Christmas Eve at the Mercado

We picked up a few things at the organic market—home-made pasta, smoked cheese, a very nice baguette, some cookies, and a loaf of multi-grain bread. Then we pressed on to the mercado for fruits and vegetables for the next few days. We weren’t really sure what to expect about closures for the holiday, so it seemed prudent to stock up.

Apparently everyone else had the same idea, because the mercado was more crowded than ever, and that’s saying something. It was a real scrum, with people packed into the narrow aisles, almost unable to move forward. We struggled to find carrots, green beans, potatoes, juice oranges, papaya, cherimoya and chico mamey, which we now learn should be called chicozapote. I don’t think the vendors will appreciate the distinction, so we’ll continue to call them chico mamey. Regardless of the name, they are completely delicious.

Here’s a photo, with a mandarin orange for size comparison. There are usually a few small dark seeds, unlike cherimoya which has many seeds.

The flavor has been described as similar to a pear (though I’ve never tasted a pear this sweet), with a slightly granular texture. We first tasted it in Chetumal, on the border with Belize, and the vendor told me it was “like honey,” and she was right. These come from Nueva Italia, in the Tierra Caliente region of Michoacán—lower in altitude, much warmer, and not very safe for travelers. This is where marijuana (mota) is also grown.

After loading up with produce we went to Merza, a small supermarket near the plaza, for a few staples and a bottle of wine to bring to a Christmas party. It was also jammed, but fortunately the management had installed a couple of temporary checkout counters to accommodate last minute shoppers like us.

Being overburdened with weight and pretty tired of the crowds, we hopped on our combi and rode home in relative comfort.

This is the statue of Gertrudis Bocanegra, the namesake of the Plaza Chica (formally La Plaza Getrudis Bocanegra), the heroine of the Independence. She looks like a woman not to be messed with. Nearby were a couple of abandoned cowboy boots. There’s a story there, if only we knew it. And then there was the single white high heel on the floor in the mercado.

Christmas Eve dinner at our house was poblano chiles stuffed with a mixture of bacalao (salt cod), tomatoes, capers, onions, and a bit of chiles manzanas (apple chiles, very picante but also very flavorful), warmed in the oven and served over white rice, with fresh green beans. Bacalao is traditional for Christmas Eve in Mexico as well as in many other cultures, plus we love the stuff.

Ordinarily we eat Mexican style, with our main meal (comida) in mid-afternoon, but on Christmas Eve it was dinner, at night. The poblano was extremely tasty, though the kitchen cleanup was extensive. A price worth paying.