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Purslane grows wild between the maize rows of Central Mexico, and in the rainy season markets sell it in big damp bunches, mostly for this pork dish. Cubes of pork shoulder are simmered until tender, browned in their own fat and finished in green tomatillo salsa with the juicy, slightly lemony leaves. Eat it with white rice and corn tortillas. Chef's tip: keep the pork broth; a ladle of it in the salsa gives the stew its body.
In Monterrey, Hermosillo and across the north, a Sunday carne asada means friends around the grill, thin skirt or flank steak seasoned simply with citrus, garlic and salt, cooked over hot coals and chopped straight onto tortillas. Grilled spring onions, guacamole and a smoky salsa go alongside. Use corn tortillas, or the soft flour tortillas of Sonora if gluten is no concern. Chef's tip: keep the marinade to 1–4 hours in the fridge; the citrus starts to toughen the meat after that.
Friday lunch during Lent in Mexico City, Puebla and Oaxaca often means tortitas de camarón: airy fritters of beaten egg and ground dried shrimp, fried golden and then simmered in a guajillo-ancho sauce with tender nopales. The dried shrimp gives a deep, briny savouriness that a little goes a long way with. Buy them at Mexican or Asian grocers; they should smell of the sea, not of ammonia, and be pink-orange, not grey. Chef's tip: grind the shrimp with heads and legs removed, then sieve the powder, so no sharp bits end up in the batter.
When yesterday's pan dulce goes stale, Mexican bakeries slice it thick, spread it with butter, dust it with sugar and toast it until crisp, and the result, rebanadas, often sells out first. At home it is a ten-minute afternoon treat with hot chocolate or a glass of cold milk, and a good way to use up a loaf of brioche, a pan de yema or a few bolillos. This version uses butter, so it is vegetarian. Chef's tip: let the butter get really soft so it sinks into the bread instead of sitting on top.
Christmas cookie tins, wedding tables and bakery counters all over northern and central Mexico hold polvorones, small domes of toasted pecan shortbread that crumble to dust in the mouth, which is how they got their name. They are rolled twice in icing sugar, once warm and once cold, so they look snowy. Old recipes used lard; this one uses butter, so it is vegetarian, and it contains wheat and tree nuts. Chef's tip: toast the pecans first, which turns a plain cookie into a deeply nutty one.
Mexican families inherited bacalao from Spain, but the version on the Christmas Eve table in Mexico City, Guadalajara and Puebla has gone its own way. Instead of the Basque sauce of dried choricero peppers with whole cod pieces, the cod here is soaked, finely shredded and cooked down for an hour with a lot of fresh tomato, olive oil, almonds, green olives, capers and pickled güero chiles until thick enough to pile into bolillo rolls. It tastes even better the next day, which is when the leftover tortas are eaten. Chef's tip: soak the cod in the fridge for 36–48 hours, changing the water four times a day, and taste a flake before cooking; it should be pleasantly salty, not briny.
From Puebla to Monterrey, a dark red leg of pork comes out of the oven on 24 or 31 December, its adobo of ancho and guajillo chiles, garlic, vinegar and orange caramelised into a sticky crust. It is sliced at the table with apple salad and Christmas rice, and the leftovers fill tortas for days. This recipe uses a smaller boneless leg or shoulder joint of pork that fits a home oven; it marinates overnight in the fridge and roasts low and slow. Chef's tip: baste with the pan juices every half hour once the foil comes off, so the adobo glazes rather than burns.
In Actopan and the towns of Hidalgo, Sunday starts with barbacoa: lamb wrapped in maguey leaves and cooked overnight in an earth pit, with a pot underneath catching the juices for a rich consommé of chickpeas, rice and guajillo. This home version wraps lamb shoulder in banana leaves and cooks it low and slow in the oven over the consommé. The meat is pulled into tacos with onion, cilantro and salsa, and the broth is sipped alongside. Chef's tip: seal the pot well with foil under the lid so no steam escapes; the lamb should cook in its own vapour.
Across the Yucatán Peninsula, the Maya feast of Hanal Pixán, 'food for the souls', at the end of October is marked by mucbipollo: a huge tamal pie, traditionally buried in a pit oven (pib) to bake, then set on the altar and shared the next day. A thick lard-enriched masa shell holds chicken and pork shoulder stewed in achiote, tomato and epazote, bound with a thickened broth called kol. This version uses a home oven and a deep tin lined with banana leaves. It contains pork. Chef's tip: make the kol thick enough to coat a spoon, or the filling floods the masa and the crust turns gummy.
From mid-October, bakeries from Mexico City to Puebla stack their shelves with these domed loaves, and families set one on the ofrenda for the souls who return on 1 and 2 November, then share the rest with hot chocolate. The crumb is soft and rich with butter and egg, scented with orange zest and orange-blossom water, and the knobbly strips across the top stand for bones, with a small ball for the skull. A sugar crust or a dusting of sesame finishes it. Chef's tip: shape the bones from dough you have held back and chilled, so they keep their ridges instead of melting flat in the oven.
Named after a famous old Mexico City bakery, garibaldis are little dome-shaped butter cakes coated in warm apricot jam and rolled in white nonpareils, so they look like snowballs on the counter. Chilangos buy them by the bag for afternoon coffee and school lunchboxes. The cake is dense and buttery, the jam gives a sharp, sticky contrast and the sprinkles a light crunch. Chef's tip: brush the jam on while the cakes are still warm, as the sprinkles then stick evenly.
In the markets of Puebla, Tlaxcala and Mexico City, cocoles are the plain, honest bread of the morning: diamond-shaped, deep brown from piloncillo, fragrant with anise and studded with sesame seeds on top. They are not very sweet, so people eat them with café de olla or split them for a cheese torta. Old bakers used lard; this version uses vegetable shortening, so it stays vegetarian and vegan. Chef's tip: steep the anise in the warm piloncillo syrup, so its flavour runs through every bite.
Its name means 'tablecloth stainer', and the deep red ancho sauce lives up to it at Sunday lunches in Mexico City, Puebla and Oaxaca, where it has been made in convent kitchens since colonial times. This version uses pork shoulder and chicken thighs, simmered in a sauce thickened with almonds and sesame, then sweetened with chunks of pineapple, ripe plantain and sweet potato. It tastes fruity, mildly hot and rich. Serve with white rice and tortillas. Chef's tip: add the fruit near the end so it holds its shape and keeps its tang.
Mexico City cafés such as the old breakfast halls of the Centro serve bisquets split hot with butter and strawberry jam alongside café con leche. They are taller, sweeter and more cake-like than American biscuits, with a shiny egg-washed top and layers that pull apart. They contain wheat, egg and dairy. Chef's tip: cut straight down with a sharp cutter and never twist, so the sides stay open and the bisquets rise tall.
On the evening of 5 or 6 January, offices, schools and families all over Mexico cut a rosca de reyes for the Three Kings, washing it down with hot chocolate. The soft orange-scented ring is jewelled with candied fig, quince paste and cherries and striped with crunchy sugar paste; hidden inside is a tiny figure of the baby Jesus, and whoever finds it in their slice must host a tamales party on 2 February. Always tell guests there is a figurine and warn little children, as it is a choking risk; a whole almond is a safer stand-in. Chef's tip: push the figure in from underneath after baking, so it does not melt or show.
Mazatlán's seafood restaurants claim the 'governor's taco' was created in the 1980s for a visiting state governor, and it is now a fixture along the Sinaloa coast: shrimp sautéed with onion, poblano and tomato, folded into a griddled tortilla with plenty of melted cheese until crisp and gooey. Serve with avocado, lime and a hot sauce. Chef's tip: buy shrimp that smell of the sea, never of ammonia, and cook them the same day.
Red pleated paper cups give mantecadas away at once on the bakery tray, from Monterrey to Mérida. Inside is a tender, golden, slightly orange-scented sponge, richer than a cupcake and topped with a domed crust, eaten for breakfast or merienda with milky coffee. They contain egg, butter and wheat. Chef's tip: let the batter rest for 20 minutes before baking, which gives the tall, cracked dome bakery mantecadas are known for.
Every pan dulce case in Mexico has a row of little brown pigs, called marranitos in the centre, cochinitos in the north and puerquitos in between. They are soft, cakey biscuits sweetened with dark piloncillo cane sugar, spiced with cinnamon and a touch of anise, and dunked into café de olla or cold milk in the afternoon. They are made here with butter, so they suit vegetarians, and contain egg and wheat. Chef's tip: roll the dough thick, about 1 cm, because thin pigs bake into hard crackers instead of soft cakes.
Suadero is the soul of late-night taquerías in Mexico City, from Coyoacán to the Centro, where thin beef from between the belly and leg bubbles for hours in fat on a domed griddle called a choricera. It turns silky inside and crisp at the edges, then is chopped into tiny doubled tortillas with onion, cilantro and fiery salsa. At home, beef brisket or flank works well, slowly simmered then crisped; the fat is traditionally pork lard, or use beef dripping. Chef's tip: chop the meat small and crisp it in a hot pan just before serving, as taqueros do.
Lebanese and Iraqi immigrants who settled in Puebla in the early twentieth century brought the shawarma spit, and Puebla answered with tacos árabes: thin slices of pork marinated in lime, vinegar, herbs and cumin, roasted on a vertical spit and wrapped in soft pan árabe, a thick pitta-like flatbread. This home version stacks the pork on a skewer in the oven. It is served with a smoky chipotle salsa and lime. Chef's tip: marinate the pork overnight in the fridge for the most tender, tangy result.
Tongue tacos are prized in the taquerías of Mexico City, Puebla and Guadalajara for their melting, rich texture, and they are a classic Saturday treat. The tongue is simmered for hours with onion, garlic and bay, peeled while warm, diced and seared until golden, then served in small tortillas with sharp salsa verde, onion and cilantro. Chef's tip: peel the skin while the tongue is still hot; once cold it sticks stubbornly.
Across central Mexico, from Morelos to the State of Mexico, pan de elote is baked when fresh corn is cheap in late summer and sold by the slice at market stalls. Despite its name it is more cake than bread: fresh kernels blended with butter, eggs and condensed milk bake into a dense, custardy, golden loaf that tastes of sweet corn. It contains wheat and egg. Chef's tip: use the starchiest, most mature corn you can find, because young sweetcorn makes a wetter, flatter cake.
Red tomato, white onion and green chile give this dish the colours of the Mexican flag, which is why anything 'a la mexicana' is so loved. Fondas across the country make it every day from thin-cut beef, browned hard and then stewed until tender in a quick, juicy sauce. Serve it with arroz rojo, refried beans and a stack of hot tortillas. Chef's tip: ask the butcher for 'bistec' cut thin from top round, or freeze a piece for 30 minutes so you can slice it thinly yourself.
Beach stands from Veracruz to Mazatlán serve this cocktail in tall sundae glasses, the prawns swimming in a cold, tangy tomato-lime juice with onion, cucumber, coriander and avocado. It's eaten with a spoon and crisp tostadas, often with a splash of hot sauce, on a hot day by the sea. The prawns are cooked first; it isn't a ceviche. Chef's tip: save the poaching liquid, chill it and add a few spoonfuls to the sauce for a deeper seafood flavour.
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