The Mija Chronicles

Mexican food and culture, on both sides of the border

Lesley Tellez

Smoky, spicy chile mora salsa

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One of my new favorite smells is the chile mora. It’s a smoked, dried jalapeño, and therefore classified as a chipotle. But it’s a bit sweeter and more raisin-like than the brown chipotles you see in the markets. It’s also not as hot. (The chile morita, a cousin, is much spicier.)

Chile moras smell so intoxicating — a heady mix of chocolate, raisins, herbs and smoke — that I was almost tempted to leave the batch I bought on my kitchen counter as an air freshener. But I bought them to make a salsa, so that’s what I was going to do. If I didn’t eat the chiles raw first.

Tomatoes and onions, after they've been roasted on the comal

Decided to use the molcajete, and I used the same technique as in other molcajete salsas I’ve posted on this blog — first grind the salt and aromatics, then the chiles, then the tomatoes. Each ingredient is added a little bit at a time to ensure the proper consistency.

My problem was that the chiles just wouldn’t break down. I’d gotten a few tough ones in my batch from the market, and their skin didn’t soften even after 20 minutes in hot water. Plus this time I was envisioning a thin table salsa — something that you could spoon into a taco, or over eggs.

So I broke out the immersion blender.

(You: “You did?”)

Yes, I did. A few quick pulses and a chorrito de agua and boom. I had what I wanted — a salsa that had the consistency of a thick soup or porridge, with bits of chile seeds still visible.

It should be noted that I still don’t trust myself with a blender to make salsas. Of the two batches of salsa I made, the second one came out looking like pureed tomato sauce. (Still tasty, but the texture was, as Mexicans say, equis. Meaning mediocre and nothing special.) My preferred salsa texture veers toward the heftier side.

Because the chile moras are so smoky, this salsa tastes good on just about anything. I liked it especially on sweet vegetables, which played off the mora’s raisiny notes. Layered it on a corn tortilla between roasted onions and red peppers, and it was just about perfect.
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Fun food finds at the Mexico City newsstand

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Mexico City newsstands lie just about on every block, and they’re kind of funny places. Most of the magazines are wrapped in plastic, so you really can’t stand and read as much as stand and stare at the titles. The newspapers are often clothes-pinned to a rack so you can only see the front page.

Despite that, it’s super common for people here to just walk up to a newsstand and stare at what’s available. The vendor never rushes anybody, and he doesn’t say “Can I help you?” because it’s assumed that you’re going to stand there and peruse the titles awhile.

Usually I don’t like to while away my time at the newsstand. But today while walking home from yoga class, I felt so tranquila that I stopped at a newsstand and stared awhile. I bought an issue of Arqueología Mexicana devoted to sexuality in Mesoamerica. (“Have you read this?” I asked the vendor. “Of course!” he said. “What kind of vendor would I be if I didn’t read what I’m selling?”) And then I asked him if he could take a few recipe magazines out of their plastic.

They were the kind of cooking magazines I never buy — the off-size, glossy kind that look like they came with coupons in the mail. In fact, they’re part of an El Universal promotion called “Cocina Estado Por Estado,” aimed at highlighting different regional Mexican cuisines. A new recipe book devoted to a different Mexican state is released each Monday. There’s 11 so far, and there’ll be 21 in all, the vendor said.

I picked up the Oaxaca and Distrito Federal mags and both seemed really neat. The Oaxaca one came with recipes for tejate (corn and cacao drink), nicuatole de maiz (a drink, not the dessert), and horchata de melon, plus recipes for mole rojo and tamales oaxaqueños. The Distrito Federal version includes recipes for pambazos, chorizo verde, tacos al pastor, limones rellenos and pan de pulque.

I might try out a recipe on Saturday — the horchata de melon sounds especially good — and I’ll report back whether it actually works. Either way, these would at least be good references for my growing Mexican-food cookbook collection.

By the way — the Mesoamerican sexuality magazine is going to be my airplane reading. I’m leaving for a trip to the States next Sunday.

The great huauzontle wrap-up. Or, alternately… all huauzontle’d out.

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I really, really wanted to close out The Week of Huauzontles with a spectacular new recipe. But then the weekend came around, and our friends Julie and John had a despedida, and then I got stomach sick, and then our friend Justin came to town for a few days. And next thing I know it was Tuesday.

My original point with TWOH was to enlighten a few folks out there about this scruffy, nutritious vegetable. As the week wore on and I was eating The Huauz every day — leftover from the massive one-kilo bunch I bought at the tianguis — I ended up learning a fair bit myself. You can really eat huauzontles in just about anything — salsa, queso, scrambled eggs. You can stuff it inside a chicken breast, roll it up and cover it with mole sauce, and it’ll be pretty fantastic. (Also, anything tastes good with mole.)

You can add it to rice and chicken broth, to soothe a delicate stomach.

And it freezes beautifully, a fact I figured out on accident, because my fridge has some frozen-spot issues.

Those bitter huauzontle stems that I used to fear would ruin any dish really don’t taste so bitter after all. Well, some of them do, but not the ones near the fluffy buds.

I’ll close out with a simple little recipe I found on the Internet, for huauzontle-stuffed chicken breasts blanketed in mole. It’s perfect for when you have an extra cup of huauzontles lying around and a bag of mole in the freezer. (Two things that are quite probable if you live and cook in Mexico.)
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Salsa de tomate verde (tomatillo salsa) with huauzontles

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Even after almost two years in Mexico, I still like to buy salsa out of a jar. (Hey, it’s convenient.) But because this is the Week of Huauzontles, and the huauz requires so much care, I figured it’d be worth it to make a salsa molcajeteada — a salsa where you grind everything in a molcajete, and the ingredients come together because of your own strength and patience.

Mixing huauzontles and tomatillos was not entirely my idea. Yuri whipped it up in cooking class a few weeks ago, using huauzontles leftover from a soup we were preparing. He boiled tomatillos and serrano chiles and ground them up in a blender, and then stirred in the huauz. The result was so good that I slathered it inside a tortilla and ate it alone as a taco.

You might be asking: but can’t I just use a blender to make this salsa, too? Yuri did!

Yuri has magic blending powers, because when I tried to make a similar salsa in my own blender, it was watery and too acidic. The molcajete allowed me much more control over the texture. I kept a few pieces of tomatillo cáscara, and added roasted onion and garlic to mellow out the flavor a bit. An allspice berry, known in Spanish at pimienta gorda (literally, “fat peppercorn”) gave it just a whisper of a curry-like, cumin-cinnamon taste.

A typical tomatillo salsa has a well-balanced mix of acid and heat, and the huauzontles here don’t mess with that. They do add one key element, however: texture. The little flowery buds provide heartiness, and an almost artichoke-broccoli-like chewiness. It’s like eating a really good, spicy pasta sauce.

I served this over tortillas sandwiched together with refried beans, topped with a fried egg. Today I’ll probably eat the leftovers in a taco.

Recipe below.
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Mex-Tex queso with huauzontle and chorizo verde

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It may look like guac in the photo, but I promise you it's queso. And yes, that is a Texas-shaped bowl in the background.

I’m not as knowledgeable as some people in the Tex-Mex cuisine cannon, but eight years in Texas did teach me the importance of one thing: queso. (That’s pronounced KAY-so.)

Queso is basically a jazzed-up melted cheese sauce, consisting of Velveeta, tomatoes, onions, jalapeños and maybe crumbly bits of ground beef. You eat it with tortilla chips. And beer. Preferably on game day. Or during happy hour. Ok, you pretty much eat it whenever the mood strikes.

I’d been hankering for some queso since we moved to Mexico, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Chili’s had it (score!) but then they took it off their menu (lame). Crayton and I suffered through our queso-less lives in silence until a few weekends ago when he said, “You know what sounds really good right now? Queso.” And I said, “Yeah, I agree. Why don’t I make some?”

Until that point, I hadn’t thought about making queso from scratch because it requires Velveeta. Velveeta is sold at Costco, and I couldn’t justify a $10 cab ride solely to buy processed cheese product.

But what if I used real cheese?

At that point, I think I might’ve heard the universe crackle.

I thought avoiding Velveeta was queso blasphemy, but it turns out there are a few real-cheese queso recipes on the Internet. I used a a Homesick Texan recipe as my inspiration, and piled together an assortment of items that I had in my fridge — Mexican manchego because it melted well, huauzontles because they’re vegetables and I like those; tomatoes, a jalapeño, carrots in escabeche.

My Mex-Tex queso was so good that I made it again the following weekend, this time for the Bears vs. Cowboys game. I added chorizo verde (pretty much because it rocks, and it kept the green theme) and I put the queso in our fondue pot to keep it saucy and hot. Alice and Nick, both of whom are Texans, came over. They practically swooned when the saw the pot of cheese.

We scooped it with homemade totopos, carrots, cucumbers. There wasn’t much talking going on.

You don’t need the huauzontles to make this dish a success — a pile of grated cheese will do that on its own.

However, the huauz did add a pleasant grit and chewiness, similar to a spinach-artichoke dip, or a broccoli-cheese soup. And I mean that in the most natural, comforting way possible, not in a chain-restaurant kind of way. I promise you, this stuff is good.

Recipe below.
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How to clean huauzontles, and prepare them for cooking

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I’m glad y’all are excited about my Week of Huauzontles. Well, except for Don Cuevas, who compared them to “bottle brushes.” But that’s okay. I still heart you, Don.

My first post is about how to clean the vegetable. As I mentioned yesterday, it’s an involved process. You might want to have a radio or iPod jamming out some of your favorite hits as you pluck and de-stem, just to help the time pass more quickly.

Also: make sure your huauz is a deep green color. If you see any yellow buds, don’t add them to your pile, because they’ll impart a bitter flavor in the end.

More fun huauzontle cleaning tips below.

How to Clean and Prepare Huauzontles

The huauzontles are quite large creatures, aren't they?


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Introducing… The Week of Huauzontles

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Huauzontles and I didn’t have the most auspicious beginning. Last fall, if you recall, I bought a bunch solely because I liked the way they looked. (A bushy green amaranth plant is hard to resist.)

I didn’t know that you weren’t supposed to eat the stems, and so I threw in a mess of raw huauzontles, with stems, into a pan of roasted butternut squash. The result reminded me of the weeds my mom used to make me pull as a kid.

Lately, huauzontles have become one of my favorite ingredients, precisely because they’re so finicky. This is a vegetable that makes you work for its love. You have to shape it, prune it, peel off its bitter leaves and spongy flower pods. At the end, if you’ve done your work correctly, you’ve got a pile of flower pods that feel like soft, airy sand. They taste like a milder version of broccoli.

Crayton prepares the huauzontle for its bike-ride home, after buying it at the tianguis

You might be thinking: Am I really going to do all this work for something that tastes like broccoli?

Shouldn’t it taste… better?

Here’s the thing about huauzontles: it’s not just about the taste. It’s about the transformation, and being close to your food. Huauzontles require human interaction. Because of your hard work, it’s you who transforms this grassy, wild stalk into a pile of airy crumbs that can suit just about anything. I’ve eaten huauzontles in pasta sauce and tomatillo salsa, and shaped into fluffy, small croquettes; later this week, I’m going to stuff it inside a chicken breast, just to see what happens.

Because I want more people to appreciate this strange-but-lovable vegetable, I’m launching the Week of Huauzontles on The Mija Chronicles, which is a series of posts dedicated to The Huauz. (As I’m now calling it, affectionately.) First up is a step-by-step guide on how to clean and prepare the huauzontle for cooking. Later this week I’ll post some recipes, including the truly awesome huauzontle queso dip with chorizo verde.

Even if you’re not a huauz fan, I hope you at least appreciate the versatility of this tree-like vegetable.

More coming tomorrow!

A Mexico City Bicentenario report: food, grito, dancing and… stomach problems

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I know I kept talking about how crazy the Bicentenario was going to be. And no doubt it was, especially for folks near the Zócalo. (Check out the official Zócalo Bicentenario pictures, complete with flames and fireworks.) From my perspective, the Reforma party was actually kind of subdued. There was music and fireworks, but everyone watched respectfully. And the crowds weren’t as big as I’d thought.

At about 6 p.m. on Wednesday, I met up with my friends Alice and Nick, and we began our walk to the Angel. There wasn’t any other way to get there — almost all of the streets had been closed. A few blocks into the Zona Rosa, a group of policemen checked my bag and took my umbrella away. (“They’re prohibited,” one officer explained.)

Once on Reforma, more officers checked our bags and waved them with metal detectors. We caught a few bits of the parade. It was a colorful, fun affair, showing Mexican history through the ages. Families lined up to watch perhaps three or four rows deep, but there was still plenty of room to stroll and people-watch.

At about 7 p.m., we arrived at the Sheraton Maria Isabel, where my friend Carlos had reserved a suite. (Interestingly, Los Tigres Del Norte were staying in the floor above ours — my friends Jonathan and Ale ran into them in the elevator.) We had chicharrones, jicama with lime juice, guacamole, tacos and tlacoyos. To drink, there was tequila and mescal, and Carlos’s famous homemade sangrita. A shocking amount of beer and bottled water lay in the bathtub, covered in ice. (Wish I would’ve gotten a picture of it, but I was in a non-picture-taking relaxed mode.)

For pretty much the rest of the night, we watched the festivities unfold from there — our ninth-floor hotel window. Part of me felt lame to be so far away from the gente, and some of us did escape every now and then to go watch the concerts up close. I really liked the hotel room, though — having a real bathroom, drinks and food at my disposal made the party just… comfortable. And all of my favorite people were with me.

At 11 p.m., all us — we numbered about 15 — yelled the grito together in the hotel room, following President Calderón’s lead on TV.


Vivan los heroes que nos daban patria!
Viva!
Viva Hidalgo!
Viva!
Viva Morelos!
Viva!
Viva Josefa Ortiz de Dominguez!
(me, thinking, “Who’s she?”) Viva!

There were a few more vivas, and then fireworks exploded outside. The Angel lit up with lights. Everyone stopped talking and stared, and took pictures. It was a special moment — here I was in Mexico, a country I loved and a place that’s given me so much over the past year. I took a moment just to be grateful.

Later, we had a dance party in the suite’s living room. (If you want to know how to get people dancing at a party, invite a Zumba instructor.) Crayton and I walked home at about 2 a.m., to the waning strains of the Tigres. Around us, women pushed babies in strollers, and little kids walked by in sparkly tri-colored hats and ribbons.

To my surprise and delight, a late-night food fair had been set up Calle Florencia. Vendors had pozole, pambazos, tacos, buñuelos and atole. It smelled amazing.

I bought an atole de masa even though I wasn’t hungry. It was Independence Day, I had to buy something!

Buñuelos for sale

Pan de nata was everywhere. Someone fill me in -- is this an independence day tradition?

We got to bed at 2:30 on Sept. 16, and were awakened at 8:55 a.m. by a neighbor with a noisemaker. The folks next door to us were still partying. (I’m telling you, there are some hardcore partyers in the Roma.)

Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny day, and Crayton and I had planned to get out of the house and maybe see the military parade. Instead I was hit with a stomach bug — I spent the whole day at home, eating rice porridge and sipping Gatorade, and watching old episodes of Deadwood. I don’t think it was the atole de masa that gave me the bug, by the way — I’ve been feeling a little strange since Tuesday.

Stomach problems aside, I still feel really lucky to have been a part of the party.

Now tell me what you did. How did you spend your Bicentenario?

Celebrating the Bicentenario, Mexico’s biggest party of the year

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The Bicentenario kicks off tonight, marking Mexico’s 200th year of independence from Spain. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime celebration and a huge deal here in Mexico City.

The Zócalo — which has hosted a clock for more than a year, counting down the days to 12:00 a.m. on Sept. 16 — is going to be nuts, with 50,000 people expected there alone. (I will not be one of them; I’ll be near the Angel, celebrating with friends.) They’ve constructed a huge stage to host a flame show, acrobats and music. There’ll also be patriotic images projected over the cathedral. (I caught a TV special devoted to the Zócalo party last night. An entire 30-minute TV special!)

Reforma is going to be crazy, too. Starting at 6 p.m., there’s going to be a parade of “allegoric cars,” detailing different parts of Mexican culture and history. Lila Downs will give a free concert at the Glorieta Cuauhtémoc, only a short walk from our old apartment. Kinky and Maldita Vecindad will perform at the Caballito, while Natalia Lafourcade, Ely Guerra, Aleks Syntek, Paulina Rubio and Los Tigres del Norte will perform at the Angel.

The city has even prohibited alcohol sales through early Friday morning at midnight, except at restaurants and bars. (So there’ll be no drunken runs to Oxxo at 12:30 a.m.) I repeat: it’s going to be crazy.

The mood here is strangely calm, but excited. Just like they did last year, vendors have popped up selling straw sombreros, flags, fake moustaches, tri-colored bandannas and beads. The facades of several buildings in the Centro have been festooned with flags and papel picado. Yesterday I saw one dude wearing tri-colored face makeup and a red-green-and-white wig, already.

UPDATE: I should have mentioned this earlier, but many U.S. news media outlets are reporting that Mexicans don’t feel much like celebrating this year. A few links for you:

CNN: Mexico Bicentennial No Cause for Celebration Among Many Citizens
The New York Times: Mexican Bicentennial Falls Short of Fervor
El Paso Times: Drug Violence Mutes Juarez Grito Commemoration

A few photos from the Centro yesterday:

The fantastic chile en nogada from El Popular, a restaurant in the Centro


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Agua de tuna (prickly-pear agua fresca) with lime and chia

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When I was a baby, my mom used to sing me a song about the moon eating a prickly-pear cactus fruit, and throwing the skins into a lagoon.

Ahí viene la luna
comiendo la tuna
tirando las cáscaras
a la laguna!

(Note: after the word “laguna,” you’re supposed to tickle the baby’s stomach.)

Growing up, I knew the word “tuna” meant prickly-pear cactus fruit. But I had no desire to try them, because the idea of eating a cactus fruit seemed too weird. Even when I started to get more serious about food, I ignored them. Funny what moving to Mexico does — this summer, surrounded by an abundance of tunas because of the rainy season, I realized that I’d misjudged them.

Tunas are some of the juiciest, most naturally sweet fruits around. They have the wet, porous flesh of a watermelon, speckled with tiny hard seeds. In fact, an agua de tuna — the juice of the tuna, mixed with water and sugar — is one of the sweetest aguas frescas. Sometimes the drink can verge on cloying.

Yesterday at the tianguis, I found a vendor who was practically giving his tunas away. His sign said as much:

These tunas cost 12 pesos for two kilos' worth. That's about 4 1/2 pounds for less than $1.

I bought a kilo, peeled…

What tunas look like naked

…and decided to make an agua fresca de tuna that’s less sweet than the ones I’ve tried. Mine would have lime and chia seeds to tone things down. Well, actually, the chia wouldn’t really affect the sweetness factor, but it would add a healthy boost.

The agua turned out even better than I hoped. It was a pretty pistachio color, and the taste was kind of like a melon-lemonade. I drank a glass after finishing up a tennis game (I’m taking classes, so this was my first game ever), and I couldn’t have asked for a more refreshing drink. This agua was way better than Gatorade.

Recipe below.
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