I did nothing for Cinco de Mayo – the Fifth of May, which commemorates the Battle of Puebla in 1862 when the Mexican militia beat the invading French Army. Not Mexico’s independence day, which was 50 years prior, but a good day to celebrate nonetheless. I’m not Mexican, so why would I care? Food, of course!
But it’s tough to cook well for Cinco de Mayo on the actual day because the timing’s all wrong for us this far north of the border. We don’t have authentic ingredients for an authentic Mexican feast until sometime in mid-summer.
Traditional Mexican food, like virtually all ‘national’– or more accurately, regional – cuisines, is based on whatever is fresh and local, whether it’s produce, meat, seafood, or forage. For Mexico in May, that means fresh tomatoes, tomatillos, peppers chiles, cilantro, cucumbers, jicama, summer squash, corn. The local ingredients we’re getting at the moment lend themselves more to the soup/cheesy casserole/roasts and roasted stored root vegetables spectrum, which New England and Northern Europe do really well.
I’ve only been to Mexico twice – once while working for several months in the Campeche Oil Fields, the second time to visit a friend there, which was not as thrilling in both the best and worst senses of the word as the job in the oil fields, but was decidedly more fun. But both times, I was struck by the freshness of and respect paid the food. Unlike heavy Tex–Mex with its gooey (though often delicious) reliance on beef, beans, tomato sauce and cheddar, Mexican fare was a mix of fresh fruits and vegetables seasoned with fresh herbs and chiles in every incarnation.
For example, in Ciudad del Carmen, an oil boomtown at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, and in Tampico, farther up the coast, the salsa consisted of freshly chopped tomatoes, white onions, cucumbers and minced jalapenos doused with lime and a little salt and sprinkled with fresh cilantro. There was fresh fruit salted with chipotle powder, beer with big chunks of lime, and unfamiliar vegetables and fruits from the town’s central market, which was a series of open stalls inside an open-air cinder block building.
The rows of dried pasillas, fresh poblanos, pumpkin seeds, and other vegetables were appealing. But the meat stalls were a different story. Basically small abattoirs, most were nearly awash in blood, though if they killed and butchered a chicken in front of you, it ensured freshness, if not always cleanliness.
Over the course of those months, we bought and cooked a few chickens, which came wrapped up with everything but feathers included, something I discovered when I distractedly popped one into the oven and found the head staring me down from the roasting pan when I pulled it out. The Honduran deckhands aboard particularly liked to munch the skin off the chicken feet at the dinner table. We fished a lot. I lost 20 pounds.
The second visit was to Guadalajara. The food was light, creative, sometimes surprising. In short, fabulous. The salsa was, again, not a viscous sauce as we think of it, but all fresh-chopped vegetables. There were little plates of shrimp in tomatillo sauce with a dab of queso fresco, richly flavored broth-centered tortilla soup, poblanos stuffed with seafood, and during one memorable nearly all-day nosh with friends, we had among other things, seviche tacos that were wrapped in a crisp-juicy slice of jicama rather than corn taco. Three words: To.Die.For.
According to World Food and Wine, there’s no ‘traditional’ Cinco de Mayo meal. It varies from family to family according to their native region, “combining
native Aztec foodstuffs, with a rich variety of items brought by Spanish conquistadors and settlers.” Adapted local.
The WF&W site lists (in annoyingly large bold print, like someone shouting at you as though they didn’t think you’d ‘get’ the recipes without the volume) Menuda Soup, with calve’s foot and tripe, Plantain Chips, (like potato chips but with more flavor and less salt), Sopes, which are thin-ish little corn cakes topped with an array of things like shredded beef and cheese, or sautéed mixed veggies or beans and cheese or seafood or whatever else comes to hand.
This kind of cooking takes just a few really good, fresh ingredients, uses some imagination and marries them to each other in a way that highlights rather than masks their finest qualities. Mango salsa with chopped fresh mango, scallion, chopped serranos a squeeze or two of lime with a little salt, paprika and cilantro served with simple grilled pompano, for example. Nopales (cactus) with jalapeno and garlic, chayote salad with fresh basil, zucchini with corn, garlic and buttermilk.
My daughter, Abby, who is a superb and creative cook, came the day I had to put down my beloved old husky, brought a bottle of wine, a Disney movie and the makings for shrimp tostadas, which I’d not had before. It was a sad day – life’s full of ‘em – but having the comfort of a loving friend, a bit of escapism, a shared bottle of wine and something delicious was a tangible reminder of all the blessings that life brings. Which is what gathering with friends over good food on Cinco de Mayo or Thanksgiving or even National Stamp Day is all about.
Shrimp Tostadas
½ lb shrimp, steamed with a little Old Bay at the bottom of the steamer
1 ripe avocado
1 juicy lime
dash each of chili powder, garlic powder, cumin, salt
3 scallions, chopped
small jalapeno, minced
bunch of fresh cilantro
¼ -1/3 cup sour cream or crema
5-10 dashes of sriracha sauce (it’s hot, so gauge for yourself)
5 medium corn or flour tortillas, quartered
oil for frying
Peel the shrimp, chop into medium-sized pieces and lay aside. Mix sriracha sauce and about a ¼ tsp of lime juice into sour cream and set aside. Fry the tortilla quarters in hot oil until browned and crisp. Drain and blot on paper towels but be sure not to cover them or they will lose some crispness. Make guacamole at the last minute with a mashed avocado, the seasonings, the scallions – chopped so you can still bite into one to get the flavor – and a generous squeeze of lime. To assemble, put a crisp tortilla on a plate. Top with guacamole, some chopped shrimp, and a dab of the sour cream. Serve with Mexican beer for something approximating authenticity, or a chilled bottle of sauvignon blanc, which is hardly authentic or local to either Mexico or Maryland, but is delicious.
https://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Seared-Shrimp-Tostadas-with-Avocado-Salsa-1191
https://world-food-and-wine.com/cinco-de-mayo-food
https://www.gourmetsleuth.com/Recipes/Salads-242/Chayote-Salad-1475.aspx
https://www.gourmetsleuth.com/Recipes/List/Mexican-Salads–Vegetables-Recipes-515.aspx
Making queso frsco (fresh cheese)
https://www.thekitchn.com/thekitchn/cheese/make-queso-fresco-the-cheesemonger-099011