New Mexico

I spent last week in New Mexico, mostly around Albuquerque and Santa Fe. I’ve visited northern New Mexico a number of times in both summer and winter and it’s always beautiful. It’s also one of the most distinctive states in the U.S. – the landscape differs even from elsewhere in the Southwest (though things blur around the four corners area). A high desert filled with stunning and varied mountain ranges, volcanoes, and the Valles Caldera.

The interior of the Valles Caldera. Redondo Peak is in the background and Cerro la Jara is the dome in the near center.

New Mexican food is one of America’s unique regional cuisines (even more so than the South). I love the food there. The ubiquitous New Mexican chiles vary in heat but are always flavorful, and they’re prepared with apparent care and skill even in the cheaper restaurants. The flavor of the chiles and their abundant use most sets New Mexican cuisine apart, but there are other differences, too. Blue corn is common, pinto beans are usually served whole (not refried), and many dishes (even the chile rellenos) are served lighter on the cheese than in other American-Mexican traditions. There are plenty of dishes I haven’t tried and probably much more diversity than I’ve encountered, but I look forward to working my way through it all on future visits. I love posole but I haven’t eaten it there, and I look forward to trying carne adovada.

(copyright Judy Henning)

The best chile relleno I had was a stuffed blue corn-encrusted green chile from The Range Café in Bernalillo (they have three locations but I liked that one best). A close runner-up (and my host’s favorite) was at El Patio De Albuquerque near the university. My favorite tamales (topped with green chile) were from the North Valley El Pinto – they have sauces available nation-wide but I haven’t tried them outside the restaurant. I had great blue corn chicken enchiladas with green chile at a few spots. My host turned us onto eating the end-of-the-meal soapapilla with a little bit of green chile along with the honey. I don’t know if that’s traditional, but it was good. Those are some highlights, but almost every meal we had was very good.

In addition to some great margaritas we found a really good beer during our first meal (at the High Noon in Old Town Albuquerque) and drank it thereafter – the Marble Red Ale. It’s unusually floral and hoppy for a red ale but it has more conventional flavors of light malt and caramel underneath, and it goes well with New Mexican food.

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.

The Old Fashioned

(note: This post was imported from Iapetus Beat)

For a few years, my cocktail of choice was the Manhattan*, but lately it has been the Old Fashioned. I follow Ted Haigh’s recipe from his great book on Classic Cocktails: a teaspoon of simple syrup (or a sugar cube and a splash of water) muddled with Angostura bitters and a swath of orange zest; add bourbon or rye and ice. I drink these now and then during the week, but I’ve made it a tradition to have one or more while watching Mad Men on Sunday nights. It’s Don Draper’s tipple. He orders one in the first scene of the first season and mixes two for himself and Conrad Hilton in the third season’s third episode. Draper normally uses Canadian Club and finishes it with soda water.

Image from Esquire article on the Old Fashioned

An important aside concerning rye: American rye is like a spicy and light-bodied bourbon. Canadians call their whiskey “rye” though it often bears little resemblance to either the historic or the boutique ryes now available. I’ve learned that some Quebecois, such as the bar staff at a particular downtown Montreal hotel, take exception to this distinction. I was feeling loose and cosmopolitan in their stylish yet non-threatening bar and thinking, hey, these French Canadiens are cordial and welcoming and I’d like to share with them my perspective on their much-adored national product, so I critically deconstructed my Manhattan and asked if they had real rye. This led to harsh words and lots of gesturing. Don’t misunderstand me, some of their whiskeys meet the criteria we use to distinguish rye, and many are quite good. They are a proud and spirited people and I appreciate their occasionally misguided vehemence.

Anyway, bourbon is great for the Old Fashioned, but the right rye can be even better. Sazerac is my new favorite. As far as I can tell, it’s based on the original New Orleans whiskey that lends its name to the classic cocktail**. I’m not in a position to judge its fidelity to the original product, but it’s good and it’s available in my town. The Old Fashioned is a cocktail lover’s drink – it’s strong but nuanced and it benefits from a balanced hand. Soda isn’t traditional but it’s been common since at least the 1950’s, and the drink’s flavor stands up to it. My girlfriend, who likes her drinks a little less alcoholic and has to get up extra early on Monday mornings, joins in during Mad Men and the soda helps. Made with a single shot of whiskey, 2-3 ice cubes, and topped with soda, it’s still a fine drink.

(*The Manhattan is maybe the oldest extant cocktail: ~3:1 bourbon/rye:sweet vermouth stirred on ice with Angostura bitters, and served up with a maraschino cherry. The balance is easy to ruin. First, don’t put the cherry in the shaker but add it to the chilled glass. Second, avoid orange bitters – it’s often used because it seems a natural fit, but if you must, consider mixing it with angostura. The wrong bitters, like mashed cherries, can make the drink too sweet.)

(**The Sazerac is a beautiful but slightly difficult cocktail. You need the right bitters [Peychaud’s] and you can’t take shortcuts. For a video of a true New Orleans bartender mixing a Sazerac, click here. I’ve only had a few mixed professionally, but if you’re in San Francisco, NOPA’s is damn fine.)

Cheers.