How Tejocote Fruit Became Puebla's Star Attraction

Let’s talk about tejocote - Mexican hawthorn. Yes, tejocote—pronounced “teh-ho-COH-teh.” It’s a fruit that you’ve likely never heard of, unless you’re the sort who vacations in Mexico, wanders into a market, and tries every exotic item on offer. But stick with me, because this unassuming little fruit, which looks like an underwhelming cross between an apple and an afterthought, is actually the lifeblood of an entire Mexican industry. And, dare I say it, the world could learn a thing or two from it.

This isn’t just a fruit. It’s the Beyoncé of Mexican produce—small, mighty, and universally adored. Its stage? The state of Puebla, which produces a staggering 95% of all the tejocote in Mexico. According to the Agricultural and Fisheries Information Service (SIAP), Puebla's 841 hectares of tejocote orchards generate over 16.6 billion pesos in economic value, roughly equivalent to 1 billion US Dollars. Think about that for a moment: a fruit smaller than a golf ball, cultivated in just a sliver of Mexico, is responsible for a chunk of the rural economy so large it could probably fund a Formula One team.

Puebla isn’t just making tejocote; it’s making tejocote happen. Farmers here have turned tejocote into more than a crop. It’s a career, a cultural touchstone, and, yes, an economic powerhouse. These are hardworking folks who harvest the fruit, process it into preserves and candies, and then invite tourists to come and marvel at their handiwork. It’s agriculture, entrepreneurship, and showmanship rolled into one. And it’s paying off. Factories churn out tejocote sweets while farmers rake in profits—not to mention the jobs created in agricultural tourism.

Which brings us to the Tejocote Fair in Calpan, Puebla. Now, if you’re picturing a sleepy village fête with a few hay bales and a bouncy castle, think again. This is an event rooted in pre-Hispanic traditions but with enough modern pizzazz to make Glastonbury look like a scout jamboree.

Held every year between late November and early December, the Tejocote Fair is where the humble fruit gets the rock-star treatment it deserves. It’s timed to coincide with the harvest and the festivities for the Virgin of Guadalupe, because why not mix religion, revelry, and fruit in one glorious spectacle?

The event offers something for everyone. Foodies can sample tejocote jams, liqueurs, and dishes bursting with the kind of flavor that could make Michelin inspectors weep. Craft enthusiasts can browse stalls of handmade textiles, ceramics, and wooden knick-knacks, all while soaking in the artistic spirit of Puebla. There are contests for the largest tejocote harvest, cultural exhibitions, and performances that blend history with modernity.

And let’s not forget the economic ripple effect. Tourists arrive with wallets ready to spend, supporting local farmers, artisans, and entrepreneurs. It’s a feel-good economic loop where everyone—producers and consumers alike—wins.

Tejocote isn’t just food; it’s medicine, superfood, and health tonic all rolled into one. Packed with vitamin C, calcium, iron, and antioxidants, tejocote is the Swiss Army knife of nutrition. It’s a key ingredient in traditional Mexican remedies, credited with everything from boosting the immune system to combating chronic diseases like diabetes and heart disease.

A fruit that strengthens your bones, keeps your blood sugar in check, and slows the aging process. Forget overpriced superfoods flown in from trendy parts of the globe. Tejocote does it all, and it’s been doing so for centuries. It’s as if Mother Nature decided to show off, cramming every conceivable health benefit into this one small package.

A Fruit of Many Uses

You want firewood? Done. How about medicine? Sure thing. A snack for goats? Why not. This tree doesn’t just provide; it excels. It’s like the Swiss Army knife of flora, doing the work of ten other species and still finding time to help out with the occasional bout of pneumonia.

First things first: tejocote is melliferous. That’s a posh way of saying it’s a bee’s paradise. The flowers are like the local pub for pollinators, buzzing with activity and serving up nectar on tap. This doesn’t just keep the bees happy—it also keeps crops thriving. Bees pollinate the tejocote, tejocote supports the bees, and together they make the world a better place. It’s symbiosis at its finest.

If tejocote were just about its fruit, we’d already be impressed. But its wood deserves its own chapter. This stuff is hard. Not just "oh, that’s sturdy," but hard. Builders and craftspeople love it for tool handles. You know, the kind of handles that don’t snap in half the moment you try to dig up a rock. And when it’s not being turned into a shovel or a hammer, tejocote wood is perfect for firewood. It burns long, burns hot, and burns clean. If you’re in the business of surviving winters in the Mexican highlands, tejocote wood is basically your best mate.

Let’s get into the science bit: tejocote fruit is loaded with pectin. And no, that’s not just something you nod along to when it pops up in a recipe. Pectin is the stuff that makes your jams gel, your jellies wobble, and your preserves last longer than a government budget promise. But tejocote’s pectin goes beyond the kitchen.

It’s used in pharmaceuticals, where it shows up as a thickening agent in medicines. It’s also employed in cosmetics to give your fancy lotions that creamy texture. And, bizarrely enough, tejocote pectin even gets involved in the steel industry. If that’s not versatility, I don’t know what is.

The fruits, when they’re not being turned into jam or industrial products, also double as fodder. Sheep, goats, pigs, and rabbits are all big fans. So tejocote isn’t just feeding humans; it’s feeding the entire farm.

Now, here’s where tejocote steps into its true superhero role. Forget lab-made pills; this tree is a walking, growing pharmacy. Practically every part of the plant—from the root to the bark to the fruit—has a medicinal use.

• Got diarrhea? Boil the root with mint and drink it down. If that’s not enough, throw in a red-hot staple for good measure. (Yes, really.)
• Persistent cough? Cook five tejocote fruits in water, sweeten it with honey, and sip your way to relief.
• Asthma or pneumonia? Tejocote’s got you covered. Mix it with bougainvillea, eucalyptus, and elderberry for a brew that’s as effective as it is complicated to pronounce.
• Diabetes? The root, crushed and soaked in alcohol, is said to regulate blood sugar levels. And it’s not just folk medicine; modern studies back up some of these claims.

And the list goes on. Whether it’s calming a stomach, treating lung infections, or even fighting worms, tejocote is the go-to for ailments. It’s basically a first-aid kit with branches.

Beyond its medicinal uses, tejocote also moonlights as a rootstock for other fruit trees. Apples, pears, quinces, loquats, peaches—you name it, tejocote is the sturdy foundation they grow on. It’s like the backstage crew of the orchard world: unseen, unglamorous, but absolutely essential.

Even the leaves and flowers of tejocote get in on the action. Brewed into a tea, they become a detoxifying, cardiotonic marvel. Feeling a bit off? Feeling a bit too off? A cup of tejocote tea will sort you out. And if you’re battling high blood pressure, it’s practically a liquid hug for your heart.

A Festive Fruit with a Storied Past

Christmas is a time of twinkling lights, endless carols, and, if you’re lucky enough to be in Mexico, punch. No, not the type served with umbrellas at dodgy beach resorts—this is real punch. Steaming hot, packed with fruit, and loaded with flavors that feel like a warm hug on a chilly night. And the one ingredient that quietly holds the whole operation together is the humble tejocote.

Since pre-Hispanic times, indigenous groups in central Mexico have been harvesting its small, tough fruits. Back then, they didn’t just chuck them into drinks—they built their lives around them. They planted tejocote trees in their gardens not for aesthetics, but for sheer convenience.

Then came the Spaniards, who, as they often did, decided to meddle. They saw potential in this unassuming fruit and began cultivating it in their fancy new gardens. Bigger fruits, better flavor—that was the goal. And while the tejocote has remained distinctly Mexican, it carries this legacy of cultural fusion with every bite.

Even its name tells a story. Derived from the Nahuatl word Texocotl, meaning “hard, acidic fruit,” it’s not shy about its personality. This isn’t a fruit that’s here to charm you with sweetness—it’s here to make you work for it.

Fast forward to today, and tejocote is still at the heart of Mexican traditions, especially during the holidays. Punch would be unthinkable without it. Its unique tang and texture cut through the sweetness of the other fruits, giving the drink a complexity that no guava or tamarind could match. But punch isn’t its only party trick.

Tejocote is also a star of the piñata scene, stuffed into the paper-mâché creations along with sweets and nuts. And then there are the liquors and preserves. Tejocote liquor is a thing of beauty—smooth, slightly tart, and just dangerous enough to keep the Christmas cheer flowing.

Tejocote isn’t just one fruit. Mexico is home to a whopping 16 species of this tree, most of them tucked away in the mountainous regions of the Sierra Madre Oriental. Eight of these species are endemic to Mexico. That means if you’re in Puebla, Veracruz, or Nuevo León, you’re looking at a tree that doesn’t exist anywhere else on the planet. One species, Crataegus rosei var. amoena, was only recently discovered and is already teetering on the edge of extinction.

These trees are not just biologically fascinating; they’re stunning. Their fruits come in a rainbow of colors—green, yellow, orange, pink, and deep red—while their flowers could give any ornamental plant a run for its money. And yet, they’re rarely grown for decoration. Tragic, really, because they’re basically nature’s Christmas ornaments.

Here’s where things get really interesting: tejocote has its own ecological drama, featuring a pesky co-star called the fruit fly (Rhagoletis pomonella). These flies depend entirely on tejocote to reproduce, laying their eggs in the fruit so their larvae can thrive. A few decades ago, some particularly adventurous flies decided to leave Mexico and invade apple orchards in the U.S. The result? A brand-new “race” of flies that now plague apple growers, and a textbook example of how new species can evolve through something called sympatric speciation.

A Gardener's Guide to Patience

Let me introduce you to one of nature’s finest examples of stubbornness and brilliance: the tejocote seed. Now, before you roll your eyes and scroll away to pictures of cats doing ridiculous things, hear me out. This isn’t just any seed. It’s a seed with attitude, a seed with quirks, and frankly, a seed that demands more attention than your average celebrity.

This little kernel of life isn’t going to grow just because you sprinkle it on some dirt, give it a pat, and hope for the best. No, no, no. The tejocote seed is a diva. It requires effort, strategy, and more than a little patience. To even start this journey, you need the crème de la crème of seeds. No weaklings allowed. These seeds must come from healthy, pest-free, and vigorous trees. Why? Because you want your future tejocote trees to be strong, productive, and ready to take on the world—or at least the nearest garden.

But even the best tejocote seeds have a germination rate of 60%. That’s right—this is a game of odds. You’re not guaranteed success, and frankly, that’s part of the charm. If tejocote seeds were easy to grow, everyone would do it. And then where’s the fun in that?

Here’s where it gets interesting—or infuriating, depending on your patience level. Tejocote seeds are naturally lazy. They’re in no rush to germinate and can sit around in a state of lethargy for up to three years. That’s longer than most people keep their New Year’s resolutions.

Why so sluggish? Blame the seed’s hard, impermeable coat and its fussy embryo. It’s like a seed wearing armor while taking a nap. To wake it up, you’ll need to roll up your sleeves and do a bit of work. Removing the endocarp—the tough outer layer—can improve germination. Yes, it’s fiddly, but it’s worth it. Think of it as peeling a particularly stubborn avocado.

Tejocote fruits, and their precious seeds, are harvested between October and December. At this point, the fruit is a lovely reddish-yellow and ready for action. The seeds inside are tiny, but don’t let their size fool you. They’re packed with potential—if you know what you’re doing.

Seed extraction is an art in itself. First, you collect the fruits, ideally straight from the tree, but if you’re feeling particularly rugged, the ground works too. Then comes the maceration process, where the fruits are squashed to separate the seeds from the pulp. It’s messy, but also oddly satisfying.

For smaller batches, this can be done by hand—imagine squeezing a stress ball but with more goo. For larger quantities, mechanical methods come into play. Either way, the goal is to get those seeds squeaky clean, free from any clinging fruit bits.

Now that you’ve gone to all that effort, it’s time to store the seeds properly. These are not the kind of seeds you can toss into a jar and forget about. Tejocote seeds are orthodox—fancy seed lingo for ones that can survive low temperatures and low humidity.

The ideal storage conditions? Humidity levels of 6–7% and temperatures below freezing. Yes, they’re basically seeds that like to vacation in the Arctic. Treat them right, and they’ll maintain their viability for up to three years. Ignore them, and they’ll sulk themselves into uselessness.

Getting tejocote seeds to germinate is like preparing for a marathon. It’s not a sprint, and it requires preparation, endurance, and probably a good playlist to keep you going.

First, the seeds need a bit of pampering. Soak them in water for 3 to 9 days. Then, if you’re feeling particularly adventurous, give them a sulfuric acid bath for an hour. Yes, sulfuric acid. This is not for the faint-hearted or the clumsy. Once they’ve had their acid spa treatment, wash and dry them, then store them at 4°C for five months.

Alternatively, you can go the mechanical route. Scrape off the hard endocarp layer and stratify the seeds at a cozy 21–27°C for four months. Whichever method you choose, you’re looking at months of effort for a seed that might still decide it’s not ready to grow.

When it’s finally time to plant, you’d better have your substrate game on point. Tejocote seeds demand a mix that’s stable, well-draining, and moisture-retentive. A classic blend of peat, vermiculite, and perlite will do the trick. Think of it as creating a luxury spa for your seeds—a place where they can relax and, hopefully, decide to grow.

Timing is crucial. Sow in early summer to take advantage of the warm conditions, and by spring, you might—might—see some action. Just don’t expect to transplant them willy-nilly. Tejocote trees develop long taproots, and they’re not fans of being disturbed. Move them too late, and you’re in for a world of disappointment.

At this point, you might be wondering: is all this effort worth it? Absolutely. Growing tejocote trees isn’t just about fruit—it’s about the journey, the satisfaction, and the knowledge that you’ve successfully conquered one of nature’s greatest challenges.

How to Handle a Tejocote Plantation

So, you want to grow tejocote, do you? Handling a tejocote plantation is a bit like managing a rock band: you’ve got prima donnas (the plants), stagehands (you), and an army of potential saboteurs (the pests). It’s messy, meticulous, and maddening—but also utterly rewarding.

First things first, tejocote plants demand proper accommodations. None of those flimsy plastic pots you find at a discount store. No, these divas need 15 x 20 cm black bags, each filled with about 2.5 kg of soil. Why? Because tejocotes are particular about their living conditions.

To encourage rooting, keep your young plants in a shaded area or a greenhouse with temperatures between 17°C and 20°C. It’s not exactly the Maldives, but it’s cozy enough for them to settle in and grow.

Tejocote seeds, and later seedlings, hate competition. They’re not into the “sharing is caring” mantra. So, your job is to remove all weeds—continuously. Yes, continuously. Think of yourself as a personal butler, tidying up to ensure they get all the light, water, and nutrients they need. Only one seedling per container, mind you. Pick the strongest and toss the rest. Ruthless? Yes. Necessary? Absolutely.

Tejocote plants are not sprinters. They’re marathoners. It takes between 5 to 9 months to get them production-ready. You can’t rush greatness, after all.

When your plants grow taller than 30 cm, it’s showtime. They’re ready for planting—preferably during the rainy season, around June or July. Why? Because tejocotes, like us, prefer their showers delivered from above.

Now, this isn’t a “stick it in the ground and hope for the best” scenario. Tejocotes demand soil preparation worthy of a Michelin-star chef. First, if your land is flat or only mildly sloped (less than 25%), you’ll need to drag the soil a bit during the rainy season to loosen it up. For areas with weeds, manual or mechanical weeding is a must. And if your land has slopes greater than 12%, clear only the planting spots—strip mowing with machetes is the way to go. Why? Because clearing too much vegetation invites erosion, and that’s a headache nobody wants.

Oh, and if you’ve got hardened layers of soil sitting 15 cm below the surface, you’ll need to break out the subsoiler. Yes, tejocote farming might mean buying fancy equipment. Think of it as an investment in future deliciousness. For planting, maintain a 6 x 6-meter spacing. That’s plenty of room for the tejocotes to stretch their roots and thrive without elbowing their neighbors for resources.

When selecting plants for planting, go for the ones that scream “healthy overachiever.” Here’s the checklist:

• Root Occupancy: At least 50% of the container volume.
• Basal Stem Diameter: No less than 0.25 cm.
• Height: Ideally under 30 cm.
• Woody Tissue: At least a quarter of the stem should be hardened and woody.

Before you transport these beauties to their new homes, give them a saturation watering the day before. It’s like a pre-moving day pep talk—hydrated plants are happy plants.

Here’s where tejocote farming goes from gardening to gladiatorial combat. The list of tejocote pests is extensive enough to rival a phone book. Butterflies, screwworms, leaf miners, mites, spiders—you name it, they’re after your plants. And let’s not even get started on bacteria and fungi.

The worst offenders include:

• Fire Blight (Erwinia amylovora): Causes catastrophic damage to branches.
• Rust (Gymnosporangium sp.): Makes your fruit look like it’s auditioning for a horror film.
• Aphids (Aphis gossypii and A. pomi): These little suckers (literally) drain the life out of your leaves.
• Mealybugs and Scale Insects: Think of them as the paparazzi of the plant world—constantly sucking the spotlight (and nutrients).

To fight back, you’ll need a well-stocked arsenal of treatments, an eagle eye for infestations, and a good pair of gloves. The key is catching issues early, so make regular patrols around your plantation.

The first two years are critical for tejocote plants. They’re like toddlers—cute but incredibly needy. Regular weeding is a must, particularly in a 20 cm radius around each plant. Do this at least once a year, ideally a week or two into the rainy season.

During this period, your plants are establishing their roots, building resilience, and gearing up to be the fruit-bearing champions you know they can be. Think of yourself as their coach, guiding them through boot camp.

Tejocote Salad with Tangerine Vinaigrette

This tejocote salad with tangerine vinaigrette isn’t just food—it’s art. A masterpiece of tangy, sweet, and savory flavors, it’s the sort of dish that makes even the staunchest carnivore pause and consider a life of leaves and fruit. Here’s how you turn a bunch of humble ingredients into a salad so decadent it deserves its own Michelin star. Let’s start with the vinaigrette, the soul of this dish.

You’ll need:

• 2 tablespoons of freshly squeezed tangerine juice: Because bottled juice is for amateurs.
• 1 teaspoon of grated mandarin zest: For that zippy citrus aroma that hits you like a sunbeam on a winter morning.
• 1 tablespoon of mint leaves: Washed and disinfected—because nobody wants a side of germs.
• 1 pinch each of turmeric and black pepper: To give it warmth and a little bite.
• 1 tablespoon of white vinegar: Sharp and snappy.
• 3 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil: The liquid gold that makes everything taste expensive.

Blend all these together until you get a velvety emulsion. No lumps, no separation—just liquid sunshine. Set it aside, and resist the urge to drink it straight from the blender.

Now, the salad. This isn’t your standard “toss some greens in a bowl and hope for the best” affair. Oh no, this is culinary engineering at its finest.

Ingredients

• 1 tablespoon of olive oil: For the pan, because nothing browns without a little help.
• 4 cloves of garlic: Thinly sliced, ready to sweat it out.
• ½ red onion, filleted: Adds a sharp sweetness when softened.
• 12 tejocotes, halved and pitted: The star of the show, bringing a unique tartness to the mix.
• 1 pinch of salt and black pepper: For seasoning.
• 1 tablespoon of sugar: To caramelize and balance the tang.
• 2 cups of baby spinach: Fresh, tender, and slightly peppery.
• 2 cups of baby arugula: For that extra bit of bite.
• 1 tangerine, supreme-style: Fancy slicing that’s all flesh, no pith, because presentation matters.

Preparation

1. Sweat it Out
   Heat your olive oil in a frying pan, and toss in the garlic slices. But don’t let them brown—this isn’t a horror movie. You want them fragrant, not burnt. Add the onion and let it soften, releasing its natural sweetness.
2. Tejocote Transformation
   In go the tejocotes. These golden gems might seem unassuming at first, but with a pinch of salt, pepper, and sugar, they’ll caramelize beautifully. Add a spoonful of your freshly made vinaigrette for good measure, and cook until the liquid evaporates, leaving the tejocotes glistening and ready for greatness.
3. Mix It Up
   In a large bowl, toss the baby spinach and arugula. Add the cooked tejocote mixture while it’s still warm, letting the greens wilt just slightly. Drizzle on more vinaigrette—don’t be shy—and mix gently with two spoons.
4. Plate Like a Pro
   Divide the salad among individual plates. Top each serving with those perfectly supreme-ed tangerine slices, because this isn’t just food—it’s art.

The result? A salad that’s not just a sidekick but the star of the table. The tejocotes, with their tart and caramelized glory, play perfectly against the peppery greens and sweet tangerine. The vinaigrette ties it all together, its citrusy zing cutting through the richness like a Formula 1 car slicing through chicanes.

Tejocote Sauce for Meats

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s this: sauces are the secret weapon of any self-respecting cook. They’re the cape on a superhero, the turbocharger in a sports car, and the bit of mascara that turns “I just woke up” into “I’m ready for the Oscars.” And when it comes to tejocote sauce for meats, well, let’s just say this little gem could turn even the driest turkey into a show-stopping masterpiece. It’s sweet, tangy, and just the right side of fancy. Oh, and did I mention? It’s ludicrously easy to make.

Ingredients

Before you get started, you’ll need the following:

• Tejocotes: Grab enough for the amount of sauce you want to make.
• Garlic: One fresh clove, unless you’re feeling lazy, in which case a sprinkle of garlic powder will do.
• Sugar: Just a teaspoon. Enough to balance the tang without turning it into dessert.
• Tangerines: Two of these juicy little numbers, because why not let citrus do the heavy lifting?

Got everything? Good. Let’s get cooking.

Preparation

First up, you need to cook your tejocotes. Pop them in a pot of boiling water and let them simmer until they’re soft enough to peel. Think of this as giving them a spa treatment—soften them up so they’re ready to shine. Once they’ve cooled down enough to handle (unless you enjoy the sensation of molten fruit in your hands), peel off the skin and remove the seeds. This bit’s a tad fiddly, but trust me, it’s worth it.

For the tangerines. Slice them in half and juice them. If you’ve got one of those fancy citrus presses, now’s the time to show off. If not, roll up your sleeves and squeeze them with your hands. Either way, make sure you’ve got every last drop of that tangy goodness.

Here’s where the magic happens. Toss the tejocote pulp into a blender along with the garlic, sugar, and tangerine juice. Hit the button, and let it whizz away until you’ve got a smooth, luscious sauce. Season it to taste—because some like it tangy, and others prefer a hint more sweetness. Whatever floats your culinary boat.

Now, pairing this glorious sauce with your meat of choice. Drizzle it over roasted turkey, chicken, or pork, and watch as your once-humble dish is elevated into something worthy of applause. The tejocote’s natural tartness cuts through the richness of the meat, while the tangerine adds a bright citrusy zing. And that touch of sugar? It rounds everything out, leaving you with a sauce that’s perfectly balanced.

Tejocote sauce isn’t just for meat. Dollop it on a slice of cheese, drizzle it over roasted vegetables, or even smear it on a piece of toast. The possibilities are endless—and each one is more delicious than the last.

Why You’ll Love This Tejocote Hot Drink

Let’s be honest—there are few things more satisfying than a hot drink when the weather outside is frightful, and the thought of trudging through a cold winter day is less than inviting. Sure, you’ve got your classic hot chocolate and your tea, but if you really want to feel like you’ve just discovered a hidden treasure of warmth and flavor, then look no further than this delightful Tejocote Hot Drink. It’s like someone wrapped a cozy blanket around your soul, with a splash of the unexpected.

Now, before you ask, yes, it’s as exotic as it sounds. The tejocote, often relegated to the sidelines of fruit popularity, is about to make its triumphant entrance. This humble little Mexican fruit has the power to turn a standard hot beverage into something magnificent. And trust me, once you’ve tasted it, you’ll be wondering why it’s not more widely adored.

Ingredients

To craft this liquid gold, you’ll need a few ingredients. And no, I’m not asking you to go on some grand expedition to a far-flung market. These are simple, honest ingredients that are just waiting to be thrown together. Here’s what you’ll need:

• 2 cups of tejocotes, peeled, pitted, and cut into quarters. Trust me, peel them. The skin’s not your friend here.
• 2 cups of water – because you need to blend this fruit into submission.
• 2 tablespoons of icing sugar – a touch of sweetness to balance the tejocote's tartness. Don't be stingy.
• 70 grams of corn dough – because we’re not making a simple fruit tea here. This is rich, hearty, and deliciously thick.
• 2 cups of milk – for that creamy, comforting factor.
• 1 slice of cinnamon – because you can’t have a hot drink without a little spice, can you? It’s the law.

Preparation

The first thing you’ll need to do is toss the peeled and quartered tejocotes into a blender. You’re going to add the water, icing sugar, and corn dough into the mix too. Hit that button, and blend until everything is as smooth as a silk scarf. This is the base of your drink, so make sure it’s nice and homogeneous. Don’t worry about the texture too much just yet. You’re about to turn this liquid into a velvety masterpiece. It’s about to get thick.

Next, pour your blended concoction into a pot, and place it over medium heat. Now, don’t just stand there like you’re waiting for your internet to load. You’ve got to stir this regularly—don't let it just sit there looking lazy. You need to make sure it doesn’t burn at the bottom or go all lumpy on you. Stirring is key, my friends.

Once it starts bubbling and boiling like it’s late for an important meeting, lower the heat and let it simmer until the consistency thickens. You’re going for something just shy of pudding-thick. You don’t want it to be so thick you could use it as wallpaper paste, but you also don’t want it to be so runny it’s like a watery soup.

Now, this is the moment that transforms your drink from good to exceptional. Add the 2 cups of milk and drop that slice of cinnamon into the pot. Stir it well, making sure that milk integrates smoothly into the mix, adding a creamy richness that makes it taste like it was made by a five-star chef in a snow-capped mountain lodge.

Let it simmer for another 5 minutes on low heat. The milk will add a lovely, comforting base while the cinnamon gives it that final layer of wintery spice. Every stir is an investment in flavor.

Once your concoction has thickened and bubbled away to perfection, it’s time to serve. Grab yourself a sturdy mug—none of those flimsy, chip-prone ones. You want something solid, something that says, “I’m here to help you face the winter head-on.” Ladle your thick, spiced tejocote drink into the cup, ensuring that you’ve got a perfect balance of that creamy, fruity mixture.

Take a sip. Let it roll around your mouth. Feel the heat seep into your bones as the sweetness of the tejocote, the warmth of the cinnamon, and the rich creaminess of the milk all work in harmony.

At first glance, this might seem like a drink for the adventurer, the one who likes to push boundaries and embrace the unusual. And in many ways, you’re right. But here’s the thing: this drink is comfort in its purest form. It’s not overly sweet like some desserts. It’s not overpowering with spice. It’s a warm hug in a cup, offering you the sensation of sitting by a fire after a day of snowball fights and snow-covered walks.

Why You Need to Make Tejocote Candy

You’re about to dive headfirst into a recipe that’ll change the way you look at dessert forever. I’m talking about Tejocote Candy, a traditional Mexican treat that will have you swearing off store-bought sweets forever. You know, the kind of candy that doesn’t just sit in your mouth and disappear. This one’s got staying power. It’s sticky, sweet, and infused with a depth of flavor that screams “tradition” and “comfort.”

Ingredients

Before we get started, let’s take a moment to appreciate what we’ll be working with here. We need the right ingredients. Don’t skimp—every element is vital for achieving that perfect balance of sweetness and syrupy goodness. Here’s what you’ll need:

• 1 liter of water – Basic? Yes. But essential.
• 1 kilogram of tejocotes – You need to find the ripest tejocotes you can get your hands on. They should be firm, bright in color, and just begging to be turned into something extraordinary.
• 500 grams of piloncillo – Piloncillo is unrefined Mexican sugar, and it’s about to take this candy to another level. It’s rich, it’s dark, and it adds that deep molasses-like sweetness that you just can’t get from regular sugar. If you’ve never used it before, you’re in for a treat.
• 5 cloves – These little guys bring a touch of warmth and spice to the party. Trust me, without them, this candy would feel like it’s missing something crucial.
• 1 slice of cinnamon – Because every good candy needs some spice. Cinnamon is the perfect partner for tejocote, and when it’s simmered down in syrup, it’ll add that extra layer of comforting flavor.

Preparation

Pour the 1 liter of water into a large pot. Get that water boiling like it’s on a mission. This is the start of the candy-making process, so don’t rush it. Once the water’s bubbling away, throw in the tejocotes (with their skins still on, mind you). Let them cook until the skin starts peeling away. That’s when you know you're getting somewhere.

While you’re waiting for the tejocotes to soften, feel free to sip on a nice cup of tea, or maybe pour yourself something stronger—this is going to take a bit of time. When the skin starts falling off like it's ready to throw in the towel, remove the tejocotes from the pot and set them aside to cool. You don’t want to be handling hot fruit. Believe me, I’ve learned this the hard way.

Once the tejocotes have cooled down enough to handle, peel them. Don’t just rip off the skin like you’re peeling an apple. Take your time. These little guys have delicate skin that comes off pretty easily once they're soft. After peeling, you want to strain the water from the pot you used for boiling. Why? Because that liquid is gold—it’s got all the flavors from the tejocotes, and it’s about to play a major role in this candy-making process.

Pour the strained liquid back into the pot. Yes, I know this seems like a lot of steps for what’s essentially a candy recipe, but trust me, the payoff will be worth it.

It’s time to kick things into gear. Throw your peeled tejocotes back into the pot, and add your piloncillo. You’ll notice the piloncillo comes in a hard, blocky form, so don’t just toss it in there expecting it to dissolve instantly. Break it up into chunks and stir it in with the tejocotes. You’re also going to add the cloves and the cinnamon slice.

This is where you need a bit of patience. Put the heat on medium-high, and bring everything to a boil again. Don’t even think about walking away, because you’ll need to keep stirring constantly. You’re looking for that perfect syrupy consistency—the kind of thick, rich texture that sticks to your spoon and promises that every bite is going to be a jaw-dropping moment.

The trick to making tejocote candy is in the stirring. Don’t stop. Keep going. Stir the mixture until the piloncillo dissolves completely and everything starts to merge into a thick, sticky syrup. The tejocotes will start softening even more, breaking apart and blending into the syrup like they were meant to be together. This is when it starts looking like candy—rich, dark, and utterly irresistible.

As the liquid reduces and thickens, keep checking the consistency. You want it syrupy, but not runny. The goal here is to create something that’s thick enough to coat the back of a spoon and sticky enough to be downright addictive. It’s like making caramel, but with a fruity twist. And remember—don’t skimp on the stirring. You need to keep everything moving to prevent burning.

Once the mixture has thickened to your satisfaction, it’s time to give it a taste. Is it perfect? Is it sweet, spicy, and utterly delicious? If so, you’re ready to take it off the heat.

At this point, the tejocote candy will have transformed into a glorious, syrupy delight, sticky enough to coat your fingers and rich enough to make every bite feel like a sweet little indulgence. You can now spoon it into containers and let it cool. Once it’s set, you’ll have a perfectly thick and sticky tejocote candy that’s ready to be devoured.

The piloncillo brings that deep, earthy sweetness, while the cinnamon and cloves infuse it with warmth and complexity. The tejocote? Well, that’s the star of the show. It’s the unexpected twist that’ll have your friends and family asking, “What is this sorcery?”

You could try to store it for later, but let’s be honest, this candy doesn’t last long. It’s the kind of treat you share with loved ones or sneak into your own personal stash, telling yourself you’ll save it for later—only to finish it off by nightfall.

Sources: Conafor.gob.mx, Inecol.mx, Recipes adapted from Cocinadelirante.com and Cheforopeza.com.mx