Mayonesa con limón

Since the tianguis (market) in the llano (plaza) down the street has moved (apparently it was damaging the paving), I was directed to a local market on Murgia and calzada República for my fresh produce needs. I bought some avocados* and tomatoes from a mustachioed guy who called me "güerita," and some mandarin oranges and bananas from a nice older woman who actually accepted my 100 peso bill to pay for 15 pesos worth of fruit, without any comment. I definitely felt slightly out of place, since I was the only non-mexican there. But it's closer and cheaper than the market on 20 de noviembre. And the "güerita" comment is meant in a friendly way.

After my trip, I decided that I really needed some mayonnaise in order to make tortas de quesillo (cheese sandwiches). Ordinarily I despise the stuff: the taste, the slimy texture, and the fact that it's over-used. A sandwich that squirts mayonnaise when you bite into it is probably one of the most revolting food items I can think of. And don't even mention potato or tuna salad to me. One of my former students, in an essay about what the world will be like in 100 years, wrote that mayonnaise would not exist in the world of the future. I gave him an A.

That said, I was willing to make an exception in this case. I had once unwittingly ordered a torta de quesillo that came with mayo, and discovered that it actually adds something to the sandwich as long as it's used in moderation. (Also I have to admit that esquites are really lacking something without mayo.) Anyway, I stopped at the Piticó to buy a very small jar of mayo and discovered that it all comes with limón. You literally cannot buy a bottle of plain mayo. Which is fine with me; it's much tastier this way.

I also purchased a stick of unsalted butter for my morning toast. Any guesses on the ingredients in a stick of "mantequilla pura de vaca sin sal"? Salt. Yes, salt. My unsalted butter has salt in it. Also, water. In fact, water is the second ingredient after milk fat.

*Aguacate (avocado) means testicle in Nahuatl.

Agua

Water is scarce in Oaxaca, especially now since it's the dry season. From what I can tell not every building is on the plumbing grid, which means that these places have water delivered in giant tank trucks that say "Agua para uso humano" on the side. These trucks pump water through a hose and into a tank buried in the ground. So sometimes houses run out of water. I'm not sure if this is because they literally run out, or if the government rations consumption, because I hear the water usually comes back on within half a day. While I've never run out, I have some friends and students have stories about running out in the middle of a shower, with soap all over and shampoo running into their eyes. Also, homestay families often limit their guest students to 1 shower per day, and many even limit the amount of time spent in the shower, turning off the water after 5 minutes.

Nobody in Oaxaca drinks the tap water, only bottled water. Most families buy purified drinking/cooking water in big blue 5 gallon (or whatever liter equivalent) jugs. These jugs are available at your local convenience store, or you can buy a full jug and then every time it's empty, you can exchange it for a full one from street vendors. These street vendors drive around the neighborhood in trucks filled with jugs, or ride large tricycles (2 wheels in front, one in back, a huge platform/basket in front for the bottles) and shout, "Aguaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa". And anyone who needs a refill goes running to the door for a full jug. Most mornings I wake up to the sound of a vendor who has a particularly deep voice and distinctive call. This morning I actually met him because I was here when they brought in the new jug. He was deceptively small for such a loud yell.

Café Los Cuiles

It's hard to find good coffee in Oaxaca. My first attempt was the chain "Italian Coffee," and it was a weak, lukewarm, expensive latte. My second attempt was an organic café con leche at the Pochote market, and it was better but still a bit on the weak side for me. My third attempt, on the recommendation of my students, was a cappuccino from "Capuchino's" near my apartment, and it was cheap, strong, and delicious.

At this point, my friend R and I went on a chai quest. R is from the US but has been in Oaxaca since June, and she really misses chai. Our quest brought us to Los Cuiles, a small cafe (maybe 10 tables) in the Plaza de los Virgenes just south of Santo Domingo. Of course, they were out of chai, but we discovered their amazing chocolate oaxaqueño and their lattes. Add that to the fact that they have free internet and a mix of tourist and local patrons, and I've been back multiple times. For the drinks and the people watching. The music is also a good mix of American and Mexican. I've heard some surprising bands, including She & Him (Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward), Dido, and Elvis.

Today I'm blogging from Los Cuiles, and it's been the best people watching so far. The young hippy lesbian couple in the window seat who obviously had no idea how cafes in Mexico work (they went to the kitchen to pay instead of asking for the check). The group of weathered-looking middle-aged American expat dudes, one with a large yellow lab at his feet. He's wearing the American uniform - crocs, cargo shorts, a flannel shirt and a horrible big ring. These guys remind me of the bums who hang around Fairfield and seemingly have no jobs, they just like to sit in cafes, talk, and ogle the young girls who come in. There's now an aging hipster couple in the window seat; the woman wearing high-top converse and wide-leg jeans that just seem a bit too young for her; the man wearing a hideous straw fedora, small hoop earrings, a gray blazer, white pants and off-white suede shoes with no socks. Several Mexican students typing away at their laptops, and a Mexican businessman who I've seen in here before, also working away at his computer.

The waitresses at the cafe are high school and college students. Under the glass on each table is a poster with a head shot and a bio (in English) of all the employees and owners of the bar. It's a cheesy, cute touch, and I think it helps them get better tips.

Chapulines

I finally tried chapulines. They're a Oaxacan snack/treat made of toasted grasshoppers and sometimes spiced with chiles, garlic, lime and other things. They are meant to be purchased in the market, but you can find (touristy) restaurants that serve them in tacos and other regional dishes. I went to the market to find mine. After wandering around the 20 de noviembre market for 5 minutes, I finally found a little stand in a corner where a woman was selling a variety of chapulines stored in little baskets. She let me try several flavors and sizes, and when I had made my decision she scooped them into plastic bags with a little ceramic plate.

After snacking my fill, I took the leftover chapulines to class. Out of the 12 students I offered them to, only about 2/3 of them tried any, and this only after I exerted as much peer pressure as I felt was morally acceptable. Various reasons for refusal included: "I'm afraid the legs will get stuck in my teeth," and "What are they? Um...no thanks." Among those who tried them, the reaction was pretty neutral. General consensus held that the texture is not crunchy, but more slightly crispy, flaky and light. They taste like extremely salty sundried tomatoes, and there's no significant difference between the plain and chili flavors. Neither one is picante (spicy).

The main difference lies in the size of the chapulines. You can get small or medium. Small is kind of like popping little flakes into your mouth. With medium, however, it is very clear that you are eating an insect: legs, abdomen, wings and head are all visible. I have a difficult time eating the large ones because of this, so I tend to just squint, pop it in my mouth and chew it really quickly. But really the texture is about the same as the small ones.

My student J, who is very interested in culinary anthropology, says they come in varying quality. The good quality chapulines are rather moist and crisp, while the lower quality chapulines are dry, crunchy, and tend to stick in your throat. She loves them, and after class she made a special trip all the way to the 20 de noviembre market just to buy more. I liked them all right, but I can't say I'd buy them again, unless I were offering them to a visitor.

Pictures soon. I need to offload them from my camera.

Mole

A brief note on mole. According to the Moon guide, there are 7 kinds of mole in Oaxaca. So far I have tried 4: negro (black, chocolatey in a savory way), coloradito (kind of like Indian masala sauce with a tomato base and complex spices), amarillo (ground almonds, really more orange than yellow, also reminiscent of Indian spices), and verde (like tomatillo salsa). Coloradito is by far my favorite. It's brownish-red in color and has a much more complex flavor profile than negro, which is also good but tends to be more one-note.

You can buy mole in the grocery store in little bags and jars. In the bags, it's more of a paste, so I assume it's concentrated and you water it down with some sort of liquid. The jars look like a desperate, I-can't-cook-and-I-miss-mom's-cooking kind of thing, and only come in a few flavors. You can also buy mole in the markets, where it is kept in large jars and poured into plastic bags for individual sale. Restaurants with gift shops catering to tourists also sell high-quality mole in jars.

Quesadillas, variations thereof

There are two very popular kinds of cheese in Oaxaca: quesillo and requeso. Quesillo is like string cheese, and it comes in long wide tape-like strips wrapped into a tight ball. Find the end of the strip and peel it away, then peel off smaller strips. It melts really well and is sort of like a firmer, chewier, stringier and much saltier fresh mozzarella. Requeso has the texture of ricotta, but almost no taste. It takes on the flavor of whatever you mix into it (jalapeños, cilantro, etc.). One, or both, of these cheeses is in pretty much every dish here.

There are many, many local dishes with both indigenous and Spanish names: quesadillas, enfrijoladas, tlayudas, tostadas, memelas, etc. But basically everything is a variation on a quesadilla: tortilla (crunchy or soft), cheese, black bean sauce (a pureed sauce with no actual bean chunks in it, unlike black beans in the US), maybe some hot sauce (green or red), maybe some tomatoes or avocados or lettuce, and some kind of meat or pork lard. Assume you're going to have tortilla, bean sauce and cheese, and you've got a pretty good picture of what you just ordered.

Soriana - a cheaper, dingier Wal-Mart

My tiny kitchen came woefully under-furnished. Most of the cooking vessels are large shallow pots with nicks in the ceramic coating and mis-matched lids. They are so thin that it's impossible to saute anything without scorching it, especially since the "low" burner setting should really be labeled "medium high". I also lack hot pads, dish towels, a coffee maker, and a toaster. After about 4 days without coffee when I first arrived, I weened myself off caffeine and no longer really miss coffee. But I still needed everything else, and the general consensus among oaxaqueñas was that the items I needed were most readily available at the mall or at Soriana. So today I finally decided to make the trip to Soriana, which is much closer than the mall.

It was exactly as described: Wal-Mart, but much cheaper, and filled with a bizarre variety of items. I easily completed my grocery list and also got some workout pants into the bargain (they're a bit short, but tall in the US = giant in Mexico, so I was expecting them to be short).

I was definitely the only gringa in the store, given that I was obviously venturing into a non-tourist area of Oaxaca, although it did still have a colonial feel. Here are some interesting observations:

The older woman in front of me at the check-out bought a lottery ticket and scraped it off as she was standing there. I had to wait for her to finish playing before I could check out. The check-out girl did not seem to mind.

The check-out aisles are extremely narrow and would barely fit a heavy American.

Items on shelves are neatly organized but the store felt seedy and a bit old.

Although it had many of the same brands you see in the US, the actual products were slightly different, especially compared to the Super Wal-Mart in Cabo San Lucas, which basically offered exactly what you'd see in a US Wal-Mart.

Many items have labels in Spanish and English, especially electronic goods.

You can buy chocolate fountains there.

I cannot find white sugar in any stores around here. I must be looking for the wrong package. I've been using honey instead, which is just as good and better for the throat anyway.

When I got home, I googled Soriana and discovered that they deliver, kind of like Peapod. And their web interface looks suspiciously like Amazon, with tabs across the top and even the same color scheme, if not the same font. Anyway, the pictures make the produce look much more fresh and less dingy than it is in the store. Most people buy produce at markets around here anyway. It's cheaper and fresher.

Can't wait to make tortilla española in my new frying pan tonight! I'm definitely bringing this pan home with me. I hear purchased items from years past have mysteriously disappeared from this apartment (another frying pan, a coffee maker).

Kinder Sorpresas, aka Kinder eggs

Kinder eggs are about the size of an extra large chicken egg. They are composed of 2 thin layers of chocolate, the outer layer milk chocolate, the inner layer white chocolate. Inside the hollow chocolate egg is a yellow plastic egg. Split open this egg and you will find a small toy that you (usually) must put together following simple diagram instructions (you'll occassionally get a toy that you don't have to put together. These toys are always lame). Also included is a picture of your toy, which is usually part of a larger themed set, of which there is also a drawing.

When I was in Spain in 2000 I bought one almost every day, and as a result I have a rather large collection, including a set of Halloween-themed mouse vampires dressed in tuxedos with purple skin and glow-in-the-dark fangs, and a crab and an octopus with legs that move when you push them across the table.

I discovered that they have Kinder eggs in Mexico when I was in a pharmacy helping a student buy a hair brush. She was talking with an employee, and I was examining the shelves to pass the time. And there they were, a whole tray sitting next to the Kinder Buenos (candy bars kind of like Kit-Kat, but hollow after the chocolate-coated crispy shell, with a fluffy hazelnut cream inside, They used to have them at the HP Co-op, but not sure if Treasure Island sells them). I got pretty excited, which amused the student, who had never even heard of them. I've since discovered that none of my students have heard of them, and am considering buying one for everyone and charging it to the U of C as "cultural materials."

Since then I've bought several, and discovered that the grocery store Piticó is the cheapest place to buy them; pharmacies sell them for much more ($14.50 vs. $10, or USD$1.50 vs. $1). You can see my toys here. I'll be adding more as I open them. Hopefully I'll collect a set!

Unfortunately, they're not available in the US because supposedly the small plastic toy parts inside pose as choking hazards to small children. But they are available in almost every other country, including Canada, Europe, and Mexico. Kinder even has a website where you can go play games, watch cartoons, and see different toy sets.