The Pig and I

It was New Year's Eve in 1992, my family was invited to some people's farm in Veracruz (beach front, fabulous) I was naive as a potato, and since I was very little I gave my mom such a hard time with food, I definitely didn't like the idea of eating animals, but my family was weird anyway, who knew I was going to be a chef 25 years later. So, these people brought a huge and gorgeous pig to this awesome beach front farm, my immediate reaction was fascination, I pet it non-stop, that animal was extremely friendly and I think we had some chemistry. No adult advised me of its sentence, I'm sure they were all drunk, happy enough that the kids were not around but rather playing with the pig or anything moving but close to them. 

The next morning I woke up at the screaming of the pig, I witnessed with horror the destruction of sensitive life without the minimum respect or consideration, its death was inhumane, perhaps necessary and sustainable, but inhumane. That day Czechoslovakia dissolved and I promised myself to avoid eating animals as much as possible, since I didn't control my diet or had enough information, I was just a confused and traumatized kid. But, how do you control your diet at that age?

So I had the brilliant idea of starting to wear a fanny pack, neon of course, because my mom bought it for us and it's the 90's in my fanny pack you could find: calculator (indispensable), notebook, pencil, eraser, sharpener, stickers, a silver ounce coin, a photocopy of Ricardo Flores Magon speech, stamps of classic paints and art, dinosaurs and famous astronauts and candies, always candies. You can tell why I was not everyone's favorite classmate, but I never got my ass kicked, I was always the strong nerd nobody dared to confront but rather fear and avoid.  I was not a monster, I wanted friends but also didn't know how to fit in, still don't. Stupid fanny pack. 

So, I kept all of my stuff organized in the pockets, except for the big pocket, that one I originally designated for hiding food. Good and bad, snacks banned by my mother (American candies) but I also had a ziploc bag, and at every meal I would start with the starch and carefully observed my parents moves. I calculated our daily routines. My dad would eat fast and leave the table, my brother was a slow eater but he was always busy talking, and my mom would constantly go into the kitchen for you more salsa, avocados, salt, water etc

I love my mom's cooking (now) so don't take me wrong, but seriously, liver and onions is not a kids friendly dish. Dishes that are common in Mexico sound scary in the US, because you already know that "Mexican" food is not really Mexican right?

Here's a comprehensive list of my childhood horrors:

-Braised octopus

-Pozole (with pig's head)

-Quesadillas de sesos (Sheep brains with manchego cheese)

-Barbacoa (Sheep bbq)

-All sorts of cow organs stews for tacos

-Raw fish, cooked only with lime juice, hot sauce and salt.

But my worst enemy was the Mexican version of Chinese food, technically Mexican food with soy sauce and still lime juice. Unnamed parts in each stew. 

I mastered the art of hiding food in my fanny pack for years, until my brother caught me or waited for the right moment to blackmail me, and he did. I gave him (a forced bribe) a toy, 

Monterey Jack from Chip'n Dale Rescu Rangers. Apparently it was not enough to cover his mouth.

He told my parents what I've been doing and of course they were horrified, I explained to them

the story of the pig and etc, you can probably imagine in how much trouble I got.

Flavor was good, I never denied that (except for liver with onions) It was only my trauma.

In 1993, in another New Year's Eve adventure but now we were heading to Yucatán to visit our family, my mom got lost in the jungle and we noticed that people were marching in the middle of the rain, morning and night like a pilgrimage or that's what we thought, after hours of driving in circles my mom decided to go to Agua Azul waterfalls, a scenic destination and tried to find a map, what we didn't know was that those people were about to declare war against Mexican government and declare autonomy, but we were middle class and we only cared about getting safe to our destination. 

When we came back from vacation, we saw on the news that the Mexican army bombed Chiapas and flooded the Mayan state with soldiers and tanks, killing and disappearing people, an unknown amount but one is too much. I watched the news, which are state propaganda in Mexico and they demonized the Zapatistas, they immediately named them a terrorist organization, and at that age you have no idea of what is going on, but I remember the people marching when we got lost in Chiapas and they were just normal people, pissed off but people nonetheless, kids included. I was fighting my fanny pack revolution in my wealthy (sort of, it was just debt) while people with real problems were being murdered by the army we were raised to respect and honor. Those two worlds collided. It wasn't long before the entire economy collapsed after a presidential candidate was assassinated and the military conflict intensified. My family lost everything. Our house, cars and valuables. One day on April my dad picked us up from school and when we drove by our house all of our belongings were outside, my mom was standing on the sidewalk holding a pot with a mole she was preparing for my dad's birthday, she was petrified and crying. That night we were homeless, but thankful for having a roof over and warm food. We moved in with my grandmother, my closet and my world was inside a box of Pampers, our furniture got sold or stored. My parent's debt was growing and we had $0 from one day to the next the Mexican peso devalued and thousands of people lost everything, it only takes one day. Banks knew it, they were waiting like hawks.

My vegetarian revolution died (I was vegetarian again but never an activist from 2006 to 2010) and I was more curious about the Zapatistas.

My brother and I were still enrolled in a private Catholic school, being smart at school helps with the bills. But now I was the scary nerd with the neon fanny pack and homeless. So, you can tell how my personality developed after that.

Zapatistas were fighting for land and freedom, and respect for their traditions and Mayan roots. NAFTA was the main target.

After Govt. changed the Constitution in order to adopt NAFTA, rich global companies forced-purchased family owned farms, we witnessed one of the biggest diasporas the world has ever seen, millions moved to the US with whatever they had, families split and society got bitter. The gentrification of colonial towns, and our gastronomy began too.

It's easier to fight a revolution for yourself, while enjoying socioeconomic privileges than when you lose everything and have to fight every day for survival, and it's immensely more honorable when people unite and fight together for a common goal and others show solidarity and move out of the way. 

I'm not indigenous but I'm Mexican, I don't even know exactly what I am when it comes to family tree and etc. I know there's basque and Italian, but no specifics. Both of my parents are proud Mexicans and so am I, but since colonial times there's a crystal clear caste system  that keeps indigenous people, the original owners of Mexico in the bottom of society. It was better for me to show solidarity and appreciation but never to the point of appropriation, it was not my fight, but solidarity is key.

It is clear to me now that if anyone wants to talk about what people should eat they should at least acknowledge that many don't have the access to not only fresh food, but food and by many I mean millions. Industrial farming is an abomination, but if we want to really change things, the means of production should not be private property. Let's start with food. "La tierra es de quien la trabaja " 

Vegan activists can't exclude poverty and history of racial exclusion in their narrative. 

I think we need to end factory farms and animal torture, but I don't have the heart to change entire cuisines, traditions or force people to adopt a diet they cannot afford.

Good food comes from the heart, and so it should be the way we treat animals. Good food should come from healthy societies, not from oppression. 

Cinco de Mayo

Drinko de Mayo is approaching, one of my biggest nightmares. Every year I complain about cultural appropriation, the distortion of Mexican history and white people being incredibly insensitive. 

Since I try to keep this blog merely culinary related, I'll avoid controversial subjects, but to talk about any cuisine we need to understand historical aspects, geography, politics, climate, immigration, traditions and religion. Cuisine is a complex and ever-evolving phenomenon. Some techniques like braising and deglazing are as universal as breathing and laughing, yet the ingredients make the difference, that's where you have to talk about politics. 

So, Cinco de Mayo is May 5th translated to Spanish, so you can't have a seis de cinco, or whatever some people are trying to do, that's just stupid and you should avoid it. Second, Cinco de Mayo is broadly mistaken to be Mexico's Independence Day, which is actually celebrated on September 16, but let's move on, May 5th is The Day of the Battle of Puebla, the inconceivable defeat of Mexico over French army back in 1862, only 41 years after Mexico won the war of Independence against Spain, and just 14 years after pro-slavery US stole half of Mexico's territory in defense of some racist libertarian ranchers in Texas. 

I could tell you the story about the French invasion and all of that, and I would love to, but I have a crying baby in the background and I'm not your History teacher, it's also cloudy and that doesn't help either. 

So, now you know that Mexico's independence from Spain is celebrated in September, that's a huge advance, you still need to return those tiny sombreros to wherever you got them from, and if you own a huge sombrero but have no idea what is it for or the why of the sombrero, you have a special place in hell, sorry, I don't make inferno's rules. You can also help civilization by not using fake mustaches, I'm a real Mexican and I've never had a mustache. Have fun, go out, get some margaritas or coronas, eat tamales and red rice, sing Mexican songs, do all of that without insulting Mexicans. You probably don't behave like that, but we all know some people who do. 

First, trying to describe French food is complicated, each region in France is different from each other and the same thing happens in Mexico, each region possess incredibly rich and unique dishes, but in order to understand Mexican most influential cuisine we need to think Mexico City-Oaxaca-Puebla + Paris and Veracruz + Marseille. French cuisine as a whole is also a compilation of Arabic flavors, techniques and spices too, at least the most common food, not necessarily the 5 stars Parisian restaurants, but even them. I know this is getting complicated, but trust me, the links between Mexican and French food are very strong and not broken. 

Four dishes from Mexican-French war era: crêpes with huitlacoche (corn smut), quail with mango sauce, bouillabaisse-style stew a la Veracruz and fresas con crema, or strawberries with Crème fraîche. 

You know how important tortillas are to Mexicans, and of course corn as the base of our diet, huitlacoche is a corn fungus and it's pronounced weetlakochee, my mouth is watering right now just to think about it, its flavour is difficult to describe, I can think of walnut and apricot together, with a hint of black truffle. Now, go make your crêpes. Ok, if you're lucky enough you'll buy some huitlacoche, which I doubt because you can't introduce corn smut into the US other than pre-cooked canned huitlacoche, but let's pretend that you figure something out, you're going to need shallots, garlic, fresh thyme, dry guajillo pepper, olive oil, salt and pepper. Crème fraîche and shredded iceberg lettuce. Caramelized your shallots, start in cold pan and seriously wait until your shallots are caramelized, add your diced garlic, you figure out the amounts, I trust you. Wait like a minute or two then add your huitlacoche, you probably need some salt and pepper at this point if you didn't do it before, remember that salt enhances flavors and pepper adds and disguises. When everything is cooked, add some chili flakes, of course from the guajillo and fresh thyme. Toss everything in a bowl, add more EVOO, this time the oil is adding flavour. You can even add some parmesan cheese if you have a fancy restaurant in Soho, otherwise avoid it, but my point is that you can play with it, just make sure to leave some of the Huitlacoche flavours intact, you need to respect the main ingredient. So, you have your stuffing ready and warn, I don't know what's the origin of serving three tacos or crêpes on each plate, but just do it, two is not enough and four is disrespectful if you have other hungry guests. Top your huitlacoche crêpes with Crème fraîche and shredded lettuce. Enjoy.

You can also use corn tortillas instead of crêpes and Oaxaca cheese along with your stuffing, then top your quesadillas with salsa verde, queso cotija and sour cream. But, right now you are in Mexico 1862, because you really want to celebrate Cinco de Mayo and you can't find Mole Poblano for some strange reason. 

Now, I said strawberries with crème fraîche, fresas con crema is a dessert as Mexican as Apple pie is American, they're neither, they're French, but we like them and they're popular. Now Fresas con crema are broadly served with sour cream and granulated sugar on top, fork-mashed taste better too. Mexicans think it's a Mexican dish and you don't argue with a hungry Mexican, and I don't have the heart to demystify my own family, that's a dangerous territory.

Quail entrees in Mexico are coming back, especially in fine-dining restaurants and that's a great thing because quail is delicious and for centuries Mexicans have cooked game, or what we now call game, French and Mexican birds back in the 1800s were completely different, but cooked with identical techniques but different ingredients. If you've read Laura Esquivel's Como Agua para Chocolate (Like Water for Chocolate) if not, I totally recommend that novel, one of the recipes is precisely quail with rose water and rose petals, that's very arabic and Mexican, it's both French and Mexican. This time we're going to go a little bit more tropical, you're going to need the following ingredients: semi-boneless quail, ripe mangoes, chile serrano, white onion, garlic, cilantro, white wine, flour, butter, olive oil, saffron, salt + pepper. You can stuff your quail too, that's optional. White rice with pistachios is a great combination for stuffing, but you can make your own. If you have a cast iron pan, much better. So, dust your birds with flour, add salt and pepper of course, wait until your oil is screaming hot, you don't want your quail to swim in oil, just be gentle, put your birds right in the center of the pan, I would be gentle and use my hands, don't be scared of hot oil, if you are I can guarantee that the oil is going to jump and burn your hand, so be firm, you own that oil. Wait until quails are golden brown and crispy, then cook the other side and finish them in the oven, 350 F is a safe temperature, your food is crispy now, you need to cook the interior of the quail now. In the meantime, blend your mangoes, add one chile serrano, no salt and pepper. Remove quails from pan and put the pan back in the fire, add butter, finely diced onion and garlic, once the butter is melted add equal amount of flour, you're making a roux, then add a little chicken stock (oh yeah, you need chicken stock too) whisk very well, add saffron, reduce, now you're making a classic velouté, add white wine and reduce, season. Add some of that mango blend now, strain the mango first, you don't want the fiber in your sauce. Reduce. Your sauce is going to be kind of thick right now, but not super thick, because of course you didn't make roux to sink a battle ship, at this point you're going to pull some of the chopped butter from the fridge, the one butter I didn't tell you about but you need, you are going to incorporate your chilled butter into the sauce now, one chunk at the time using your whisk, wait until butter blends with the sauce before adding more butter. Serve with chopped cilantro on top, white rice goes well together.

Finally, bouillabaisse-style dish. If you have a debate between a proud Mexican from Veracruz and a chauvinistic French from Marseille on whose fish stew is better, you'll have the French army invading Mexico all over again as result, and Mexicans will likely kicked their butts again too. Just know that Mexicans have cooked fish stews for centuries, each town and family has a different recipe, you can use crab and grouper in Veracruz, or shrimp, lobster and marlin in Sinaloa. Mexico is lucky to be located between the Pacific ocean, Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean, so if you want to talk about Mexican cuisine, seafood is 1/2 of it, poverty, NAFTA and tourism have changed the rules of the game, while working-class people in Sinaloa and Veracruz can still access to fresh seafood, people in other places have to pay higher prices now, and the best seafood goes directly to US and European markets, as a Mexican chef in the US with family in Sinaloa and Yucatan this breaks my heart, and when I cook seafood from the gulf of Mexico or the Pacific, I know how illogical this is, NAFTA changed Mexican's diet for generations to come, it's a bittersweet feeling because I love cooking, I love cooking fish stews and entrees because it's part of me, my heritage, but I also know how the market works, and it's not easy to deal with this, I'm also a worker so I need the income.

Anyway, if you like Mexican food, I invite you to be curious about our entire heritage and culture, our politics and history. Can we also start considering Mexican accent something sexy just like French? Because mine is not going anywhere.

Pozole

Every Mexican family has its Pozole tradition, or even ritual. Recipes are always different, some are prepared with a combination of chicken and pork, some just chicken or turkey, some are religiously 100% pork; from head to tail, and seriously, sometimes you can see a pig's head floating in a cooking pot at the market, a horrifying scene, but that's something you learn to respect, because every pozole recipe has its own family DNA, families brag about it, and that's why you will never get an accurate recipe, you will never eat the same pozole, and you should create your own pozole, but always use whole hominy kernels, that's the only rule.

Spanish Conquistadors believed pozole was a stew made with human remains, that according to ethnographer and evangelist Bernardino de Sahagún, who considered Mexicans (not Aztecs, but that's another story) not to be humans, or to be a different race without souls, sadly some people still think Mexicans are some sort of inferior race 500 years after colonization, but whatever, it was more than one Spaniard, a whole group championed a smear campaign against Mexicans, taking this debate all the way to Valladolid, between ultra-racist Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda and condescending liberal Bartolomé de Las Casas. They did not debate whether pozole was made with human meat, but to start viewing indigenous population as human beings, artistically and mechanically capable, and adroit of learning when properly taught; however, Mexicans DID know, just differently, and that's why condescending, but I still respect De Las Casas' efforts.

Before Spanish conquistadors put a foot on America, MesoAmerica was as problematic as it is today, Tenochtitlan (Today's Mexico City) was the richest and most powerful city-state, controlling different nations around, from Michoacan to Nicaragua, starting an agricultural revolution, genetically modifying corn and other crops. War was inevitable, imagine a powerful country trying to "educate" and bring, lets say, democracy to a foreign region in exchange for natural resources. That was basically Mexicans before the conquest, against Azcapotzalco, Tlaxcala, etc. Tenochtitlan always tried to intimidate other nations with psychological warfare such as: we eat humans, or even surrounding their island-city with walls made out of skulls, mostly stone, and yes, when war occurred, soldiers dismembered humans. This graphic violence horrified the already barbaric Spaniards, and I'm probably just trying to justify why Mr. Sahagún was wrong about pozole, because also, he was wrong about everything else he wrote and drew on Florentino Codex, an ethnographic research work trying to describe Mexico and its traditions to Europeans. The only fact we know about pozole is that it's been around for centuries, always a ritual, always controversial, always different from each other.

My tradition begins in the 1980s, I don't know exactly when, but I'm pretty sure I was 5 when I started helping my grandmother Rogelia and other cooks make a pozole, because there's always a neighbor, aunt or cousin trying to learn your family recipe, so there's usually more than one person involved, plus you need to clean a mountain of hominy and that's where my brother and I helped, that was our at least once a month Saturday-Sunday job, while Mexican soccer league was on channel 2 or 13, and my dad was always preparing other appetizers like guacamole, chips and salsa or cheeses, because part of the pozole ritual is eating more food while preparing it, and seeing your favorite soccer team being irritatingly forgettable. My dad's favorite team is ironically the team I like now, Pumas (National University) but my brother and I rooted for rich, glamorous but always mediocre America (owned by biggest TV network in Latin America) the only time we enjoy soccer together is during a World Cup, and we always get frustrated because our team usually sucks, not all the time.

My grandma's pozole recipe changed when I started talking to adults. She took me to the market and one day I saw this butcher shop with dismembered pigs, including a wall of heads, since my father is an anthropologist and ethnohistorian, you can imagine the sorts of stories he told me when I was a kid, I mean, my first children's books was Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, but his stories about the conquest, the ambiguity of Florentino Codex, and all of that, made me beg my grandma to make a pozole, pork free, so she started cooking a chicken pozole just for me, I was a pain in the ass, I requested no chicken organs in the soup at all, or skin, just white meat. Somehow my own tradition survived, now new cousins eat it this way too. A huge element of eating pozole is Chile de árbol sauce, made with dried chile de arbol, sesame seeds, pumpkin seed, garlic, oregano and cider vinegar, most of the time you can get this hot sauce in the market, or if you need a decent equivalent, I can recommend Salsa “Valentina” or Crystal Sauce… if it was spicy enough.

Another thing I remember is my grandma unplugging the TV most of the times because she didn't like soccer, and she was more like me, we need music when we cook, her favorite was Pérez Prado, Carlos Gardel, Celia Cruz, Willie Colón and Rocio Durcal. But she was OK with other music, but my grandmother dancing in the kitchen while “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White” was playing on vinyl is a classic scene in my family. Pozole is more than one recipe, I have none, it's a ritual, experienced in different ways, every home has its own secrets and rites, but I do recommend fresh chopped oregano, avocado, fresh radishes thinly sliced and lime juice as garnish. I think you should start your own tradition, celebrating the importance of corn in America, collective knowledge and diversity.