Our Country Without Mexican Food
We pretty much keep forgetting what our table owes to Mexican and Chicano cooking.
America Eats! is celebrating National Hispanic Heritage Month with a few posts about all the different cuisines brought to us by the more than 20 nationalities we lump together from September 15 to October 15. We may discriminate against, deport, and punish these immigrants and citizens, but Americans have always been just fine integrating their food into our national repertoire.
“The people of Hispanic descent are the heirs of missionaries, captains, soldiers, and farmers who were motivated by a young spirit of adventure, and a desire to settle freely in a free land. This heritage is ours.”— President Lyndon Johnson, in his 1968 proclamation establishing National Hispanic Month
Mexico has the most complicated, love/hate history with the United States. We fought the Spaniards for a piece of their conquered territory but opposed the people who settled within our new borders. They provided essential labor on farms and ranches but, time and time again, those who became citizens had the land and wealth they accumulated taken away. Mass deportations—branded as reparation drives—in the 1930s forcefully drove 1.8 million legal citizens and immigrants back into Mexico, a tactic that continues today.
And yet, without the influences of Mexico’s seven regional cooking styles, the Southwest and Texas would have some of the most boring dishes in the whole of the United States. The extensive assortment of chilies, the central role of corn and beans, slow simmered, often fiery, stews, and pib—also known as pit barbecue—would not be known. Also forget about tequila, sangria, and margaritas.
One of the first major cookbooks about Mexican cooking was written by Diana Kennedy. She and her husband moved to Mexico in the late 1950s, and she spent the rest of her life traveling and cooking around the country, gathering recipes for her books. Her encyclopedic The Art of Mexican Cooking introduced to the world the full majesty of the country’s cooking.
The following is a chicken barbacoa—or barbecue—recipe. If you were to make it in the traditional way, you would start by digging a hole in your backyard and tending to a wood fire. Kennedy provides instructions for a regular grill. The whole thing looks long and complicated, but that’s only because you are making a marinade and serving toppings. The only arduous aspect of this recipe may be tracking down the various chilies, especially if you do not have access to Mexican food stores. It’s worth the effort and, of course, you can purchase them online.
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Barbacoa de Pollo
Chicken marinade:
6 dried ancho chili peppers
6 dried guajillos chili peppers
1 1/4 cups water, approximately
6 whole cloves
10 allspice berries or 1 teaspoon ground allspice
pinch of cumin seed
2 peppercorns
1 1-inch cinnamon stick
2 teaspoons (or to taste) sea salt
2 teaspoons dried oregano, Mexican or Oaxacan if possible
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 1/2 tablespoons safflower oil, lard, or chicken fat
1 large chicken (about 3 1/2 to 4 pounds), cut into serving pieces.
Slit the dried chilies open and scrape out and discard the veins and seeds. Toast lightly on both sides on a fairly hot comal (or cast-iron skillet) or griddle. Cover the chilies with hot water and bring to a simmer; simmer for 5 minutes. Leave in the hot water for 10 minutes more.
Put 1/2 cup of water into a blender or food processor and add the spices, salt, oregano, and garlic; blend until smooth. Add the rest of the water and a few of the soaked chilies and blend until smooth. Add the rest of the chilies little by little and blend after each addition. Dig to the bottom of the blender or food processor and feel the sauce to see if the chili guajillo skin, which is very tough, has been blended sufficiently. If not, blend some more.
Heat the oil in a frying pan, add the sauce, and fry over medium heat, stirring from time to time to prevent sticking, for about 5 minutes. Set aside to cool.
When the paste is cool, it may still be rather loose; don’t worry, it will thicken if left to stand for a bit. Spread all over the chicken pieces and set aside in the refrigerator to marinate overnight.
Meanwhile, prepare the toppings by making the salsa verde first:
1 pound (about 22 medium) tomate verde, husks removed, rinsed
1/2 cup loosely packed, roughly chopped cilantro
1 large garlic clove, peeled and roughly chopped
2 tablespoons roughly chopped white onion
1/2 teaspoon (or to taste) sea salt
Put the tomate into a pan. Barely cover them with water and bring to a simmer. Continue to cook until the tomates turn a lighter, faded green and are just soft but not falling apart—about 5 minutes. Set aside to cool.
Put 1/2 cup of the cooking water into a blender or food processor. Add the cilantro, garlic, onion, and salt, and blend until almost smooth. Drain the tomates and add them to the blender jar; blend for a few seconds just to break them up roughly. The sauce should have a rough texture.
For the toppings:
1 large avocado, peeled and cut into wide strips
8 thick lime slices
1 1/2 cups finely shredded lettuce
1/2 cup finely sliced radishes
1 cup loosely packed, finely sliced white onion
1 1/4 cup salsa verde
To grill:
Heat the grill. Cooking the chicken over wood is best, but charcoal or gas will do nicely.
Make sure that the chicken is thickly and evenly coated with the chili paste on all sides. When the grill is properly hot, place the chicken over the grill and cook slowly, turning over from time to time, for about 30 minutes.
To serve:
Place the chicken on a serving platter and lavishly cover with all the toppings.