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Pale green and very refreshing, agua de pepino is the cooler sold from market juice stands in Mexico City and Oaxaca when the afternoon heat builds, and families blend a jug for comida on hot days. Cucumber, lime and a few mint leaves give a clean, light taste with very little sugar. Chef's tip: leave some of the peel on the cucumber for colour, but strain the drink so it stays silky.
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.
Brown, cloudy and gloriously tart, agua de tamarindo fills the big glass vitroleros at taquerías and fondas across Mexico, especially in hot Guerrero, Colima and the Yucatán, and it is the drink most people reach for with a plate of tacos de guisado. The pods are peeled, simmered and rubbed through a sieve, so it tastes far fresher than paste or concentrate. Chef's tip: soak the pulp in the hot cooking water before you rub it, which loosens every bit from the seeds.
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.
During the nine nights of posadas from 16 to 24 December, neighbours in central Mexico walk the streets singing for shelter, and the reward at the last door is a cup of steaming ponche ladled from a clay pot. Whole fruits, tejocotes, guavas, apple, prunes, sticks of sugarcane, simmer with hibiscus, cinnamon and piloncillo until the punch is fragrant and amber, and everyone fishes the soft fruit out with a spoon. This recipe is alcohol-free and good for all ages; some adults add a splash of rum to their own cup, but none is used here. Chef's tip: add the guavas late, as they collapse if cooked too long.
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 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.
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.
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.
In the cold months, when guavas from Aguascalientes and Michoacán perfume the markets, street vendors in Mexico City ladle atole de guayaba from big steaming pots beside the tamal cart. Ripe guava is blended with milk, strained and thickened with cornflour into a pink, creamy, fragrant drink. It contains dairy. Chef's tip: add the blended guava only once the milk is thickened and off the boil, so the milk doesn't curdle.
Pink, warm and sweet, atole de fresa is a children's favourite in Mexico City and Irapuato, the strawberry capital of Guanajuato, sold in polystyrene cups alongside tamales for breakfast. Fresh strawberries are blended with milk and thickened with a little masa, which gives a gentle corn flavour under the fruit. It contains dairy. Chef's tip: blend the strawberries raw and add them at the end, so the drink keeps its bright colour.
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 market juice stalls make agua de melón with the ripest, most fragrant cantaloupes, and many cooks blend in the seeds and the soft pulp around them, which adds a creamy body and a nutty flavour. It's served in tall glasses on hot afternoons from Guanajuato to Veracruz and is a favourite with kids. Chef's tip: smell the stalk end of the melon before you buy it; if it smells sweet, the drink will too.
When watermelons are piled high in the markets of Jalisco and Sonora in summer, almost every taquería has a jar of bright pink agua de sandía next to the horchata. It needs only ripe watermelon, water, a squeeze of lime and a touch of sugar, and children love it. Chef's tip: a very ripe melon may need no sugar at all, so taste before you sweeten.
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.
In April and May, when Ataulfo mangoes from Chiapas and Manila mangoes from Veracruz flood the markets, agua de mango becomes the drink of every comida corrida. It is thick, golden and very fruity, sharpened with lime. Chef's tip: use soft, fully ripe yellow mangoes with wrinkled skin; they need far less sugar and give a smooth, fibre-free drink.
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.
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.
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.
Long before coffee arrived, atole was the morning drink of central and southern Mexico, and in villages of Oaxaca, Puebla and Tlaxcala plain atole blanco is still drunk hot with tamales at breakfast or on cold evenings. Fresh masa is whisked into water and cooked until it thickens to a silky, gently sweet drink with a toasty corn taste. Made with water it is vegan. Chef's tip: strain the masa before cooking, so the atole is smooth with no lumps.
On the beaches of Nayarit, from San Blas to the island of Mexcaltitán, cooks clamp butterflied snapper in a hinged grill basket and shake it over mangrove charcoal; 'zarandear' means to shake. The flesh is brushed with a paste of guajillo and chipotle chiles, citrus and a little mayonnaise, which chars at the edges while the fish stays moist. Bring it to the table whole and let everyone pull off pieces into tortillas with lime, red onion and cucumber. You can ask the fishmonger to take the head off. Chef's tip: oil the grill basket well, or the skin sticks.
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