Mexico City: Reading Circle, Friendship and Bacalao

Reed and I are fortunate to have been invited to join a Reading Circle that meets one Wednesday a month, led by one of Mexico's best known men of letters. In the spirit of the season, for December he selected El principito, "The Little Prince."

Mexico takes the Advent season, the four Sundays leading up to Christmas, very seriously. The Saint's Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe, Patron Saint of Mexico, is celebrated on December 12. Beginning December 16, Posadas, commemorating Joseph and Mary's Journey to Bethlehem, are held on the nine evenings preceding Christmas, during which devout families make a novena by reciting the rosary on each of the nine nights; in traditional communities, young people taking the role of Joseph and Mary knock on neighbors' doors and, rebuffed at every house, continue their search for an inn; all this is, of course, followed by neighborhood and family fiestas. Pastorelas are performed throughout Advent. Suffice it to say, not a whole heckuva lot gets done work-wise during the month of December in Mexico!

So it's not surprising that the five women members of the Reading Circle decided to get together the evening before the December meeting to prepare Bacalao, the dried cod stew that is Mexico's traditional Christmas Eve family dinner. What a pleasure for me to participate in a women's get-together!

Women Get Together in the Kitchen

As she greeted us, our hostess Ángeles handed us each a white chef's apron, and we got right to work. I learned how to roast tomatoes on the comal, the traditional Mexican skillet used to prepare tortillas. But I learned that the comal is also useful for roasting tomatoes and chiles poblano.

Comals toasting tortillas and a 'roast' of mushrooms, small onions and chiles.
Six-burner stove tops are not uncommon in Mexican kitchens.  
(Photo: © Alvin Starkman 2008, in
Authentic Mexican cuisine at Oaxaca's La Casa de los Sabores cooking school)

Roasting and skinning chiles poblano is a skill that has absolutely eluded me, so I was delighted to learn the tricks of the trade, as it were! Unfortunately, I was so engrossed with roasting tomatoes and peeling off their skins that I forgot to take a picture.  Fortunately, I found this photo of an identical, well-used comal on the Internet.

While I roasted and peeled tomatoes, Heidi set about dicing onions.

Heidi was born in Mexico, but her German parents immigrated to Mexico after World War II. Verónica, the young woman who befriended  and invited us to join the Reading Circle, is the granddaughter of a German immigrant. Our hostess, Ángeles, is Spanish-born and arrived in Mexico as the bride of her Mexican husband forty years ago.

The grandfather of our dear friend in Pátzcuaro, whose family roots are in Chihuahua, was a Mennonite from Switzerland. Two decades ago, my translator at Pemex who remains my friend, is Japanese-Mexican, whose grandfather immigrated to Mexico. Actually, now she's Japanese-Mexican-American, since she and her family live in Denver (her husband is a U.S. citizen by virtue of his New Jersey-born mother, who also came to Mexico as a bride and has now lived here for close to fifty years).

All of which reminds us not only that Mexico is itself quite a 'melting pot' but that national boundaries and ethnic identities are growing ever-more fluid.

Once the onions were sautéed and the tomatoes roasted, peeled and pressed through a sieve, they were added to the onions. 

Pureed tomatoes and onions simmer

While tomatoes and onions simmered gently, the other women set about picking apart the dried cod that our hostess had already soaked. Verónica and I undertook the task of dicing an entire bunch of flat-leafed parsley. The seriousness of this task is not to be underestimated. 

When I showed Ángeles my first attempt, she gave me a stern look, "Más fino," she ordered. When Verónica's first attempt received the same stern judgment, I offered to take over parsley-chopping to Verónica's evident relief. I found that by making four passes—turning the chopping board 90-degrees after each pass—the final result passed Ángeles' exacting standard. 

Dried Cod ready to be picked apart

As the photo shows, the meticulous work of picking apart dried cod is definitely best done by a group of women chatting companionably about other things. We learned about the experiences of adult children engaged in work and study outside Mexico: one is in graduate school at Harvard; another works for the International Monetary Fund in New York; still others work in Europe—in Spain and Germany. This is such a cosmopolitan, well-traveled group that our participation is not only special but a genuine pleasure.

Picking Dried Cod
Left to right: Ángeles, our hostess; Heidi, reaching for more dried cod;
Emmy, listening intently to Verónica, who invited us to join the group.

With the cod well picked, the conversation turned to cooking. Ángeles brought out treasured cookbooks. In addition to her well-worn Spanish cookbook, to my surprised delight, equally well-worn copies of Julia Child and The Joy of Cooking were part of the trove!

Ángeles sharing her Spanish cookbook with Emmy

The women's international palate is quite impressive.

 Bacalao: Ángeles added small, boiled potatoes, Spanish green olives,  and the
entire bunch of finely chopped parsley to the simmering base of onions and tomatoes.

When all that remained was for the Bacalao to sit overnight to let the flavors marry, we chatted some more before calling it a night.

Reading Circle

The next evening we arrived at 6:00 PM for the Reading Circle. When we walked in, the buffet table was already set up for our cena, supper, which we would enjoy after about an hour of discussion.

Everyone was there: Ángeles, our charming Spanish-born hostess; Emmy, English teacher and perspicacious wife of a professor of philosophy at an elite Mexican university; Heidi, nutritionist, source of spirited, no-nonsense insights; Verónica, gregarious attorney specializing in Family Law and networker par excellence; Aureliano, delightfully cultured retired businessman; husband Reed, and Eusebio Ruvalcaba, 'el profe', the professor, the Reading Circle's leader.

Mexicans make free use of titles and nicknames; el profe combines both. El profe wears his considerable erudition with a patient courtesy that nurtures the best in all of us.

Deep in Discussion (left to right): Aureliano, Emmy, Ángeles, Heidi (arm only), Reed

The group's discussion of The Little Prince was sensitive and insightful. As a group, we were touched by the vulnerability of the Flower and by el Zorro, the Fox, asking The Prince to 'tame me', then memorably describing what it means to be tamed. We explored the themes of attachment and separation and together we recalled the child, la niña and el niño, inside ourselves. At times, the comments were vaguely biographical, providing rare glimpses into the personal lives of our fellow readers.

At the break, the Bacalao commanded the place of honor on the buffet table.

Bacalao in front of the Poinsettia flanked by plate of melon slices interspersed with prosciutto, another plate of cheese and crackers and another of butter cookies. Out of sight is a basket of deliciously fresh, thick-sliced Mexican white bread.

For dessert, I brought d'Anjou pears baked in apple cider (real cider, pressed in Mexico!), with a filling of maple syrup (we 'import' it from Trader Joe's), chopped walnuts, golden raisins, cinnamon and nutmeg—easy to prepare and absolutely delicious! Verónica brought scrumptious butter cookies ... such a repast!

Aureliano and el profe (right) helping themselves

Over the Bacalao, the conversation ranged far and wide, encouraged perhaps by the champagne contributed by Aureliano. When the group begins talking like this, we sit back and listen with rapt attention to viewpoints otherwise inaccessible to us.

So enjoying a communal supper with new friends, we ushered in the Holiday Season in Mexico. In the same spirit, to all of Jenny's readers:

Season's Greetings With Warmest Good Wishes for a 

Healthy and Fruitful New Year!

Mexico Culture: Mutual Obligation

Reed and I are readers, so it makes sense that reading is one of our strategies for deepening our cultural awareness. In Spanish, we read classic Mexican literature and the non-fiction of Mexico's leading intellectuals. Often our reading becomes part of our weekly Seminar with both of our Spanish teachers. Aside from improving our ability to converse fluidly in Spanish, these seminars also give us valuable insight into the underpinnings of culture, which, in turn, helps us recognize the significance of our social interactions with Mexican friends.

Last night we went to a party given by a Canadian couple to say 'thank-you" to all their Mexican friends. We felt honored to be included. Our hostess's brief, emotionally rich expression of gratitude to all those Patzcuarenses who have welcomed them into the community was especially touching. Of course, it is the couple's cultural openness that has opened Pátzcuaro's doors.

In the course of the evening, I spoke with Letty, a middle-aged Mexican woman who lives in the nearby neighborhood of Estación. In the course of our chat, Letty mentioned she always reminds her daughter to greet all the neighbors on their street with a pleasant "Good morning" or "Good afternoon." She added, "it is important that we are always amable (friendly)." Then she delivered the cultural punch line, "Because if you are sick and need medicine from the pharmacy, your neighbor will get it for you. Don't have money? No de importa -- it doesn't matter, they'll buy it for you." Ka-ching!

One of the cultural traditions of indigenous communities is the idea of mutual obligation (each helps the other). It is the ties of mutual obligation that provide labor for many special tasks (building a house, repairing a car, providing a meal, even loaning money, etc.). These ties fall under the broader rubric of self-sufficiency. This family-based self-sufficiency takes up the slack by performing roles that we in the US often assign to government.

When the US economic crisis hit, our Mexican friends were blasé about the crisis. "Oh, we're used to it; we know how to cope," they'd remark. It was a cultural puzzle that has taken us just about three years to put together. Recently, Reed and I have become aware of the bonds of mutual obligation that exist within the Mexican family, but we weren't sure about how that cultural practice did or did not exist outside the extended family structure. Letty's comment provided the missing link.

The Canadian couple who were our hosts had also experienced the 'neighborliness' that is grounded in this sense of mutual responsibility. When our hosts needed a delivery of bottled water, their neighbor -- who runs a small juice shop from her house -- said she'd take the delivery and they could pick up the water when they returned. Now keep in mind that our hosts are recent arrivals -- they will only be in Pátzcuaro for three months!

On our recent trip to Tabasco state, we had another encounter whose roots reach down into the same cultural soil. After visiting an archaeological site all morning, we returned to the bustling city of Villahermosa tired and hungry. Our driver suggested a good restaurant, but when we walked in the restaurant was filled with about 150 women of all ages. The waiter told us that an 'association' was having a meeting, but they'd be happy to set up a table for us, which they did.

As we waited for and then enjoyed comida, we observed the festivities with growing bafflement and fascination. I noticed at least four or five of quite-pregnant women, then I noticed another four or five women with infants. When we finished our meal, we asked the waiter the name of the association. He leaned forward and spoke slowly, enunciating clearly so we foreigners would understand his Spanish, "Se llama baby shower" (it's called 'baby shower'). The waiter then explained the concept of 'baby shower' to us, clearly believing that we had no idea about it. He concluded by adding that women honor brides in the same way.

We could scarcely control ourselves. Here was a cultural stew that drew on multiple cultural traditions. First, of course, was the use of the English phrase 'baby shower' to describe this very Mexican event; most astonishing was the waiter's apparent lack of awareness that the term is English and hence we - obviously US-ians - would understand it. From his point of view, it was purely a Mexican tradition -- that was abundantly clear from his careful explanation, which also drew explicitly on the traditional Mexican concepts of mutual responsibility and mutual obligation.

In a nutshell, then, in two quite distinct geographical regions of Mexico, Reed and I enjoyed two distinct experiences of the indigenous cultural tradition of mutual obligation / mutual responsibility alive and actively present in contemporary mestizo (Spanish / indigenous mix)-- that is, non-indigenous--community.

But we also experienced the porosity of the cultural traditions between Mexico and the United States, especially in the West, Southwest and California. The 'baby shower' was the most obvious, but there is another. As a youngster growing up in Palo Alto, California, it was unthinkable to pass anyone on the sidewalk downtown without exchanging pleasantries: 'Good morning' or even just a simple smile and 'Hello'. It is obvious to me that the roots of this custom, which I assume is long-gone today, rest in the original Mexican culture that was California until the mid-nineteenth century.

Fiesta to Celebrate First Year in Patzcuaro!

Yesterday, Saturday, August 15, 2009, marked our one-year anniversary of living here in Pátzcuaro. We celebrated with a fiesta familiar (family party) for about 40 of our Mexican friends to thank them for welcoming us into their community. We even had a DJ and music for dancing!

A family party means multiple generations. The oldest was 80 -- the great-grandmother of our friends Sandy and Alejandro's son, Leonardo. Norma (Leo's grandmother) is my age; she has a wonderful sense of humor -- we truly enjoy chatting together! The youngest was 16-months. To my great delight, the boys (about 6-8 of them) kicked a ball around in the backyard. It reminded me of our last house on Lake Waubeeka in Danbury, CT.

Samantha, the administrator at our language school, did the cooking, which was 100% traditional Mexican -- guacamole and frizole (bean) dips for totopos (tortilla chips), pozole (chicken-corn soup), corundas, tamales, we had it all! Plus atole (a hot, corn-based drink with milk and cinnamon -- yummy). Believe it or not, I introduced everyone in Spanish by telling our "recuerdos" (memories) of the role they played in welcoming us to Pátzcuaro -- to much good-natured laughter and applause as everyone learned of everyone else's role.

What a lovely group of people -- many really didn't know each other, but by the end of the evening, they were all interacting and everyone enjoyed themselves -- especially Reed and me!

The DJ was terrific. He played traditional Mexican songs and, at our request, kept the volume down so we could converse. Everyone -- young and old -- danced and thoroughly enjoyed themselves, that was clear! Reed, of course, charmed everyone with his dancing, and he made it a point to dance with every woman! Our friend Antonio has four daughters (23-12), and it was delightful to watch him dance with them.

One traditional dance seems to go on forever -- hands up in the air, dancing "sexy" (in English, with Spanish pronunciation!), and other moves I don't remember; finally, we all made a circle and each person takes a turn in the center of the circle, demonstrating their best moves to much high hilarity. It was a kick -- an absolute kick!

Outsiders At Home in Mexico

Periodically over the past year, Reed and I have asked ourselves, "Would we ever return to the U.S.?" Our answer has always been an emphatic: "No way!" But understanding why has somehow eluded us. This morning Reed put his finger on it: here in Patzcuaro, we are accepted for who we are, rather than for what we possess -- neither for our "stuff" nor for our professional accomplishments.

Take the lovely visit we had last weekend with new Mexican friends. They're a husband-wife team: El doctor is an orthodontist. La doctora is my talented and much-appreciated periodontist, but that isn’t how I met her. I met her first because in her waiting room she runs Patzcuaro's only bookstore! I have to ask: Where else but in Mexico would your periodontist open a bookstore in her waiting room—and, moreover, it is the only bookstore in town?

The family doesn’t speak English; they are among our growing cadre of Spanish-only friends. I had to laugh one day when mi amiga pulled off her mask to say, “You’re fun to talk to.” We decided then that we could be friends.

So last Saturday we met them at their house here in town and rode with them to the rancho, which is about an hour out in the countryside. Oh, my word, I've never seen anything quite like it. The rancho is owned by el doctor's sister and her husband, who grow avocados for export to the U.S. and leechee fruit for export to China! It was our first taste of leechee: they’re about the size of a small apricot with a seed inside, the skin is pinkish, the pulp is strangely gelatinous with a sweet-tart taste. There must be some kind of divine justice for Mexico to be exporting leechee to China -- rather like carrying coals to Newcastle!

We had our picnic in a fiesta pavilion easily large enough to seat 50, with room for dancing! Mi amiga had prepared a soy ceviche that was absolutely delicious. The soy had a texture like fork-flaked fish. I had trouble realizing it was soy!!! I simply must learn how to cook soy!

Down from the pavilion was a kidney-shaped pool: water for the pool is heated by pipes that run across the roof of the pavilion to capture solar energy before being piped into the pool. Around the pool were banana and palm trees. It was like being in the jungle! At the base of the palm tree was a thriving lantana. The aunt took me for a short walk to the other side of the pool, and we looked upstream along a little river that flows by the pool. To my surprise -- voila! There was a lovely waterfall cascading down over three levels. It could have been a movie set right out of a 1950’s movie – perhaps a musical with Esther Williams!

We didn't go up to the Casa Grande, but from the driveway it was obvious that it is indeed a casa grande, complete with mirador—a unique feature of Mexican architecture. Translated as “small balcony” or “viewpoint,” a mirador is a small room (say, 15’ x 15’) at the top of the house with windows all the way around. So a mirador is a room for looking out over the countryside. I’ve never actually been in one, but mi amiga said they have one in their town house, and she’d like us to see it.

We watched the rain clouds tease us all afternoon: will it / won't it rain? Finally, at about 5:30 pm the skies opened for a torrential downpour. It was a kick running around cleaning up the food and putting chairs on the tables to the accompaniment of Tlaloc's (Aztec God of Rain) gift of rain pounding on the roof. Looking out at the rain, it was as if a curtain had dropped between us and the outside world. And, of course, the tormenta (rainstorm) was mostly over after about 15-20 minutes.

This morning Reed and I were reflecting on what a delightful time we'd had. Our Mexican friends guilelessly ask us very direct questions that always carry an implicit request: “Please tell me who you are.” So mi amiga asked, “Jenny, was your childhood happy?” and el amigo asked Reed, “Is Jenny your first wife? I just wondered because we know that many Americans divorce.”

In the United States both Reed and I have felt like outsiders; we felt we had little in common with most of the people we met. How ironic: here where we are truly foreigners, we feel accepted; but in our own country we have always felt like outsiders!

Reed and I have a young friend, Ina, who studied recently at our language school. She is a delightfully intelligent, culturally curious young woman who has shared her Blog with us. Ina has studied in Bangladesh and traveled to (among other places) India, New Zealand and Mexico. I would like to give the last word on this Post to a Reflexión written by the Program Coordinator for Ina’s stay in Mexico:

“For thousands of years, peoples of this area of the world have been hospitable towards the ‘other’ as a way of being in this world. All their original cosmologies conceive the ‘other’ as the only way to define oneself: the other is not really an alien, a foreigner, but the other part of oneself.

"But for 500 years these peoples have been constantly invaded by inhospitable people. By extending hospitality to the Spaniards, the people were colonized. By hosting other gods, their own gods were destroyed. By hosting ‘development,’ their environment and livelihood were seriously damaged.

"It seems to be a miracle that after all such experiences they could still retain hospitality as a defining trait. They have done so because they know that it is not only a condition for survival, but also the only way to live.” [Emphasis mine] --Gustavo Esteva

My hope echoes Ina's: ...that the peoples of the world may learn that hospitality might be a crucial part of bringing healing to our wounded world.

Mexico Tradition: Boda (Wedding)

Yesterday we went to a boda (wedding) at Tsentséncuaro. Oh, my word -- it involved the entire pueblo community! Victor, the brother of Alejandra (our Spanish teacher) was a padrino (godfather)- a sponsor supporting the costs of the wedding - so she was going and invited us to come with her.

After the wedding (2 pm), the novios (newlyweds) walked through the streets of the pueblo to a house of one of the padrinos, where we sat down and enjoyed hot chocolate y pan (bread). Then we walked up to the house of the novio (groom), where there was comida (dinner) and hours later cena (supper).

Where was the fiesta at this modest house? Oh, it was easy -- they just closed the stone-paved street and set up tables in front of the house. There must have been settings for 300! We enjoyed pollo (chicken) with mole y arroz (rice) while we waited for the novios to appear -- hours later!

It's not clear to me exactly what they were doing. When I asked Alejandra, she smilingly replied, "They are starting the miel de la luna (honeymoon)." Consummating the marriage? Maybe...anyway, they then walked through the streets of the pueblo accompanied by an all-female banda and by loud, dancing revelers taunting the groom.

When the procession arrived at the house of the novio's parents, I must say, the groom appeared far more relaxed than he had been either at the church or at the house of the padrinos, so who knows what had happened!

The newlyweds sat on a kind of double throne to receive gifts from their guests, who danced up a long aisle before presenting their gifts to the novios. Reed and Alejandra's seven-year old little brother, Antonio, danced up the aisle and presented Ale's gift to the novios. For those who've never seen Reed dance, let me put it this way: American Blacks have told him, "You're the only white man we know who dances like a black man!" Needless to say, they got a hearty round of applause. It was a riot!

Then there was a traditional dance where the newlyweds sit in the ubiquitous plastic chairs and are lifted -- women lift the novio; men lift the novia (bride) – with high hilarity! Then they served cena (supper) -- this time a kind of pot roast with rice, chicken wings and more rice. This meal set the stage for much dancing and just plain merriment -- plus cerveza y tequila. The Mexicans certainly know how to party!

The only sanitorio (restroom) was down a set of very steep, very rough stairs -- not for me. After 5 hours, I met our Monarca taxi to go back to our house to use the facilities and feed the cats. When I got back, the Baile de los Regalos (Dance of the Gifts) was underway, so I stood for awhile and just watched. I didn't see Reed and Antonio in line, but at one point I caught the groom's eye and (rather formally) dipped my head in greeting and respect. He responded in kind, and we shared a smile. Priceless.

The celebration continued with a dance by the older women carrying full platters of cooked chicken with mole and rice, clearly, a tradition that the women enjoyed continuing.

My Spanish combined with Reed's dancing and photo-taking appear to be 'magical' for opening doors. I had an absolutely delightful chat with a nurse and primary teacher from Morelia (friends of friends of the bride); when they left, the nurse gave me her phone number so we can meet when we're in Morelia -- priceless! Reed enjoyed dancing with a woman from the pueblo; when we were about to leave, she asked Alejandra if she could invite us to her house: "Of course," she replied! Priceless! At the end, the announcer greeted everyone -- from the pueblo, the Purépecha community and "our friends from the United States." Once again, priceless!

Were off today to Ucazanástacua for comida at the house of Jorge Cira, who runs the ecology program at CELEP, our Spanish school. We engage in English conversation at our house with his young-adult sons, Jorge and Hugo. Comida is to be followed by a basketball game to be followed by another dance and fireworks! Tomorrow we go back to Ucas for a jaripeo (Brahma bull riding), a tradition introduced by the Spaniards when they brought bulls to Mexico.

It continues to impress me how many roads there are by which to enter Mexican life and culture. We're thoroughly enjoying the process of discovering our "vía."