The Native Mexican Kitchen:
A Journey Into Cuisine, Culture, & Mezcal
Book Writing & Marketing:
Email sequences, opt-ins, social media, landing pages, crowdfunding campaigns
For this labor of love, I executed all research, narrative writing, and editing; I collaborated with Skyhorse Publishing on photography, design, and digital promotion. I created an email capture by asking for recipe testers and increased our email list by 1500%. This allowed us to presell 400 copies in 4 weeks through email and social media marketing. I’m proud to say that our first print sold out in 4 months!
Book Content, Research, Editor, Design, Photography
Skyhorse Publishing—July, 2020
A Deep Dive into the Complex and Vibrant Native Culture that is the Bedrock of Mexican Cuisine, with Over One Hundred Recipes, Including Moles, Pozoles, Chiles en Nogada, and More
WINNER of the 2020 US Gourmand Award for Food Heritage!
“Music and food are both created from the heart. This beautiful and fascinating book provides a doorway into the magical world of Noel and Rachel and touches the soul of Mexico. I have always loved the music and the food, and Noel’s cooking never fails to enrich my Mexican experience. ”
Author Rachel Glueck provides rare access and insight into a Mexico that few foreigners or nationals see today, leading you through indigenous festivals with masked dancers, bountiful market places, and sacred pilgrimage sites. Unwrap the philosophies and customs of Mexico’s native communities and discover the depth of this magical country and how you can welcome it into your own kitchen.
Book Excerpts
What do you travel for?
What makes you seek out new cuisines, new chefs, new flavors? Is it—could it be—you're wishing for something to wow you? Could it be that beneath the guise of adulthood, you're longing for that sense of wonder that filled your every day as a child? Maybe we're all extraordinarily bored as adults, and food and travel are our way of reconnecting to the mystery and magic that flooded our childhood with a sense of adventure and possibility. We all want to believe in that magic, but we've forgotten how. And so we seek out extraordinary meals and surreal cultural experiences. Not to fill a void, but to create a void where we don't know everything, where we can't be in control, where the how doesn't make sense, but it fills us with awe. Where we can, for a moment, be at peace with the unknown.
Chilapa, Guerrero
Every time we drive through Guerrero, I’m flabbergasted by the immense beauty of the
scenery. The “Warrior State” was my first home in Mexico, and like a first kiss, first high, first soul-altering experience, the intoxication has never really left me. The drive as we approach Chilapa from Chilpancingo is as heart-wrenchingly beautiful as anything I’ve seen of the Italian countryside: the winding mountain roads, the farmers’ shacks, the fog coming over the ridgeline. The cultivated fields—a breath away, yet seemingly unreachable—evoke a longing for that knowledge most of us will never know: an intimacy with the soil and a romance with our very sustenance. A simpler, slower life. If we could just pull over the car, plunge ourselves into this landscape, dig our fingers beneath the soil, let its song run through our veins for even a day, I am sure we would come away so much the wiser.
But the car rolls on. The car always rolls on. The door to that world doesn’t open to whimsical passersby.
Faith
What makes Mexico such a deliciously complex and colorful country is, quite obviously,
its culture. And that culture has its feet firmly planted in its faith. That faith may be in the Catholic Church or it could be in a pantheon of native deities. Quite commonly, it is in a blend of the two that is now so complexly interwoven that the differences are often no longer noted. This
blending of spiritual beliefs manifests itself perfectly in one central figure: The Virgin of Guadalupe.
It may come as a surprise to foreigners that in a country known for its patriarchy, its machismo tendencies, and its devotion to the Catholic church, the figure that reigns supreme is a goddess. Her image is omnipresent from Tijuana to Quintana Roo. When you do come across an altar dedicated to a different virgin (of which there are a dizzying number), rest assured: it’s one of her deputies. The Virgin is, in fact, more visible and more celebrated than Jesus Christ himself.
The reason goes back to precolonial times. The Virgin is quite simply a Catholic representation of Tonantzin Tlalli: the goddess, Mother Earth, the provider of all our needs. You’ve most likely heard of Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent, but to truly understand Mexican culture, you must understand the importance of Tonantzin Tlalli.
The Nahuatlacah did not actually have gods or devils, “good” or “bad;” they had energies they revered and utilized. The Spanish, for lack of understanding and vocabulary, dubbed them as gods and demons. And in their attempts to convert the indigenous populations to the Catholic faith, they built their cathedrals on top of sacred native temples and set the dates and images of Catholic saints on to those of native “gods.”
The story of the Virgin of Guadalupe is that she appeared to the native, Juan Diego, on Tepeyac Hill just outside the former Tenochtitlan (in what is now Mexico City), and instructed him to ask the bishop to build her a church. To help Juan Diego convince the bishop that he was not lying (and therefore subject to torture or death), she told him to pick the castellano roses that were growing around her. When Juan Diego opened his ayacate (cape) filled with roses before the bishop, an extraordinary, detailed image of the virgin had miraculously appeared on it.
In all likelihood, it’s a story made up by the Catholic church to convince the indigenous populations to convert. It was presented after twelve years of eager genocide committed against the natives, when the Spanish realized that perhaps it would be a better political move to get them to join the team, rather than eradicate them completely. But what makes the Virgin of Guadalupe so incredible is not just the story of her appearance and success, but of her actual image.
Her gown is embroidered with sacred, hallucinogenic plants; the black ribbon around her waist was a symbol used by natives to signify a woman was pregnant; the cloak of stars is said to be a map back to Pleiades, where the Nahuatlacah believe they first came from. Her left foot is raised, just as an Aztec dancer always begins with her left foot.
The Virgin may well have originated as one of the better scams the Church has pulled off, but the truth is, she has allowed native Mexicans to carry on many of their beliefs and values under the guise of Catholicism these 500 plus years. That mother that cares for her family and community, is still the jefa of all jefes. Family comes before anything else—before career, before wealth, before friends and parties, before material accumulation. And for all of papa’s strut and swagger, it’s Mama that rules that roost.
So why the discussion of Catholic iconography in a cookbook? Simply put, this Catholic- Indigenous belief system is the central nervous system of the Mexican psyche, and if you’re aspiring to make the mera Mexican food, it would help to take a few turns around the block in their shoes. The pantheon of Native-Catholic god-saints powers a calendar replete with holy days, pueblo parties, and agro-fiestas, along with the savory dishes that accompany them.
Tonantzin Tlalli and her army of Holy Virgins play a lead role in these celebrations, and in daily life in general––from a reliance on intuition and feeling, to a love of color and dance, to the deep respect given towards mothers. So when you’re patting out a tortilla, or mixing a mole, it’s the spirit of these lovely ladies you’ll want to keep in mind (Gordon Ramsey and the likes have no place in a Mexican kitchen). And if native goddesses and Catholic virgins are more than you can swallow, light a candle for your abuelita instead.