Latin American

If you can’t eat just one totopo (tortilla chip), this is the salsa of your dreams. 

Made with water, milk, or a combination, the beverage is also made with ground toasted corn, fermented corn, rice, oatmeal, or mature corn cooked in ashes.

These griddled masa disks get a little crispy on the edges but stay tender on the inside. Top them with black beans, salsa, and queso fresco or any other toppings you love.

The salty cheese and piloncillo makes these gorditas go wonderfully with a hot chocolate or champurrado.

Tlacoyos are small, flat patties about the size of your hand, made from corn masa that’s been stuffed with mashed beans, requesón (a salty, spreadable cheese similar to ricotta) or fava beans, and cooked crisp on a comal. Once you leave Mexico City, tlacoyos take on other shapes and names. In some areas of Puebla, for instance, they’re called tlayoyos.    For a long time, my tlacoyo dream was to find a mayora—an older, respected Mexican cook—who could teach me how to make them. In 2013, I finally was able to learn with Señora Rosa Peña Sotres, who graciously invited me into her home and spent a full Sunday teaching me patiently how to stuff and fold. “Ya aprendió!” (You’ve learned!), she declared, as I placed a small, misshapen tlacoyito on her charcoal-fired comal.    Patting them out by hand isn’t easy if you’re a beginner, but you’ll get it down with practice. It’s fun to gather a group of friends and make them con calma (Spanish for “without hurry”), particularly if someone brings the ready-made masa. Don’t skimp on the garnishes. If you can’t find cactus, which Latino supermarkets generally stock, try shredded raw cabbage or carrots.

Masa is the essence of Mexico. It is the foundation of Mexican cooking. In Oaxaca, a lot of families still make their own nixtamal at home to supply their daily masa consumption. Nixtamal is the process of treating dried corn with an alkaline solution to make it more nutritious. Slaking lime—also known as pickling lime, a naturally occurring mineral compound—has been used for thousands of years for this process. After a night of soaking, the nixtamalized corn is ground and transformed into masa. This technique has been passed from generation to generation, especially in Oaxaca. Every night before my mom goes to bed, she nixtamalizes a batch of corn so she can make fresh masa the next morning. It’s part of her nightly routine.    The trickiest part of making masa might be grinding it, and for that I recommend a tabletop wet stone mill or a hand-cranked wet grinder. I like Premier’s Small Wonder 1.5-liter tabletop wet grinder.    Believe me, there is nothing more fulfilling than making your own masa at home.

These extra-thick cousins of the tortilla are toasted on a comal or griddle and split open before they’re stuffed with a wide array of flavorful fillings.

I long for the flavor of tamales de elote, made with puréed fresh corn kernels. But our starchy, flavorful Mexican corn cannot be replaced with United States sweet corn, which creates a terribly insipid, watery effect. So I evolved something a little different using a regular masa mixture with fresh corn kernels and seasonings beaten in.

Though the amount of salt may seem excessive, a lot of the salt will be lost when the mixture is steamed inside the tamal wrapping. You can reduce the amount somewhat, but remember that the particular flavor of masa in tamales is complemented by salt.

This smoky chipotle and tomatillo salsa is an excellent dipping sauce for crudités or tortilla chips, or you can spoon it on top of tamales. You can use more chiles for a spicier sauce.