Champurrado

More than fifteen years ago, I lived close enough to walk to the San Francisco’s Day of the Dead festivities in the Mission District. I remember participating in processions of intricate flower and skull painted faces, exquisitely costumed performers on stilts, and drumbeats that echoed in my chest cavity. Artists’ poignant installations adorned the local park: some beautiful, amusing, or heartbreaking. One year someone set a long table for a formal feast, but at each place setting sat a single flowered gerbera plant, depotted with its soil tumbling onto the glossy plate. Thinking of my loved ones buried in soil, I cried. I generally avoid crowds, but Dia de Los Muertos was not-to-miss. I craved this reminder that we all are united by human experience, we all have loved ones no longer with us and are haunted (more or less) by mortality. So true that it is trite: ignoring these darker realities robs us of some of life’s awesome beauty.

Vendors sold drinks and snacks at these Dia de Los Muertos celebrations. I remember sugar skulls and pan de muerto. Did anyone sell champurrado? I’m sad I can’t remember. I didn’t know chocolate and cacao drinks would be so important to my future self. Perhaps pots of a spiced maize and cacao drink were offered, and perhaps I even bought a cup. I would like to think so. Champurrado is common in Mexico as a meal or snack and is especially traditional on this sacred day.

Where I live in Hawai'i, people take time to remember ancestors at the Obon festivities throughout the summer. I don’t think observing Dia de Los Muertos or All Souls Day is common here. But my connection to this holiday remains, perhaps due to such memorable and important experiences in San Francisco.

As I feel my way through creating my own celebration of my ancestors today, I will be offering and enjoying a cup of champurrado, and I invite you to try it as well. Authentic recipes are easy to find online, or try my version, adapted to be less sweet according to my taste.

Ingredients for 2-3 servings:

• 2 star anise pods

• 1 cinnamon sticks (Ceylon is traditional)

• 4 cups water (or use half milk and half water)

• 1/3 cup masa harina (white is traditional but I’ve used blue and red successfully)

• 1.5 oz Mexican chocolate (crumbled)

• 1.5 oz 100% chocolate (crumbled)

• 1/8 teaspoon sea salt

Directions:

1. In a large saucepan, simmer star anise and cinnamon in 4 cups water for about 20 minutes.

2. Put masa into a bowl and slowly add some of the warm spiced water, whisking out any masa lumps.

3. Scoop the smooth masa into the saucepan with the rest of the water and whisk until smooth.

4. Add crumbled chocolate, whisking to melt. Add salt.

5. Simmer for about 20-40 minutes while stirring to prevent burning. The mixture will thicken. How thick is up to you. Simmer longer or add water to your preferred thickness.

6. If you are having trouble with lumps, take out the spices and mix with a hand blender.

7. Serve warm.

ICacao’s wonderful ability to connect us to each other and to ourselves makes it a welcome tradition to any holiday where family, friends, and connection are important. (Hmm, which holidays are they not?)

For more information about champurrado and other atole, click through to Arcelia Gallardo’s post.

I would love to hear your experience with champurrado and if you are remembering this day with any special activities.