Pan de Muerto del Valle de México

Ciudad de México and Estado de México share this bread across the Valle de México, from the panaderías of Coyoacán and La Merced to the family ovens around Toluca, Metepec, and Mixquic. This is pan de muerto for the ofrenda: round, fragrant with azahar and orange, crossed with bone-shaped canillas, finished with butter and sugar.

The bread is not chile, not salsa, not the cartoon version of Mexican food people expect from outside. It is wheat, egg, butter, yeast, orange blossom water, and patience. Central Mexico learned bread through colonial ovens, then made it speak the language of Día de Muertos. Cada estado, su propia cocina, and in this part of the country the dead are welcomed with bread that smells like orange peel and a panadería at dawn.

The dough is enriched, so it moves slowly. Let it. If you rush the rise, the crumb turns tight and dry. The bones need to sit proud on the surface, not melt into the loaf. The sugar goes on after baking, while the butter can still catch it. My mother wrote in her notebook: 'azúcar generosa, sin miedo.' She was right. This bread is for the altar before it is for the mouth. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.