La Comida De Cuaresma En el Mercado de Pátzcuaro

Friday, February 16, we went into Pátzcuaro to shop, and as I was feeling hungry, I stopped at the Birrería Don Prisci's at the esplanada del mercado for a plato chico de birria de borrego. I was only a little surprised to find that they were not serving meat on Fridays. Nor were 90% of the other antojitos and prepared food vendors close by.

This sort of "fasting" seems to entail little denial of the flesh, as the foods are so attractive, delicious and economical.

Don Prisci's was offering 4 Lenten plates: Caldo de Pescado, $35 MXP; Caldo de Camarón $40); Mojarra entera frita, $35 (!); Filete de Pescado Empanizado, $35. The fish plates were attractively served on big, oval platters, garnished with lechuga orejona (romaine lettuce), tomato slices, avocado wedges, ensalada de nopalitos, and a big mound of mayonesa. These plates were much, much more elaborate than the usual, basic bowls and tacos of meaty, soupy birria that they usually serve. As I was not so hungry, I had a bowl of caldo de camarón*, which was quite good, eaten with the huge tortillas de maíz for which Don Prisci's is well known, fresh off the comal.

*Although nowhere near as good as at Mariscos La Güera, where seafood is a specialty, every day. But also costs quite a bit more.

I was watching the set-up and handling of the platters of fish passing from hand to hand, and I had some doubts about the food hygiene on this specific occasion. On the other hand, the birria is served steaming hot and without any raw salad vegetables; unless you choose to put on chopped onions and cilantro. That was another reason I ate the Caldo de Camarón.

On the other side of the esplanada, the taqueros, except for two, had converted their steamed and chopped barbacoa stands into proper pious Lenten fare service. The big taquería, "La Cabaña del Taco" was shuttered. The stand I especially noted was offering chopped fish tacos (I had one, and it was delicious. 5 pesos); rajas de Chile Poblano con queso, pescado blanco (?), or at least, attractive portions of smallish fish fried in a light egg batter. I may have missed other items.

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 We returned yesterday, Friday, February 23, this time, armed with a camera and an appetite.
We ate 5 tacos each at Taquería 'Nacho's', on the very steps of the esplanada del mercado. I also took photos at Don Prisci's, but unfortunately, no one ordered the impressive whole fried mojarra. I took some photos at a small taco stand on the opposite side. Conditions were very dark, and only a few came out. (That stand is close to La Cabaña de Taco, which was again closed.)


(Click slideshow to go to full view album.)

Deeper into the interior of the mercado buldings is an area of humble comedores and fondas. There, right at the base of the ramp, was Fonda 'Esperanza', as well as others. The fare offered at Esperanza's was fascinating.

There was the obligatory menudo , (made in superior way at this fonda; doctor's excuse not needed;-); Caldo de Pescado, Nopalitos en Salsa con Tortitas de Camarones Secos, and an unusual dish, Chiles Güeros en Caldo Rojo con Tortitas de Arroz. This will be a "must try" next Friday for us.(Previously, I thought that the chiles güeros were filled with cheese, but they weren't, and the caldo was o.k but not outstanding.
Updated March 9, 2011

Eating Oaxaca—Part Three

Susan was coming down with a cold. Various remedies were applied and taken.
But two days of bed rest proved most efficacious...

As there were no limones available in the kitchen of La Casa de Los Sabores (review) with which to make cold combating hot drinks, I went out for extended walks in search of them. I eventually ended up at el Mercado de La Merced, on Calzada de República, about 5 or 6 blocks east of the B&B. This is the same mercado where the Sabores classes shop for the ingredients of their meal. While it's not as busy as the Mercado 20 de Noviembre, it's easier to move about, get what you need, and, as Pilar says, the prices are lower.



Videos thanks to Jay P. Francis. Click Video "Menu" for more.

Meanwhile, my rambles took me toward Centro, and the Pastelería La Vasconia, at Independencia # 907, across from the Teatro Macedonio Alcalá; where I renewed acquaintances with the two sisters who operate it. We'd visited the place in the mid-90s, when I ran a bakery in Mountain View, Arkansas. At the earlier visit, Inés and I talked shop. I was pleased to see that they'd gone ahead and purchased a very nice refrigerated showcase for their fine cakes and cream filled pastries. The sisters are at an age where they want to sell the business. It has a fine location, a few blocks from the Zócalo, and may include the extensive living quarters in back and above. The business has been in their family for about 70 years.

There were a few curiosities, as well. We'd walked past Mariscos Las Nereidas, on Calle Xicoténcatl #111, where a window sign advertised "Cucarachas al Mojo de Ajo". On my lone ramble, I went in and inquired about them. I was kindly shown a cooked crustacean tail, somewhat like a langostino or lobster tail. The concept was interesting, but we never got around to trying any of their fare. The restaurant is large, fairly bare of decor (typical of many marisquerías), prices moderately expensive, and is open 8:00 to 12 for breakfast; Sunday through Monday (all week), live music Thursdays through Sundays. Tel: 51-49455.

A wonderful find, just around the corner from Los Sabores B&B, at the corner of Morelos and Pino Súarez, was the Super Cocina Lucía's. It had scarcely been open a week when I "found" it. It's a small shop, open from 12:30 to about 4:30 M-F. The offerings, displayed in open pans are appetizing and fresh. The salads are clean and outstanding. Each day there are different guisados. I bought two salads, one of citrus fruits, very good; but the spinach-broccoli was terrific; some Tortitas de Elote, and Sopa de Fideos, to take back to Susan. I enjoyed some of it myself, meanwhile having some of those previously mentioned Tacos Árabes from El Balcón de La Lechuza.

The owner, Lucía, her assistant, Mónica, and I had a nice conversation about the food and the business. I learned of Lucías father's other two or three restaurants, one of which is called "La Escondida", rather a major operation, on the outskirts of Oaxaca. There is also the original Super Cocina Lucía's, in the north part of the city, and somewhat larger, but I didn't get the location/address. After Susan I ate the take out food from Lucía's, I returned to take some photographs of the ladies and their foods.
(This is what I like most about traveling in Mexico: a chance to meet and connect with others of similar interests and enthusiasms. I think we have made new friends at Lucía's)

That evening, other guests returned with steamingly hot tamales, purchased from a Señora seated at the corner of Calle Abasolo and Pino Súarez, about three blocks fron Los Sabores. Her varied tamales were meatless, but very good, and only $5 MXP each. Even though I was tired from all the walking I'd done, and the hot Oaxacan sun, I went out and bought 5 of these treats.

The next day was Wednesday, when my class would take place.

Eating Oaxaca - Part Two

We slept well, and took the Metro from Insurgentes Station to San Lázaro Station, which resurges next to TAPO (Terminal de Autobuses para Pasajeros al Oriente) but first bought a few supplies at the Farmacia San Pablo, across the Avenida Álvaro Obregón from the hotel. We breakfasted at the passable, but nothing special Bisquets Café de Paris, on the corner. (This area of the broad, Parisian style Avenida Álvaro Obregón is notable for having at least two locations of the the justly popular restaurant chain, Los Bisquets, Bisquets de Obregón, of which more, later.)

We arrived at TAPO without any real difficult. (I often advise newly arriving visitors to el D.F. not to take the Metro from the Aeropuerto to the Centro Histórico, as the route involves at least one transfer and several flights of stairs, and factoring in altitude, jet lag, and possible crowds, it just isn't a wise move. Our trip was straightforward, without transfers, and it was a relatively quiet Sunday morning. Nevertheless, seats were scarce and at least one of us had to stand.

At TAPO, we erred in going to the TicketBus booth not far inside, rather than continuing on to the ADO counters in the main , "Spaceship" concourse. TicketBus, a ticket agency for various bus lines, did not have any departures with INAPAM seats available until 13:00 hours, so we bit the bullet and bought full fare seats on the 11:00 bus. The total fare was about $760 pesos, including the small commission that TicketBus charges. The bus was an ADO Primera Clase, which is actually one of the lowest classes of service, but really, reasonably comfortable, no beverage or food service aboard, single restroom, onboard movies (we got to watch Flyboys for the second time in two days.); making one, brief stop at Nochixtlán, about an hour short of Oaxaca. I bought a couple of Tortas Cubanas (a sort of Mexican "Dagwood" sandwich) and we had our canned Jugos V-8 along, and plenty of bottled water. The trip takes a little over 6 hours. Plenty of time to watch 3 movies, or look out at the spectacular desert, canyon and mountain scenery after Tehuacán.

As we slowly entered the outskirts of Oaxaca, I turned to Susan and said; "It reminds me a lot of West Plains, Missouri."
An absurd statement, of course.

The new First Class Bus Terminal is a great improvement over the old, crowded one that we remember. The location is the same, but the exits are onto the street a block south of where it formerly exited. It took a few moments to get oriented.
Since we were traveling lightly, with backpacks, we walked the 6 blocks to Casa Arnel through Colonia Jalatlaco. The barrio seemed attractively painted and refreshed, while keeping its traditional Oaxacan charm. Just before reaching the Casa, we were surprised to see a fairly snazzy Italian seafood restaurant, La Marinera. Our friend, Geri Anderson, who lives in the area, recommends another, somewhat expensive restaurant, La Toscana, located on the cross street, Alianza, between Aldama and Calzada de La República.
It was very pleasant to arrive at the door of Casa Arnel. It was like coming home again. Inside, the gringos were gathered in front of a giant screen TV, watch the Super Bowl. After exchanging greetings with Sr. Arnel, and settling in to our nice although not plush room, we rested before going out in search of supper.
We had a craving for good pizza, and we knew where we could get it: at Pizza Rústica, on an east-west street, toward the northern end of the Andador Turístico, in an old mansion. We'd eaten there years ago, and remember the pizza as outstanding. The ground floor was empty except for a few unused tables, but a fine staircase went up to a quiet and somewhat elegant dining room, with windows overlooking the street.

The menu nowadays offers far more than pizza, including pastas, soups and meats, but we stayed with our original plan. We ordered the eponymous Pizza Rústica; with a light tomato sauce on a thin, crisp crust, dressed with mushrooms, onions, flores de calabaza, and chile Poblano. (We requested the latter in place of sweet green pepper.) The salads were very good, served in wooden trencher bowls. With a glass of red wine, two mineral waters, the bill came to just under $300 pesos.

We had no problem sleeping in Casa Arnel that night.

The next morning we joined the other guests at table in Casa Arnel, for a light but delicious breakfast of Granola Completa, unsweetened amaranth and oat granola, covered with freshly cut tropical fruits, and bathed in creamy yogurt. ($35 pesos). There is good coffee, hot cakes, pan salado, Huevos a la Oaxaqueña and more. The restaurant at Casa Arnel is mostly a breakfast place, although they can make up sandwiches and box lunches.

A couple of hours later, we walked to Centro, the Zócalo and the Mercado 20 de Noviembre. A large procession of protesting campesinos was filing past the Zócalo, but there were no obviously physical conflicts.

In the bustling Mercado, we quickly located a likely fonda; Abuelita's. There we ordered a second, more substantial breakfast; Huevos Revueltos con Chorizo Oaxaqueño for me; and a Tlayuda con Tasajó for Susan. We both drank Chocolate Caliente de Agua, con Pan de Yema. The chocolate was quite good but the pan was not especially eggy nor even all that fresh. My dish was tasty, if rather greasy, and Susan felt the Tlayuda to be overly dry and was unable to finish it. I helped and to me it was tasty, but could have been prepared better.


We walked back to Casa Arnel, packed our stuff, and paid. We could have walked to La Casa de Los Sabores in about 15 or 20 minutes, but the sun was reaching its zenith, so we saved strength and took a cab. There, Martha greeted us, and placed us in the "Gardenia" room. It was spacious and had a King bed.

We must have been well filled by our two breakfasts, as I can't remember any more meals we ate that day. (Incredible!) Maybe it was few Tacos Árabes. (see below)

We spend a lot of time walking, just looking and visiting bakeries, markets and a few shops. We are not crafts fanciers nor are we big on museums. Among the intriguing restaurants, we noticed "El Balcón de La Lechuza", specialists in Tacos Árabes. we got to try them the next night. Pork is grilled on a rotary spit in front of a charcoal fire. They're a relative of Tacos Al Pastor, but without the spicy adobo marinade, and onion takes the place of the pineapple garnish. Mild yet very good. The accompanying salsas were a garlicky vegetable sauce and a thin and picante salsa chipotle. They were mellow and quite delicious, especiallly with the melted white cheese on them.
Breakfast at Los Sabores started with an attractive and artistically fashioned fruit plate; a quesadilla de quesillo, nopales y epazote, and lots of coffee. There was a basket of the same whole grain bread as served at Restaurante La Olla. There was a fruit juice blend also.

Susan was coming down with a cold. Various remedies were applied and taken.
But two days of bed rest proved most efficacious.

(To be continued, in Part Three)

Eating Oaxaca - Part One

The winter passes relatively benignly here in the Pátzcuaro, Michoacán region. But January brings some cold nights and cool days, and we sought a break from the chill air. Moreover, I looked forward to the diverse cuisine of sunny Oaxaca, and to learn a little about it. We also wanted to renew old friendships and make new acquaintances while there. After looking over the many and varied cooking schools and classes offered around Oaxaca, I decided to test the waters by signing up for a one-day class at La Casa De Los Sabores.

Several options are available, as you can see from their website. I decided to splurge on a private class (I was the only student) because I wanted to match class content with the my skill level and experiences . In other words, I wouldn't be very happy if I was taught how to make guacamole. It was difficult to decide which of the 15 menus to pick. I've attached them below.
Reprinted courtesy of Pilar Cabrera

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CASA DE LOS SABORES

Cooking School 2008®


1. AMARILLO

Quesadillas de champiñones y quesillo (Cheese and mushrooms quesadillas)
Ensalada de espinacas con aderezo de jamaica
Sopa de guias (Traditional Oaxacan vegetable soup)
Mole Amarillo de pollo (Yellow mole with chicken or pork)
Arroz con leche (Mexican rice pudding)
Salsa de chile pasilla oaxaqueno


2. COLORADO

Taquitos dorados de pollo (Golden fried chicken taco)
Guacamole
Arroz con chepiles (Rice with oaxacan wild herbs)
Coloradito de pollo o puerco (Coloradito with chicken or pork)
Pay de Guayaba (Guava pie)


3. DE BAUTIZO

Taquitos suaves de nopalitos (Tender cactus in soft tortillas)
Sopa de haba al chile pasilla (Faba bean soup with chile pasilla)
Estofado de pollo (chicken with a mix of tomato-almonds sauce)
Arroz campestre (Rice with flowers and corn)
Nieve de nuez


4. NEGRO

Quesadillas de flor de calabaza (Quesadillas with squash blossom and cheese)
Salsa de tomate y chile de agua
Mole Negro con pollo o guajolote (Black mole with chicken or turkey)
Arroz a la hierbabuena (Mexican style rice)
Nieve de vainilla (vainilla sorbet)


5. VERDE

Memelitas (Small corn tortilla with cheese)
Salsa de tres chiles
Sopa de garbanzo a la hierbabuena (Oaxacan dry cheakpeas soup)
Mole verde con carne de puerco o pollo (Oaxacan green mole with chicken or pork)
Pay de requesón con salsa de chocolate (Ricotta cheese cake with chocolate sauce)


6. DEL MAR

Ceviche de pescado
Arroz costeno (Mixed of carrots and cabbage with rice)
Camarones a la diabla (shrimp in chilpotle sauce)
Salsa de habanero (Green habanero sauce)
Flan de café (Coffee flan)


7.- VEGETARIANO

Memelitas (Small corn tortilla with cheese)
Sopa Conde (Black bean soup)
Chiles rellenos de queso y flores en salsa roja (Poblano chiles stuffed with squash blossoms and cheese, over red sauce)
Arroz a la hierbabuena (Rice seasoned with mint)
Pay de requesón y pina (Ricotta cheese cake with pineapple)


8. ENCHILADO

Tetelas de frijol con hierbabuena
Ensalada César (Ceasar salad)
Chiles rellenos de picadillo en salsa de tomate (Chile pasilla oaxaqueño stuffed with picadillo in tomato sauce)
Arroz a la hierbabuena (Rice with oaxacan wild herb)
Gelatina de rompope (Eggnog gelatin)


9. PATRIO

Flores de calabaza rellenas de requesón (Squash blossoms filled with requesón cheese)
Salsa verde asada (Smoky tomatillo sauce)
Sopa Azteca (Tortilla soup seasoned with avocado leaves)
Chiles en nogada (Poblano chiles filled with chicken, in nut sauce)
Flan de coco (coconut flan)


10. TAMALADA

Ensalada de jicama y berros (Jicama and watercress salad)
Tamal de frijol (Black bean tamal)
Corundas (Cheese tamal wrapped in bambu leaves)
Salsa roja (red tomato sauce)
Tamal de mole en hoja de plátano (Black mole tamal wrapped in banana leaves)
Pay de mango (Mango pie)


11. VERACRUZANO

Salsa verde cruda (Uncooked green salsa)
Gorditas rellenas de frijol (Stuffed corn tortilla with black beans)
Arroz negro (Rice with black beans)
Pescado a la veracruzana (Veracruz style red snapper)
Flan de vainilla (Vanilla flan)


12. 100% MAIZ

Tostaditas de tinga
Molotitos de papa con chorizo
Taquitos dorados de requeson
Quesadillas
Tetelas con frijol y queso
Salsa roja
Salsa verde


14. DE FLORES

Quesadillas de flor de calabaza
Ensalada verde con mastuerzos
Pechuga de pollo en salsa de flor de calabaza
Helado de petalos de rosas (Rose petal sorbet)
Te helado de jamaica

15. FAMILIAR

Tamal De frijol
Tamal de dulce
Memelitas
Chocolate de leche
Salsa de tomate


Every class we have a cocktail, a beer and wine, we’ll prepare during the class.
All the menus have been chosen by Pilar Cabrera, 2008 ®

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As you can see, the eager, prospective student is spoiled for choice. I began by eliminating the menus that interested me less. That eliminated Colorado, Enchilado, Patrio, Veracruzana, 100% Maíz, Familiar. There is nothing intrinsically wrong with those menus, but I felt that they were either too basic (Colorado) or not as relevant to the region.
I considered Tamalada, but I felt that that one was mono-dimensional and the hand skills were too demanding. Besides, the tamales family is very common to Michoacán, although they are nowhere as rich and complex as a Tamal Oaxaqueño.

I like the idea of the De Flores menu, but realized it was difficult to reproduce and, let's face it: perhaps a bit precious. I really liked the concept of the Menú Vegetariano, but in the end, I had Negro or Verde as the the finalists. Mole Negro is complex and rich; probably the most popular choice among advanced students. Always the contrarian, I decided that Verde was my winner.

For convenience and comfort, I booked three nights at the Casa de Los Sabores B&B, where the classes take place; located on Los Libres 205, a bit off centro but a pleasant and interesting walk. For the remainder of our stay, I first booked two nights at Casa Arnel, in Colonia Jalatlaco, mostly for old times' sake and to visit our friends, the Cruz family, whom we'd not seen in over 12 years. We later extended our stay another night.

Our transportation was by bus, which in México, is a usually advantageous way to travel. We booked on Primera Clase and ADO GL buses, using our Senior INAPAM (formerly "INSEN" credentials to obtain 50% discounts, whenever seating allocations allowed.

We broke the journey in México City, staying at the Hotel Milan, in Colonia Roma Norte. It's a good, solid 3 star hotel, well located and very comfortable. There are any number of wonderful used book stores cafés and eating places close by, but we went to El Bazar de Oro, off Av. Insurgentes, to the Parillada Bariloche, a lively South American steak joint, a real, shirtsleeves, family sort of place. Seating on the backless plastic stools was uncomfortable, but the steaks were juicy and delicious. Prices are moderate, about $90 to $110 pesos a steak. There are no accompaniments, except bread and 3 delicious salsas. We ordered some papas Francesas and some soft drinks. Our bill for two was about $280 pesos. The restaurant is only open Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays.

We slept well, and took the Metro from Insurgentes Station to San Lázaro Station, which resurges next to TAPO (Terminal de Autobuses para Pasajeros al Oriente)

Southern Cookin' South of the Border

We had a few neighbors over for a little lunch. We made what is among our favorite style of food while living here in México: Southern U.S. cookin'.

Yesterday, I saw some nice filetes de bagre on special at the Soriana supermarket. I bought five nice large ones, and after all was done and properly condimented, we had:

•Chapulines grandes (fried grasshoppers, salted, with chile ) as an appetizer. (Or a de-appetizer, if you like.)




•Fried fillets of catfish w/ Ho-made Tartar Sauce. The catfish fillets were nearly perfectly cooked, although the flavor was very mild.
•Hush Puppies
•Coleslaw
•Bread 'n Butter Pickles
•Salsa Verde
•Oven "Fried" Potatoes
•Sliced onion
•Sliced fresh Chiles Serranos in lime juice
•Pinto beans
•Ketchup by Heinz™

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•Dessert was Flan de Naranja, which came out very nicely, although the orangeness was elusive, and it took several applications of steaming hot towels to release the flan from the mold.

Cerveza Noche Buena and Agua de Jamaica were the principal beverages.


Click slide show below to see larger photos. Photo credits to Geni Certain.

A Little Lunch With Friends

After a fairly long lapse, we were ready for a visit to our favorite restaurant in the Pátzcuaro area, la Marisquería "La Güera". Seafood is the specialty, of course.

Our neighbors,, Geni and Larry accompanied us. It's now a lot faster and easier to get to the restaurant because the construction of the 4 lane Libramiento Ignacio Zaragoza is essentially complete, lacking only the finishing touches of palm trees, "modren" statuary, and lateral curbs. There are even traffic lights, still undergoing testing, or just to familiarize the drivers of their existence.

Once parked, and at the restaurant, I saw that the staff was having their lunches. I think that it gives an appealing, "family" touch. Although I was curious to knw what they had chosen, I didn't ask, although at least some rice was evident.

We four went for a light selection of fare:
We split an order of Tiritas de Pescado Fresco, a sort of seviche in strips, presented attractively on a background of sliced cucumber, a little lettuce, chopped cucumber, some rings of purple onion, and the trademarked orange slices, all lightly sprinkled with chile flakes.

The fish takes about 20 minutes to "cook" in lime juice, so we filled the wait with an order of guacamole; and I had two tostadas de marlín guisado, shredded, smokey fish cooked with tomato and a little chile. Geni had one also. The guacamole was simple and freshly made.

Three of our group drank goblets of fizzy limonadas freshly squeezed from limes, while I had a Cerveza Victoria.

The Tiritas came, and they were outstanding, tangy, fresh and flavorsome. One order, $38 Pesos, is enough for 4 to have as an appetizer. I used to try to eat one by myself as a light main course, but it's just too much of a good thing.

We then ordered more plates to suit our individual desires.

Larry got a torta de marlín, a small French roll with the same marlin spread on it, which just about filled him, but he and Geni were able to share the large plate of warm, freshly cooked Camarones Para Pelar that we ordered. (Peel' em and eat 'em shrimp.) These are among the best products of the restaurant, and although I'm certain the shrimp comes to them frozen, it always tastes great and fresh. The headless shrimp are large. This time, the colorful platter came showered with finely chopped mild white onion.

There is no cocktail sauce, but some of us made up a tasty do it yourself sauce of mayonnaise and thick, smoky rich Salsa Chipotle.

To balance all the "cold" foods, I also got an order of nice, perfectly acceptable Papas Fritas (French Fries.) There was a new-ish condiment I wanted to try, made by the same company, Cosecha Purépecha, who manufacture the Salsa Chipotle and other fine bottled salsas. The condiment is a chile vinegar, but way above the common stuff. It has 2 or 3 different kinds of chiles, carrot, bay leaves and other spices, attractively arranged. It went very well with the cucumbers* as well as on the French Fries.

I think that about covers all. There were some extra limonadas and another beer.

The total bill was $366.20 MXP, or around $33.38 USD, plus a 12% tip.

We love that place. The neatly dressed, white jacketed, mostly attentive employees seem genuinely happy, and that's a plus.

*Cucumbers are very cheap in the mercado (at retail). Typically, 3 kilos for 8 or 10 pesos. Once every vendor was pushing them 3 x 5 pesos.

A Bun For The Money?

We were in Pátzcuaro's alluring Mercado Soriana yesterday morning, picking up a few necessities (eg, 12 bottle cartons of Cerveza Nochebuena at 2 for 1 pricing) when we wandered over to the panadería section. At that hour there wasn't much fresh bread available, but there were some French style "pistolets" (usually called "bolillos" in Mexico, some teleras, the flatter oval rolls with two longitudinal creases, only one seeded baguette, and quite a few round, sesame topped rolls. The latter looked something like overly plump hamburger bins or uncreased Kaiser Rolls.

I started to put 4 of the round rolls on my tray, then saw the price card. I mistakenly thought that each one was 5 pesos, which is a high price here. But after some careful analysis using elementary decimal fractions, I understood that they were only 50 centavos, or 1/2 peso each. The bolillos and teleras were the same price, if I recall, and the lone baguette was 90 centavos. Eight cents.

Think about that. They cost about 4 1/2 ¢ each. No other bakery that I've been to sells bread at so low a price. Is it a function of buying power and production efficiencies, or are they undercutting the other stores and traditional panaderías with very aggressive pricing? I suspect the latter, and selling at under the cost of ingredients and labor. In my view, such practices are not limited to the well-hated (except by Mexican customers who throng to shop there) "Octopus of the North", Wal-Mart.

By the way, the rolls were plain but good, and we made some tasty sandwiches on them. For our dessert, we had some miniature pastries, based on cupcakes, which are very prettily fashioned and sell for only 4.5 pesos each. That's about 42¢. One, a fake whipped cream-filled Baba, was ok, but an elaborated "Hostess" cupcake, topped with a glazed strawberry half was unappetizingly dry. A nut-glazed cuernito is pretty tasty, especially when warmed in the toaster oven.

I guess you generally get what you pay for.

Culinary Adventures in the Inside Passage...

...of Pátzcuaro's mercado



In an effort to revitalize my sense of culinary derring do, seasoned with a dash of risk, we once again went forth where no guidebook dares venture. Today we walked along one of the inside passages of Pátzcuaro's mercado. Our regular mercado path usually finds us in the bright sunshine of the market street where the fruits and vegetables are sold, as well as the odd pig's head and assorted viscerae.

We have made occasional exploratory forays into the cavernous gloom under the shed roofs.

There are discoveries to be made. This is not your Soriana, Wal-Mart or Comercial Mexicana.

The general layout of products and services places the fruits and vegetables outside along the street, the carnicerías and pollerías more or less together inside; a rather unattractive hall of fondas, and a small, fresh and dried fish section. Follow your nose.

The south side is dedicated to Sanitarios Públicos, peluquerías and natural herbal medicine tiendas. There is clothing and plastic wares near the clothing. You can pick up some Santa Muerte paraphernalia and 5 pairs of cheap socks, if you know where to look.

(HINT: they are in the passageway behind the attractive, ringletted señorita selling pepinos y jícamas, across from the outdoor vitrina de la víscera. Innards.)

There's the lower-end fruits and vegetables corridor inside, flanking the main outside pasillo. Our belief is that there are bargains there.

Yesterday morning we were returning to buy bananas from a particular inside vendor. My wife claims his bananas last longer. (Maybe I should be worried.)

The following review should not be misconstrued. This is not about a world class eating experience, deserving four stars in guidebooks and worth a special journey. It's about a tasty, cheap snack.

On our way in we pased at least 3 quesadilla stalls, as well as a couple of cocinas económicas; of the latter, at least one specializing in fish head soup.

One quesadilla stall which shone forth out of las sombras. It's called "Quesadillas Monse". My appetite quickened at the sight of crisping quesadillas being flipped in hot lard.

After a tortured deliberation as to whether to eat fish head soup or quesadillas, we turned to the latter. Monse's was very popular, and it was filled with happy munchers, while neighboring quesadillas stalls languished for clients. (At least, at that hour.)

Monse's even built a mini-comedor, or, call it a dinette, across the passageway from the hot fat frying. Or, you can sit right up against the fry station, and hope that the quesadilla cocinera es diestra and doesn't splash sizzling lard on your ascot. The tables of this cheerful nook held brimming bowls of salsa roja, salsa verde, shredded lettuce and crema.

CREMA? Who puts crema on fried food? Well, nearly everyone who was eating there. Yes, even on quesadillas de salchicha y queso (hot dogs and Oaxaca cheese.)

The selection of filings is limited, and that's probably good, because it tends to make freshness a likelihood. There's pollo con papas, rajas con carne de res deshebrada, tinga, queso Oaxaca, y salchichas. Weiners.


It's fun to watch the all-woman team in action. There's Monse, pulling queso into shreds, taking orders and alternately collecting payment*; there's the masa squasher pressing out the elongated ovals on the tortilla prensa; there's the quesadilla cocinera, wielding two spatulas, frying the elongated envelopes of masa y harina to crisp delicacies in manteca pura de cerdo.

Yes. The non-PC, non vegetarian, all natural, no trans fats, grasa verdadera. Pig fat. Real Mexican food.


There's even impromptu "found" entertainment. We were seated at a small table in the passageway, to which a man came to collect a costal of lettuce trimmings and outer leaves. It was stashed under our table, and Monse had to drag out a bigger sack of lettuce heads to retrieve it.


I was tempted to have another quesadilla, but it might have taken 5 minutes to make, and I was foolishly thinking of trying some menudo (Yes!) at the Plaza San Francisco. (I didn't. Probably a prudent choice.)

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Disclaimers
*No te preocupes. Even though the alternating money and food handling violates one of my Rules of Street and Market Food Hygiene, I choose to believe that the sizzling lard kills off any bugs. No stomachs were harmed in the making of this blog post.

The graphic image at the top, which bears only a passing resemblance to the quesadillas Monse's, was borrowed from stock image site. www.fotosearch.com/photos-images/quesadilla.html

Rotate For Freshness

We live in a region of rotating population. The Michoacanos go to the "otro lado", that is, the United States, to work and earn a better living, while the retirees/expats move here for cheaper living and a more temperate climate. (I'll grant that there are other reasons for the expat migration, but that's not my theme today.)

Sometimes the expats return to their home countries, for varied reasons. Some, including our dear friends and neighbors, live here seasonally. One of the side effects of the rotation of the expat population is The Moving Sale. These sales give us who stay a chance to buy funny looking table lamps, side tables, Bundt pans and other artifacts at bargain prices. We scavengers can get herb and spice collections for free or a few pesos. But to accept these herbs, spices and odd lots of ingredients has its dark side.

One departing expat left me a Number 10 can of tomato paste, and about a pound of fennel seed. Questions arose. How do I open and store such a quantity of tomato paste in the overcrowded and overworked freezer compartment? And fennel seed—used in making Italian style sausage— it takes about a tablespoon per batch. I have enough fennel, between his gift and my unfortunately concurrent purchases, to make enough Italian sausage to circle Lake Pátzcuaro several times.

Another vexing challenge is that of redundancy and of freshness. I appreciated getting a small bag of celery seed, but how many more baggies of orégano can I use—or basil? How fresh are they? Did they come from the Other Side 3 years ago? Most of these herbs are readily available in mercados and supermarkets. So who wants to have to spend time rotating for freshness and finding both suitable containers for storing on increasingly chaotic shelves?

One type of seasoning, though, gives me no hesitation in pitching it into el bote (the trash can). Those are the little, premixed packets of Taco Seasoning, French Toast Batter Seasoning, Tuna Casserole Sauce Mix, and Caesar Salad Herb Blend; that sort of stuff. The kind of seasonings that are composed mainly of salt, sugar and MSG with a little spice as an afterthought. ¡Salgan!

The real problem is how to seem grateful for these gifts from the departing expats yet while maintaining my sanity. After all, I don't want to make their leave taking any more dolorous than it already is. So, in the end, I accept with feigned gratitude, while silently cursing the Herbal Triage that awaits me.

Sometimes I can bestow some herbs and spices on others less fortunately endowed. A couple of days ago, I brought the Number 10 Can of Tomato Paste over to our next door, Alabaman neighbors, Geni and Larry, along with some 1 cup plastic freezer containers. They packed about half the contents into their vacuum sealed plastic bags, and gave me the other half in my freezer containers. It was a small price to get that tomato paste where I could use it.

So, there is hope.
But there is also a catch.
Geni told me that when they turn off their electricity to leave, I will get their tomato paste.

A Bad Dream: Where's my Luger, Peter?

A little while ago, I had a bad dream in which I was invited to eat at Peter Luger's Steakhouse, in Brooklyn, NY. It was my first visit, as I would seldom if ever pay that kind of $$$s for a meal there. But in this dream, someone else was paying. I found myself, fully suited and cravatted, in company with friends and friends of friends. Some of the latter were very rude diners, going so far as to reach across the table, to sample morsels using their fingers. On top of that, the obsequious waiter would suggest side dishes, but they sometimes wouldn't ever arrive. I ordered a side of sauteed spinach (FOOL! I can make that at home.) and it never came.
(Click on photo for an enlarged view.)

But the worst moment was when the dining companion next to me hastily got up to take a cell phone call or something. In doing so, he disarranged the chairs, and in the momentary confusion, the waiter came and cleared our plates. I could see my unfinished steak over on a sideboard. I cried out; "Don't let him take it away!", but in moment, it was too late. It was gone. (I could describe its grain and texture, and the degree of doneness. I'd been pleased that it hadn't been pre-sliced. I'd just begun to get a sense of its savor.)

I got the captain's attention after a bit, and haltingly explained what had happened. He listened sympathetically, but with a thread of skepticism. He asked me which cut of meat I'd been eating, and he might be able to replace it. I was so consternated, that I couldn't tell him. He gave me a menu, and despite several scans of the list of steak offerings, I couldn't remember. My credibility was fading fast. I despaired of ever finishing that famed steak.

My dining companions scattered, to return to their corporate endeavors, and I was left holding a couple of cellophane-wrapped peppermint candies.

After this post, I shall be banned from Peter Luger's for life. Ni modo.

Bitter Oranges and Sweet Mermelada

From late last winter, this post has been slowly aging in its cyber-cellar, until now it is ready for publication.

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Yesterday, near Pátzcuaro, we visited a neighbor's ranchito along with a friend. Our amiga pointed out the orange trees and said "Son naranjas amargas."
I asked if they could be used to make mermelada, and she didn't know. These are not the same as the "Naranjas Dulces, 5 kilos por 15 pesos", described in another post. These oranges are bitter, but free.

I'd like to know more; whether they might be used to make a tasty, coarse shred orange marmalade. I suppose I'd need pectin, wouldn't I? I soon found out that it wasn't necessary.

A week later, there was a call at our gate. Our young amiga and her cousin had brought me some 5 kilos or so of oranges. I soon set to work.

After finishing the preparing, cooking and canning of a test batch of mermelada, I'm now having a medicinal brandy. ;-)

I started at about 5 a.m. cooking the washed and scrubbed oranges, then boiling them in plain water until tender. Although the recipe in the book, "Better Than Store Bought" suggests 6, large Seville Oranges, boiled for an hour, the 12, small to medium Mexican Seville (?) Oranges were done in about 35 minutes.

They are cooled in the liquid, which is reserved. Then each orange is cut in half, and the pips and membranes are scraped into a wide, copper clad bottom, stainless steel Revere Ware pot).

That pulp is cooked with the water for an hour. This step extracts the pectin. This mess is then food milled.

The resulting strained pulp is mixed with the finely cut peels. (I did that with a sharp knife on a cutting board, 2-3 peels at a time while the pectin was extracting.) Others recommend using a food grinder with a coarse plate, but that sounds less attractive in its results.

(We then went for a walk)

On our return, I divided the total into two batches of about 6 cups each. To each I added about 6 cups of sugar. There's also fresh lemon/lime juice in it. Each batch is cooked over a fairly high flame until the mixture thickens, and the liquid falls from the spoon in sheets rather than droplets. (Yeah, right.)

Now it's poured into sterilized jars, and, in some cases, a circle of brandy paper is placed on the gel before sealing. In other cases, I said, the heck with it, and just dribbled a little brandy on top of the marmalade.

The jars are wiped off with a hot, damp towel.
(I just heard a lid, "POP!")

This looks pretty good, and the tiny tastes we had indicate that it's worth it. However, I wouldn't think making any less than 4 pints is worthwhile.

Tip to Myself: Get the proper jars ahead of time next time you plan to make this.

UPDATE: We now have the jars, and the oranges are ripening on the trees. After the Christmas holidays, I will make more mermelada.
While looking for a picture to (a-hem) borrow as an illustration, I came upon a Chili-Orange Marmalade recipe. It's from a Danish chili (sic) lover! I didn't use his picture, but I will definitely try his recipe.

NAFTA Salad

We have a bottle of locally purchased salad dressing. (No, we didn't buy it. Our departing neighbor gave it to us.)
It's labeled, " All Seasons Aderezo Campestre RANCH Picante".
In other words, it's Picante Country Ranch Dressing". Its country of origin is Canada. (I didn't know that the Canadians did picante anything.)
It was shipped across the border, at Laredo, Texas by an exporter.
It was distributed within Mexico by a distributor in el D.F. Who shipped it to a bodega somewhere in Michoacán, I guess, from where it was transported to the store where our neighbor bought it.

It's a well-traveled salad dressing.

I also found it on a blog, VidaMexicana.blog3
It appears to be in Spanish AND an Asian language.
This stuff must be widely distributed.

Oh. It's not bad, for bottled dressing.

Confronting Menudo

After many years, I think I've finally overcome my fascination with menudo, and the thrall in which it held me.

Let's face it. To eat menudo is a test of machismo. To eat it, without quivering or without echarme las tripas (puke my guts) would mean I was ready to experience the fabled " Real Mexico". On my first meeting with menudo, I failed the test. It took place in a small, Mexican cafe, near the railroad tracks, in Lordsburg, New Mexico, on a Sunday morning, about 7:30 a.m., sometime in the 1980s.

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Menudo, a sort of restorative soup, is tripe and sometimes other innards, cooked with onions, garllc and chiles. In El Norte, it often contains maíz pozolero as well. In the North, it's cooked blanco, sin chile; en El Sur , se cuece con chiles y lo sale rojo, sin maíz.

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Sunday mornings, I knew, were prime menudo time, because the vatos locos borrachos de la noche pasada needed the curative powers of menudo para curar La Cruda. La Cruda (note the feminine ending) is a hangover of mythic proportions, scaled to how much machismo you possess. (I'd read The People's Guide to Mexico cover to cover, so I knew this stuff.)

When they brought the bowl to our table, I immediately and instinctively knew I wouldn't be able to eat it.
There was A Smell.

I applied as much crumbled orégano, chile piquín, y cebolla picada and limón as possible to mask the odor of somewhat aging viscera.
Not only was there a smell, but it was visually repulsive; a slightly viscid broth with unidentifiable fragments of innards rising to the surface to greet me.
I cautiously took a spoonful.
Urggg.

Not only did it smell funky, and look repulsive, but it was tepid. Brrrrr.
My brave wife took charge, called over the owner/waiter, and asked if it could could be heated more en la microonda.
Soon it returned, steaming hot and smelling as bad as before, but palatable for Susan, who cleaned the bowl.
As for me, I slunk out of Lordsburg, covered in shame. Me avergonzé.

Years went by, and in 1991, we traveled deeper into México, specifically to the fabled Silver City of Zacatecas. Our train arrived at dusk, and our taxi drove us down cobbled streets illuminated by the soft glow of wrought iron faroles de dragones lanterns. We were immediately enchanted.

The next morning, as I took a walk in the frosty air, I chanced upon the Plazuela Genaro Codina, with the statue of the eponymous Prof. Genaro Codina, playing his harp.
This charming little plaza became the center of my world in Zacatecas. Its two principal culinary attractions are side by side: La Panadería La Flor de México and Menudería La Güera.
(There is also the Mercado El Laberinto, hidden away inside, and slightly hard to find.)

The Menudería opens very early. The front opens to the plazuela, doors wide open. Its walls are of polished gray stone with swirls of white. In the front of the shop, two señoras stand at the gas range, maintaining the large pots of menudo. It is a spotless eating place.

Theirs is a superior menudo. The pieces of tripas are larger and not iggy-squiggly. The caldo is boiling hot, and stoutly seasoned with aromatics and red chiles. The large size comes with a portion of meat on the bone. No pozole corn, just meat and chiles and herbs. The tortillas are hot. You can drink coffee (Nescafé) or orange juice.

I liked it. No; I loved it. It fortified me against the freezing cold, rarefied air of the 8000 feet a.s.l. of Zacatecas. After a bowl or two of that Menudo La Güera, I could climb the steep hills without gasping (much).

Years later, we moved to Michoacán. It's a different, and in my opinion, generally inferior version. The tripe is cooked apart from the caldo. The tripe is bland, white and squiggly. It's cut up into serving pieces, placed in your bowl and a ladle or two of caldo is poured over it. To me, it's like eating a bowl of tasteless, gelatinous wigglies in a relatively insipid chile broth.

Last week, here in Las Cuevas, they were cooking a menudo de olla for the early morning workers and cooks outside the church while preparing for the Día de La Virgen de Guadalupe. That menudo was bubbling nicely in a large clay olla over a charcoal fire. Everything in one pot; the broth, the seasoning and the víscera. It looked...umm... interesting. But we were on our way to a breakfast elsewhere, so we couldn't try it.
Darn!

Yesterday, our neighbors killed a large beef animal for the wedding today of Sr. Jesús O. and his bride, Sra. Praxedes. I observed some of the butchering, which employed an ax as the principal tool, as the skinned head of the animal gazed sightlessly over its own dismemberment. It gave me pause. (I will probably recover my my brief spell of queasiness in time for dinner.)

Besides the obligatory, considerably simplified local version of barbacoa a la penca para la comida; menudo will be served for breakfast. Gracias, muy amable. Yo me quedo con mi pan tostado y huevos revueltos.

(Please. Let's not talk about eggs.)

Confessions of a 79% Coffee Addict

The terrible truth is that I am a coffee addict. I recently had my suspicions confirmed when I took and online quiz. (See below) My years I'd worked the graveyard shift as a baker had taken their toll.

Now, it's one thing to be a coffee maven, but it's a terrible thing to lose your mind to caffeine.
The signs become clearer when, instead of grinding selected Chiapas beans, you start drinking Nescafé Clásico. Not for nothing is it referred to as "No es café". That stuff used to taste like the condensations of a Mexico City bus' exhaust. Now, it doesn't...taste...so..bad.
I don't drink it for the taste but for the kick-start to my day.

After one mug, I now switch to decaf. Do any of you coffee snobs know that there's a decent decaf with the Clásico label? I'll bet not.
We were introduced to this at the Restaurant del Arcángel, near Tzurumútaro. They have an espresso machine, but at 9:30 in the morning, the only coffee available was Clásico Descafeinado and a tea kettle of boiling water.

Accept no substitutes. Folger's Instant Decaf tastes bad. Very bad.

Real coffee, good coffee, is available for you mavens who scorn instant.
You can hardly get around Pátzcuaro's Centro without bumping into a cafetería. I might go so far as to say that Pátzcuaro Centro is two plazas defined by coffeehouses.

The sight of the Hygeia ice cream cartons of the Palomares coffeehouse fills me with nostalgia, but my Mundo de Café Centro revolves around the La Surtidora, on the Plaza Grande; or at the Gran Hotel, on the Plaza Chica. Those are favorite gringo aggregation social loci.

When I'm on my own, I sometimes get a café cortado at Lilian's Coffee, a tiny place niched into the Hotel Los Escudos, which has its own coffee shop. (We drank there once. Once only.) Lilian's is excellent, maybe a bit over priced, although the coffee is served in a paper cup. They also sell whole bean and ground coffee, but it's prepackaged, I think. I also like having choices of different types of beans, even though I almost always buy the same kind.

La Surtidora has the advantage that you can buy a variety of beans. (They also sell puros (cigars), both marcas nacionales y Habanos. However, that's another story for another day. One bad habit is enough for now. La Surtidora serves a deep cup. It's good, with the occasional trace of grounds to remind you that it's the real stuff.

If you are in Uruapan or Quiroga, you can buy excellent coffee at Café Tradicional Uruapan. The coffee at Café La Lucha is ok, but to me, it lacks that deep roasted flavor I prefer. Their drinking chocolate tablets are very good. Buy some to take home. The aroma alone is heavenly.

In Morelia, Café Europa has very good coffee. (Just not at their Wal-Mart Super Center outlet.)
There are several branches. There's a big café on Avenida Madero, but I haven't tried it. We usually bought coffee beans at a small Europa outlet on Humboldt, near the Casa de las Artesanías. (I haven't been there recently, so I'm not sure it's there.) Another café with food is the Europa on Avenida Enrique Ramírez, just beyond the Superama. They have especially nice service there.

Take The Coffee Addiction Test.

I am 79% Addicted to Coffee

¡Alto! ¿ Jugos there?

Our isolated ranchito is well served by numerous motorized vendors that supply our needs. There's the gas trucks with their jingles and romantic musical pleas to housewives, the verduras truck, the artículos de limpieza truck (Fabuloso by the 2-liter Coke bottle, etc) and the "Beep-beep!" hot tortilla man, and now, we have the Naranjas Dulces driver.

"¡Aproveche! ¡Naranjas dulces, cinco kilos por quince pesos!", goes his recorded cry.

My wife warned my that if I succumbed to the blandishments, I would have to juice the oranges myself. Well, I'm retired. Now I'll have orange stains on my hands in addition to the time already there.

Some vendors have a schedule. The suave blandishments of the Gas Del Lago truck come at 7:30-ish in the morning. The blaring klaxon of the tortilla truck awakens any lingering slugabeds.
I'm not clear if the Naranjas Dulces man has a fixed time. Being México, it's not a clockwork naranja.

The truck came up our street this afternoon while I was dozing. I sprang to my feet, threw on my pants, and slipped on my flip flops.
Usually, the Naranja Man turns around in front of our landlady's house. That, in combination with my inertia, and other inhibiting factors (miedo de exprimir, lack of sex apeel, whatever) have until now kept me from making a purchase.

This time, I made it. Out in the mellow Michoacán afternoon sun stood the truck, heaped with oranges. Our neighbor, the venerable Sr. Jesús O. was just finishing up his purchase. We shook hands, as is the custom on every meeting. He recommended those oranges to me. "Mucho jugo."
Sr. Jesús O. is a man of few words.

The teenage boy in charge of Atencíon a Clientes looked dubiously at my pale güero face and asked me how many I wanted.
"Cinco kilos, por favor." I said. He scooped them up from the waiting bin and deposited them in a large bolsa plástica. I gave him exact change. (Maybe he should have thrown in an extra medio kilo for me having exact change. ¿quien sabe?)

Cinco kilos is a whole lotta naranjas. Squeezing them ought to improve my arm strength as well as helping our Vitamina C intake. I figure on getting a liter or two from these juicy fruits.

¡Holey Moley Molcajete!

(Even though they're not my kitchens, I'll be reporting on interesting eating places here.)

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Yesterday, Rose Calderone, Susan and I had a pleasant visit with Didi of Posada Espíritu Libre, looking around Quiroga and environs.
Our appetites whetted by the mountain air, we then went to supper at Taquería Los Compadres, on the main street. (Unfortunately, I didn't get the address.)

(A viewer writes: AVENIDA VASCO DE QUIROGA NUMERO 293 COMO REFERENCIA SE ENCUENTRA ENFRENTE DE LA GASOLINERA Y SOBRE LA AVENIDA PRINCIPAL DEL MUNICIPIO.)

This place is a hole in the wall, but its food is first rate. (Note the shapely female silhouette on the sign painted on the facade. I'm not sure of its significance.)

The restroom is placed in an interesting spot under the stairs, which provides for some challenging personal configurations. Men, especially.

I'm of the opinion that places that specialize in one or two dishes, and keep their menus simple, often serve the best food. At Los Compadres, the menu (on wall signs) consists of various combinations of grilled meats, chicken and cheese, served in a variety of ways. At its heart, the ingredients are simple.

The Especialidades de La Casa are its molcajetes. (I have to confess, that before this visit, I thought of the molcajete presentation as a tourist gimmick, something on the order of Curried Chicken Salad served in a pineapple half. But this is a terrific dish; unlike one that Susan had in another, larger restaurant in Morelia, where the molcajete was a sloppy mess of acidic sauce and greasy food. But, enough about that.)

We ordered the Super Molcajete, which is more than enough for 4 hearty eaters. The cooks start by heating a molcajete (volcanic stone grinding bowl), inverted over a gas burner. The owner then throws a few carnes onto la plancha to asar them. Voilá! Carne asada!

These are then cut into fine ribbons and placed over some onion sections and salsa in the now heated molcajete. Strips of cooked chorizos are added, as is pork. There was supposed to be some chicken in it, but I couldn't detect it, and really, didn't miss it.

Word comes from another aficonado of Los Compadres that you can specify the degree of picante in the molcajete. Ours must have been "default", because it was tasty but not very picante. That's easily adjusted with an application of the table salsas.

Nopales are grilled and artistically draped over the sides of the bowl. An avalanche of shredded Queso Oaxaca crowns the creation. The cheese gradually melts due to the retained heat of the stone bowl.

We were presented with this monster molcajete, along with hot tortillas de maíz and a salsa roja and a salsa verde. Both were good, although I gave the edge to the red sauce. As you dig down, various goodies emerge from the depths of the seething crater. The cebollas were especially coveted.

The napkin consumption per person ranged up to 5, and the lime halves usage up to 8, depending on the personal squeezing power of the diner.

There was some leftover food, which they wrapped for us.
With 5 or so soft drinks, our bill was $210 MN for all four of us, plus tip.

If you are still hungry afterwards, you can find pan dulce vendors and candy shops all up and down the street. (You won't be hungry.)

SPECIAL NOTE of MERITORIOUS SERVICE: The plates and utensils were delivered to the table *before* the food came. This is a sign of good service, one not always experienced in other restaurants hereabouts. Quiroga seems like a progressive city, after all.

Footnote: On a walk after the meal, we stopped in at Café Tradicional de Uruapan, located in the inexpensive Hotel Tarasco, and purchased some excellent coffee for brewing at $45 pesos a half-kilo. I brewed some this morning, and what few hairs I have stood at attention.

On the Plaza, a couple were selling musical Christmas lights of different styles, playing different songs; which blended together in a not unpleasant cacophony. It was sort of a musical molcajete for Christmas.