"They look like lemon bars. But they're pieces of barrel cactus that have been chopped up and then seeped in vats of sugar until they're crystalized. Edith Hernandez Torres, who runs a shop here, wraps hers in cellophane. She says acitron is special, that it tastes nothing like the candied lemon or sweet potato or the pineapple she also sells."
"Hernandez knows acitron is illegal, but her customers demand it. When NPR asks if she doesn't feel bad about selling something that's going extinct, she shrugs. "Our whole planet is going extinct," she said. As she speaks, Maria Julia Gutiette picks up a bar of acitron. She does it gently, like she's picking up a bar of gold. Her husband and this nation were born on the same day: Sept. 16."
""Traditions are the salt and pepper of life," she said. "They are that extra something that makes life extraordinary." When she says this, her eyes tear up. She never had chiles en nogada growing up because the ingredients were too expensive. But then, she studied, she became a nurse and moved to Mexico City."
Acitron consists of pieces of biznaga barrel cactus chopped and crystalized in sugar; vendors at Mexico City's Merced market sell wrapped bars despite a government ban. The Mexican government banned acitron sales in the early 2000s after finding the biznaga at risk of extinction from overexploitation. Vendors and customers value acitron for its chewy, roasted-like texture and unique flavor profile distinct from candied lemon, sweet potato, or pineapple. Many buyers purchase acitron for chiles en nogada, a seasonal Independence Day dish, viewing traditional ingredients as essential. Some sellers and buyers prioritize culinary tradition or demand over conservation concerns.
Read at www.npr.org
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