Carnitas

Michoacan claims carnitas and Quiroga is where the claim is enforced. The method is confit at village scale: a whole butchered pig goes into an enormous copper cazo of its own melted lard over wood or gas, and simmers for hours - the cuts staged so that ribs, shoulder, belly, skin, ear and snout each finish right - then gets a final burst of heat that crisps the edges. Ordering is a vocabulary lesson: maciza for lean meat, costilla for rib, cuerito for the gelatinous skin, buche, nana, and the confessional favourite surtida - a mix of everything - all chopped on the block, weighed, and piled with tortillas, salsa verde, chopped onion, cilantro and lime, plus Michoacan's obligatory sides of corundas and pickled chiles. Quiroga's main street is a corridor of competing cazos with carvers shouting samples at passing cars, and the town's weekend traffic is largely people who drove an hour for lunch. Purists argue endlessly about which stand, which wood, which pig. Everyone agrees on the kilo.

What you actually see

• The copper cazos - whole pigs confiting in bubbling lard.
• The chopping blocks - cuts weighed and chopped to order.
• The cut vocabulary - maciza, costilla, cuerito, surtida.
• Quiroga's row - a street of rival carnitas houses.

When to go

Mornings into early afternoon, when the cazos are fresh - the best stands sell out and close. Weekends bring the full pilgrimage crowd.

Honest expectations

It is rich food eaten by weight; order less than instinct suggests and add. Vegetarians have no play here. The famous street is loud, greasy and joyful - go with appetite and cash.

Nearby

Tzintzuntzan's yacatas, Patzcuaro's plazas and Santa Clara's copper forges ring the same lake road.