Latin American

Churros and chocolate have a long history at Lucques, and an even longer one in Spain, where they dominate the dessert scene in late-night cafés. The hot chocolate is made thick and syrupy sweet, meant for dipping the piping-hot crullers. In preparation for one Spanish-themed Sunday supper, my former pastry chef Kimberly Sklar experimented with traditional churro recipes from Spanish cookbooks. Though the flavors were good, the Spanish versions seemed a little too heavy and not tender enough for our liking. Then Kim tried a batch of pâte à choux, the traditional French dough used to make such pastries as cream puffs and éclairs. It was the perfect solution. Next we set out to conquer the chocolate. Again, in my opinion, the traditional Spanish hot chocolate was better in theory than in reality. Spaniards love sugar, and their version is just too sweet for my taste. Still thick and rich in the vein of the traditional chocolate, ours is super-chocolaty but not as cloyingly sweet. I like to add a generous pinch of salt, to play up the bittersweet notes of the chocolate. This is a festive, interactive dessert that requires some last-minute attention when it’s time to fry the churros. Make the batter and hot chocolate ahead, and just before you serve dessert, invite your friends into the kitchen to help you fry. It’s fun to watch the dough transform into deep golden brown snakes and then to roll them in the glittery cinnamon-sugar.

When you live in Southern California it’s hard not to be influenced by the spicy, vibrant flavors of Mexican food. People might imagine chefs spending their few and precious nights out wining and dining on five-course meals, but in reality you’re far more likely to find me at the sushi bar, Korean barbecue house, or my favorite taqueria. This spiced pork stew satisfies my cravings for the spicy, robust flavors of ethnic food. I start with some of the Mexican spices I love so much—cumin, cayenne, coriander, and chile—tossing them with chunks of fatty and flavorful pork shoulder and braising it into this succulent pork stew. Pork shoulder is one of my favorite cuts to cook with. As an added bonus, it’s one of the few meats that are still pretty inexpensive. People go crazy for this tender, slow-cooked pork bathed in its own spicy sauce, but don’t worry—it’s so impressive, they’ll never know you did it on the cheap.

The Pisco Sour is the official drink of Peru; there is even a National Pisco Sour Day, celebrated the first Saturday in February. Pisco brandy was first established by Spanish conquistadors, who planted grape vines as they traversed the mountainous terrains of Chile and Peru—and Chile also claims the Pisco as a national treasure. There is good reason for the debate, as Pisco was the first distilled spirit in the New World. The now-classic Pisco Sour was created in the 1920s by ex-pat American bartender Victor V. “Gringo” Morris at the Morris’ Bar in Lima, as a local variation on the Whiskey Sour. The cocktail became a favorite among the locals and quickly spread up the West Coast of America as far north as San Francisco, where it was popular by the late 1930s. This version contained pisco brandy, egg white, lime juice, simple syrup, and aromatic bitters served frothy and straight up. A specific kind of lime called Limon de Pica is the right ingredient for the Peruvian classic. Some places in Peru grate nutmeg or cinnamon on top of the cocktail to finish it; our version includes the nutmeg. The Peruvian Pisco Sour is the perfect brunch companion as a restorative drink: musky and clean, with a rich texture and alluring bitters.

Our method for preparing these classic cookies differs from most recipes. Rather than rolling them in sugar while they’re still warm, we let them cool first; this keeps the sugar from becoming pasty while preserving the cookie’s characteristic texture. The result is a cookie that truly melts in your mouth.

Just like the Latin American cake on which they are based, these cupcakes are doused with a mixture of three milks (“tres leches”). Don’t worry: The cupcakes will absorb the liquid without becoming soggy, but you will need to use paper-lined foil liners (plain ones will not hold up after soaking). Airy whipped cream dusted with ground cinnamon is a finishing touch.

Tomatillos are a member of the nightshade family, which includes New World tomatoes and potatoes and such Old World relatives as eggplants. Although those wide-ranging kin have become familiar around the globe, tomatillos remain something of a country cousin, not much appreciated or grown outside Mexico and its neighbors to the south in Central and South America and to the north in California and the American Southwest. Tomatillos are an everyday must in Mexican cooking and dining, however, especially for one of Mexico’s great table sauces, salsa verde. Here the sauce, usually used as a dip for tortilla chips, becomes the medium for simmering meatballs. Make this recipe in summer, when tomatillos are in season. Canned versions are available, but they should be reserved for thickening chile verde and the like, much as okra is used in southern cooking.

Mexican meatballs are typically made with a mix of pork and beef (or veal) and include bread crumbs or rice to plump them and egg to bind the ingredients. From there, seasoning variations abound: garlic and/or onion, or not; herbs and/or spices (usually cumin and oregano, sometimes mint); elements such as raisins and/or olives (a Peruvian variation); and so on. Zucchini, the “special ingredient” I use here, was suggested by Mexican cooking maven Diana Kennedy. It lightens and freshens the sausage in a way I find pleasing, so I use it for my basic recipe.

In many Mexican marketplaces and town plazas, the aroma of garlic soup wafts from nearby restaurants, beckoning as you shop, promenade, or just wander and gawk. It’s an ancient soup, dating from the time the Moors introduced a brothy concoction to the Iberian Peninsula, which the locals thickened with pulverized almonds (Chicken and Almond Meatballs in White Gazpacho, page 115). In the New World, the soup was re-created to include tomatoes and dried chiles. That rendition came to be embraced by lovers of Latin fare from the coast of Spain to the zocalos of Mexican towns to the American cities of the Pacific coast. It is an ardently delicious, deep red, beautiful soup that brings with it a blessing of health to the diners, and is blessedly easy to make.

Chorizo, at home in many cuisines, appears with multiple ethnic faces from Spain and Portugal to Mexico, South America, and the Latino-inspired cooking of the American Southwest. It can be stuffed into hog casing and used fresh, or briefly aged in the casing to dry out and intensify the flavors. Sometimes it is smoked, becoming more like a salami in texture. Often it is used fresh in bulk for dishes that benefit from a hit of red and spice. This version comes from Anzonini, a flamenco guitarist and world-class chorizo maker, who generously offered his recipe to Pig-by-the-Tail. We made tons of it, and it was always special! On chorizo-making day, the links were hung on the baking-tray rack for a few hours to dry and compact. The dangling sausages festooned the kitchen like chile-red curtains. It was a spectacle of hospitality and appreciated, judging by the number of customers who came to purchase some to take home when they were “done.”

Variations on the Mexican wedding cookie show up among the foods of other countries, including Greece and Russia. All are formed from butter and nut-rich dough; once baked the cookies are completely covered in confectioners’ sugar.

Dulce de leche is a popular sweet in Argentina and throughout the rest of South America, where it is also called manjar and leche quemada (“burnt milk”). Store-bought versions are increasingly available in North American supermarkets and specialty foods stores; use it in place of the homemade variety, if desired.

My first encounter with this dish was in a Nicaraguan steak house in Miami. The citrus-marinated steak with its beautiful green sauce just blew me away. Making the Chimichurri Sauce—a Latin version of pesto—takes no time, so you could easily fit this into your after-work grilling repertoire.

I first came across these tasty Colombian fried corn cakes stuffed with oozin’, stringy cheese at a Miami street festival. Back home, I messed around with the recipe and added whole corn kernels to the dough to make ‘em more interesting. In the restaurant we serve arepas with a pile of pulled pork in the center for a real Memphis-meets-Miami dish. But if you don’t have the pork on hand, they’re just as good served with some Fire-Roasted Garlic Salsa.

I guess because most of my recipes are southern, we’ll just have to say this one is way south of the border! This is a hearty side dish that can be used any time you serve rice. We serve this rice on the Fourth of July with Barbecued Pork Ribs (page 84).

What’s great about this salad is that it only involves opening a few cans and layering the veggies with shredded cheese. It’s simple, healthy, and looks pretty in a glass bowl to boot!

No offense to salsa, but come on, who doesn't love a gooey, cheesy bean dip, bubbling hot like lava from the broiler? If you're a chile head, you'll probably want to up the number of chiles and leave the seeds in. If your friends are more, ahem, delicate, then stick with one chile and remove the seeds and ribs.

A colorful array of garnishes offer a fresh contrast to this bold, smoky chicken soup from Nashville's Mas Tacos Por Favor.

This recipe originated in Mexico (specifically, the namesake town of Veracruz), but the ingredients are Spanish through and through. Using a whole fish is a much better value than buying fillets; plus, once you plate individual portions, it’s fun to “graze” on all the bits and pieces that still cling to the bones. (Don’t forget the cheeks—they’re the best part!)

This classic Mexican soup develops its flavors from a series of techniques: braising, roasting, toasting, and frying. The soup itself is fabulous, but this dish is really elevated by the garnishes. Put them out in bowls and let guests help themselves to whatever they want. The soup is best when made one day in advance to allow the flavors to come together. If you can’t wait, be sure to save some for the next day so you can see how much better it gets.