Okay, so everyone’s always banging on about ‘authentic’ this and ‘traditional’ that, especially when you’re talking Mexican food. I was getting pretty fed up with the same old Tex-Mex routine, you know? Just wanted something that felt a bit more… real. That’s what got me started on this whole adventure with what I’ve been calling ‘Mary’s traditional Mexican cuisine.’ It’s not some fancy restaurant or anything, more like this set of old-school principles and recipes I decided to really commit to, to see what the fuss was all about.
Getting Started: The Quest for Real Ingredients
First off, let me tell you, getting the right stuff was half the battle. Forget those little packets of “taco seasoning.” Mary’s way, or at least the way I interpreted it from the old notes I found, meant starting from scratch. I spent a whole Saturday hunting down proper dried chilies – anchos, guajillos, the works. Not just the sad-looking ones you find tucked away in the international aisle. I was looking for the ones that still smelled like sunshine and smoke, you know? And fresh masa for tortillas? Man, that was another adventure entirely. Most places just stock the flour, Maseca, which is fine, I guess. But actually finding a place that sold fresh, already-prepared masa felt like I’d struck gold.
The Actual Cooking: Sweat and (Almost) Tears
Then came the actual cooking part. I decided to tackle cochinita pibil first, ’cause who doesn’t love super tender, slow-roasted pork? Mary’s instructions, or what I could piece together, were pretty straightforward on paper, but the time it involved! Marinating the pork overnight was just the start, then slow-roasting it for hours and hours. My kitchen smelled absolutely amazing, I’ll give it that. But wow, it was a commitment. This wasn’t your quick 30-minute meal, folks, not by a long shot.
And the salsa! Mary had this method for a fire-roasted tomato salsa. You had to char the tomatoes, onions, garlic, and chilies first, get them all smoky. Then, the traditional way was grinding them in a molcajete. Okay, I’ll admit, I cheated a bit there and used my food processor for some of it because my arm felt like it was about to fall off. But even with that little shortcut, the difference in flavor was just incredible. So much deeper and more complex than just chopping stuff up raw and mixing it.
- Sourcing real, whole dried chilies was key.
- Making fresh corn tortillas (or trying to, anyway – mine came out a bit… uniquely shaped, let’s say).
- There was a lot of chopping, blending, simmering, and waiting. Patience is definitely a virtue here.
Was It Worth It? Reflections on “Traditional”
So, after all that effort, all that time, was it actually worth it? Yeah, I really think so. It wasn’t perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination. My tortillas looked more like abstract art than perfect circles. But the flavors? They were there. That depth, that richness you just don’t get from a kit or some quickie recipe. It really made me appreciate what “traditional” can mean. It’s not just some fancy buzzword; it’s about the process, using quality ingredients, and taking the time. It’s about not cutting corners just to save a few minutes.
You know, it’s funny. I used to think my grandma was just being overly fussy, spending practically all day in the kitchen to prepare for Sunday dinner. But now, after going through this, I kinda get it. There’s something really satisfying about putting in that level of effort, that care, into the food you’re making. It just tastes different. It feels different, more substantial.
This whole experiment with ‘Mary’s traditional Mexican cuisine’ has been a real journey, for sure. I’ve had some spectacular fails along the way, believe me. My first attempt at making a proper mole sauce from scratch? Let’s just say it looked more like something you’d patch a tire with than something you’d want to eat. But I’m learning. Each time I try one of these older, more involved recipes, I feel like I’m connecting with something, you know? Something a bit more authentic and real.
It’s not like I’m going to cook like this every single day. I mean, who really has that kind of time? But for a special occasion, or just when I really want to make something that feels special (mostly to impress myself, if I’m being honest), going back to Mary’s way, the traditional way, it just feels right. It’s a heck of a lot of work, no doubt about it, but the payoff, flavor-wise, is pretty darn good. My family even started asking for “that special Mexican stuff” I make now and then. So, I guess that’s a definite win in my book, right?
