Tortitas de Flor de Cocuite

Veracruz, the central coast near Actopan, is where these tortitas belong. Coyolillo is an Afro-Veracruz village, and during Carnaval the food carries memory as clearly as the masks, the drums, and the dancing in the street. This is not food from a single Mexico. This is a 32-state cuisine, and Veracruz has its own voice.

Flor de cocuite comes from the cocuite tree, the living fence tree that grows along milpas, paths, and ranch edges in the tropics. The blossoms are tender, a little green, a little bean-like, and they need a cook who knows restraint. You blanch them briefly, squeeze out the water, season with epazote and chile jalapeno, bind with whipped egg, and fry in manteca de cerdo. No me vengas con atajos. The frying fat is part of the memory.

I learned this kind of tortita from women who cook by season, not by calendar pages printed in an office. In Coyolillo, the blossoms appear when the tree gives them. The technique belongs to home kitchens: a bowl, a fork, a skillet of lard, a stack of tortillas under a cloth. The dish is small, but the history behind it is not. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.