A Rotten Year for Pitahaya

My poor pitahaya all have ended up like this one. It has not been a good season.

I love pitahaya, and normally enjoy a modest harvest of what's also known in English as "dragon fruit" from plants that grow along the wall of my patio. But this year I have not had even one taste of this delicious treat from my own garden. It has been literally a rotten year for pitahaya in Mérida.

In July I was excited when the plants began to bud and the pitahaya flowers to bloom. One evening I had more than twenty of the enormous blossoms open at the same time, and sat nearby in the dark to witness as the bats flew in to pollinate them.

The abundant blossoms in July were cause for high hopes.

But my happiness was short-lived. Pitahaya is very sensitive to humidity for a few days during the critical flowering and early fruit-formation stage. And it rained. The developing fruit yellowed and fell off within a few days.

In Mérida, this has been the pattern all summer. I have lost in excess of one hundred pitahaya this way. And now, just as the pitahaya season is drawing to a close, when I should be savoring cool glasses of agua de pitahaya and fruit salads garnished with its delicate taste, the plants have valiantly given it one last try. Feebly they flowered again over the past ten days or so. However the almost-daily drenching rains we have been having for the past few weeks made short work of the young flowers and fruits. Not one has matured this year.

So it looks as if I will have to wait another ten months or so before I can again hope to enjoy this wonderful tropical fruit. I love to wake in the morning, pick one or two fresh pitahaya in the garden, and prepare my morning drink of agua de pitahaya. There are few nicer ways to start breakfast around here.

But I will move on and try not to think about what I've missed this season. One thing that I have learned living in tropical Yucatán is patience, especially with nature. And I think less and less of life and existence as having a timeline; it's more like a spiral. Everything comes around again, sooner or later. Pitahaya season will be here again before we know it.

Here's an earlier post about pitahaya, including a recipe for making agua de pitahaya.

Food: El Rojo of Querétaro

One of the really nice things about living in Mexico is that if you like local cuisine you can eat out frequently without spending a lot of money. There is plenty of delicious food available at reasonable prices for those who know where to look. The institution of the cocina economica, budget restaurants which provide low-priced, home-cooked meals, is common throughout the country. This food ranges to excellent quality, but at the price of 25 to 50 pesos per serving (roughly two to four U.S. dollars), it's not fancy.

I enjoy eating out daily, so I have become fairly proficient at finding good food for few pesos, even when in unfamiliar areas. The general rule for finding tasty, economical food is to go to working-class neighborhoods away from high-rent districts and tourist zones.

However occasionally I find an affordable eating place that bends the rule. One of those is El Rojo, in Querétaro. I visit Querétaro fairly often, and over the past couple of years this tiny restaurant has become my very favorite budget eating place in all of Mexico.

El Rojo is a real "hole-in-the-wall," just a niche behind a door in an ancient wall, with about ten tables inside. It is located in one of the nicest neighborhoods in the centro historico, just steps from one of Querétaro's most-loved parks. Nearby are many high-profile eating establishments that charge several times the price yet may not surpass the creativity and quality of the cuisine at El Rojo.

The menu features regional fare along with Italian and Japanese dishes. The interesting part comes when the chef occasionally mixes ingredients and styles of the various cuisines.

On a recent visit, I started with a wonderful cream of chile poblano (pictured above) garnished with drops of cream and black seeds. The main dish was a pepper-style beef, served with refried beans and rice, and a salad of cucumber, carrot and tomato on a bed of lettuce, sprinkled with a very Japanese sesame-ginger dressing. This was accompanied by fresh handmade tortillas and washed down with an endlessly-refilled glass of fresh melon water.  It was a satisfying and delicious meal.

Another day, lunch started with sopa de huitlocoche, corn fungus soup. Huitlocoche is a traditional Mexican ingredient. The main plate consisted of huarache de nopal, a tender grilled whole nopal cactus leaf (instead of the traditional masa dough), covered with grilled pork, cheese, onions and cream. This came with tortillas, beans, rice, and a green salad with tomatoes and a delicious honey dressing. Guayaba juice was the drink of the day. Although it's not on the menu, they threw in a serving of rich vanilla ice cream sprinkled with fresh-ground dark-roast coffee. It was a superb lunch of traditional ingredients combined in a creative fashion.

The table coverings and napkins at El Rojo are cloth. The tableware and utensils are hefty. The ambiance is bright, eclectic and modern, and everything is scrupulously clean. The kitchen is in front; you can peek in to see what's cooking and say hello to the chef as you enter.

This is a family business. The young chef, Aaron Saavedra, is assisted by his mother, who waits tables, and an older gentleman who I have not met but who appears to be the chef's father or another relative.

It looks to me like El Rojo is only a sideline. The family's associated catering business, Dojä -- Cocina de Inspiración, which is run out of the same kitchen, boasts a large international menu. I get the impression that while catering pays the bills, El Rojo is a labor of love and perhaps a place to experiment and try out new dishes on a small but appreciative clientele.

A complete lunch, everything included, costs about what a cocina economica would charge, 50 pesos, or less than four U. S. dollars, but rarely are budget restaurants this interesting or this nice. El Rojo/Dojä is located at Avenida Vicente Guerrero #2-C, just steps from the corner of Calle Madero and shady Jardín Guerrero. El Rojo opens only for the comida, afternoon meal, at 2:00PM on weekdays, and closes when the day's two-choice menu is sold out, which is usually by around 4:00PM.

I mentioned that El Rojo is my favorite budget restaurant in Mexico. I guess I'd go one step further. It's probably my favorite restaurant regardless of price. It's well worth a visit if you find yourself in Querétaro.

Food: Passionate About Pitahaya

It's pitahaya season. Being a northerner I hadn't been aware of this fruit, also known in English as dragon fruit, until I moved to Yucatán. When I first saw a pile of red and green, splotchy, fairly unappetizing looking pitahaya in a small Mérida restaurant I was not tempted. However when eventually I took a sip of agua de pitahaya I was hooked on this wonderful fruit.

Mmmmmm. Just the thought of taking a long drink of sweet, cooling pitahaya juice on a hot summer afternoon makes my mouth water. It's delicate, subtly sweet, and as it is often served, mixed with a few drops of lemon juice and poured over ice, it is a truly native Yucatecan refreshment.

Pitahaya is a member of the cactus family, and grows over rocks, walls, and on large shrubs and trees. There are three varieties, red, yellow and pink. Pink seems to be the variety most seen around Yucatán. The plant can extend along the ground, but continually sends shoots upward in search of support and sunlight. A stem that encounters a solid vertical object promptly sprouts clinging roots and grows upward. In my yard pitahaya grows up the stone walls, as seen above, and also has climbed and entwined itself with a large nopal cactus plant.

Propagating pitahaya is easy. A section broken off and set on the ground will send out new roots and branches. If the plant finds support and plenty of sunlight, it will begin to flower and produce fruit within a couple of years. I planted some sprigs of pitahaya about three years ago and it first flowered last year. Pitahaya usually produces from June through August. This year I have had lots of fruit and the plants are still flowering in late August, so I can expect to enjoy pitahaya through September.

A pitahaya flower is large, measuring at least as broad across as my hand open with fingers widely spread. It also is very short-lived, blooming one evening, reaching full splendor overnight, and beginning to wilt as the morning sun warms the air. White pitahaya flowers set aglow by a full moon are a fantastic midnight sight. Bats are the primary pollinators, although in the morning as the petals fade, bees also can be seen getting their fill.

Timing is extremely critical. If it rains during the critical flowering and early fruit-forming stage, the fruit will rot. As pitahaya begins to mature, it is a favorite food of insects and various birds, which make small holes order to eat the interior portions of the fruit. Once perforated, the fruit begins to spoil.

When mature, pitahaya is picked promptly and can be peeled or cut in half and the heart scooped out. I love it chilled as part of a fruit salad, but my favorite way to enjoy pitahaya is as a drink. The heart of one fruit is mashed (not blended) in a glass of water. A little sugar and lemon juice are added. Agua de pitahaya is a chunky concoction which is both sipped and chewed,

and for this reason is usually served with a straw and a long spoon. The seeds add texture and crunch in much the way poppy seeds do to breads or muffins. I also have heard that pitahaya can be cooked and used in a variety of dishes. I have yet to try this, but am looking for recipes.

Reportedly pitahaya is high in phosphorus, Vitamin C, iron and calcium, and the fats contained in the seeds aid in digestion.

Pitahaya is a tasty and healthy delicacy available in the gardens and markets of Yucatán this time of year. It is an unusual plant, one that is interesting to observe in the garden and a treat to consume during the summer growing season. I love this fruit. I would be missing a great pleasure still had I not overcome my initial reluctance to try it.