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FRIDA'S FIESTAS -- RECIPES AND REMINISCENCES OF LIFE WITH FRIDA KAHLO |
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JANUARY: LA ROSCA DE REYES
Frida's brushes still hang from her easel in the studio of the Blue House On the eve of the Epiphany -- Feast of the Three Kings -- Frida decided that, in the name of family tradition, there had to be a get-together in the Blue House to cut the rosca de Reyes (Epiphany cake). She informed everyone of her plan and assigned us all a task. Since she grasped at any pretext for making a trip to town, she determined to buy the rosca at La Flor de Mexico, one of the finest coffee shops. The shop stood at the comer of two famous streets: Venustiano Carranza and Bolivar. It was an area that attracted the most powerful members of the old aristocracy, which dated back to the days of Porfirio Diaz. Staunch defenders of the status quo and bitter critics of the Revolution, this privileged elite gravitated toward the renowned district's coffee shops at the end of a day spent shopping or looking after its investments. Frida, who had been aware of la Flor de Mexico's reputation since she was a child, stormed defiantly into the place, which was overflowing with le tout Mexique who had come to La Flor to drink cafe au lait and chocolate with their rosca de Reyes and pastries. She loved to "epater les bourgeois," as my father often said, especially those members of what she called "the would-be aristocratic petite bourgeoisie." Her entrance caused a sensation. The extravagantly ornate Tehuana attire and pre-Hispanic jewelry caught the attention of the audience, and when she was soon identified as "the Communist painter, wife of that ogre Diego Rivera," nasty remarks began to fly. For us simply to be there was cause for hostility. I tried my hardest to turn invisible, but Frida only laughed and said in a loud voice, "Don't fall apart on me, Piquitos. The only thing you can do with people like this is tell them to go to hell." A waitress in a black dress and white collar, apron, and cap showed us to a corner table on the outside patio, an area that was almost always closed. It was an unbelievable setting. Huge ferns and azaleas of every color competed with the honeysuckle and jasmine vines that climbed the archways, infusing the place with their unique and powerful aroma. The rays of the setting sun warmed us as we waited for the chocolate to have the same effect. Frida ordered the biggest and most expensive Tosca on the list. While we waited for it to be wrapped, we had sweet sherry and a snack of those cookies that are called cat's tongues. Two of the Rivera and Kahlo families' oldest and dearest friends came into the coffee shop: the painter Jesus "Chucho" Reyes and the incomparable Jesus Rios y Valles, whom Frida had been calling "Chucho Landscapes" since elementary school (Chucho is a diminutive of Jesus and Rios y Valles translates into English as "Rivers and Valleys"). From the moment they sat down with us we were in paroxysms of laughter. This further outraged the good ladies and gentlemen who until our arrival had been enjoying an atmosphere of peace and quiet as they dunked their egg bread in handsome porcelain mugs. Before we knew it, it was dark. Frida invited the two Chuchos back to Coyoacan with us. The Kahlo clan awaited us impatiently. Don Guillermo was beside himself with annoyance at his daughter's latest escapade. Frida's sisters Luisa, Adriana, and Matilde were afraid of their father's anger. Cristina tried to persuade Frida to say she was sorry. Adriana's husband, Veraza -- el guerito" ("the blond boy") -- managed to aggravate the situation by tripping against the dining room table. It was such a ludicrous accident that we all broke into laughter, and don Guillermo stormed out in an even worse humor. When the incident was behind us, we cut the rosca from La Flor de Mexico. Cristina's son Tonito, the youngest person present, cut the first slice; the rest of us followed in strict chronological order. The figurine was in Adriana's slice, so she was automatically required to throw the party on February 2, the Virgen de la Candelaria's feast day, when tradition dictated that everyone eat tamales of all different kinds. Frida and I and Chucho Reyes and Chucho Landacapes watched a parade of specialties pass before our eyes -- "watered" chocolate or chocolat au lait, cocoa, black or lemon tea, ham rolls, torta de cielo, tacos with sour cream, flautas, red and green chalupas, and a tremendous variety of desserts, cookies, and little pastries. These were all dishes that Frida had ordered to complement the rosca. Of all these dishes the ones that made the greatest impression on the guests were the torta de cielo and the tacos with sour cream -- two of the Blue House's most frequently praised recipes. We used to make the torta de cielo at my father's house in Guanajuato. It is a typical regional dish with a twist specific to that city: the top layer is scrambled egg sprinkled with sugar. In Mexico this is considered an unusual side dish for a formal dinner. The tacos were also made according to an old recipe from the days when sour cream fermented at home (nowadays people substitute yogurt). Other recipes were typical of Guadalajara and Puebla cuisine, making for a meal that reflected the diversity of Mexican cooking. Frida provided a surprise at the end, when she
suddenly appeared bearing two enormous platters. These were her favorite
desserts, macaroons and gaznates (fried cookies), which she herself had made.
Chucho Landscapes proposed that we toss a coin the way they used to do in
elementary school -- whoever got "heads" won a gaznate, "tails" a macaroon. Amid
great hilarity we played this game until the platters were empty and the feast
of Epiphany was over.
A detail of the wall decoration in the dining room of the Blue House
The ingredients for a rosca de Reyes, the traditional dessert for the feast of the Epiphany MENU Rosca de Reyes
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