Dishing up your inner chef
Story and photos by Patricia Alisau
If you haven’t decided on a holiday getaway yet, why not trip down to Puebla? Not only will you be touring one of Mexico’s hidden colonial gems but also have the privilege of dining on its celebrated cuisine. Taking it a step further, you can even tap into your inner chef by taking a class led by one of its cooking maestros.
The culinary reputation of some places like Puebla has always intrigued me. Its mole alone has become synonymous with grand celebrations like weddings. So when I received an invitation to take my first cooking class, I jumped at the chance to learn more about dishes that had always piqued my curiosity – like
mole. For instance, I had heard that creating the iconic sauce took three days with a bevy of women working long hours into the night. The flyer promised a three-course meal in three short hours, a definite boon to my packed agenda. It was also offered by the Meson Sacristia de la Compania where I had checked in for a three-night stay.
Chef Alonso Hernandez, wearing a tall, white hat and disarming smile, greeted me as I entered the kitchen. First, I was introduced to knife skills for deftly slicing and dicing onions, then we roasted whole tomatillos, garlic, chile peppers and the onions on a flat, round metal plate called a comal. We worked side by side preparing, from scratch, red and green salsas to spread over the appetizers. The main dish, pipian verde, sometimes called green mole and a personal favorite, came to life after frying, grinding and cooking pumpkin seeds, then embedding them in a chile-herb mix. The creamy, smoky, nutty sauce left a glimmer of spiciness on my tongue and reached its maximum goodness over chicken.
When I asked Chef Alonso about three-day mole, he chuckled and pointed to the electric blender, a modern replacement for Mexico’s archaic-looking stone grinding bowls, which date back around 2,000 years. The cloistered nuns of Puebla, who invented mole in the 18th century, doubtless, had more time on their hands than today’s cooks. Following the pipian, we put rice to boil for the pudding dessert meanwhile whipping up chalupa appetizers – small fried corn
tortillas topped with shredded beef, onion and slathered with our salsa. Tangy jamaica (hibiscus flower water) added a refreshing, cold beverage to the meal.
Afterwards, I lunched on what we cooked at a small table on the sunny patio of the hotel, thankful that the chef graciously overlooked salsa spills and other mishaps of mine in the kitchen. Had I signed up for more classes, I would have added the classic dark chocolate-based mole, chiles enogados (bell peppers stuffed with ground meat and covered with an exquisite walnut-cream- pomegranate sauce) and margaritas to my repertoire. Convinced as I now was of the simplicity of preparing these dishes, with my recipe booklet tucked under my arm, I headed for the nearest market to buy a comal.
Afterwards, I spent most of my time touring the Old Town of Puebla, which is a study in colonial Spanish and French architecture made unique by facades swathed in colorful talavera tiles. The early 16th century settlers started turning out the tiles from clay beds similar to what they were used to in Spain. Embellishing them with hand-painted patterns, the wealthy soon commissioned them for their mansions and convents and universities imitated them. And many an unpopular government official was mocked and immortalized in talavera on public buildings in full view of generations to come.
A distinctive style in talavera pottery also emerged, which became a hallmark of Puebla and coveted by collectors all over the world.
Veering over to Plaza de los Sapos (Frogs’ Plaza), the outdoor antiques market it was famous for, I discovered, had gone indoors. The antiques had been moved into shops and the plaza had acquired charming new coffee shops, sidewalk cafes and bars. A half-block away, my 18th century hotel brought the antiques to its guests. Each of its eight rustic suites is decorated with period pieces and all of them down to the wall plaques are up for grabs. With price tags attached, a French Renaissance mirror, hand-carved Mexican bureaus, a glossy Spanish wooden desk, four-poster bed in brass and old talavera urns were for sale in my room.
Venturing out by foot everyday from my hotel, I easily spotted some of the 2,000 historic monuments and buildings the city has catalogued by wandering along narrow streets opening onto wide flower-filled plazas reminiscent of Toledo, Spain. Visiting universities, museums and churches, I strolled by a plaque marking the building where Dictator Porfirio Diaz had been jailed by the French in 1865 when he was still an idealistic young general and before he became the self-styled president-for-life.
Close by, the main square is where I saw most of the tiled buildings the city is known for and where the cathedral looms over shady gardens. Trekking east of it landed me at the city’s famous market, El Parian, where talavera of all shapes and sizes, Puebla’s signature yam candies plus all other local handicrafts were under one roof. This is where I shopped for small gifts on the last day.
By the time I left the city, I had at least been inspired to try my hand at Puebla cooking at home.
Getting there: The best way is to fly into Mexico City and grab a comfortable exp
ress coach at the airport for a two-hour ride to Puebla.
Staying there: There are a number of lovely hotels in Puebla. To contact the one where I stayed, the Meson Sacristia de la Compania, call 800-728-9098 toll-free in the U.S. or 01-800-712-4028 toll free in Mexico. Visit the hotel's website at www.mesones-sacristia.com.
The Meson Sacrista is a member of the Boutique Hotels of Mexico,
Cooking classes: Both basic and advanced classes are offered at a cost of approximately $70 a person or $130 per couple, which includes a keepsake apron, recipe book and tasting. Classes hold a maximum of six persons. Hotel and cooking class packages are also available.
