Mexican Cuisine Part 2: Sopa de Lima

We flew back from the Yucatán into Atlanta on a Friday in early January and I headed home the next day. It was snowy and icy in the South and the drive was a little squirrelly until I go to the interstate. I don’t mind the cold but it was a shock after the beach, and I wanted a nice meal to ease the transition. So I decided to make sopa de lima, or lime soup. We had it for lunch on New Year’s Day in Mérida at an outdoor café on a small downtown square. The soup had a generous helping of shredded chicken in an herbed and mildly spicy broth; it tasted of lime zest and had just a hint of acidity. It was served with fresh salsa and tortilla chips. Simple, but delicious and memorable. I got back to town a day before my girlfriend, so I set out to surprise her.

Sidewalk cafe in Mérida on a quiet New Year's Day

I chose a Rick Bayless recipe as a start. He has a respectful approach informed by years of anthropological study, culinary training, and residence in Mexico. (You may have seen him on PBS or Top Chef Masters. He’s kind of a goober but it’s mostly endearing.) I have one of his later cookbooks but this recipe isn’t there, so I found it on the internet. I followed it pretty closely, but here’s what I used:

For the stock:

1 3.5 lb organic chicken

2 medium white onions

2 heads of garlic

4-5 freshly ground peppercorns

~1/4 tsp cinnamon

~1/8 tsp clove

1 jalapeno and 2 banana peppers from the summer garden, thawed

small handful (2 tbs?) fresh oregano from the garden (I was lucky to have some that had survived or was flash-frozen on the stalk)

some pork (fatty boston butt trimmings from the freezer)

4 key limes (ends for stock; remainder sliced for later)

salt

For the soup:

meat from the chicken (see instructions)

1 green pepper, chopped

1 large white onion, chopped

3 medium tomatoes, chopped

For serving:

lime slices

fried corn tortillas

I usually keep a quart or two of home-made chicken stock in the freezer but I was out. Fortunately, for a chicken-based soup the lack of stock is an inconvenience but not a deal breaker. The recipe called for dry-toasting and caramelizing the aromatics, a technique I hadn’t used before, but I cut the two white onions and two full heads of garlic in half and laid them flesh-down in the pot on medium-low heat for 10-15 minutes. I added the pork for the last few minutes. I almost overdid it: the onions were a satisfying deep brown but the garlic surface was toasted just past the sweet nutty stage. Meanwhile, I coarsely ground the peppercorns and mixed them with the cinnamon and clove and broiled the peppers. I then added 3 or 4 quarts of water to the pot, brought it to a simmer, and added the chicken, a few teaspoons of salt, and the oregano, spices, and peppers. I cut the ends from 4 key limes and tossed those in as well (I reserved the lime centers for serving).

Sopa de lima and beans with greens

And here’s a trick, though not an especially clever one. If you need chicken meat and stock for a dish, poach the chicken and make it all at once. I kept the water at a scant boil and covered the pot for 45 minutes or an hour, skimming the foam and fat off regularly. When the leg and thigh wiggled freely, I pulled the chicken from the pot and put it on a plate. I let it cool for 20 minutes or so and then pulled the meat off and put it aside in a little bit of broth (if you let poached or braised meat cool completely out of liquid, it can dry out). I added the bones and skin back to the pot and returned it all to a simmer. When the stock was flavorful and the carcass broke apart (another hour or two), I poured it through two layers of cheesecloth in a mesh strainer and discarded the remnants. I put the stock aside to cool and skimmed the fat once in a while.

I wiped the pot clean, softened the chopped onion and green pepper in a bit of oil and then added the tomatoes. A few minutes later, I added the shredded chicken and the stock. When it was all warmed through it was ready to serve.

While the stock was finishing, I fried the tortillas. I like fried food as much as the next southerner, but I can count on one hand how often I’ve done it because frying is a big, messy pain in the ass. I put about ½” of vegetable oil in the skillet on medium heat and fried two tortillas, cut into strips, at a time. I did it all by look and feel and had moderate success. And since the mess was already made, I added a little more oil to the pan and fried some plantains to make tostones.

Finally, I made a beans and greens dish inspired by a recipe in the Bayless cookbook I own, Mexican Everyday. I cooked 2-3 tbs of meaty pork in the casserole until the fat rendered and added one whole diced jalapeno, seeds and all. When the pepper softened I added 2 cans of drained and rinsed black beans. I chopped two 10 oz. bags of spinach and wilted it in two batches in the skillet (wilting the spinach beforehand reduces the amount of liquid it gives off in the beans). When it was all combined I finished it with queso fresco.

Sopa de lima, beans and greens with queso fresco, tostonés, and a michelada

I’m glad to say that the timing was perfect. When she arrived and settled in I had tostonés hot and ready and served them with cervezas preparadas  (subjects of another post, maybe). I served the soup with the chips and thinly sliced limes. It was delicious, but it wasn’t quite like it had been in Mexico. I think the broth was too heavy – I’ve never mastered making a clear and defatted broth, though I’ve made hundreds. Mine always have good flavor but I don’t fuss enough to get the texture just right. Some of the chips were chewy in the center but they were good enough when tossed in the finished soup. With the beans and greens, it was a nice full meal and we happily had leftovers for days.

Mexican Cuisine Part 1: On the Yucatán

Toothed Chac (the Mayan Rain God) at Sayil

I’ve posted about my trip to the Yucatán Peninsula elsewhere, and I discussed the history and archaeology and, of course, the food. But there’s more to be said and more pictures to share.

One of the many awesome customized bugs in Mexico

In my foolish youth, which I think I’m only belatedly (very belatedly) leaving behind, I thought fruity drinks were for the weak. I’ve changed my mind about that; providing the fruit is fresh (or even freshly frozen) and the drink is made with care, there’s a place for daquiris and piña coladas and the like. Hemingway himself loved daquiris and is said to have drunk sixteen in one sitting, and he epitomizes machismo, right? A well-made piña colada is damned good, and no man need feel that enjoying one supplants his right to  drink straight tequila later in the evening. That’s what I kept telling myself when the waiter on the beach in Tulum tried to hand me my girlfriend’s michelada and chuckled in surprise when I pointed at the frothy drink on his tray instead.

A night on the porch of our beachside bungalow in Tulum

I mentioned some of our favorite meals on the trip: the cochinita pibil and sopa de lima we had in Mérida, the Italian-inspired seafood pizza and Thai-inspired shrimp salad and shrimp tacos we had on the Caribbean coast, the tamale I bought from a Mayan woman at the market in Valladolid, and the posole in Cancun. We also had great breakfasts – the Mexicans have a way with eggs, beans, and sauces, and they make nice savory-sweet pastries as well, like sugar-coated pork buns (I don’t know what they call them). We bought meringues and marzipan from Mayan women on the street in Valladolid, and we could tell from the smell that they were made with lard. I was happy to try them but my gringo taste found them awfully porky for confections.

Pozole rojo from El Tapatio in Cancun

Seemingly every restaurant and coffee shop served licuados – fruit blended with a little ice and either water or milk. My girlfriend had one or two papaya licuados a day. I have a smoothie aversion and I think most fruit juice is lame, but these were light, fresh, and brightly flavored, and I was having one (melon o papaya con agua) with breakfast by the end of the trip.

Huevos rancheros with black beans and fried plantains from the restaurant at La Vita è Bella in Tulum

Thai shrimp salad and shrimp tacos with sweet chile sauce, from some place we happened across on the Tulum beach

Beautiful tomatoes and pre-zested citrus at the market in Valladolid

Since our return, I’ve made a few of the dishes we enjoyed there with marked success, if not verisimilitude. I’ll write about those soon.

Welcome to Daily Xmas

Greetings. I have another blog which I mostly take seriously. On it I try to communicate the important work of my vocation, I practice the craft of writing, and all the rest of it. Here, I'll post when I feel like it and I'll write whatever I feel like. I expect it will mostly cover food and drink with a dash of  books, music, and movies. Those are the things I spend most of my free time, and perhaps too much of my paid time, dwelling on. I'll try to avoid politics when I can help it.

I chose the name Daily Xmas because I love the winter holidays -- indulgent food, atmospheric lighting, excessive drinking, all with a hint of darkness and drear but followed by the renewal of a new year. I don't intend any religious connotation but if you swing that way, you're welcome, too (just don't leave evangelizing comments or I'll block your ass).

Cheers!

One Timely and One Belated Obituary. R.I.P. Jay and Vic

(note: This post was imported from Iapetus Beat)

I’m sad to hear about the death of Memphis punk-garage rocker Jay Reatard. Although I was more of an appreciater of his than a fan, I liked his music and enjoyed his audacious interviews, and I’m sorry to hear he’s gone. I’m trying to keep this blog at least tangentially about science, but there are some things I can't ignore. Another musician died over the holidays, and it deeply affected me, though it took me a while to digest. I'll take an aside from science writing to remember Vic Chesnutt, who died on Christmas Day, 2009.

Vic Chesnutt

Vic Chesnutt was a unique songwriter and a truly unusual voice from Athens GA – the home of many talented and unusual musicians. I heard his album The Salesman and Bernadette right before I moved to Athens, and its bizarre literate emotionalism still stands for me as a standard of Athens rock. Later, at the UGA Chapel, I saw him talk and play his way through a weird song cycle about the first president of the University of Georgia, Abraham Baldwin – songs which were, to my knowledge, never released. If that seems an odd choice of material I can only say that it wasn’t that far out for him, and the songs were meaningful and heartfelt. He was an eclectic and prolific songwriter. Michael Stipe of REM produced his first albums; he appeared in Billy Bob Thornton’s Sling Blade; he played with musicians as far removed as the great J. Mascis, Athen’s own jam band Widespread Panic, and Athen’s perrenial indie band Elf Power. He mentored his niece Liz Durrett, who has turned into a fine musician. He played some of his best work, to my mind, with the criminally underappreciated Nashville ensemble Lambchop. His last album, At The Cut, is among his best. Like most of Athen’s notables (and there are many), if you were around town you saw him at shows and bars once in a while.

He died of an overdose. It’s not for me to sort all that out, but he wrote about suicide throughout his career. If you want more biography you can read about him on online or listen to him on one of his last interviews on NPR’s Fresh Air. Some musicians we follow as something more than fans, even if we don’t know them personally, and that’s how I always felt about Vic Chesnutt. I offer my own small consolations to his family and friends. Goodbye, Vic.