he was 51 – apparently the attraction was instantaneous; Diana described it as un flechazo, an arrow “shot straight to the heart.” She followed Paul and his “half-promise of matrimony” to his home base, Mexico City; they were married within the year.

The ever-versatile Diana Kennedy took up Spanish and worked as a typist at the British consulate in Mexico City. The Kennedys were popular in the English-speaking community in Mexico City, entertaining and being entertained on a frequent basis; when they ate dinner at the homes of friends, Kennedy as usual was taken with foods they were served. When she asked her hostess (this was the 1950s, people) about a dish, they usually replied that the maid or the cook knew about it.

When she asked the maid or the cook, they replied they made it the way they did it back home in their village. Off Kennedy would go to find out just how they did it back home in the village. This was the process that became Diana Kennedy’s hallmark in researching Mexican cuisine in all its regional variations: ask about the recipe, go to where it came from, ask questions, and learn how to make it with authenticity. All her recipes identified who made them and where they made them.

Her trekking about the rural villages also led her to the cookbooks of Josefina Velásquez de Léon (1899-1968), who had visited church groups in the countryside to document regional cooking. (One might call Velásquez de Léon the first celebrity chef – she cooked on radio in the 1940s and television in the 1950s, published cookbooks, opened a cooking school, and set up her own cookbook publishing house; her papers are in several archive collections, but one of them is the Special Collections of the University of Texas at San Antonio, alongside those of Diana Kennedy.)

One of the Kennedys’ guests in Mexico City was Craig Claiborne, who had joined the New York Times in 1957 as its food editor and off-and-on restaurant critic. When Diana offered to buy him a Mexican cookbook, he is supposed to have said “Not until you have written one!”

Diana Kennedy in New York

But the cookbooks came later, and Craig Claiborne would have a hand in that. Paul Kennedy fell victim to cancer, aggressive prostate cancer. In 1966, the couple drove North to New York City for his treatment. In Nothing Fancy, one of Kennedy’s most personal cookbooks (1984) and a 2019 documentary of the same title by filmmaker Elizabeth Carroll, Kennedy tells a story of that last trip. Eating takeout in some motel somewhere in Texas, “Paul laid his knife and fork down soon after he had started his meal. ‘I don’t know whether to thank you or not,’ he bellowed. ‘Most of my life I could eat anything anywhere, but now look what you have done to me. This damned rubbish!’ and pushed his plate back in disgust.”

Paul Kennedy died on February 2, 1967. Diana was left alone in their apartment on the upper west side of Manhattan. Although all the apartment offered was a galley kitchen, Claiborne had featured Diana’s work on regional Mexican cuisine in the New York Times, and suggested that she could teach authentic Mexican cooking classes. Word got out that Diana’s classes were great, and when Frances McCullough, a poetry editor at Harper & Row, took a class, she told Kennedy that a cookbook was in order. Not that Diana Kennedy knew how to write, but McCullough shepherded her through the process and Kennedy’s first cookbook, The Cuisines of Mexico, came to life in 1972.

It was a struggle to get it published as a quality cookbook, however – Harper & Row thought it would never sell, said they had no money to print it with pictures, and sent a cover design that featured a sombrero sitting on a cactus. Kennedy was furious but McCullough said, “OK, Diana, let’s invite them to lunch. We’ll give them a great meal and lots of margaritas.” It worked. After the publishing executive finished, they started looking at Diana’s slides of the dishes they’d been served, and started saying, “Well, we have to have THAT one … and THAT one,” and so on. “I ended up with a great designer,” Diana recalled.

McCullough would edit the next five cookbooks Kennedy wrote, and remained a friend for life.

Diana Kennedy Moves to Michoacán

Diana went back to Mexico repeatedly to gather the recipes in Cuisines of Mexico, but continued working professionally in the various cooking schools popping up in the U.S., returning to Mexico to hunt up more authentic recipes and culinary techniques in the summer. It took until 1976 to leave New York permanently. According to Kennedy, she told herself, “My God, I’ve got to get out. What am I doing with all these smells, the doggie odors, the exhaust from the restaurants in my face? It’s all so artificial.”

The contrast of authentic and artificial would epitomize the rest of Diana Kennedy’s life. When she went back to Mexico in 1976, she stayed; in 1980, she bought three hectares (just under 7½ acres) about 130 km (about 80 miles) west of Mexico City in Michoacán. There she designed and built Quinta (country house) Diana, her Mexican home and culinary research center. Quinta Diana was supposed to be just a little food museum for Diana’s collection of cooking tools, but the idea that museums were of “dead things” was anathema to Kennedy. She hired an architect and ecological engineer and started a house that incorporated large boulders on the site, rambling up and down a steep hillside, amply graced with perforated walls to encourage fresh breezes through the house. Down the slope is her eco-garden full of local Mexican herbs and vegetables and home to a motley collection of livestock and bees. Quinta Diana is mostly off the grid; Kennedy eventually used it to establish the Diana Kennedy Center, a place for research, teaching, and sustainable living – with sustainable native foods at its heart.

For fifty years or so, Kennedy led a busy professional life from Quinta Diana. She wrote more cookbooks; before leaving New York, she produced her second, The Tortilla Book, in 1975. The rest included Recipes from the Regional Cooks of Mexico (1978), Nothing Fancy: Recipes and Recollections of Soul-Satisfying Food (1984), The Art of Mexican Cooking (1989), My Mexico (1998), From My Mexican Kitchen: Techniques and Ingredients (2003), and Oaxaca al Gusto: An Infinite Gastronomy (2010).

She taught cooking classes and participated in events devoted to international cuisine. She won awards – from the James Beard Foundation, from Mexico (Order of the Aztec Eagle), from Britain (Member of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire).

The Perils of Authenticity

Always a stickler for doing things in just the right way, all the time, Diana Kennedy has had her detractors. There are those who think that cuisine changes and adapts over time, that it was not a “fly preserved in amber.” Kennedy has even castigated the Mexican cooks who took her recipes and evolved them.

There were those who feel her insistence on using lard and lots of crema is unhealthy, and her notion that you should read all the explanations and notes before attempting a recipe – a recipe that might take five days to make all the salsas and bases – is antiquated. Kennedy, on the other hand, says “It’s difficult to educate a whole public … Americans were raised to expect that horrible combination plate – the quick cheap fix.”

Tejal Rao, a New York Times restaurant critic and food writer, believes that Diana Kennedy “changed the way millions of people perceived Mexican Food.” On the other hand, when Kennedy taught Martha Stewart to make Oaxacan tamales de frijol on television, “Wasn’t something lost?” Kennedy would say no, but Tejal Rao pointed out that perhaps a Zapotec cook should have been serving as the expert on her own tamales. Rao also faulted Kennedy for never backing down “from her ludicrous position of dismissing Tex-Mex, California Mexican food and all of the rich, regional cuisines that grew from the Mexican diaspora.”

Nonetheless, after spending more than half her lifetime in grass-roots scholarship across the kitchens of rural Mexico, bouncing around in a beat-up pickup truck with a revolver in the glove compartment, Diana Kennedy made an immeasurable contribution to our understanding of and appreciation for Mexican gastronomy. With her attention to regional differences in Mexican dishes, she laid much of the foundation for the United Nations’ designation of Mexican cuisine as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

Will I still look for the “right” recipe for Huachinango Veracruzana? Even though Diana Kennedy told me that it’s more likely made with orange juice and raisins in the mountains of Veracruz, maybe in Jalapa? Of course I will.

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Editor’s Letter

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By Jane Bauer

“From my earliest memory, times of crisis seemed to end up with women in the kitchen preparing food for men.”
Barbara Kingsolver

To say that I regard food as important is an understatement. For me food is a religion and I try to make choices that reflect my values the same way we do when picking our sins.

Although throughout the past year, the world has been struggling with random closures and socially-distanced dining, I have had some very memorable food moments. Here are my top 5 in chronological order.

  1. Blue Corn Tortilla with Quesillo in San Jose del Pacifico, after spending the morning participating in a mushroom ceremony led by a Shaman. Even without the drugs I’m pretty sure the tortilla made with heirloom corn, warm off the comal, would have been one of the year’s food highlights.
  2. Sea Bream in Athens. First off, it was wondrous to be in Athens sitting in a restaurant on a pedestrian street in what is known as the ‘anarchist’ neighbourhood. The fish was served with garlic potatoes, tzatziki and a glass of crisp white wine. Plus, I was sharing the meal with my Huatulco neighbor half-way around the world.
  3. Raclette with Chorizo and Pineapple. Eating raclette with Mexicans in Switzerland is a different affair than how my German father prepared it. I was skeptical at first but was soon won over by the tanginess of the pineapple with the chorizo and cheese.
  4. Rabbit Biryani. I made this dish using a mixture of different recipes- which is something I often do. I added slivered almonds, dried apricots and dates. The fragrant scents of cinnamon, ginger and turmeric that filled my kitchen were a delight.
  5. Chacales in Copalita. The taste of home. Similar to crawfish, fried in garlic butter and served with crispy tostadas, black beans and a tangy mayonnaise onion dip. Absolutely finger licking!

We hope you enjoy our Food Issue.
Thanks for reading,

Jane

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Lemons and Limes

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By Brooke Gazer

North of the border, we assign a specific name to each of these tangy citrus fruits, but in Mexico they are all called limones (lee-MOH-ness), regardless of size, shape, or color.

There are several varieties of lemons, but in north America, the Eureka lemon is the most common. This bright yellow citrus fruit was propagated in California in the mid-nineteenth century. It is slightly oblong, with a pointed tip on one end. Lemons have a sour flavor, but are considered sweeter and less acidic than the citrus fruit we call limes. The “lemon” type of limón is occasionally sold in Mexico, but is more expensive than limes.

There are two common varieties of limes. Persian limes (Citrus latifolia) are shaped like lemons, with a slightly smaller nub on the end. The small round ones are key limes (Citrus aurantifolia). These are usually bright green, because it is easier to ship and store the hard unripe fruit. But when this tiny lime ripens, the skin turns yellow. It also becomes softer, juicer, sweeter, and less acidic. Mexicans tend to prefer them green, but if you have access to a tree, leave some to turn yellow – the ripe ones make the best lemonade.

In the sixteenth century, the Spaniards introduced this little citrus fruit from Malaysia into the USA and Mexico. It was a commercial crop in the Florida Keys, until a hurricane in the 1920’s decimated the trees. After that, growers substituted the larger, hardier, Persian variety. Key limes still grow in Florida, but most small round limes in your grocery store originated from Mexico.

Mexico exports over $500 million dollars’ worth of limes annually. In the 1990s, NAFTA played a huge role in this economic windfall, as 90% of limes imported into the USA are from Mexico. These little green juice balls are beginning to be labeled “Mexican Limes”, and, were it not for the famous pie, the designation “key lime” might disappear altogether.

Regardless of its huge export potential, Mexico maintains a good portion of their limes for domestic use. This country devours 1.9 million tons per year and is rated as the world’s third largest consumer of limes. This citrus fruit, which is as indispensable as chilies in Mexican kitchens, plays an integral role in Mexican cuisine. Locals use both kind of limes but show a slight preference for the smaller round variety in savory dishes. These are slightly more acidic, which would be essential in a dish like ceviche.

Persian limes are seedless and, as they are larger, you can use a regular citrus juicer to make lime juice. The tiny ones require a hand-held apparatus resembling a garlic press. Key limes have a thin leathery rind, but Persian lime peel is closer in texture to a lemon. This makes it easier to grate and due to its size, it yields more zest. This is an important feature for baking because the zest packs a lot of flavor. For either lemon or lime, half a teaspoon of zest is equal to about a tablespoon of juice.

This may seem like sacrilege, but for the reasons mentioned above, I use Persian Limes to make Key Lime Pie. I’m including my recipe in this issue, adapted for the Huatulco grocery scene, along with a couple of simple alternatives.

Brooke Gazer operates Agua Azul la villa, an ocean-view B&B in Huatulco: http://www.bbaguaazul.com.

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Octopus: Intelligent and Agile, But Also Tasty and Nutritional

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By Alvin Starkman, M.A., J.D.

Octopus (pulpo) is a boon for the economy of Mexico. The country is the third largest producer worldwide, with most of the boneless invertebrate mollusk shipped to Spain, Japan and Italy. While there are about 300 species of octopus, most of the Mexican fisheries harvest only two types; Maya (red) and Vulgaris (patón). Almost all (±95%) the nation’s octopi (plural is also octopuses and octopodes) comes from three states – Baja California, Campeche and Yucatán, the latter boasting over 65% of the nation’s production. It’s no wonder that pulpo is such a popular menu item throughout the country.

Inhabiting every ocean, the octopus is really quite a fascinating sea creature, so much so that I occasionally question whether or not I should allow it to continue to be my go-to restaurant dish in high-end eateries. But my taste buds typically trump all.

Octopi are the most intelligent of all invertebrates. Some scientists believe they actually have individual personalities. We know for certain that they are predominantly solitary animals, with uncanny problem solving and survival mechanisms that would make Darwin proud, yet their lifespan is no more than five years, and at times as short as six months.

Octopuses have been known to play with toys, unscrew lids, solve puzzles, interact with human caretakers, display different temperaments including opinions about people, build dens out of rocks for inhabiting, and even place a rock on the entranceway once safely at home to preclude entry by predators (e.g., depending on the particular oceanic region, they include seals, eels, halibut, other fish and even larger octopodes).

While octopi are deaf, their other senses are finely honed. Its head (mantle) contains all vital organs including three hearts, one of which pumps the blue blood through the entire body, and the other two through the gills. The suckers on its arms move independently of one another, enabling the mollusk to grip, taste, smell and manipulate. Each arm is therefore akin to an army of brains. The octopus jet-propels itself seemingly backwards head-first through the water, at a speed of up to 25 MPH. This allows it to easily both avoid predators and catch its meal (crabs, shrimp, young small octopi and other mollusks).

While the octopus is an invertebrate, it possesses a hard beak capable of breaking through the shells of its prey. The octopus’ soft body enables it to contort itself so much so that it can hide in between seemingly inaccessible areas of rock crevices, serving it well as both as hunter, ready to pounce, and hunted, out of sight sound and smell.

Octopuses are venomous, though almost none of the species are so much so that they can be fatal to human beings. However, the venom does serve an important purpose. The venom is contained in its ink; when the octopus is avoiding predators or seeking prey, its release of the dark liquid provides a smoke screen and temporarily freezes the predator/prey.

While everything about the octopus is impressive, its ability to camouflage is perhaps its most incredible feature. On the turn of a dime, the mollusk uses its sharp eyes to match the patterns, colors and textures of its surroundings. Given that it is colorblind, this ability is even more mystifying.

For the seafood aficionado, pulpo contains a large amount of protein, is a rich source of vitamins B3 and B12, and is packed with with potassium, iodine, selenium, calcium, sodium and phosphorus.

We tend to relish the opportunity to steam lobster and spice up our lives frying up a plethora of shrimp recipes, but typically omit pulpo from our repertoires that impress house guests. Despite the attributes of octopi noted above, perhaps it’s time to try your hand at a recipe. While pulpo is usually rather expensive in restaurants, it’s much less so if prepared on a grill at home.

RECIPE FOR GRILLED OCTOPUS

For those residing close to the coast, of course it’s advisable to buy your octopus fresh from the fisherman. Do try to get him to clean it because it’s messy and time consuming doing it yourself. Mexican seafood retailers tend to sell them cleaned, frozen and ready to cook. This recipe assumes you are using a cleaned, frozen octopus.

1. Defrost, slowly in the fridge if possible.
2. In a large pot of boiling water, while holding onto the head dunk the body (arms) into the water three times before then fully submerging it and leaving to boil about 40 minutes (theoretically, that makes the tentacles curl up restaurant-style). You can add herbs, spices and/or salt to the water, but it’s not necessary because (a) it’s salty by nature, and (b) seasoning will subsequently be added.
3. Allow to cool for up to a couple of hours.
4. Cut off the arms where they meet the body.
5. Separately cut off the upper portion to close to where it meets the head, and cut into pieces an inch or two in size.
6. Marinate for an hour or so in olive oil, fresh minced garlic, salt, pepper and fresh chopped parsley.
7. Clean and oil the grill (use olive oil), and pre-heat to a high temperature.
8. Turn down the grill to 50% heat and immediately place each piece on it, in the case of the arms for 3 – 4 minutes each side, longer for the upper body portions.
9. Place the nicely grilled pieces on serving dishes, sprinkled with salt, pepper and chopped parsley, then lightly drizzled with olive oil.

Try it this way the first time, then for subsequent preparation experiment with different herbs and spices to taste.

Alvin Starkman operates Mezcal Educational Excursions of Oaxaca
(www.mezcaleducationaltours.com).

2020

A Brief History of Cooking

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By Randy Jackson

Today, perhaps more than any other time in human history, food has been elevated on a cultural pedestal of reverence. The depth of knowledge and appreciation for a wide variety of cuisines among so many people seems to be a cultural characteristic of our times. Celebrity chefs, food shows and food networks, never mind food pictures posted on Instagram, are only a few of the many indicators of this interest. The term “foodie” was first coined in the 1980s and is now in common use. The American Heritage Dictionary defines a foodie as “a person who has an ardent or refined interest in food and who eats food not only out of hunger but due to their interest or hobby.” Travel, immigration, and the abundance of food and ingredients from all over the world have all had a hand in this current cultural obsession with food and cooking. However, today’s modern hipsters of cuisine are only the most recent green sprig of growth in the long history of cooking.

Our evolutionary record shows the harnessing of fire coincided with the growth of the human brain relative to body size. This development took place roughly 1.9 million years ago. Harnessing fire had multiple benefits to humans, but chief among them was that it allowed the cooking of food. Cooking food increases the caloric value and reduces the energy required to digest it. Cooking food also enabled early humans to eat certain tubers and roots that were otherwise inedible.

I think it safe to assume that grilling was the first cooking method. Studies of primitive tribes, even today, show how an animal is cooked (it’s estimated that there are more than a hundred “uncontacted peoples” worldwide, half of them in the Amazonian jungle). The entire carcass is thrown onto the open fire. The fire, along with some scraping, removes the fur. Then as bits of the animal are deemed cooked, they are cut or torn from the carcass and consumed. It’s easy to see the direct lineage of this form of cooking to the tossing of a piece of meat onto the barbeque today.

The earliest dishes beyond grilling were probably soups and stews. There is some evidence from Japan dating back 10,000 years of a type of stew made by putting flesh and water into an animal’s paunch and boiling it over a fire. No doubt soups and stews were being made much earlier than this. Once mankind had figured out how to cook in a container of some sort, it only made sense they began boiling up bits of almost anything they could find.

There is an ancient tradition in Oaxaca – still practiced – of making “stone soup.” National Geographic has a documentary showing this
(https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/intelligent-travel/2010/10/04/mexicos_stone_soup/). The cooking method consists of putting water, vegetables, and fish into a smooth rounded depression in the rocky ground. Then a stone is heated on a fire before dropping it into this natural cauldron, and the soup is cooked. It’s easy to imagine how different flavors were discovered by experimentation or by chance when something new was added to the soup or stew.

Let’s not forget about bread. Archaeologists in Jordan have found the remains of flatbread made with wild barley and plant roots – about 14,000 years old, it predates agricultural practices by thousands of years. Societies all over the world have independently found ways to make bread. Mash up grains, add water to make a paste, fry on a hot rock – and presto! For example, the original inhabitants of what is now California developed a complex procedure to make flour for flatbread out of acorns. Source material for bread was everywhere once man learned to harness fire.

Harnessing fire and cooking required greater social organization and division of duties – there had to be fire tenders, wood gatherers, hunters, etc. A central fire also brought people together for longer periods, especially at night, which increased social complexity and likely helped in the evolution of language.