A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.
Created by
The northwest's Christmas ponche, simmered with tejocote, guava, sugar cane, hibiscus, tamarind, and piloncillo. The pot that carries a household through the nine nights of Las Posadas, with a shot of bacanora for the grown-ups.
Ponche is national, but every region pours it its own way. This is the northern version, the one you will find in the kitchens of Sonora, Chihuahua, Sinaloa, and across into Coahuila and Nuevo Leon, where the December nights drop cold across the desert and the families pull out the largest pot in the house for the nine nights of Las Posadas.
The spine of the ponche is tejocote. A small wild fruit, golden when ripe, sour and aromatic, native to central and northern Mexico and harvested from October through January. No tejocote, no ponche. Crabapple is not a substitute. Loquat is not a substitute. If you cannot find fresh tejocote at the mercado, look for frozen at any Mexican grocery from November on. They sell it for this dish. Buy enough for the whole season.
The northwest version is drier and more austere than what they pour in Mexico City. We use less sugar, more tamarindo, more jamaica. We do not throw in every dried fruit in the cupboard. Sugar cane goes in by the baton and comes out chewable at the bottom of the cup, the favorite prize of every child in the room. The piloncillo is dark and the canela is true Mexican cinnamon, not the rough cassia sold in American supermarkets. And when the adults take their cup, they crown it with a shot of bacanora from the Sonoran sierra or a tequila reposado. That is ponche con piquete. The piquete is the whole point.
My mother was from Jalisco and her ponche carried jalisciense weight: sweeter, with more guayaba, less tamarind. The recipe in this book is the one I learned in Hermosillo from a senora named Yolanda who ran a posada for her whole block for thirty years. She wrote it for me on the back of an envelope and told me: the ponche must last nine nights. So you make a big pot and you keep adding water and fruit. Cada estado, su propia cocina.
Ponche navideño as a Christmas tradition arrived with the Spanish missionaries who established Las Posadas in New Spain in the 16th and 17th centuries, adapting the nine-night reenactment of Mary and Joseph's search for shelter into a community ritual that needed a warm communal drink to sustain it through the cold December nights. The tejocote (Crataegus mexicana), unlike the imported sugar cane and Old World cinnamon, is indigenous to the highlands of central and northern Mexico, and its inclusion preserves a pre-Columbian fruit that the Mexica had cultivated for centuries before the conquest. The northwest's distinctive use of bacanora to fortify the ponche is a 20th-century practice tied to the legalization of bacanora production in Sonora in 1992, which brought the previously clandestine sierra spirit back into the open kitchens of the region.
Quantity
4 quarts
Quantity
12
fresh or frozen, rinsed
Quantity
8
halved and seeds scooped out
Quantity
2
cored and cut into thick wedges
Quantity
1
cored and cut into thick wedges
Quantity
1 stalk
peeled and cut into 4-inch batons, split lengthwise
Quantity
1 cup
Quantity
3/4 cup
Quantity
1/2 cup
Quantity
1/2 cup
shelled and deveined, or 1/3 cup tamarind paste with seeds
Quantity
2
or to taste
Quantity
4 sticks
about 4 inches each
Quantity
4
Quantity
from 1 orange
cut in long strips
Quantity
1 cup
for crowning each cup
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| water | 4 quarts |
| tejocotesfresh or frozen, rinsed | 12 |
| guayabashalved and seeds scooped out | 8 |
| manzanas (Golden or Gala)cored and cut into thick wedges | 2 |
| pera de lechecored and cut into thick wedges | 1 |
| fresh sugar cane (caña)peeled and cut into 4-inch batons, split lengthwise | 1 stalk |
| pitted prunes (ciruela pasa) | 1 cup |
| dark raisins | 3/4 cup |
| dried flor de jamaica (hibiscus) | 1/2 cup |
| dried tamarindo podsshelled and deveined, or 1/3 cup tamarind paste with seeds | 1/2 cup |
| piloncillo cones (about 8 ounces each)or to taste | 2 |
| Mexican canela (true cinnamon)about 4 inches each | 4 sticks |
| whole cloves | 4 |
| orange peelcut in long strips | from 1 orange |
| mezcal de Bacanora or tequila reposado (optional)for crowning each cup | 1 cup |
Rinse the tejocotes and trim the small black stem and blossom end off each one. Leave them whole and leave the skin on. The skin holds the fruit together through the long simmer and gives the ponche its golden-orange tint. If you bought them frozen, do not thaw them. Drop them into the pot frozen. In Sonora and Chihuahua you will see them sold by the kilo at the mercado from late October on, and that is the moment ponche season begins.
In a large stockpot, at least 8 quarts, bring the 4 quarts of water to a simmer over medium-high heat. Add the tejocotes, the sugar cane batons, the canela sticks, the cloves, and the orange peel. Simmer uncovered for 25 minutes. The tejocote needs the head start. It is hard like a small apple when raw and only releases its perfume after a long simmer.
After 25 minutes, fish out the tejocotes one at a time with a slotted spoon. Press each one gently between your thumb and finger. The skin will split and slip off and the fruit underneath will be soft and golden. Peel them, return the peeled flesh to the pot, and discard the skins. This is the step most recipes skip and it is the difference between a rough ponche and a clean one. Asi se hace y punto.
Stir in the prunes, the raisins, the flor de jamaica, and the tamarindo pods. The jamaica will bleed deep ruby into the broth in the first two minutes. The tamarind will start to soften and release its sour-sweet pulp. Simmer for 20 minutes. The aroma in the kitchen now should be unmistakable: tamarind, hibiscus, cinnamon, fruit. This is the smell of December in a northern Mexican household.
Add the manzanas, the pera, the guayabas, and the broken-up piloncillo. Stir until the piloncillo dissolves completely. Simmer 25 to 30 more minutes, until the apples and pears are tender at the point of a knife but still hold their shape. Do not let them collapse into mush. Taste the broth now. It should be sweet but not cloying, with the sourness of tamarind and tejocote cutting through. If it is too sweet, add a squeeze of lime. If it is flat, add another quarter cone of piloncillo. The balance is what makes a ponche good or forgettable.
Pull the pot off the heat and let it sit, covered, for 15 minutes. The fruit keeps absorbing the broth and the spices keep marrying. Ladle into thick-walled clay jarritos, making sure every cup gets a generous spoonful of fruit, a baton of sugar cane to chew on, and at least one tejocote. The fruit at the bottom of the cup is the prize. In Sonora and Chihuahua, the adults pour a shot of bacanora or tequila reposado into their cup right before drinking. They call it ponche con piquete. The children get theirs straight. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.
1 serving (about 440g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Lupita
Sonora and Sinaloa's creamy malted barley water, built on toasted cebada perla, Mexican canela, vanilla from Papantla, and evaporated milk. Pink-beige, rich, and served cold over heavy ice in a heavy glass tumbler. Liquid cookie comfort the northwest way.
Chef Lupita
Sinaloa's seasonal yellow plum water from the orchards around Aguacaliente de Gárate. Small native ciruelas bruised whole into cold water with piloncillo and a strip of lime peel. Tangy, floral, in season for only a few weeks.
Chef Lupita
Sinaloa's most divisive agua fresca, made from ripe yellow nanche and a little piloncillo, cloudy and pungent and unmistakable. You either grew up with it or you spit it out the first time. There is no middle.
Chef Lupita
Sonora's magenta refresher from the desert organ pipe cactus, mashed by hand with limon and a pinch of sea salt from Bahia de Kino. The color of the Sonoran summer in a heavy glass tumbler.