
Chef Lupita
Atole de Avena con Canela y Piloncillo
The everyday morning atole of central Mexico. Oats toasted dark, simmered with whole milk, raja de canela, and piloncillo until thick enough to coat a spoon, poured into a clay jarro.
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Tulyehualco's morning atole from the chinampas of Xochimilco, built on amaranto popped on the comal, ground smooth, and simmered with whole milk, piloncillo, and Mexican canela. The huauhtli of pre-Hispanic CDMX in a clay jarro.
This atole is from Tulyehualco, the pueblo in the alcaldia of Xochimilco at the southern edge of Ciudad de Mexico. If you do not know Tulyehualco, you do not know amaranto. The chinampas and dry fields here have grown huauhtli, what we call amaranto in Spanish, since before the Mexica built Tenochtitlan. The Feria del Amaranto every February draws cooks from across the valley and the alegrias sold from the stalls are the same recipe the women of the pueblo have made for generations.
The technique is older than the milk. Amaranto seed has to be popped on a hot comal before you do anything with it. Raw amaranto is chalky and bitter and will ruin an atole. Toasted and popped, it turns sweet and nutty, the kind of grain that smells like a mercado in the morning. In the old method you grind it on a metate with water. In my kitchen, and in most kitchens in Xochimilco today, you grind it in a blender and pass it through a strainer. The principle is the same: get the popped grain into a smooth slurry that will thicken the milk without leaving chalk on your tongue.
The rest of the ingredients are what every central Mexican atole carries: piloncillo for that dark molasses sweetness that white sugar cannot reach, a stick of real Mexican canela, a strip of orange peel for brightness, a pinch of salt. Whole milk. The thickness comes from the amaranto itself, not from cornstarch or masa. This is not a champurrado. This is huauhtli doing the work it has done for a thousand years.
My mother did not make this. She was from Jalisco and her atoles were of masa and pinole. I learned this one from a senora at the Tulyehualco feria in 2009, who watched me write down her measurements and shook her head. 'Mija, este atole no se mide. Se siente.' This atole is not measured, it is felt. I wrote down the measurements anyway, because someone has to. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.
Amaranto (huauhtli in Nahuatl) was one of the four sacred staples of the Mexica diet alongside maize, beans, and chia, and Tulyehualco in present-day Xochimilco was a primary cultivation center supplying the markets of Tenochtitlan. The Spanish colonial administration banned amaranto cultivation in the 16th century because the grain was central to Mexica religious ceremonies, including the molding of edible figures of the deity Huitzilopochtli that were broken apart and consumed in ritual, a practice the Catholic clergy considered a heretical mockery of the Eucharist. The crop survived in small pockets like Tulyehualco, where farming families preserved the seed and the techniques across centuries; the annual Feria del Amaranto, held in Tulyehualco every February since 1973, was created specifically to defend and revive this nearly extinguished agricultural heritage.
Quantity
3/4 cup
untoasted
Quantity
4 cups
Quantity
2 cups
Quantity
4 ounces
chopped (about one small cone)
Quantity
1 stick, about 4 inches
Quantity
1 strip, about 2 inches
no white pith
Quantity
1/4 teaspoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| whole amaranto seed (huauhtli)untoasted | 3/4 cup |
| whole milk | 4 cups |
| water | 2 cups |
| piloncillochopped (about one small cone) | 4 ounces |
| Mexican canela (Ceylon cinnamon) stick | 1 stick, about 4 inches |
| fresh orange peelno white pith | 1 strip, about 2 inches |
| kosher salt | 1/4 teaspoon |
| amaranto already popped (alegria-style) (optional) | 1 tablespoon |
| ground Mexican canela (optional) | for serving |
Heat a dry comal or heavy skillet over medium-high until a drop of water bounces and disappears. Working in tablespoon-sized batches, sprinkle the amaranto across the hot surface in a thin layer. Stir constantly with a wooden spoon or a dry whisk. The seeds will pop in seconds, going from beige to bright white, like miniature popcorn. Slide each batch into a bowl the moment they finish popping. If they brown, the comal is too hot and the atole will taste burned.
Set aside one tablespoon of the popped amaranto for garnish. Transfer the rest to a blender along with the 2 cups of water. Blend on high for two full minutes until you have a pale, slightly grainy slurry. The popped grain breaks down faster than raw seed, which is why we toast first. In Tulyehualco the older women do this in a metate. A blender is not a betrayal, it is a tool. Use what you have.
Pour the amaranto slurry through a fine-mesh strainer into a heavy 3-quart pot, pressing on the solids with the back of a spoon to extract everything. Discard the husks left behind. They are bitter and chalky and have no place in the atole. What goes into the pot should be a smooth, off-white liquid.
Add the milk, piloncillo, canela stick, orange peel, and salt to the pot with the strained amaranto. Set over medium-low heat. Whisk constantly. The piloncillo will dissolve in about five minutes, and the canela and orange peel will perfume the milk slowly. Do not walk away. Atole sticks to the bottom of the pot the second you stop stirring, and a scorched bottom tastes burned all the way through.
Continue whisking over medium-low heat for 15 to 20 minutes. The atole will slowly thicken from milk into something that coats the back of a wooden spoon. When you drag your finger across the spoon, the line should hold. That is the texture of atole. If it gets too thick, loosen with a splash of warm milk. If it stays thin, give it another five minutes. Atole takes the time it takes. No me vengas con atajos.
Fish out the canela stick and orange peel. Taste for sweetness. Piloncillo varies, and you may want another small piece if your cone was light. Ladle the atole into clay jarros while it is hot. Scatter the reserved popped amaranto across the surface of each cup and dust with a pinch of ground canela. Drink it slowly. This is what people in Tulyehualco have started their mornings with for centuries. Así se hace y punto.
1 serving (about 430g)
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