Tag Archives: Food

Huatulco

Cactus Fruits

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By Julie Etra

For starters, let’s be clear: all cacti flower and produce fruit if their flowers are pollinated. But that doesn’t mean all cactus fruits are edible — or tasty by human standards. And there are a lot of cactus species (family Cactaceae) in Mexico and the southwestern United States.

Tuna
The most common edible cactus fruit comes from the nopal cactus (Opuntia ficus-indica), known in Mexico as “tuna” — no relation to the fish (atún). In English, they’re called prickly pear cactus, and yes, they are spiny. The nopal is the most widely distributed and economically important cactus in Mexico and appears symbolically on the Mexican flag: a golden eagle perched on a nopal pad (penca). Its tender shoots and fruits are eaten throughout the country.

It’s also a common genus in the southwestern U.S., including the Mojave and Sonoran deserts and the Great Basin. There are numerous varieties of nopal; one source suggests 220 species of Opuntia, with 60–90 in Mexico. In Plantas Mexicanas: Catálogo de nombres vulgares y científicos (Martínez, M. 1979. Fondo de Cultura Económica), I counted 31 species of Opuntia. I didn’t research how many, beyond O. ficus-indica, are widely consumed in Mexico.

The red and white prickly pear fruits are the most popular, with white tuna being the most recognized nationwide. They grow throughout much of central and northern Mexico, flowering and fruiting from April to October. Both red and white varieties are loaded with seeds — making prickly pear jam a true labor of love (I’ve done it exactly once!). Look for delicious tuna nieves (ices) and aguas (fruit drinks) at the Mercado Orgánico de Huatulco and elsewhere. Prickly pear candy is another product, and in Arizona, you can even find a lollipop shaped like a prickly pear.

By the way, nopal pencas have been a staple of the Mexican diet for centuries. The plant has been bred so that cultivated varieties have fewer spines; farms around Huatulco commonly grow these. Walk by Los Parados along Carrizal in the morning, or elsewhere in La Crucecita, and you’ll see people peeling and slicing the pads for salsas and tacos. They’re highly nutritious.

Xoconostle
Another edible cactus fruit is the xoconostle (Opuntia joconostle), whose name comes from Náhuatl: “xococ” means sour or bitter, and “nochtli” is the word for the fruit (tuna). True to its name, it’s distinctly bitter and commonly used in stews, sauces, and moles. The taxonomy can get confusing, as I discovered in Plantas Mexicanas.

Pitaya
This fruit is known in English as dragon fruit, and in Mexico as pitaya, pitayas, or pitahayas. The word derives from an Antillean (Caribbean) language meaning “scaly.” The plant itself is a large, candelabra-like, drooping cactus with thick, fleshy branches.

Pitaya refers to the fruit rather than the specific plant; there are 23 entries for pitaya in Plantas Mexicanas. The main species are Selenicereus undatus and Stenocereus queretaroensis (the genus was formerly Hylocereus). Unlike nopal, this cactus is spineless. It’s native to southern Mexico, Guatemala’s Pacific coast, Costa Rica, and El Salvador.

The flesh is rich in vitamin C, iron, calcium, phosphorus, and fructose. Pitaya is versatile — used in smoothies, juices, and jams.

Biznaga
Biznaga is the common name for barrel cacti, and there are 26 references to it in Plantas Mexicanas. These squat, round, barrel-shaped cacti get their name from the Náhuatl “huitznáhuac” (surrounded by spines), which became “biznaga” when adopted into Spanish (and yes, the Spanish struggled with Náhuatl pronunciation — as do I).

There’s more than one genus of biznaga, and the edible species is most likely Ferocactus wislizenii (fishhook cactus), which produces small pineapple-like fruits called guamiche — known as the “drunken” fruit because they can ferment naturally as they ripen. Native to northern Mexico and the southwestern U.S., they’re quite distinctive.

Another notable barrel cactus is Echinocactus platyacanthus, known as the giant barrel cactus, golden barrel cactus, giant viznaga, or biznaga de dulce. Its Náhuatl name is huitzli nahual. Native to central Mexico and the Chihuahuan desert, its spongy pith is boiled and crystallized to make acitrón, a traditional Mexican candy.

However, due to overexploitation, biznagas are now endangered, and it’s illegal to harvest them — plus, their preparation is complicated. Like most cacti, they grow extremely slowly: young plants can grow about an inch per year, but growth slows with age.

The red biznaga (Ferocactus histrix), also called acitrón barrel cactus (biznaga barril de acitrón), yields a delicacy called cabuches (aka chilitos) — tender buds of the fruit, collected at precisely the right moment. These buds, found in the highlands of San Luis Potosí and near Matehuala, look like colorful asparagus tips and taste a bit like tiny artichokes. Needless to say, they’re hard to collect thanks to the long protective spines.

A third, less common barrel cactus genus is Melocactus, known as the Turk’s cap cactus. Its tiny fruits aren’t significant in the Mexican diet or culture, but they resemble chiltepin peppers — the wild chiles found throughout Mexico — though they aren’t spicy.

Garambullo
There are nine references to garambullo in Plantas Mexicanas. The garambullo cactus most associated with edible fruits is likely Myrtillocactus schenckii, native to Oaxaca, Chiapas, and Puebla, or M. geometrizans. The small, sweet red or purple fruits can be juiced for aguas, jams, and nieves. While it makes an effective dye, processing it in quantity is tedious.

Zapotitlán Salinas, a pueblo in Puebla, is renowned for its alcoholic beverage made from macerated M. geometrizans fruits. Small quantities of the fruit are found in local markets in Mexico’s arid regions, where they’re said to taste like blueberries.

Whether enjoyed fresh, candied, juiced, or preserved, cactus fruits are deeply woven into Mexico’s culinary and cultural landscape. Their diversity reflects the country’s rich biodiversity and traditions — a reminder that even the most unassuming plants hold surprising flavors, stories, and significance.

Huatulco

Ancient Answers to a Modern Food Crisis? Look to the Sierra Sur

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By Kary Vannice

As global supply chains wobble and climate change disrupts food production around the world, we are beginning to see evidence of a system that is far more “at risk” than we once thought, calling into question the sustainability of imported, prepackaged, and profit-driven food systems.

Because of the obvious vulnerability of such a vast and complex food network, more and more countries and communities are starting to talk about the necessity to rely less on outside sources and are asking the question, “How can we provide for the needs of our people, independent of outside resources?”

The Sierra Sur Region

And the answer may be found in the most unassuming of places, and very close to home for many of us, the high mountain region of Oaxaca’s Sierra Sur. Contrary to popular belief, the best way forward may be to go back in time to a food production and distribution concept that’s been around for centuries.

Unlike the more familiar concept of food security, which focuses on access to enough calories to feed a population, food sovereignty speaks to a deeper right. It is the right of people to grow, distribute, and consume food in ways that are culturally appropriate, ecologically sustainable, and locally controlled.

A Resilient Food System

The Sierra Sur’s working model of a decentralized, cooperative, and land-honoring food system challenges modern day industrial norms; it also proves that the practices of working in community, diversifying crops, saving seeds, and using natural fertilizers increase and ensure food security.

Here, agricultural practices are resilient by design. Families cultivate the land using practices passed down for generations. At the center of this model is the traditional milpa, planting corn, beans, and squash together in the same plot. Each plant supports the others: the corn gives the beans something to climb, the beans fix nitrogen in the soil, and the squash shades the earth to retain moisture and suppress weeds. Some plots also include sunflowers to attract pollinators, chili plants to deter pests, and nitrogen-fixing legumes to improve soil structure and support long-term fertility.

This system is efficient, natural, and balanced, unlike the industrial approach to agriculture that relies on vast tracts of monocrops that often require chemical pesticides and herbicides to assure a profitable harvest – chemicals that deplete the land of nutrients and contribute to soil erosion.

This high mountain terrain is notoriously challenging to cultivate, but farmers here still employ the ancient technique developed centuries ago of expertly terracing the land. This allows families to farm steep, rugged hillsides and utilize natural rainwater irrigation systems that require very little modern infrastructure.

And because food is grown close to where it’s eaten, the system isn’t vulnerable to supply chain breakdowns or fuel price hikes. There’s no need to transport goods across long distances, and no middleman taking profits. Small local markets and neighbor-to-neighbor bartering ensure that food moves efficiently within the community. Trade is based on trust and relationships, not price and profit.

Unlike the global supply chain, this local distribution model keeps food accessible, affordable, and in the hands of the community. And if one farmer experiences a surplus, it’s managed through sharing, trade, or local sale. This keeps both waste and overproduction in check.

In contrast to countries like the United States, where government subsidies incentivize farmers to overproduce low-nutrient crops like corn, soy, and wheat — often flooding the market, driving down prices, and sometimes resulting in crops being dumped or left to rot — the food system in the Sierra Sur is built on intention. Waste is minimal because everything grown has a purpose and value within the community.

The Benefits of Food Sovereignty

And while these systems may not scale neatly into industrial agriculture, they do offer a meaningful answer to the food sovereignty question. The shift isn’t necessarily about changing the physical system — it’s about implementing a different value system. One whose guiding principles are diversity over uniformity, local over distant, cooperation over competition, enough over excess, and care over control.

But most importantly, this food model is socially regenerative. It empowers communities to care for their own needs without dependence on multinational corporations, fragile import systems, or debt-based agricultural schemes. It keeps the knowledge, value, and power of food in the hands of the people who grow it. And maybe that’s exactly what the world needs right now: not a new invention, but a return to what has always worked.

 

Huatulco

Chapulín Tournament

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By Jane Bauer

For the second year in a row, Jose Luis Bohorquez and his family hosted a Chapulín Tournament. The festivities started at 7 am on September, 22 at his ranch just south of Copalita where he has fields planted to attract chapulínes. It was a busy event. Participants had three hours to collect as many jumping creatures as they could. Many families wandered through the fields with bags for collecting the bugs.

Under a magnificent tree, there was food on the grill and sopes on the comal. Horse rides were available and live music played. In the evening the festivities moved to the cancha in Copalita with a calenda and more delicious offerings from local cooks.

Still not sure what I’m talking about? Chapulínes, or grasshoppers, are a popular snack in many regions of Mexico, especially Oaxaca. These edible insects have been enjoyed for centuries, valued for their rich source of protein, vitamins, and minerals. Typically, they are toasted with lime juice, garlic, and salt, and often seasoned with chile powder for a flavorful kick. Chapulínes are commonly eaten as a street food or as a crunchy topping for tacos, salsas, and guacamole. Their earthy, slightly tangy taste makes them a beloved delicacy, connecting Mexico’s culinary traditions with sustainability and the use of native ingredients in modern dishes.

The practice of harvesting chapulínes dates back to pre-Hispanic times in Mexico, where indigenous groups like the Zapotec and Mixtec considered these insects an essential part of their diet. Chapulínes were abundant in the fields during the rainy season, making them a reliable, sustainable protein source. Traditionally, they were collected by hand, often early in the morning when the grasshoppers were less active. After harvesting, they were toasted on clay comals and seasoned with local spices. This ancient tradition continues today, passed down through generations, reflecting the deep connection between the region’s agricultural practices and its culinary heritage.

As more and more people shop corporate it is encouraging that the Bohorquez family is highlighting the beauty of this tradition. Another great reason to be here in September!

 

Huatulco

Tequila and Agave: Mexico’s Dynamic Duo

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By Darrell Greenman

Tequila and agave are the dynamic duo of Mexican culture and the spirits industry, representing not just a spirit but a heritage rooted in the land and traditions of the region. Picture this: over 250 types of agave exist, but only the Blue Weber Agave gets to star in the tequila show. This succulent plant, thriving in Jalisco’s volcanic soils, the only location in the world that can legally produce tequila, takes 8 to 12 years to mature—talk about a slow burn to perfection! Authentic GOOD tequila lets the age and readiness of the harvest perform, avoiding chemicals and additives that many brands unfortunately use to simply cut time and costs.

The heart of the agave plant, known as the piña because it looks like a pineapple’s buff cousin, is the key ingredient in tequila. Once harvested, these piñas are steamed in large above-ground ovens or autoclaves to turn the starches into fermentable sugars. This steaming not only preps the agave fermentation but also helps enhance the distinct flavors we all love.

Now, let’s talk tequila types:
Blanco, silver, plata: Crisp and pure agave flavors, perfect for cocktails or straight-up neat. Think of it as tequila in its birthday suit.
Reposado: Aged 6 to 12 months in oak barrels, with its subtle hints of oak and caramel, strikes a balance between the raw agave flavors and the influence of the aging process
Añejo: Aged at least 18 months in oak barrels, aged longer and exhibiting deeper complexity with notes of oak, vanilla and spice, is typically savored on its own to appreciate its nuanced flavor, made even richer and smoother, with deeper, fuller body coming from the extra aging.
Extra Añejo: Aged a minimum of 3 years, richest, smoother, and fullest-bodied. It’s basically tequila royalty and becoming more and more popular.

Tequila isn’t just a drink; it’s a way of life in Mexico. From the agave fields where jimadores expertly harvest the plants to the distilleries where master distillers work their magic, every step in the process reflects generations of knowledge and craftsmanship. The town of Tequila in Jalisco, a UNESCO World Heritage site, is the tequila capital. Here, you can explore distilleries, learn about the history and traditions, and sample tequila straight from the source—talk about a liquid education!

In recent decades, tequila has become a global sensation, outgrowing its Mexican roots to become a beloved spirit worldwide. Its versatility in cocktails and complex flavors make it a favorite among mixologists and enthusiasts. This international fame has sparked innovations in the industry, with new brands and expressions continually pushing the boundaries of traditional tequila-making with some still paying homage to its heritage and traditional processes.

Tequila and agave are symbols of Mexican identity, craftsmanship, and culture. From the sun-bathed fields where agave plants grow to the glasses raised in celebration around the world, tequila embodies the spirit of Mexico, offering a taste of tradition and craftsmanship with every sip.

Dating back to around 300 A.D., when the Aztecs fermented agave juice to make ceremonial wine known as pulque, tequila has come a long way. Made exclusively from blue agave, tequila offers a smooth, often fruity flavor profile.

Now, sitting in a mezcal state writing this, I’m obligated to add some detail between tequila and mezcal. Both are agave-based spirits, but they’re like distant cousins—similar, but with distinct personalities. Tequila’s Blue Weber Agave follows a precise production process regulated by strict standards and only legally in Jalisco.

Mezcal, on the other hand, can be made from various agave plants (approximately 30) across several Mexican states, it is known for its robust, smoky flavor and “slow burn”. This smokiness comes from wood-firing the piñas in underground ovens lined with volcanic rocks, imparting a distinct taste. Here is a surprising technicality to many… tequila IS a specific and a special type of mezcal.

Mezcal’s flavor profile and production method yield a unique drinking experience. Mezcal appeals to those seeking a more complex, smoky spirit with deep earthy notes, while tequila offers a lighter, crisper taste, ideal for cocktails or sipping neat. Each spirit reflects the rich cultural and geographical diversity of Mexico.

Tequila is not just about the taste; it’s also about the health benefits. Yes, you read that right. In moderation(the hard part) tequila can improve digestion, help with blood sugar regulation, promote weight loss, and even aid better sleep. Of course, moderation is key—an idea that’s often challenging for us tequila lovers.

So, whether you’re sipping a smooth, crisp blanco or a rich full bodied xtra anejo, remember that each glass is a celebration of Mexico’s rich cultural and geographical diversity. Viva Mexico!

Darrell Greenman is the founder and director of Tequila Taberna Y Café, located in Huatulco, Mexico.

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

The Art of Portraying Food in Art

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By Randy Jackson

I was interested to see a recent news story about a restored fresco from Pompeii depicting what the headline billed as an early version of pizza. The fresco shows a flatbread with toppings believed to include pomegranates, dates, and a type of pesto sauce. But what attracted my attention was not an interest in the history of pizza, or even the fascinating discoveries of daily Roman life frozen in time at 79 CE, but our ongoing interest in depicting food in art.

I trace this curiosity to a much younger version of myself wandering around art museums in Europe, and pondering why there were so many paintings of bowls of fruit. What, I wondered, was so great about that? In an attempt to answer that, and to hopefully develop a deeper understanding and appreciation of still-life painting, it helps to have some historical context of food in art.

The Meaning of Food in Art

When food is represented in any human artwork, it always conveys, or intends to convey, some meaning. Some of the earliest depictions of food appear in the Egyptian pyramids. These drawings were thought to hold magical properties that could enable the deceased to have food in the afterlife. Food as sustenance, and in the afterlife, you gotta eat, right?

Centuries later, the ancient Greeks and Romans painted food in their frescos of celebrations. Here, food was portrayed as symbols of wealth and abundance. One thing the Pompeii flatbread painting has taught us is that good quality food was not reserved solely for the elites. The everydayness of the meal, portrayed in the fresco of a house attached to a bakery in Pompeii, demonstrates that a much wider group than the elite enjoyed their meals, and had access to foods prepared, at least in part, for the pleasure of eating.

As European civilizations moved through the Middle Ages, the depictions of food in art no longer reflected food as celebratory, but rather as one of the regular features of daily life. Paintings of the period often showed food preparations for meals and feasts. Christianity was of course a central force running through the Middle Ages and food is an important symbol of devotional Christian practice (bread = the body, wine = the blood of Christ). Probably the best examples of this, in art, were the paintings of the Last Supper, where fish or lamb (both symbols of Christ) were conveyed along with wine and bread.

As European society gradually emerged into the Renaissance, food in art began to represent abundance. There was also a movement in paintings towards detailed realism. Scenes of butcher shops and kitchens (notably in the Italian Baroque) were common, although food did not yet serve as the centerpiece of a painting, often being shown as part of busy crowded scenes in the paintings of the time.

But the attention to detail for everything in the paintings, including the food, was greatly elevated from earlier paintings of the Middle Ages. While food remained a secular object, it was rarely painted without some Christian symbolism.

An interesting side note on food in art in the Renaissance is seen in the work of Italian painter Giuseppi Arcimboldo (1526-93). Arcimboldo’s work is recognizable today for its creative genius – he painted portraits entirely from fruits and vegetables. These food portraits were only part of Arcimboldo’s more conventional body of work; the portraits were understood to be for the amusement of the court (he was a painter for the Habsburg court in Vienna). Arcimboldo’s other paintings, including his religious paintings, have largely been forgotten in the context of better-known Renaissance paintings.

Food in Art in the Dutch Golden Age

The movement towards naturalism and detailed personal observation emerging in Renaissance art provided the underpinning for still-life genre paintings to emerge, culminating in the Dutch Golden Age of the 1600s.

The Dutch Golden Age is thought to cover a good portion of the 17th century. Spurred on by the wealth of overseas trade, the Netherlands emerged to lead Europe in the arts and sciences. Of note in this flourishing is the Dutch Reform movement that shifted the Netherlands away from Catholic-dominated Europe, which then led to independence from the Church in intellectual life, commerce, and the arts. In the Dutch Golden Age, wealth was largely held by the merchant class. As a result, decisions in all aspects of society reflected perspectives and interests different from those of the elites, royalty, or the church, which still shaped most of the rest of Europe. It was the wealthy merchant class who commissioned works of art. This, along with the Renaissance movement towards naturalism and observation of details, motivated Dutch artists to create the genre of still-life paintings.

Dead Game, Red Lobsters, and Bowls of Fruit

To my own youthful question about what is so great about paintings of bowls of fruit, the answer, somewhat clearer from the passing of years, is that attention to detail is a deepening of awareness. Artists can bring a greater awareness to us, the viewer, through their attention to detail and the reproduction of that detail on canvas of texture, light, shadows, and hues. This can, if we apply our own attention to the painting, bring a sense of marvel. Articulating many aspects of the beauty of Food in Art, I recommend the New York Times article titled “A Messy Table, A Map of the World” – an amazingly entertaining tutorial in understanding the social history of art.

Email: box95jackson@gmail.com.

Huatulco

The Inexplicable, Unaccountable, Ambiguous Taco

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By Marcia Chaiken and Jan Chaiken

People on every continent and in essentially every major city in the world are likely to be able to tell you what a taco is, but they won’t have the same item in mind. The only taco characteristic on which everyone agrees is that a taco is a folded tortilla with some content in the middle. The nature of the tortilla and the quantity and quality of the “something in the middle” are subjects of ongoing, everlasting debate.

the etymology of the word “taco” is in dispute. Some contend that it is derived from the Aztec language, Náhautl; the Náhautl word tlahco means in the middle. Others say that in Spain taco means “light lunch.” Yet others adhere to a fanciful story of Mexican silver miners carrying their lunch meat, usually cheap offal, wrapped in a tortilla. The lunch looked like tacos – paper-wrapped plugs of gun powder used to blast open silver veins in the mine.

Which Tortilla?
No matter what etymology you accept, there are still scores of variations in what people think the tortillas look like. In Mexico, the original wrapping was probably made from white corn masa – a kind of tortilla that is still ubiquitous here. The northern Mexican states, where wheat is grown more abundantly than corn, likely introduced flour tortillas as expedient taco wrappers. Today many kinds of tortillas are used to make tacos.

Given the abundance of yellow corn north of the border, tortillas used to make tacos in the US are not white, and often are intensely colored. Flour tortillas used for tacos can be whole wheat or flavored with spinach, nopales (cactus), tomato, basil or many other vegetables. The flour used for the tortillas might even be made from ingredients other than wheat – cauliflower-flour tortillas have recently hit the market. Such tortillas are currently being produced to meet the latest diet crazes: high fiber, gluten free, keto, carb-balanced, sugar-free and so on. Of course, the original handmade white corn tortilla pretty well met all those dietary requirements.

Some say that the corn tortilla is the only type of tortilla that should be use for a taco, but there remains an international dispute about whether the corn tortilla should be soft or a crunchy shell. Soft tortillas predominate in Mexico. But thanks (or maybe, no thanks) to the American entrepreneur Glen Bell, who founded his now multinational chain of Taco Bell fast food restaurants in 1962 (he called them
“Tay-Kohs”), some people around the world think that the crunchy taco shell must be used for an authentic taco.

Although Bell reportedly claims to have invented the hard taco shell, in 1960 we were munching down tacos made with hard shells in Los Angeles, at a bar oh-so-creatively named La Cantina, before Bell switched from selling hamburgers to tacos. The shell there was filled with ground beef flavored with onions, cumin, chili powder and other spices, topped with lettuce and fresh chopped tomato salsa; liquids ran down your arm when you raised the taco shell to take a bite. That’s how you knew it was the “real deal.”

What about the Filling?

Today, when people dispute the best filling for a taco, they rarely suggest ground beef, lettuce, and tomato salsa. Nor do they generally suggest the auténtico “real deal” offal such as entrails and lungs that would have been eaten by the Mexican workers who were using the other tacos to blow up areas in silver mines.

The driving force behind nominations for the best taco filling seems to be individual and regional tastes. In coastal regions shrimp or fresh fish – batter-fried, pan-seared, or grilled – are popular, especially when topped with shredded cabbage and a special sauce, ingredients often held as top secret by the taco maker.

In states of Mexico noted for their moles, the main ingredient of the filling – the selection of chicken, beef or pork – seems less important than the sauce that coats the main ingredient – mole poblano, coloradito, verde, amarillo … pick your favorite. Cowboy or vaquero country brings out tacos filled with almost every part of the steer, including one of our favorites – lengua, aka tongue. In areas where pigs predominate, carnitas are a commonly touted filling. And, as Julie Etra pointed out in an article in The Eye (July 2020), pork prepared pastor-style on a spit is emerging as a favorite around the country.

Are Tacos Going Upscale?
Recently, the most upscale and notable restaurants are vying for the most expensive and innovative tacos. Pujol, one of the top-rated restaurants in Mexico City, has leaped into Mexican-Asian fusion tacos on a tasting menu priced at over US$300 per person and sold at a taco bar called Omakase. There you can be served tacos filled with rarified ingredients such as lobster, Brussels sprouts, and macadamia nuts. Perhaps the most expensive taco in the world is reportedly found at the Grand Velas resort in Los Cabos, where a taco presented in a gold-infused tortilla and filled with Kobe beef, caviar and truffled cheese will set you back US$25,000 (not a typo). Our son says, “This is not a taco – it is a statement.”

You need not break the bank to find a really good taco. People who are truly taco connoisseurs vote with their feet, not their credit cards. Find a taco-truck or a hole-in-the-wall taqueria with a long line of hungry patrons waiting to be served. Get on line and listen to the disputes about which of the several tacos being prepared is the best. Order the one whose description makes you salivate the most. Or order one of each type. How many should you order? The number of tacos that can satisfy one for a meal is also a matter of dispute – some say three, some say four, some say more. At a recent taco eating contest the winner swallowed 126 tacos in eight minutes. If he had been downing Grand Velas tacos, that would have set him back US$3,150,000. Everyone would probably agree that that’s excessive. Provecho!

Huatulco

Rabbit Meat: A Mexican Delicacy?

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By Marcia Chaiken and Jan Chaiken

Over forty years ago, we read about and decided to visit a family-run, highly-rated Quintana Roo restaurant in the jungle off the road from Cancun to Playa Carmen. We pulled off the road at the designated kilometer post into an area cleared for parking, and wandered down a narrow path to find a charming cottage in a clearing on the bank of a lagoon. Near the cottage was a rabbit hutch with sweet roly-poly bunnies – we thought them to be pets of the family’s children.

When we were presented with the menu and saw the offering of conejo, we were sure it must be a misspelling of cangrejo (crab), but suddenly realized that the dish was indeed conejo (rabbit), and the sweet little bunnies were not pets. Although this was the first time we saw rabbit on a menu in Mexico, it should not have come as a surprise. In France, lapin (rabbit) is a relatively common feature on menus, along with frogs’ legs and snails. And in China, we visited live animal meat markets where cages of rabbits were placed near chickens, ducks, puppies and monkeys – yes, monkeys.

So after our initial encounter, we were prepared to find rabbit on more menus in Mexico. This turned out to be a misconception. Not that we were disappointed. One of us sticks pretty closely to Jewish laws spelled out in the Hebrew Scriptures (aka Old Testament) that forbid certain animals to be eaten including pig, camel … and rabbit. There are many traditional delicious Mexican dishes made with meat from permitted animals, but the experience did raise our curiosity about the place of rabbit in Mexican cuisine.

Although a vegetarian diet has for millennia been the main form of food consumed in Mexico, rabbit, as archeologists have found, was considered a delicacy in preHispanic cuisine. In excavations around present-day Mexico City, artifacts and animal bones from a butcher shop indicated that the business specialized in selling rabbit meat. As historians have made clear, there was no need to supplement the daily diet with rabbit since the food consumed by the indigenous residents was nutritionally complete – so the supposition would be that rabbit was eaten as a special delicacy.

The same is true in Mexico today. As compared to other Latin American countries, Mexico ranks highest in percent of the population that sticks to a vegetarian diet. Nonetheless meat, especially beef, chicken or pork, is the preferred meal of the vast majority of Mexicans. Not rabbit. According to a 2022 paper in Meat Science, “The annual per capita consumption of meat in Mexico is 72.8 kg, of which 34.9 kg correspond to chicken, 20.3 kg to pork, 14.8 kg to beef, 1.3 kg to turkey, 0.8 g to sheep and goat, 0.6 g to horse, and [a minuscule] 0.1 g to rabbit.”

Part of the reason for rabbit being an uncommonly eaten source of protein may be the lack of availability. Unlike beef cattle, chickens, turkeys, pigs, goats, sheep or other sources of more commonly used meat, rabbits are not raised on large corporate farms or ranches that produce thousands of animals for food. Rabbit farms are most numerous in the central states in Mexico; but a study of the characteristics of cuniculture (rabbit-raising) in that area showed that the vast majority (87%) are either small-scale or medium-scale family farms. There are other rabbit farmers scattered around the country, especially in areas where there is a substantial foreign rabbit-eating populace, such as the Happy Rabbit Farm in Rancho Loco Chapala in the state of Jalisco. These small farms tend to produce a limited number of rabbits, sold directly for consumption; the availability of rabbit meat in butcher shops or food stores is limited.

Another barrier to a thriving market for rabbit meat may be the taste. Most people who have tried eating rabbit compare the taste to chicken – particularly chicken thighs – but comment on the gamey flavor. This may be why rabbit dishes are usually prepared with assertive spices. There are four primary ways of cooking rabbit meat in Mexico: adobo (marinated in spices including chilis), al ajillo (cooked with garlic), estofado (stewed), and fried in the same manner that chicken is fried. These dishes may be easily sampled in the small restaurants that line the highway that leads from Mexico City to Toluca. Within Mexico City in the Coyoacan area, the restaurant El Morral, specializing in “Mexican Heritage Food,” also served rabbit before the covid pandemic, but their reduced menu may no longer feature conejo.

In the interior of state of Oaxaca, a dish prepared with corn and rabbit in a mole sauce, segueza, is the preferred preparation. It is true that rabbit meat, as chicken, is nutritionally sound; low in fat and cholesterol and high in protein. Thus, the question remains: If rabbit tastes like chicken, and is prepared like chicken, why not simply use easily attainable and less expensive chicken?

But perhaps the most important factor that prevents people from hankering for rabbit stew and other dishes is the adoration developed in childhood for those cute roly-poly soft-fur bunnies that one can cuddle and stroke, along with the rabbits that are featured in children’s books. Just as children north of the border love to hear the Beatrice Potter stories of Peter Rabbit, children in Mexico hear tales of Pedrito, El Conejo Travieso (Little Pedro, the Naughty Rabbit – actually a translation of Beatrix Potter’s 1902 classic Peter Rabbit). More recently, Duncan Tonatiuh, a Mexican-American author of children’s books, has bolstered admiration of our furry friends with a new Mexican character, Pancho Rabbit.

So … although rabbits were served as a delicacy by ancient Aztecs, and a small number of Mexicans still find rabbit meat to their liking, we remain in the camp of most Mexicans who would rather pet them than eat them.

Huatulco

Bananas / Plantains/ Plátanos

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By Julie Etra

Called the banana in America, this lovely and versatile fruit is just one in a group of fruits more commonly known as plantains or plátanos (in Spanish). They are the most widely distributed and consumed fruit in the world and consist of a large number of species, hybrids and cultivars of the Musa genus. Only the grains wheat, rice and corn surpass the production of plantains (bananas) globally. In many parts of the world, the kind of plantains that are cooked are distinguished from the sweet, raw bananas familiar to us in North America.

The origin of this starchy fruit is most likely Malaysia, New Guinea, Indonesia, or the Philippines. The first references appear as early as 600 BCE, but it was noted by Alexander the Great during his travels to India in the 4th century CE. Through trade, like every other valuable commodity, it was dispersed to China, Africa, and well, the rest is history. This original seed-filled fruit barely resembled those consumed today, which has resulted from centuries of plant breeding. The world’s largest producers of bananas in 2017 were India and China, which together accounted for approximately 38% of total production.

One banana, two bananas, and many more

Are you confused by the variety of bananas and banana-like fruits displayed at the Mercado Orgánico de Huatulco (MOH)? Or in the various fruteriás along Calle Carrizal or elsewhere in La Crucecita? A pity most of us are only familiar with the common and ubiquitous Cavendish (Musa acuminata), named after Englishman William Spencer Cavendish, the 6th Duke of Devonshire, who began its cultivation in British greenhouses around 1834. (More about this common banana later.)

As shown in the graphic, there are eight principal banana crops produced in Mexico, including, of course, the Cavendish. As an alternative to that “standard” banana, try the diminutive Dominico bananas, also known as plátano enano, or dwarf plantain, most of which come to Huatulco from neighboring Veracruz. This is the smallest banana available in Mexico. It is a very sweet variety and is widely used in pastry and other confections, including drinks. It is rich in vitamins B, C, and E and has a high magnesium content. It is our favorite banana, and although we can find them when we are going through withdrawal upon our return to the USA, they are very expensive and it seems they never ripen. It usually takes me three plus tries to give up on these expensive imports. When in Huatulco, this banana is our favorite snack.

Later in the Mexican winter the slightly larger Manzanos are available. They are different, of course, with the Dominicos being slightly sweeter and easier to find, even in the super stores like Chedraui and Soriana. Our previous neighbors have a Manzano tree, but I have not been bold enough to approach the present occupants. Manzanos are a bit nuttier and harder in texture than the fast-ripening Dominico.

Problems with popular bananas

The Gros Michel is an example of monoculture disasters. At the beginning of the 20th century, this was the most popular banana in Europe and North America. In 1940, however, a fungal infection arrived in Panama, more precisely Fusarium oxysporum, which attacked the roots of the Gros Michel. Since it produced no viable seeds, only reproducing asexually, it was particularly vulnerable to disease, and hence its demise 20 years after the fungus arrived.

The Cavendish, resistant to the fungus described above, became more popular, with several available varieties including the big dwarf, the small dwarf (redundant, I know), the Lacatan, Valery, Robusta, and Poyo. Recently, another variety of the fungus that infected the Gros Michel has been discovered, and this banana could go the way of its predecessor as it is also asexually cultivated in monocultures (clonal propagation). This type of monoculture cultivation results in plants very vulnerable to plagues and possible extirpation, exactly what happened to the Gros Michel.

Broaden your banana repertoire!

The plátano macho is the largest and heaviest of the bananas and is not sweet. It is cooked in a variety of ways, and can be yellow-, green-, or dark-skinned when very ripe. Machos are consumed in many tropical countries but are virtually unknown in Europe.

The red bananas you see at the MOH and grocery stores, the thick-skinned plátano rojo, is very popular in Latin America, and its availability and use has recently expanded to Europe. It can be consumed raw or cooked.

And yes, there are even more varieties, typically available on a local level, such as the Tabasco (Mexico) and Roatan (one of the Bay islands in Honduras).

Patacones, as they are known in Costa Rica and elsewhere in Latin America, but usually called tostones in Mexico, are small pancakes or pucks made from green Machos, cut in cross section, fried, then flattened and fried a second time. Another fried plantain, cut lengthwise, is a typical accompaniment to Latin American breakfasts – it is a favorite in istmeño cooking (the cuisine of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, Oaxaca). You can enjoy patacones in Huatulco at the restaurant Bladuyu at the entrance to Bahia Chahue. For dessert they can be fried with a liquor, honey and/or cinnamon additionally dribbled/sprinkled on top and accompanied with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream. Yum.

And for a real treat, try molotes de plátano, Macho pulp dough stuffed with quesillo, the lovely Oaxacan cheese (alternatively with black beans), fried, and bathed in condensed milk (or not), frequently offered at Playa San Agustín. The women walk up and down the beach with rectangular plastic containers filled with these tasty, filling units. Don’t pass them up!