notes and reflections

A few weekends ago, just before the Night of the Dead, the 6th annual fair of "Pan Tradicional Michoacan," was held in the plaza adjacent to the Casa de las Artesianos in Morelia's centro district. For three day booths rimming the plaza were enthusiastically thronged by hundreds of lovers of baked goods of every variety from Morelia and nearby towns.

This was no place to worry about gaining a few pounds and no display of mere bread.  Tables overflowed with cupcakes, breadsticks, croissants, custards, maize cakes, flan, soy cookies, sugar cookies, small pop-in-your mouth cookies and cookies as big as pancakes, bread rings, buns, rolls, fruit tarts, pan de muerte, loaves of bread in various shapes and sizes, some as big as throw cushions, and cakes, cakes, and more cakes: sugar-topped, lemon-topped, chocolate topped, cakes covered with sprinkles and cakes too big to carry. On one table were displayed less edible examples of the bakers' art:  baked goods in the shape of skeletons, the aquaduct and the Tarascan fountain.

Everywhere customers weighed down with shopping bags eagerly sampled, oohed, aahed and purchased, as I did.  After a pleasant couple of hours examining all this bounty and indulging in the more than occasional nibble,  I headed for home, my bag filled with fresh loaves, cookies and cakes, secure in the knowledge that, even if I had nothing else to eat in the house, the likelyhood  of immediate starvation was slim to none.