Pan de Muerto de Monito Potosino

San Luis Potosí, Altiplano Potosino. This bread belongs to the high, dry country around Matehuala, Charcas, Venado, Guadalcázar, and the road toward Real de Catorce, where the Day of the Dead altar is not complete until the bread looks back at you. The monito is not the round Mexico City pan de muerto with bone strips. It is a small human figure, the little body of the ánima, with a sugar face set on the head.

I learned this version from panaderas who worked by feel, not by speeches. They warmed anise in milk, rubbed orange zest into the sugar, and folded in manteca de cerdo until the dough turned soft under the palms. The face goes on after baking so it stays clean and visible on the ofrenda. That detail matters. The dead are invited properly or they are not invited at all.

My mother did not make monitos in Colonia Roma. She was from Jalisco. But in her notebook, beside a pan de muerto recipe, she wrote: 'in San Luis they make little people.' That note sent me north years later, to the Altiplano, where the panadería table carries wheat, lard, anise, sugar, and the dry patience of people who know how to make bread last.

Do not ask where the chile goes. It does not. Not all Mexican food is chile and salsa. This is a 32-state cuisine, and this state speaks here with wheat, lard, anise, orange, and sugar. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.