A few weeks ago, Crayton and I went puebleando for the first time. “Pueblear” is a Mexican word meaning “to travel to little towns and hang out.” There isn’t really an intinerary with you’re puebleando — you just get in the car and go. When you get to a town, you sit and hang out. Maybe buy an ice cream and people-watch in the square. There is absolutely no pressure to do anything.
We ended up in Zacatlán de las Manzanas, a pleasant, colonial-style town in the northern part of Puebla state. Accompanying us were our friends Jesica and Erik, and Jesica’s parents. They’d been to Zacatlán several times before, and so our first stop was at a panadería to buy some special pan de Zacatlán. They’re soft white rolls or empanadas stuffed with a crumbly, savory, almost cottage-y cheese. (This is also one of my new favorite phrases, because it has so much rhythm. Try saying it: PAHN de zah-caht-LAHN.)
I loved trying the bread — and to be honest, we bought a wee bit more than the local bread; also donuts and conchas and a muffin stuffed with cream — but the best part of the trip happened while we were walking to the church. On a little side street, a man stood in front of a huge cauldron of bubbling pork fat, making homemade chicharrón.
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