Breathe
By Martha Ortiz
It's starting to get cold in my favorite space, which by personal supremacy is the creative matrix: the kitchen. We are already in the posadas, with those sinful stars of the air that are the piñatas, and my body and gastronomic spirit crave to taste and share a hot drink as I was taught to prepare by the wise and benevolent witches that are some traditional cooks of my country. That drink, the punch, can be drunk inside or outside the home and it can also be drunk day or night, that is, it is a walking, sleepless or sleepless drink.
I set about selecting and dividing the ingredients, which has nothing to do with their size or origin but with their marriages, friendships or even secret angers, which are obvious to the gastronomically curious. The curtain rises on the delicacies. First the spices make their appearance, one by one: cinnamon, cloves, aniseed stars, which came down from heaven on the advice of their elder cousin the star of Bethlehem to ask for lodging in the name of heaven. I like to give them a walk around the comal, since their aroma becomes a penetrating perfume and with the flame a subtle oil emerges on their skin that makes them shine. All together they wait their turn to dive into the clay pot.
Then I take the tamarinds in my hands and make their shells explode with an earthy sound like thunder from the ground to the sky. Next come the tejocotes with their starring role, since in this staging they are the first actors, peeled so that once cooked it will be easier to eat them, although we must not forget that we will find the stumbles of their seeds and that the singular, precise, precious and fleshy flavor of this wonderful fruit only makes its stellar appearance during the winter season.
On the other hand, the first actress, who is pure sweetness, the cane, waits in her dressing room inside a straw basket, standing upright and sober. It is also peeled and cut (necessarily with a large knife) with the design we have chosen for the next culinary spa. I recommend cutting it in long strokes so that it can look out at the party, from its little jar.
Apples and guavas are not friends. Although both are fruits, they have their big differences, since the first smells strong, uses a lot of perfume, while the other is known to be sensual and provocative, causing the original sin, so if possible they are chopped on separate boards to avoid the lawsuit of the seeds and sticking together. What a gossip!
The hibiscus is eager and impatient to dye the punch with that red that only it knows how to give, in addition to rehydrate and open in youth again in the boiling water. On the other hand, the piloncillo also asks with a cooked and poetic word to enter the water to give a different and benevolent softness to the hot, delicious and steaming drink.
In their sacrifice, already without heart, the prunes are eager to throw themselves into the dance of the fire to give away their flavor in fullness and continue their dialogue with the hibiscus on the knowledge of returning to youth, already with the experience of hot water and without wrinkles, because the skin swells for the respite of the bite.
Under our pot the flame is lit with all its power, flooded with liquid, and one by one the ingredients enter it. When the liquid begins to boil it makes its own out of devotion to the flavors, since they have become closer because they share a higher purpose and together they taste like tradition. So the same pot recommends the creator of the drink and owner of the spoon to lower the tone of the fire, so that with cadence and softness everything is impregnated without breaking the fruits. Those who enter the kitchen-matrix out of curiosity or by chance, coexist in this fruity intoxication with future flashes for the palate.
It is time to cover the dance of flavors so that the vapor stops intoxicating and the liquid seasoning stops being consumed. In this way, the essence of all the ingredients is concentrated to create that wonderful fluid, slightly thick, perfumed, exotic and luminous to the palate.
After its passage through the fire we must carefully strain the drink, separating our pristine fruit to place it again gracefully. The cane and tejocote are returned to the bottom of the earthenware jars worn by lineage and use, accompanied by the other fruits and, if we wish, a little orange zest without the bitterness of the white peel that protects its citrus flesh.
The pear looks at us with disgust from the fruit bowl, but it has the promise to be present next year, as long as it does not conflict with the seeds and the strong perfume of the guava and the historical sensuality of the apple, and remains only with its elegance.
Now we must solve the question that gives the title to this narrative where the ingredients are alive and tell us about their origin and wait: with or without piquete? In other words, shall we pour or not an elixir or Mexican brandy such as raicilla, mezcal, tequila, bacanora or charanda between the fruits and the liquid, so that the liquor prickles the senses, the cold is quickly removed and the sparkles on the tongue and palate become present? As a cook of life, I keep the piquetitos, which are gastronomic coquetry and winks to the palate, and I thank the posadas, the Christmas season and the cold for the possibility of giving this steaming punch and sharing it, saying "bon appetit". May the seasoning and culinary wisdom continue to accompany us in the coming year.
Congratulations
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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