Catholic grocer helps town’s Mexican Jews keep kosher
TECAMACHALCO, Mexico — Noe Trinidad Chavez sat at a small card table gutting zucchinis with a metal corer knife, preparing them to be stuffed with meat and cooked into platillo a la jardinera, a traditional meal eaten by Sephardic Jews.
The 56-year-old, a native of the southern Mexican state of Oaxaca, was born and raised Catholic. He had never met a Jewish person in his life until he was 10, when he ventured off to Mexico City for work. There he got a job helping Jewish families with day-to-day needs, such as cleaning and cooking.
Now he’s the owner of two Jewish food shops, including this one that’s no more than 6 feet by 14 feet with a lime-green awning adorned with a Star of David.
The store’s unlikely name: “El Tope,” or speed bump, a tribute to his humble beginnings and where he set up a food cart as a street vendor.
His shop is stocked with produce and packaged products common to Mediterranean diets — eggplant, grape leaves and tamarind syrup he prepares himself.
“It’s hard to find such unique things like these,” Chavez said. “It’s a very small but very important store in the life of the Arab and Jewish community.”
Although Mexico may be known for being the second-largest Roman Catholic country in the world, it’s also home to a small but thriving Jewish population of about 40,000, concentrated mainly in Mexico City. El Tope is among dozens of shops in the town of San Miguel Tecamachalco catering to a Jewish clientele.
Chavez can thoroughly explain what keeping kosher entails — what his customers can and can’t eat and when, under Jewish law. He can’t read the Hebrew markings on the labels of the products that fill his store, but he knows which ones signify they are certified kosher.
In recent weeks he has been preparing for Passover, which began Friday, clearing his shelves of forbidden products and performing the ritual of koshering his utensils by immersing them in boiling water. He refers to the holiday by its Hebrew name, Pesach.
Some store owners might have been put off by having to learn the complicated kosher rituals of an unfamiliar culture as part of their business. For him, Chavez said, it’s the most beautiful part.
Decades ago, San Miguel Tecamachalco was more than just a “little village” and consisted of acres of farmland. Now, it’s hugged on all sides by seemingly endless rows of houses protected by tall, contiguous gates.
The closest thing to a full-fledged grocery store in the town is Kurson Kosher, with a bakery, upstairs kitchen, meat counter and shelves stocked with pita bread and tortillas. Falafel balls and assorted kosher tamales share space in the freezers that line the back of the store.
“We don’t abstain from or deprive ourselves of anything that’s Mexican,” said store manager Morris Rudy. “Anything that’s Mexican, we can make kosher.”
A few blocks over, Eli Mordo, 50, an Israeli pizza shop owner, is used to people walking into his store and asking why his pizza is so expensive. Mordo explains that kosher food costs more because it has to be prepared in a special way. Some of his poorer customers can’t afford it.
“I give them another price,” Mordo said, pronouncing his Spanish with the guttural, Frenchsounding Rs of his native Hebrew. “We all have to be happy, no matter whether you’re Jewish or not.”
On Fridays, Chavez wishes his customers a peaceful Sabbath, saying, “Shabbat shalom!”
“They also say, ‘Shabbat shalom, Noe!’ As if you were part of their community,” Chavez said, before correcting himself. “Not as if you were — you are.”