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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.
Few snacks are as simple or as refreshing as this one, sold in bags from street carts and made at home all over Mexico as an after-school or pre-lunch nibble. Jícama tastes like a cross between apple and water chestnut: crisp, juicy and barely sweet. Lime, salt and chile powder are all it needs. Chef's tip: a short soak in iced water makes the sticks extra crisp.
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.
Entomatadas are what many families in central and northern Mexico make on a weekday evening, from Querétaro to Chihuahua: corn tortillas warmed in oil, bathed in a mild, garlicky tomato sauce and folded around fresh cheese. Without dried chiles they are gentle enough for children, and they are often served with refried beans and a fried egg on the side. Check the cheese label: many fresh Mexican cheeses use animal rennet, and a vegetarian queso fresco or ricotta salata works just as well here. Chef's tip: warm each tortilla in a little oil before it meets the sauce, so it bends without tearing.
In the steak houses of Monterrey and Chihuahua, queso fundido arrives in a sizzling clay or iron dish before the grilled meat, and everyone scoops it into warm tortillas. This version is topped with fried Mexican chorizo, which is fresh pork sausage spiced with chile and vinegar. It's rich and stringy, best shared at the start of a meal. For a vegetarian version, swap the chorizo for sautéed mushrooms and roasted poblano strips, and use vegetarian cheeses. Chef's tip: warm the dish in the oven first so the cheese starts melting the moment it goes in.
Late at night outside Mexico City's taquerías, the squeeze bottle of rust-red salsa is what regulars reach for to wake up tacos de suadero and al pastor. It is thin, very hot and a little sour from vinegar, with the toasty, nutty heat of chile de árbol balanced by cooked tomatillo. Small amounts go a long way, and it keeps two weeks in the fridge. Chef's tip: toast the chiles only until they darken and smell nutty, about 30 seconds; a minute too long and the whole batch turns bitter.
In Orizaba and Córdoba in the mountains of Veracruz, salsa macha is a jar that lives on the table: dried chiles, garlic, peanuts and sesame fried in oil and crushed into a dark, crunchy relish. It is spooned over eggs, tamales, beans, grilled vegetables and even fresh cheese, and a little goes a long way. The flavour is smoky and nutty rather than fiercely hot when made with mild chiles. This version contains peanuts and sesame, both common allergens. Chef's tip: let the oil cool for a minute before the chiles go in; they need gentle heat to release their flavour without scorching.
Sold in twists of paper at bus stations and set out free with a drink in Mexican cantinas, these peanuts are fried slowly with whole garlic and dried chile de árbol, then tossed with chile powder, salt and lime. They're crunchy, salty, sour and hot all at once. Make a batch for a party or keep a jar for snacking. They contain peanuts, so warn guests with nut allergies. Chef's tip: let them cool fully on a tray before tasting; they only turn properly crunchy once cold.
At weekend markets in Milpa Alta, the cactus-growing district on Mexico City's southern edge, whole nopal paddles are grilled until tender and folded into tortillas with charred spring onions and salsa verde. Grilling dries the natural slime the cactus is known for and leaves a lemony, green-bean flavour. It is a light, naturally vegan taco. Buy paddles with the spines already removed, or scrape them carefully with a knife. Chef's tip: score the paddles in a criss-cross before grilling so they cook evenly and stay flat.
Found on cafeteria menus and in school lunchboxes from Monterrey to Mérida, sincronizadas are two flour tortillas 'synchronised' around cooked ham (pork) and melting cheese, then toasted on the griddle until the cheese runs. Cut into wedges and served with guacamole or salsa, they're a ten-minute supper that children love. Chef's tip: keep the heat at medium, so the cheese melts before the tortillas scorch.
Market cooks in Puebla, Tlaxcala and the State of Mexico still blister tomatoes, garlic and chiles on a dry comal and grind them in the same volcanic-stone mortar that gives this salsa its name. The result is chunky, smoky and slightly sweet from the charred tomato skins, and it is served warm or at room temperature with grilled meat, quesadillas and barbacoa. A blender works, but the molcajete gives a rougher, juicier texture. Chef's tip: grind the garlic, chile and salt first, then the tomatoes, so the hard bits break down properly.
Chiltomate is the everyday red sauce of the Yucatán Peninsula, ladled over papadzules, huevos motuleños, panuchos and grilled pork in Mérida's cocinas económicas. Tomatoes are charred on the comal, blended and simmered with onion, while a whole roasted habanero floats in the pan to scent it with fruity heat. It is mild unless you split the chile. Chef's tip: for real heat, slit the habanero before simmering; for a family table, leave it whole and lift it out.
Late on 24 December, families in Mexico City and the central states gather for the cena de Nochebuena, and on the table, next to the romeritos and bacalao, sits this jewel-bright salad. Beetroot stains the crisp jícama pink, sweet oranges and apple balance its earthiness, and roasted peanuts and pomegranate seeds scatter over the top with a little lettuce underneath. It is fresh relief among rich Christmas dishes and children love the colour. Chef's tip: dress the beetroot separately and add it at the last minute, unless you want everything magenta.
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.
Order 'divorced eggs' in any Mexico City café or roadside fonda and you get a plate split down the middle: one fried egg on a tortilla under smoky red salsa, the other under tangy green tomatillo salsa, with a ridge of refried beans keeping the couple apart. It is a cheerful weekend breakfast and a good way to use up leftover salsas. Mexican crumbling cheese is often made with animal rennet, so choose a vegetarian one if needed. Chef's tip: warm the tortillas in the egg pan first, so they are soft but not greasy.
Across northern and central Mexico, from Toluca, famous for its green and red chorizos, to the ranches of Chihuahua, a skillet of brick-red chorizo scrambled with eggs is the classic weekend breakfast, scooped into warm tortillas with refried beans. Mexican chorizo is fresh, raw pork sausage seasoned with chillies and vinegar, unlike the cured Spanish kind, so it must be cooked through. Chef's tip: pour off most of the rendered fat before adding the eggs, or the scramble turns greasy.
In fondas around Mexico City and at Sunday carne asada gatherings across Puebla and the Bajío, guacamole is pounded to order in a basalt molcajete and carried to the table still in the stone. No sour cream, no garlic powder: just ripe avocado crushed over a paste of onion, serrano chile, cilantro and salt, sharpened with lime. It is a dip for warm totopos, a topping for tacos and a side for grilled meat, and it is best eaten within the hour. Chef's tip: grind the chile, onion and salt to a wet paste first, so the heat spreads through every bite instead of sitting in chunks.
Tender cactus paddles are sold cleaned and diced in bags at every market in Mexico City and Michoacán, and the quickest breakfast they make is this: nopales fried with onion, tomato and green chile until their sticky juice cooks off, then folded through softly scrambled eggs. It is light, green and tangy, and wrapped in a warm tortilla it becomes a taco to eat on the way out. Chef's tip: cook the nopales uncovered until the slime has gone completely before the eggs go in.
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.
Outside Mexican schools and parks, vendors fry little dried wheels and rectangles of wheat dough until they balloon into airy, crackly chicharrones de harina, also called duritos. They're handed over in a plastic bag drenched in lime juice and bottled hot sauce. At home you can buy the dried pellets (duros) at Latin grocers, and they puff in seconds. Chef's tip: fry just a small handful at a time; they triple in size.
Raw green salsa sits in a bowl on nearly every taquería counter from Toluca to Mexico City, and families blend a fresh jar most mornings to spoon over eggs, tacos de guisado and grilled meat. Because the tomatillos are not cooked, it tastes sharp, grassy and almost citrusy, with a clean serrano bite. It takes ten minutes and keeps three days in the fridge, thickening slightly as the tomatillo pectin sets. Chef's tip: choose firm, bright green tomatillos that have split their papery husks; yellowing ones are sweeter and make a dull salsa.
In homes from Monterrey to Guadalajara, a big bowl of creamy apple salad is chilling in the fridge on Christmas Eve, ready to sit alongside roast pork or turkey, and the kids usually go back for seconds as dessert. Crisp diced apple, juicy pineapple, celery for crunch, raisins and toasted pecans are folded into a sweet dressing of cream, condensed milk and a little soured cream. Many versions add marshmallows, but most contain gelatine, so they are left out here. Chef's tip: chill it for an hour before serving; the dressing thickens and the flavours marry.
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.
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