Back at their home one row of stone houses above the synagogue, Mercedes Mendes is ready to share something special. She leads the way huffing up three flights of stairs to the attic, with two year-old grand-nephew Isaac in tow. Beams of light filter through a dusty skylight in the low, sloping roof and illuminate stacks of cardboard boxes and a pile of rusted iron and red and white clay and ceramic bowls, roof tiles and jugs in the corner.

Mercedes plants herself in a chair, catches her breath rearranging the Jewish charms on her necklace, and begins assembling one clay bowl with systematic punctures (like a colander) into an oxidized iron frame. Mercedes wards off energetic Isaac as she carefully lays two curving, red roof tiles on top of the clay bowl. She explains, “This big bowl is the fugareira, where we used to put the coals. On these roof tiles, we would bake the Pao Azumo, the bread of poverty, on Santa Festa – Passover.” After explaining each item, with stories of younger days spent with fellow Marranos singing, dancing and making their special bread in the countryside, Mercedes marvels, “I’ve never shown this to anyone before. You’re lucky.”

“Today we get kosher matzah from Madrid. It’s been maybe 12 years since we made our Pao Azumo. Isaac here,” Mercedes says, grabbing the toddler by the back of his shirt, “will never know our Marrano traditions.”