Breathe
By Martha Ortiz
We embroider our existence from the ingredients and preparations that are kept in our gastronomic memory. This, without forgetting that, from the origin, in our country we are made of corn and its companions, which dress us in a thousand ways: they wrap us in their leaves, which work aesthetic juggling, and give us unique personalities, including the tonal ranges of this precious and magical grain.
It is in November when tamales become dark, with flavors that are like hard blows, bursts for the palate, that impact precisely that memory built of flavors, seasonings and stews.
The Day of the Dead is a culinary experience that emanates from Mexico's deep cultural tradition, as one of its peak moments. We taste history in spoonfuls. The magnanimous black color that accompanies the dishes, edible jewels, along with the seasonings that make up the repertoire of this festivity, with ingredients such as ashes, spices, flowers, incense perfumes, make up a catwalk in the manner of paintings of an artistic exhibition that honors the lineage of Mexican cuisine.
Our journey begins among copal and smoke to honor the ancestors and bring them back to memory. Through the power of the kitchen we summon all the loved ones, dear and remembered who are no longer here, with their favorite snacks and even with their flavored judgments and prejudices.
In the marvelous altars, the photographs and other objects of the dead are placed vertically, as if to reach the sky, hoping that the distance and the aromas of the stews will be shorter, so that that night we will taste the existential banquet. Thus, the dead also remember the flavor of the black chichilo, Oaxacan ceremonial mole without sweet notes, like death itself; of the atole of cocoa husk; of the dark corn tamales that keep inside the red, pulsating blood, still alive like the existential magma; of the pan de muerto or the one with faces buried in the wheat; of the burritos on parade, held with threads, that accompany the pulque, tequila or mezcal.
Sometimes tobacco and sugar skulls engraved with names are also present. These are white and decorated with flowers and colored scribbles to remember the deceased with their transmutation of colors, since the white of the sweet substance is the union of the tonal range of all that exists in the realm of viands and bites.
This vital banquet also travels on pilgrimage to the cemeteries, creating a visual poetry for the spectator who walks among cempasúchiles in the dim light of the candles, the baskets with embroidered napkins, the clay jars that hold atole or fermented pulque following the pre-Hispanic tradition, and the fundamental ingredient, love, which feels the need to nourish and season the memory with mastery to "animate" it.
Sitting on a beautiful wooden chair, one of those that dignify the people of Mexico, painted with orange and purple flowers on a vibrant green background, and savoring the scent of copal, I watch the flames and observe how some flowers, which surely flew from the chair and are also ingredients, turn to ash as if by magic and flutter with the palm fan in hand.
I, cook and lover of the chichilo, set out the large clay comal to prepare the mole, dark as night. I carefully separate the dry body of the chilhuacle chile black and its brothers mulato and pasilla, from the spicy spirit of the veins and seeds, which gives pleasure to life and takes to the limit of pain, that is, like life and death. To these ingredients are added tortillas, tomato, tomato, pepper, cumin, avocado leaf and other secrets, for the burning. In the casserole, the lard seat does its thing with its squeaking and the dance of ground ingredients that require liquid to finish the dance, without limiting the chocolate, begins.
The dance of the night of the dead, the wind, the flowers, the wooden chair and the metate are ready to restart the cycle of life and death. The dark, powerful, ceremonial flavors of the Mexican, sent to heaven, are the gift of that night. May this emotional recipe be a profound nod to celebrate life, taste different flavors and honor the dead with monumental dishes.
Enjoy your meal
The opinions expressed are the responsibility of the authors and are absolutely independent of the position and editorial line of the company. Opinion 51.
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