Oaxaca: Mole 5 & 6 – The Red Mole Mix-Up

It was bound to happen – the more we got into these moles, the more things would get complicated, and things have gotten a lil complicated

One of the moles here is mole coloradito – you might translate this as ‘tinted red’ mole. This is distinct from mole rojo (also…’red’ mole???), although the difference between the two is unclear. Also unclear is whether ‘coloradito’ as you see it advertised on the street is mole or not. Puerco en chile colorado is essentially braised pork in red chile sauce, but it’s definitely not mole. So when there’s ‘pollo coloradito’ here, is it mole or is it just chicken cooked in a red chile sauce??? Impossible to tell??

I decided I would do what I do best – put this off. Walking around 20 de Nov. market, I saw a single place that advertised mole rojo, and happily sat down and ordered it. Most places have coloradito but nowhere said ‘mole coloradito’. I tried not to think about it.

The mole was good, spices, fork-tender perfectly cooked chicken, blahblahblah you’ve read enough descriptions of mole that we don’t need to go over that. I WILL point out that these tortillas were just incredible. Tearing them felt like pulling apart a soft tissue and they were slightly sweet and just a little toasted while still somehow pillow-soft. Honestly with just a little butter I could eat a stack of these on their own.

But after I was done, I decided I needed a plan for mole 6, so I leaned over the counter and asked the lady there if I could ask her a question.

I started with something basic – what’s the difference between mole colorado and mole rojo?

Well, she told me, in fact the mole I just served you is actually mole coloradito.

And that was the first time in my stay here that I had been so egregiously backstabbed in Oaxaca

I’ve never seen the Hills and I assume you have not either

She told me that in this market, since a lot of tourists come through, people don’t really make mole rojo because it’s so spicy it doesn’t sell well. She told me that mole rojo is actually more like just chicken cooked in the kind of salsa we put on tacos. She said mole rojo is a sauce made of tomato, garlic, chile, salt and pepper, picking up the salsa they have on the counter and tasting it, wincing a bit as it was spicy even for her.

That salsa was really tasty (and yes, really spicy), but it wasn’t what I would call mole.

So in the end I had mole coloradito, and possibly this was the same thing that was available everywhere else. And mole rojo, possible, is a mole that doesn’t have the nuts, spices, chocolate, and thickeners of other moles. Or maybe the lady was wrong?

One of the difficult but beautiful things about cultures is that they are shared orally and passed down generation to generation in imperfect ways. In this place that is less touched by the internet, traditions are capable of changing quickly and drastically. As sad as that is, it also leaves a lot of room for growth and the accumulation of intergenerational wisdom! Whether or not this is ‘traditional’ mole, there’s beauty in a dynamic, living culture that comes from small changes over time ❤

Oaxaca: Abastos

The doctor who helped set me up in Oaxaca assured me the city was largely safe, that I was fine at night as long as I wasn’t being stupid, but that robberies were common in the Central de Abastos. Abastos, as we’ll call it, is a giant market somewhere between an enormous swap meet and farmer’s market that spans for blocks and is about a 5 minute walk from where I am staying. It’s an incredible maze of literal hundreds of vendors selling sandals, pan dulce, produce, eggs, baskets, spices, candy, toiletries – if you can find it in Oaxaca you can find it in Abastos.

There is one particularly large paved aisle where the majority of produce is sold. It reaches from one side of the market to the other and is largely covered by black green and yellow tarps, anchored on top of metal storage units and held up by tall poles and an intricate network of ropes. I was walking down this big passage and had just bought mangoes (they’re in season and so cheap and so delicious) when the storm started.

From the first Oaxaca post, you know that this isn’t an uncommon occurrence, but this one was particularly intense. In between the tarps I caught glimpses of the trees whipping in the wind; the rain was opaque and the drops were so big and fast that they vaporized on impact so there was as much mist flying as there was rain. Between the rain, the mist, the flapping tarps, it was eerily similar to movies scenes of a particularly bad sea storm. I and several other people were taking refuge among the produce vendors who were frantically maintaining covering their wares and making sure the whole structure stayed up. Some of the poles were slipping loose and I couldn’t help but think – if all the ropes, tarps, and poles collapsed, what would happen?

Actual footage of the storm, also my arms

The rainwater collected in large puddles in the dips of the tarps overhead that would eventually spill over the side in a small torrent. Sometimes people had to push on the drooping tarps to push the water to the side. Immediately to my left one of the tarps anchored on the top of a storage unit was collecting a large mass of water that wasn’t going to spill to the side. A guy tried to push the sinking tarp up, but water is astoundingly heavy and he could not get it to spill over.

When the storm started, if felt like it was passing by obtusely, unwittingly leaving destruction in its wake. But then it changed, as if the storm had suddenly taken note of Oaxaca and was lashing out at it. At this point, people were taking photos and videos. I desperately wanted to do the same, but my advisor had told me not to bring my cell phone the Abastos lest I be robbed. So all you have is my words.

Remember our friend who was trying to push away the water? He had other things to attend to, and with a sound like a t-shirt ripping, the tarp split, sending waterfall of rainwater pouring out behind their stall and flowing to our feet as we moved to new, dryer spots. I was unable to do anything useful in this situation, stuck watching in awe with my little bag of mangoes.

The rain (again, as if written by an amateur-hour screenwriter) went as suddenly as it came. I still had to navigate the Maze of Abastos back. It was even harder now that certain pathways were blocked by newly formed ankle-deep rivers and ponds. Vendors were sweeping away the water in front of their stalls and where it was deeper they were effectively paddling away water with brooms.

Eventually I made it out. And the mangoes? Absolutely worth the ordeal.

Oaxaca: Mole 4 – Estofado and Mercado 20 de Noviembre

If I’m being completely honest I still don’t really know what mole estofado is.

I know what’s in it, and it’s some weird ingredients: capers, raisins, and olives are unique to estofado, and it doesn’t have as much chile as others. In addition it has absolutely no chocolate, so the flavor that’s left is sweet, mild, and even a little fruity without the bitterness or smokiness that other moles have. At the end of the day it’s chicken cooked with a sauce that is sweet, mild, spiced, and just a tiny a touch smoky. You know what we call that in the USA? We call that BBQ chicken.

This is just Mexican BARBECUE CHICKEN.

But where does it come from? what does its name mean?

Well, this mole has more influence from Spain than any other mole here, borrowing the base ingredients of Spain with the spices indigenous to Mexico. It is truly a mix of the two cultures, the bright side of a dark history of colonialization and erasure of thousands of years of history and culture. Even the name, ‘estofado’ seems to be a reference to the kind of stewed cooking that Spaniards were familiar with when they first traveled to Central America. It’s pretty difficult to trace back the history of this kind of mole (assuming you, like me, only have wikipedia and basic internet searches to augment asking questions of Oaxacans.)

So. Where did I get this one? In the south part of Centro de Oaxaca is a market called Mercado 20 de Noviembre. May that’s an unwieldy name for a market but it is named so  because it’s on the street 20 de Noviembre. Maybe that’s an unwieldy name for a street but you know what I’ve had enough of your criticisms.

This market mostly has 2 things: eateries and bakeries. There’s people selling tamales or other small things in the pathways between the booths, there’s a Mayordomo selling chocolate, but largely you go here if you need a meal or bread.

All the eateries are pretty similar, so they have to get people’s attention some way. At the height of activity, Waitresses will yell out to you passing by, waving a menu very close to you, shouting either “de comer, joven” or just listing the food that they have available. I don’t know if anyone has ever been swayed by this tactic, but I know plenty of people who do not enjoy being here because they get agitated having people yell out at them the entire time they are walking through the market.

Nonetheless, if you find a good one or if you need some of that daily bread, this is a nice, safe, and accessible place to come and eat (and I guess take pictures without people making a fuss Dx)

Oaxaca: Revolution

Do not fuck with radical Mexican feminists.

And my personal favorite

Oaxaca: Mole 3 – Verde and Comida Corrida

I only have two more weeks here! FUCK.

With that in mind, let’s get straight to the point. What’s so special about mole verde? It is, unsurprisingly, green. As you know, mole’s main ingredients are nuts and chile. Thus, the distinct feature of mole verde is that it is made primarily with pepitas (shelled pumpkin seeds) and green chiles. Beyond that, it is flavored with whatever other green shit someone’s mom had on hand: tomatillos, green onions, epazote, spinach, celery, cilantro, parsley, chard…mole verde doesn’t so much have a recipe as it has a singular goal: be fuckin green.

The taste is less spicy and more herbacious compared to other moles, as close to ‘light and refreshing’ as a mole sauce can be. This can be the dish you serve to your friends who want Mexican food but don’t eat spicy food because they hate joy and fire-pain-love-taste.

The mole verde I had was part of a restaurant’s comida corrida. Around 3pm, many restaurants offer a deal on a set menu that changes every day. These are usually pretty decent food at a really good rate, so if you know anything about me you know I’m all over these. As you know from the previous posts, these meals have multiple parts! They always start with a kind of soup – in this case, it started with a thematically-appropriate cream of spinach soup

What was I supposed to do with the salsa? SALSA DOESN’T GO IN SOUP

The cream of spinach was good, the crouton was *spectacular*.

Comida corrida almost always comes with a choice of a side of rice or spaghetti. Yes, spaghetti. A shockingly ubiquitous side in Oaxaca, people actually seem to prefer the spaghetti based on what I’ve seen. I don’t know what kind of weird historical cultural exchange happened where spaghetti became a cultural staple, but here we are. For the record, I always order the rice.

Finally, it comes with the main dish, handmade tortillas, and agua fresca in more flavors than I thought was possible: horchata, pineapple, lime, mango, tamarindo, and guava are the ones I have personally tried (I told you I was all about the comida corrida)

Although this isn’t always the case, sometimes comida corrida comes with a little dessert. This dessert is the thing that tickles my particular little heart because it’s always the same thing: a little jell-o. One of the fun facts about David is that he is weirdly delighted by gelatin, and Oaxaca was a perfect place to come for that. There are little carts on the streets selling cups of gelatin with interesting flavors like vanilla-and-sherry. Women in open markets sell nicuatole, a gelatinous corn dessert that kind of tastes like solid horchata. Heck, even the cake shops here have elegant jell-o rings studded with fruit ❤

Oh man I am super craving jello now, I’m gonna get some nicuatole tomorrow.

 

Oaxaca: D&D

Now there’s a title I didn’t think I’d be writing.

Ever since the summer of 2016, Dungeons & Dragons has been a surprisingly consistent part of my life, something that I prioritize when I can and always feel contributes positively to my well-being. So much so, in fact, that I even played with my group while in Mexico! What’s so special about it? Well I guess that’s what this is about.

One particularly attractive part of D&D is its creation of an immersive fantasy world. Nothing else we have comes even close. In case you’re new, D&D is basically a grown up version of make-believe. Imagine two children:
“I blast you with a fireball from my magic staff to burn you up!”
“I dodge out of the way and throw knives at you so you’re DEAD!”
D&D essentially this, played by adults, for hours, with 3 main additions: rules, dice and a referee.

The rules give a structure for the make-believe, bringing a sense of balance to a game that would otherwise become unhinged. The dice add the randomness that pervades our lives – sometimes you succeed and sometimes you fail and it’s just up to chance. The referee, also known as the DM, is the interpreter of both of these into a story: if the rules say you can summon lightning from the sky, and you roll high enough, then that’s what happens and your DM tells you how your enemies die a gruesome death.

You might think that only meganerds would take something as whimsical as make-believe and ruin it with RULES, but they do create an amazing effect: with a fine-tuned balance between power and limitations, D&D campaigns are immersive and incredibly effective at creating stories with a strong sense of magical realism. D&D is the closest thing we have to virtual reality, so if that sounds appealing you might wanna give it a try.

So how did D&D from Mexico go? I was DM (remember: the referee, head storyteller) for a spooky session that needed to be as immersive as possible. The more these players thought they were in a haunted house, the more they felt they could use their abilities to get through it. I had them dim the lights, I played creepy house sounds, and I tried my best to paint a picture of the place they were in. It’s very possible I overdid it with a creepy children’s motif, but it was nonetheless effective and I think it was a really fun session.

I had thought that when I came to Oaxaca, I would (again) be forced to take a break from dungeons and dragons. And when I considered playing remotely, it seemed like there was no way for it to be as good as it was in person. Putting in some extra time and using some new tools helped, but what really made the session great was the engagement and excitement of my players. As a DM, you can create the most intricate sandbox to play in, but it’s all for naught without creative players who genuinely delight in exploring. Sure, sometimes they like to pretend they’re cats and take an actual piss in your sandbox, but all in all your players are your teammates in D&D. It’s a lighthearted touch of home we’re accessing and I’m grateful for the fun and familiarity of our sessions.