Mother’s Day at San Jeronimo

This morning I joined my good friend Martin and his mom for a trip to Cusco’s largest farmer’s market — Mercado San Jeronimo — to buy flowers and vegetables and to admire the festivities associated with Dia de las Madres. Martin’s mother has been coming here to the Sunday market for more than 40 years and today was special — it was the first time she had visited the market in many months, owing to a debilitating health condition. I could sense her nostalgia and anticipation as we entered the big metal gates. For her this place is hard-wired into the DNA of her home and family, it is the literal flesh and bones of her three adult children and an integral part of who she is as a woman and mother living in this high Andean city. What a great privilege to be here with them on Mother’s Day!

Despite the recent rise of supermarkets in Peru, farmer’s markets are still the place to go for foodstuffs, flowers, and many other household goods. Every pueblo has a weekly market, and larger cities have several operating throughout the week. Here at San Jeronimo there are fruits and vegetables trucked in from all over the country as well as Andean staples like potatoes, oca tubers, and quinoa from Cusco’s nearby mountain communities. These markets are filled with color and conversation and they serve as a meeting, eating and greeting place for farmers, vendors, and all the neighborhood people who depend on them.

One of my tasks today was to buy flowers for our student’s homestay mothers. It was fun to be celebrating so many mothers at once, and it certainly gave me pause for gratitude for all the motherly influences in my own life. We made our way to the flower section of the market, and struck a deal with a mother/daughter team for 9 bouquets. They were surrounded by buckets of roses, gladiolas, alstroemeria, carnations, and a wild assortment of leafy greens. (Interestingly I learned that alstroemeria is native to Peru, and is often referred to as “flor de los Incas” in recognition of their likely domesticators.) The daughter made us simple but lovely arrangements, carefully tying each one and finally wrapping the whole lot in newspaper. It was a beautiful process to behold — smiling customers with armloads of flowers, the chatter of nearby vendors calling out their prices, and a girl working elbow to elbow with her mother on Mother’s Day. As she handed me the big bundle she added a few extra carnation stems — an indication that we had established a relationship and that I should look for their family booth the next time I visited the market. Martin’s mother explained that this custom of establishing personal relationships with buyers is a very typical and traditional part of the market. Martin added that their family has been buying certain things from the same vendors for decades.

One of those time-honored vendors is a woman named Paulina. According to Martin and his mom she prepares the finest lechon in Cusco. Lechon is roasted sucking pig, and Paulina has a secret recipe that draws people from all over the city. Before we left the market we had to stop by for a taste. The pig was stuffed with onions, rocoto (a peruvian chile), and any number of other seasonings. The mahogany skin was crusty with salt and had the scent of fresh lime juice. Martin asked for three portions from the “costillas,” the meaty ribs, and purchased three sweet corn tamales as well. I was instructed that the best way to eat lechon was by alternating bites with the tamales. What flavors! The pork was incredibly juicy and tender in the way that only slow, whole roasting can achieve. Each bite was delicately infused with Paulina’s culinary secrets, and the cakey tamale was a perfect complement. All around us families were devouring paper-plated portions of lechon and tamale, all showing similar expressions of gastronomic euphoria. Apparently the only thing missing was a shot of anis liquor to wash it all down. What a great way to spend a Sunday morning! Happy Mother’s Day!

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