Once again, we return to La Casa de México in Madrid, a space that offers some of the most interesting art and craft exhibitions in Madrid all year round.

In these times, when uniformity reigns supreme while originality and difference are viewed with suspicion, La Casa de México has become an exception in a world dominated by gray. It is always a pleasure to stroll through its exhibition halls.

As I was saying, in these times, the Casa de México has become an oasis of cultural resistance—paradoxically, institutionalized resistance, but resistance nonetheless.

It never ceases to amaze me that such a formal yearning for individualism, such a widespread search for difference, leads to seas of people who dress the same, taste the same mass-produced flavors, read the same books, watch the same TV shows, travel to the same big cities—those big cities, at least the European ones, that are losing their identity to become commercial showcases for the same brands: H&M, McDonald’s, Mango, Zara, Starbucks, Primark, KFC, Burger King, Domino’s Pizza, etc.

Within this framework of near-universal uniformity, among the activities of FITUR 2026, the exhibition Suave Patria was presented at the beginning of the year. A collection of more than 800 pieces of handicrafts and one goal:

the preservation and promotion of folk art.

One such exhibition, Suave Patria, once again demonstrated the ability of folk art to surprise with its originality and the mastery of its creators—artisans who, in their humble workshops, produce unique pieces far removed from monotonous mass production.

It wasn’t the first time I had visited the Casa de México to delight in Mexico’s folk crafts, and that was once again my intention one day in March of this year.

However, the biggest surprise didn’t come from the crafts but from a tribute to traditional Mexican cuisine—a tribute that is the reason for this post.

As a complement to Suave Patria, Between Nahuales and Folk Art, a large collection of large-format color photographs was on display.

The photo exhibition struck me as unusual due to the near-anonymity of the photographer. On this occasion, the photographer, the creator of the images, ceded the spotlight entirely to the women portrayed, all of whom are cooks of traditional Mexican cuisine.

The collection of images on display comes from the book Cocina que despierta: el poder de la herencia [Cuisine that awakens: The power of inheritance], published by Gastrolab and Heraldo Ediciones. A book-tribute to traditional Mexican cuisine and the guardians of the tradition.

This collection of images depicts a group of women with serene expressions, a far cry from the stereotypes found in advertising—including those ads that portray “other women.”

Real women, flesh and blood, dressed in the traditional attire of their communities and accompanied by kitchen utensils and/or the fruits of the earth.

They are unique, real women with a history, situated in a specific place, at a specific moment, and within a specific culture. Women proud of their identity, who demonstrate their connection to their community, tradition, and the land.

As for the technical aspects of the photographs, the skillful use of chiaroscuro and a “magical” hyperrealism stand out. These are photographs that go beyond what is portrayed… they are images with soul.

Fortunately, the book Cocina que despierta was available for any visitor who wanted to consult it, and that is what I did. Reading it allows one to enjoy the exhibition even more by delving deeper into the reasons behind this tribute and gaining a better understanding of the elements that appear in the images.

Cooking is more than just sustenance, the book tells us. It is a body of knowledge passed down from generation to generation through oral tradition and practice. A body of knowledge that not only satisfies a basic need like nourishment, but is also part of the community’s relationship with the land. A relationship that respects and preserves the diversity of seeds and native plants.

There are other points addressed in the book that, in my view, are not explicitly mentioned in the exhibition.

One is the importance of sharing for the community. The dining table serves as a gathering place where different generations come together to share food, while the elders pass on their wisdom to the younger ones.

Another important point is resilience. Among other stories, the book tells the story of Enedina Rivas from Chihuahua. She is a woman who grew up in the mountains, in extremely precarious conditions, as part of a historically marginalized community, and who, as a woman, grew up with the limitations imposed by traditional gender roles.

Enedina Rivas learns to cook with what the land provides. Over time, cooking becomes a means of sustenance and autonomy for her. Through her work at the Casa de la Mujer Indígena, cooking transforms into a tool for caring for, teaching, and strengthening the community.

I’ll conclude by returning to the topic of diversity. There is no single Mexican cuisine; there are many Mexican cuisines. Each community creates its own gastronomy based on tradition and the diverse resources offered by the territory in which it lives.

Now, finally, I will mention the other protagonist of the exhibition, the photographer Alfredo Pelcastre. I believe that, quite rightly, in these photographs he has left no room for nostalgia, Her work tells us about real women, about contemporary women.