By Sylvia Ulloa, on May 5th, 2011
 Mole poblano uses a multitude of toasted spices, nuts and chocolate to create a smoky, spicy complex sauce. While Cinco de Mayo – which commemorates the Battle of Puebla in 1862, a rout of French forces by Mexican soldiers during the French occupation – is not a huge holiday in Mexico, it was always a chance for Mexican Americans here to celebrate our heritage. When I was growing up in San Jose, we had the largest parades outside of Mexico, with floats, mariachi music, folkloric dancers and charros prancing their decorated horses. Hundreds of thousands of people flooded downtown San Jose to eat, dance and party.
Even though San Jose stopped holding Cinco de Mayo parades several years ago after the crowds got out of control, I still feel the need to mark the event in some way. Making one of the signature dishes of Puebla seemed like a great idea. I had a couple of choices: chiles en nogada are a variation on chile rellenos with a walnut cream sauce and pomegranate seeds. But this dish is most closely identified with Mexican Independence Day, Sept. 16, because it was invented to display the colors of the Mexican flag. Add to that, most of the ingredients are in season in the early fall. Ah well, that’s a post for another day.
The other famous dish from Puebla is mole poblano, and this is also considered a signature dish of Mexico. Still, the recipe I have from Diana Kennedy’s “The Cuisines of Mexico” starts with “the day before …” Was there a way to honor the complex, spicy, labor intensive and time consuming dish without spending two days to make it happen or resorting to that stuff in the jar? If you want to raise a shot of tequila or a pint of Dos Equis to the brave soldados of Puebla this weekend, I think I have you covered. This recipe for mole poblano is still going to be a labor of love, but it’s been boiled down to about two and a half hours of active cooking and still manages to preserve the complexity of flavors from toasted spices and chiles and the body from toasted and ground nuts and seeds. There is Mexican chocolate, but it adds depth rather than sweetness. I’ve also used chicken rather than the traditional turkey, since small turkeys aren’t easy to get this time of year.
(Slightly) Simplified Mole Poblano
3-4 pound whole, cut up chicken or breasts and thighs
1/2 onion
1 carrot
bay leaf
2-3 garlic cloves
water to cover
2-3 whole peppercorns
For the chile paste*
8 chile mulatos
5 chile anchos
6 chile pasillas
1/4 cup lard or canola oil
For the spice paste
4 cloves
10 peppercorns
1/2-inch stick cinnamon
1/8 tsp. coriander seed, toasted
1/8 tsp. aniseed, toasted
1 tbsp. chile seeds, toasted
7 tbsp. sesame seeds, toasted, divided use
3 cloves garlic, toasted
1/4 cup lard or canola oil
2 tbsp. raisins
1/2 cup coasely chopped almonds or almond meal
1/3 cup pumpkin seeds (pepitas), hulled and unsalted
1 small, stale tortilla
3 small pieces of stale french bread (or whatever you have)
1/2 cup canned tomatillos, drained
1 1/2 oz. tablet of Mexican chocolate, chopped fine
4 cups chicken broth from poached chicken
In a stock pot, place chicken pieces, carrot, onion, garlic and bay leaf with enough water to cover. Bring to a boil over medium high heat and skim any foam from the top then lower to a simmer and cook for about an hour.
Meanwhile, start making the chile paste. Take the dried chiles and split them open either with a knife or your hands, removing the seeds and veins. (If you use your hands, make sure to wash well with soap and avoid touching your eyes.) Have ready a medium bowl. Heat lard or oil in a skillet over medium heat. Fry the chiles individually on both sides, about 5-10 seconds per side until the chiles blister and color a bit. Place the fried chiles in the bowl and cover with warm water to soak. While they are softening and reconstituting, start assembling and toasting your spices.
Have ready a spice grinder or small food processor. (If you don’t have one, you can use a mortar and pestle and put some muscle into it and use 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon instead.). Add the untoasted spices: cloves, peppercorns, cinnamon. In a dry pan or griddle, toast the coriander and aniseed and add to grinder. Toast chile seeds until nearly black and add. Toast the sesame seed until golden brown and set aside. Put 3 tablespoons of sesame seeds in spice grinder and reserve the remainder for garnish. Pulse until you have a fine blend. Toast the garlic cloves.
In the bowl of a food processor or in a blender, place the softened chiles and 1 cup of water and process until it forms a thick paste. I did this in my trusty Oster blender but it struggled a bit. This will go a lot easier in a processor. Heat a large skillet over medium heat with 1/4 cup lard or canola oil until hot but not smoking, then add the chile paste and cook for about 10 minutes, stirring frequently. Meanwhile, in the processor or blender (don’t bother rinsing out, it’s all going to the same place), add the tomatillos, the spice blend and toasted garlic. Heat a small skillet with about 1/4 cup lard or canola oil. Fry the raisins briefly, just until they puff up. Fry the pumpkin seeds lightly but have a lid ready cause they’ll pop around. Then fry the almonds, stirring constantly until the nuts are well browned. Add all to processor. Fry the tortilla until crisp, then the bread slices. Add both to processor bowl and pulse all the ingredients until you have a smooth paste. If using a blender, you might need to use a little bit of the chicken broth to get it going.
Add this mixture to the chile paste in the skillet and cook over high heat for about 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Add the chopped chocolate and cook about 10 minutes more, stirring the thick mixture to keep it from burning or sticking. Remove the chicken from the broth and strain. Add 4 cups of broth to the mole mixture, thinning it to the consistency of batter. Cook until the oil rises to the surface around the edges of the pan. Add the chicken pieces and allow them to absorb the flavor of the sauce, at least 20 minutes. (I started a pan of Spanish rice at this stage, because I knew when it was finished, the mole would be ready.)
This version of mole poblano is still special occasion food, the 2-1/2 hour cooking time makes it more of a weekend project, but it goes a lot easier with a second pair of hands in the kitchen, and a glass of refreshing Mexican beer and some good company. Happy Cinco de Mayo.
*Note: It might be tough to find all these chile varieties in your grocery store, or even your Latin market. And often, anchos are mislabeled pasillas in the U.S. If you can’t find them all, just use what’s available. I didn’t find chile mulato but did find chile negro. And I substituted guajillo for the pasilla.
Bonus: You’ll have plenty of sauce left over and it freezes well. So all your hard work will make your life easier and more delicious another day. And if you don’t want more mole, it can be made into enchiladas. You’ll also have some leftover chicken stock, yippie!
By Sylvia Ulloa, on April 24th, 2011
 Mango custards make an elegant riff on everyday gelatinas. I always get inspired when I wander through my local Mi Pueblo market to stock up on corn tortillas and produce. I make a sweep of the store to find Latino products to try or prepared foods to riff on. I recently checked out the bakery department where there were racks and racks of pan dulce (sweet bread) and a refrigerated section of cakes and custards when my sweet tooth and imagination were awakened. There were several flavors of gelatin desserts called, appropriately enough, gelatinas. There was coconut, strawberry, chocolate and one called “rompopo” which turns out to be eggnog flavor. But at first glance I thought it was mango, because of its orange-blush color. With mango in season right now, I decided if I couldn’t buy mango gelatina, I would make it.
Mexican gelatinas tend to be aggressively sweet and firmly gelatinous. I was looking for something a little more custardy and with the dominant flavor of fresh mango. Sweetened condensed milk and evaporated milk are common ingredients in creamy gelatinas, which is pretty typical in tropical environments. I decided to use condensed milk for the sweetener, but to omit evaporated milk because of its cooked flavor. My first version, which used two ataulfo – or champagne – mangos and an entire can of sweetened condensed milk tasted almost like key lime pie without that tang of lime juice to cut the sweetness. In my second go-round, I upped the mango factor by using two much larger Tommy Atkins mangos, those typical red and green mango you can find in most grocery stores, that I stewed briefly. (You need something warm to activate the gelatin.) To intensify the mango flavor and to add freshness, I supplemented the two with a third ataulfo mango and dropped the condensed milk down to 1/4 cup.
Garnished with some diced fresh mango and put in pretty goblets or margarita glasses, and it makes an elegant dessert that’s light years from the grocery case.
Mango custards
Serves 4
3 large mangos (or four small), about 2 1/2 -2 3/4 cups diced
1/4 cup sweetened condensed milk
1 packet unflavored gelatin
2 1/4 cups water, divided use
juice of one lime
In a small bowl, bloom gelatin in 1/4 cup water for at least one minute. Meanwhile, dice mangos by slicing off the sides of mango on either side of the thin bone. Using the knife, cut vertical slices in the halves without piercing the skin, then cut horizontal slices. Scoop out the cubed fruit with a spoon into a small saucepan. Repeat with a second mango. There should be about 2 cups. Reserve the sides of the mango for garnish.
In the saucepan, add two cups water to cover and bring to a simmer. Cook for about two minutes then remove from heat. Dice the third mango and puree both cooked and uncooked fruit in a food processor. Mangos can be fibrous, so I ran the puree through a mesh strainer to help make for a finer texture. Whisk in the sweetened condensed milk and gelatin.
Pour the thick mixture into dessert goblets and drop on diced bits of fresh mango taken from the sides of the mango. (You can also stir in the fresh mango bits and pour into a gelatin mold.)
By Sylvia Ulloa, on March 20th, 2011
 Garlic shrimp sits on a bed of pilaf. This one is going out to my dad. It’s the middle of Lent, the season between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday, when the world’s Catholics reflect on the sacrifices made by Jesus and make some modest sacrifices of their own. Many people give up coffee or chocolate, or swearing, for the 40 days of Lent. I remember one year my cousin gave up cheese. After more than a month of a pizza deprivation, he vowed never to do it again, but I’m sure it taught him a little about self-sacrifice. The other common practice is giving up meat on Fridays – hence the traditional clam chowder on cafe menus and fish fingers in the cafeteria on many Fridays.
Since my Dad usually follows these Lenten traditions, he asked me for a recipe for Mojo de Ajo, a decadent sauce made with whole heads of chopped garlic slowly simmered in butter or good olive oil and poured over some kind of seafood. Most restaurants I’ve been to serve it with shrimp, but it is also made with with other seafood such as scallops, abalone, lobster or calamari. This recipe from Rick Bayless’ “Mexico One Plate at a Time” really goes more to the letter of the law rather than the spirit: It’s far too good to be any kind of sacrifice. The mojo is pungent with the golden, soft, sweet garlic swimming in olive oil, accented with fragrant lime juice and smoky chipotle peppers. This sauce takes a little while to make, but it’s easily done in advance and keeps for several weeks in the refrigerator. Since shrimp cooks up quickly, it’s a simple but impressive dish for a casual dinner with friends. It looks lovely piled on a bed of white rice and peas. I invited my pals Oie Lian, Janet and her husband Matt and we downed a platter of shrimp with a sweet, floral Vouvrey.
 Bring garlic, salt and olive oil to a bare simmer. Lower heat and simmer 30 minutes until garlic soft and golden.  When the garlic is soft and golden brown, add lime juice, then slivered chipotle peppers. Keep warm. Camarones al mojo de ajo
3/4 cup peeled garlic cloves, about 2 large heads or 3 small ones
1 cup good quality olive oil
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
Juice of 1 lime
2 canned chipotle peppers en adobe, seeded and cut into julienned slices
1-2 limes cut into wedges
2 lbs medium-large shrimp, peeled and deveined
3 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro or parsley
Making the mojo: Chop the garlic into a fine dice or drop the cloves into the feed tube of a food processor with the motor running and process until the pieces as roughly 1/8 inch in size. You should have about 1/2 cup chopped garlic. In a small saucepan, place the garlic, oil and salt and set over a medium-low flame. Stir the mixture as it just comes to a simmer, then drop heat to low and keep at at gentle simmer. Bubbles should rise in the pot like sparkling water. Cook, stirring occasionally until the garlic is a soft, pale gold, about 30 minutes. The slower the cooking, the sweeter the garlic. Add lime juice to the pan and simmer until most of the juice has been absorbed into the garlic, about 5 minutes. Stir in the chiles, then taste and add salt of needed. Keep the sauce warm over a low flame until you’re ready to cook the shrimp. If you made it in advance, warm it slowly over low heat.
Making the shrimp: Set a large, heavy non-stick skillet over medium-high heat and spoon in about 1-1/2 tablespoons of garlic oil from the mojo, taking care not to pick up any garlic pieces. Add half the shrimp to the pan, sprinkle generously with salt and stir gently and continuously until the shrimp are just cooked through, about 3-4 minutes. (I omitted the salt in my version and it still tasted wonderful. If you have concerns about using too much salt, you can easily skip it, there’s plenty of flavor in the mojo.) Stir in half the cilantro or parsley. Set cook shrimp aside, then repeat with remaining shrimp. When all the shrimp are cooked, use a slotted spoon to scoop out warm bits of garlic and chipotles from the mojo and scatter them over the shrimp. (Be generous, there is a ton of garlic, and who doesn’t love garlic?)
There will be plenty of mojo left over, which will keep well in the refrigerator. A good way to use up the leftovers might be a Latin take on Moules Marinieres, substituting half a cup of the mojo for the butter and garlic, and garnishing with cilantro rather than parsley.
By Sylvia Ulloa, on February 4th, 2011
 Joie shows off our handiwork. I was babysitting my niece and nephew, ages 5 and 8, on a recent rainy, dreary Saturday and there was no going outside to play on the tire swing. It felt like a Cat and the Hat moment, the sun was not out and it was too wet to play. So we sat in the house on that cold, cold wet day. I wasn’t up for Xbox or letting them monopolize my laptop, downloading viruses along with their computer games, either. Obviously, the good doctor would prescribe some time in the kitchen.
In my world and most kids’ worlds, there’s nothing more entertaining than baking up a batch of cookies. They can mix, dump and stir to their hearts’ content, spilling flour and putting egg shells in the dough that I have to pick out, and licking the bowl (No judgment! I ate raw cookie dough and cake batter all the time when I was a kid, and I’m still alive to tell about it.) Even with the disaster zone in my kitchen, the time we spend together, not to mention the delicious treats, are worth the cleanup effort. And it’s not nearly as bad as the mess made by Thing One and Thing Two.
I had Josh and Joie flip through one of my cookie books looking at the pictures for some options. (“The Joy of Cooking’s All About Cookies” has a great selection of classic cookies and I’ve made some awesome macaroons and dark chocolate cookies with sour cherries from “Martha Stewart’s Cookies.”) Joie was lobbying for chocolate chip cookies, an indisputable classic. Josh was intrigued by the Pfeffernusse. I think the coating of powdered sugar was a major factor in this choice. First off, I said, we can make chocolate chip cookies any day. And second, Auntie Sylvia doesn’t like spice cookies, which is pretty much what Pfeffernusse is when you get down to it. How about Pecan Butter Balls, kids? They were easily persuaded because the cookies still had a nice, thick layer of powdered sugar – and they were called Butter Balls, so they had to be good. Plus, making these cookies worked into my nefarious plot for a new blog post. These cookies are also called Mexican Wedding Cakes or pastelitas de boda because they often are served at weddings in Mexico. They’re also big in New Mexico, where pecans are a major crop. I remember my Aunt Socorro making these a couple of times when we would visit during the summers.
 Joie rolls Mexican Wedding Cakes in powdered sugar. These cookies turned out to be a fun to make with kids. Joie and Josh loved rolling the bits of dough in their hands to make the little round balls. And when the butter balls had cooled, they got to roll the cute little cookies in powdered sugar. The cookies have a sandy, shortbread-like texture and a lovely nutty flavor from the toasted pecans. So, if you have your own Sally and Conrad and you’re all stuck inside by the massive snow blanketing most of the country, give these snowy looking cookies a try.
Mexican Wedding Cakes (Pecan Butter Balls)
1 cup coarsely chopped pecans
2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup powdered sugar, divided use
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 cups all purpose flour
Position rack in upper third of your oven and preheat to 350 degrees. Butter a cookie sheet, or use parchment paper or silpats. In a baking pan, toast the pecans until lightly brown, stirring occasionally, about 5 to 8 minutes. Set aside to cool, then grind the pecans until they are very finely chopped. I used a pastry cutter and a small bowl, which actually seemed to work better than a knife and allowed the children to get in on the action safely. In a medium bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer, cream the softened butter, 1/2 cup sugar, salt and vanilla. Add the chopped nuts and then sift the flour over butter mixture and blend. (Sifting is also a fun but messy, or maybe that’s fun AND messy, job for a five-year-old.
Using a level tablespoon, scoop up bits of the dough and plop them into the palms of your favorite kid, let them roll it into balls and put it on the lined cookie sheets about an inch and a half apart. At this size, you should get about 4 dozen cookies. Bake, one sheet at a time, until the cookies are tinged with brown, about 12 to 15 minutes, rotating about halfway through baking. Remove the sheet to a rack and let stand until the cookies firm up. Then transfer to a rack to cool completely. Roll the cookies into a small bowl of powdered sugar.
From “All about Cookies”
By Sylvia Ulloa, on January 31st, 2011
The Super Bowl’s coming on Sunday and hosts are making their grocery lists and planning their menus for the big event. You could go with the perennial favorites of chips and guacamole, spinach dip and french bread, and veggie platters and ranch dip – or you could spice up your football party up with the Southwestern classic chile con queso.
While many people melt up Velveeta and pickled jalapenos for nachos, this alternative is quantum leaps better with its aromatic roasted green peppers and real cheddar cheese. I know a lot of great cooks who have no issues with Velveeta, which melts great and stays that way for a long time, but I’ve always wondered what they put in it to make it that way and I think a good cheddar tastes soooo much better than processed cheese food.
If you don’t have access to your own roasted green peppers, you can buy canned green peppers from the international aisle at your grocery store, make sure the can says diced green chile, not diced jalapenos. I’ve also seen canned green peppers at Trader Joe’s. The flour helps to keep the cheese from separating. Serve it with your favorite tortilla chips.
Chile con queso
1/2 cup minced onion
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoon butter
2 tablespoon flour
1 cup roasted green chiles (New Mexico or Anaheim), chopped, or two small cans of diced green chiles
1 teaspoon salt
2 cup grated cheddar, jack or asadero cheese
1/2 cup milk (fat percentage doesn’t matter)
Saute onions and garlic in butter in a small saucepan until onion is soft. Add the flour and cook for a minute or two until the raw flour taste is gone. Add chopped green chiles and salt. Saute about 3 minutes more. Add milk and cheese. Stir until the cheese is melted. Serve in a crock pot, fondue pot or a microwaveable bowl so you can zap it occasionally.
By Sylvia Ulloa, on January 23rd, 2011
 A steaming bowl of sopa de lima, or Yucatecan lime soup. I fell in love with sopa de lima about midway through my trip to Cancun in the ’90s. For brunch every day thereafter, I ordered this soup – I was obsessed. I loved its fragrant, citrus-y broth, the tender shreds of chicken and crispy tortilla strips.
There isn’t much Yucatecan food in the Bay Area (though that’s less true in San Francisco’s Mission District), so I’ve never had the chance to indulge in sopa de lima since that long-ago trip. During last week’s gloomy weather, I got to thinking about that sunny soup again. If someone you love is fighting a cold, this chicken soup with its kick of vitamin C could be just the thing.
I found a recipe for sopa de lima in Diana Kennedy’s classic “Cuisines of Mexico.” It calls for gizzards and liver, which I didn’t remember – and I would’ve since I really, really hate liver. Perhaps it was left out to cater to more American tastes. I gave it a try for authenticity’s sake, but I have to say, liver doesn’t taste any better just because it’s floating in one of my favorite soups.
Sopa de lima features some of the signature ingredients of the Yucatan and Caribbean – the bittersweet lime species citrus limetta, the incendiary but floral habanero pepper and allspice, which smells a lot like cloves but is less overpowering. A good substitute for the limas are Key limes (often labeled Mexican limes). The yellow-green limes are rounder, smaller and more fragrant than the Persian limes found in most grocery stores, and are often available in Latino markets and specialty stores. Kennedy recommended using some grapefruit peel – to up the bitterness quotient – but I didn’t notice much of a difference between using it or not. This soup is very similar to tortilla soup and tossing in some avocado would be a delicious addition.
For the soup
Two large chicken breasts, with bones and skins
6 peppercorns
3 whole allspice berries (optional)
10 cloves garlic, toasted
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano, toasted
1 tablespoon salt
10 cups water
1 1/2 tablespoon canola oil
1/3 cup onion, finely chopped
1/4 cup poblano or green pepper, finely chopped
1 large tomato, peeled and seeded and chopped, in winter, two roma tomatoes from canned whole tomatoes is a better option
2 Key or 1 Persian limes
6 stale corn tortillas, cut into strips
Oil for frying
Condiments
White onion, finely chopped
Habanero chile, charred then finely chopped
Wedges of Key limes
Cilantro, chopped
Freshly ground pepper and allspice
Place the chicken, salt and water in a stock pot over medium high heat. In a small dry skillet, toast the garlic cloves, still in their skins, over medium high heat until they soften a bit and get brown spots. Add the oregano to the still-hot pan and toast until fragrant, which should be just a few seconds. Once the chicken comes to a boil, lower the heat and simmer for about 45 minutes. Skim any foam so that the broth remains clear. After you’ve skimmed the broth add the spices and garlic. You don’t need to peel them because you’ll be straining the stock.
Remove the chicken to a plate and allow it to cool enough to handle. Strain the chicken stock through a mesh sieve into a bowl and reserve. Return the stockpot to the stove and heat oil over medium heat. Add onion, pepper and a dash of salt and saute until the onions are soft and translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the tomatoes to the pan and cook for another 5 minutes. Return the chicken stock to the pan and simmer another 5 minutes. (Use the 15 minutes that the onions, tomatoes and broth are cooking to shred the chicken.) Taste the chicken broth and add salt if needed, then put in the shredded chicken. Add the juice of two small Key limes or one large Persian lime, then put in a squeezed lime half for about 10 minute before removing.
Meanwhile, in a frying pan, heat about an inch of oil over high heat and fry tortillas until they are crisp. Drain on a rack or paper towels, then add a handful to bowls of the lime soup while they are still hot. Serve with a platter of lime wedges, chopped habanero, onion and cilantro as well as ground pepper and allspice.
By Sylvia Ulloa, on January 10th, 2011
 Gorditas from Gracias Madre in the Mission District in San Francisco, along with a half-drunken mojito. When you consider that indigenous Mexico reveres the Three Sisters of corn, beans and squash as the cornerstone of its cuisine, you realize it’s actually pretty easy to eat great Mexican food without missing the meat. It may be poor people’s food, but while the ingredients are humble, the flavor is rich.
Still, I have to say I was skeptical about the idea of vegan Mexican food when I wandered into Gracias Madre in San Francisco’s Mission District looking for a nice place to get out of the cold. The elegant but rustic restaurant is an off-shoot of the Cafe Gratitude chain of organic vegan restaurants that sources its ingredients from its own Be Love Farm in Vacaville. The kitchen makes fresh corn tortilla and tamales from non-GMO organic corn, which as a sustainable agriculture supporter and corn tortilla nut, I can totally get behind. But man, there’s something about frying beans in savory lard; and fresh asadero or queso fresco cheese can take a dish from ordinary to sublime. Gracias Madre uses cashews and other nuts to make its creams and cheeses and I just had to give it a taste.
My friend Winnie and I just ordered an appetizer of gorditas because we were meeting someone for dinner. These non-traditional gorditas were made with a combination of corn and potatoes – crispy on the outside but with the consistency of fluffy hashed browns inside. They were topped with refried beans, fresh green salsa, small slices of avocado, lettuce and a cashew cream. The cream had a nice mouth-feel but its flavor was unassertive. Still, all the ingredients married well together and I’d order it again.
What I had more than once while we were sitting at the bar were the $3 happy hour cocktails – mojitos and margaritas made with fresh juices and mixes. Happy hour lasts from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m., my San Francisco friends, and I’d happily go back and try more of the great menu sounding menu and a few rounds of the excellent cocktails.
But in answer to my own question, is vegan Mexican food possible? I’m not totally convinced. It is tasty, though. Any one else have an opinion?
By Sylvia Ulloa, on December 31st, 2010
 Pozole garnished with cabbage, radish, onion and oregano. When it comes to hangover cures and comfort food classics, my mom’s family definitely falls into the menudo camp. I’ve never been a huge fan of tripe – the stomach lining of a cow, which is chewy and can get rubbery if overcooked – so I’ve stayed out of the kitchen when my mom, Emma, was cooking up huge batches of the brothy, chile-spiced tripe and hominy soup.
My brother and father are partial to pozole, though, and a few years ago my mom decided to try her hand at it. As she said, how hard could it be? So she just free-styled it based on her menudo recipe and how she’s cooked pork.
Posole is a great winter soup, a perfect way to recover from a too-festive New Year’s Eve, but it’s also an easy way to entertain a crowd for a Sunday brunch or Super Bowl gathering. Once you get it going, you can leave it simmering on the stove where people can serve themselves whenever they’re hungry.
Emma’s Pozole for a Crowd
10-14 lbs. pork shoulder roast, cubed
8-10 cloves of garlic, roughly chopped
2 tbsp salt
1/2 tbsp. dried oregano
108 oz can hominy
2 1/2 cups red chile sauce
Condiments
 Prepare pozole fixings for your guests, such as finely shredded cabbage, sliced radish, lemon wedges, diced onion and dried oregano. Shredded cabbage
Sliced radish
Diced onion
Dried oregano
Sliced lemon
You can use pork butt roast or a pork shoulder roast, but my mom prefers pork shoulder because it’s a lot less fatty. Cut the meat into 2-inch cubes, removing any large pieces of fat*. Place cubed pork into a large stock pot and add enough water to cover the meat with an inch of water. Don’t forget to toss in the bones for more flavor. Add salt and garlic and bring to a boil before lowering it to a simmer. Check occasionally and skim the foam that rises. Simmer for about an hour, then add oregano and simmer for an hour more. At this point, the meat should be cooked and starting to shred. Skim the fat that has come to the surface before adding the hominy (Teasdale’s Mexican Style Hominy is a good brand) and the chile. Allow to simmer at least 30 minutes more until the flavors of the chile, hominy and pork meld.
The condiments really make the pozole (besides a good red chile, of course), the shredded cabbage and radish add crunch and a peppery bite, lemon brightens the flavors and onion and oregano give it depth.
*For a sinful treat, reserve the fat chunks for chicharones. Just put enough lard or oil in a pan to get the chunks going – they will begin to render. Fry on medium heat until they are brown and crispy. Remove from oil and sprinkle with a little salt. You can assuage your guilt about eating them by telling yourself you are being eco-conscious for using all parts of the animal.
By Sylvia Ulloa, on December 30th, 2010
 These dried chiles will become a rich, red sauce for enchiladas, menudo or chile con carne. For me, fall belongs to green chile. In the area my family hails from, vendors will roast your Big Jims and Sandias while you wait, and the glorious smell of roasting peppers hangs in the air of the Mesilla Valley. But winter is the season for red chile. Back before freezers, the No. 1 way to preserve those same green chiles was to tie them into picturesque ristras and hang them outside to dry until you were in the mood for some red enchiladas or menudo. It worked best in dry climates like northern Mexico and the desert Southwest. When my mom would bring some dried peppers home to California after visiting her family, she had to make red chile sauce quickly because the dried peppers would begin to mold in our more moist air.
These days, you can buy dried red peppers pretty much anywhere, even the international aisle of your grocery store. And making a red sauce from scratch is easy and light years better than pre-made enchilada sauce or using powdered chile. In my world, those aren’t even an option, though I’ve found frozen red chile sauce that’s actually a pretty good option. But doing it yourself means you can make the sauce to your taste. There’s not really a recipe, there is a process.
What you want to look for are bags of pasilla chiles, which is the dried version of those long green chiles. They might also be labeled California chile or New Mexico chile. Don’t get guajillos, which are used in different sauces, including mole.
First up, remove the stems of the chiles and remove as many of the seeds as possible. You don’t need to be too precise, because you’ll be straining it later. Put the chiles into a stockpot and cover with water. Bring it to a boil and let simmer for about 15 to 20 minutes, until the chiles have reconstituted. From here on in, it’s all about your own personal taste.
Put the now-soft chiles into a blender, along with some of the water you used to boil the chile, filling about three-quarters of the blender jar. (Don’t fill it to the top, because it’s hot and might explode out of the top when you blend it.) For seasoning, I usually add a couple of cloves of garlic, a teaspoon of dried oregano, a teaspoon of salt, and a couple of shakes of cumin for each blender-full of chile. If you like the smoky flavor of cumin, use a little more. Hate oregano? Skip it.
 Two jars of homemade red chile. Puree the chiles and spices until smooth, adding more water if the mixture is too thick. If you have a food mill, pour the pureed chile in and grind away to get rid of the seeds and skin. If you don’t have a food mill, don’t stress. My mom had us press the chile through a mesh strainer with a spoon for years before her sister finally bought her one.
One you have this magic elixir, have a little taste to make sure there is enough salt and adjust if needed. Make a huge batch of the stuff and freeze it in disposable containers – then you’ll have it ready when you’re hankering for some chile colorado or posole, which my mom will be showing me how to make just in time for a good New Year’s hangover cure.
By Sylvia Ulloa, on December 14th, 2010
 A pre-hispanic beverage made with corn meal, cinnamon and chocolate. I’ve been drinking Mexican hot chocolate for as long as I can remember. When we were really young, my mom would add Hershey’s to the round bricks of cinnamon-spiced Ibarra or Abuelita chocolate to make the cocoa more chocolatey and “American” (though maybe that was more because she was a chocolate fiend with a sweet tooth). As we grew older, we stuck with the original. So I was surprised when my Dad told me about a drink his stepmom used to make around Christmas time. Champurrado has its origin in pre-Columbian Mexico, combining the indigenous chocolate with the staple corn meal, or masa harina. It’s a festive variation on the thin porridge called atole, a comforting and filling morning drink.
I had not tried either, but was intrigued by the idea of a new, old holiday tradition. My dad didn’t remember how my Grandma Hermila made it, but there are a lot of recipes online and in some old cookbooks, including Diana Kennedy’s “Cuisines of Mexico.” Commentors to a Mexican food blog argued about using milk or water for champurrado, and most agreed that using water was more authentic, but definitely an acquired taste. I tried a couple of versions to get the champurrado to the sweetness and consistency that my dad remembered.
 Clockwise from top left, piloncillo, maseca (corn flour for tortillas), Mexican chocolate and canela. You can get most of the ingredients for champurrado in the international aisle of any grocery store, though Latino markets are more likely to have piloncillo (cones of raw sugar), canela (Mexican cinnamon) and a couple of types of Mexican chocolate. The typical chocolate imported here are Abuelita, made by Nestle, and Ibarra. I chose Ibarra because it has fewer additives. If you can’t get piloncillo, you can substitute dark brown sugar.
Champurrado
1 disc of Mexican chocolate
2 small cones of piloncillo or half a large one
1/2 stick cinnamon, preferably Mexican
3 1/2 cups water (divided use)
3/4 cup Maseca (corn flour for tortillas)
2 cups milk
Put chocolate, piloncillo and cinnamon in 2 cups water, simmering on medium-low for about 15 minutes, until the chocolate and piloncillo have dissolved and the cinnamon has steeped. In a small bowl, add enough water to the Maseca to make a slurry, about 1 1/2 cups. (Maseca acts like corn starch and will lump up if you dump it into a liquid dry.) Remove the cinnamon stick then whisk in the corn mixture. Add the milk and simmer until mixture thickens to the consistency of pancake batter.
You should feel free to tamper with the recipe, adding more or less sugar, more or less chocolate and making it thicker or thinner, according to your own and your family’s taste.
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