Mexican

My dad used to hunt, and quail was his favorite game, so grilled quail regularly appeared on our dinner table. When pressed for time, my mom would marinate the quail in store-bought Italian dressing spiced up with chile powder, grill it, and serve it as an appetizer followed by carne asada. In this recipe, I create the marinade from scratch, with just the right amount of chile powder. Squeeze a lime over the quail and don’t be afraid to eat it with your hands—it’s messy but delicious! This marinade is also great with chicken.

This smoky rub has endless possibilities: sprinkle it on potatoes before roasting, rub it on chicken breasts before grilling, or use it to season steaks before searing or halibut before roasting. For a garnish, mix a couple of tablespoons of this spice mix with half a cup of crème fraîche and drizzle it over soups.

When you see how easy it is to make this salsa from scratch, you will never want to buy a jar again. And forget bagged chips! It takes almost no effort to make your own at home. In my version of this classic recipe, the cheese is seared (asado) rather than deep-fried, resulting in a lighter alternative that really brings out the sweet flavor of the panela cheese. If you don’t want to go out of your way to purchase the panela cheese, substitute a moist mozzarella.

In Tijuana, as soon as the days get a little warmer, the street vendors start to appear with giant bunches of squash blossoms. I grew up eating squash blossoms sautéed and stuffed in quesadillas, served with fresh raspberries. The addition of mascarpone, an Italian triple-cream cheese, takes the dish to a whole new level.

These guys are spicy! If you’re afraid of the heat, you can use güero chiles, but jalapeños are exactly the right size for an appetizer. Oaxaca cheese, like mozzarella, is a mild-flavored white cheese that is excellent for melting. It’s popular for quesadillas in Mexico.

Taquitos, also known as flautas where I grew up, are corn tortillas that are stuffed, rolled, and fried. Shredded chicken or beef is the traditional filling, but here I use mushrooms and pair them with a tart tomatillo salsa for a great vegetarian dish.

Cuitlacoche is a fungus that makes corn kernels swell to ten times their normal size, turning them an inky black color. Its smoky-sweet flavor is a cross between corn and mushroom. I grew up eating cuitlacoche stuffed in a quesadilla or in a squash blossom. It’s a delicious, earthy addition to everything from quesadillas to empanadas. If you can’t find canned cuitlacoche in your local Latin market, substitute sautéed wild mushrooms for an equally delicious result.

This is my version of the famous Baja taco gobernador, which is a shrimp-stuffed quesadilla. The marlin adds a distinctive smoked flavor that makes this a very special kind of quesadilla. If you must substitute, you can use canned tuna—just make sure it is well drained, and cook the filling an additional 4 minutes to allow the moisture from the tuna to evaporate.

For many years a professional cook who specialized in seafood dishes prepared the meals at my parents’ house. Pedro Rocha would go to the fish market with my dad, bring home whatever had been caught that day, and turn it into an incredible meal for the family or for my father’s friends (who often came just for the food). Many of my seafood dishes are inspired by or derived from dishes Pedro taught me to make. This is one of them, and it’s always a favorite with my friends. As soon as we figure out how to get Pedro a passport, we’re opening a fish restaurant in the United States!

This is a simple, refreshing dish that perfectly represents the current trend in Baja-Mediterranean cuisine: the fusion of local ingredients and cooking techniques with European (mostly Mediterranean) ingredients, with an occasional Asian ingredient showing up in the mix. Variations of this dish pop up in restaurants all around Mexico, some adding spicy avocado dressing or fresh orange juice to the mix. I like to keep it simple to let the fresh taste of the ingredients shine through.

I went to a restaurant opening in Los Angeles where they served a trio of ceviches made with parboiled seafood. No! Ceviche should always be made using raw ultra-fresh, or “sushi-grade,” fish. In this recipe I use tilapia, but feel free to substitute whatever your local fishmonger recommends that day. The citrus marinade “cooks” the fish without heat. Traditional ceviche is left to marinate for up to 3 hours, but in this recipe you’ll have fresh, delicious ceviche in 15 minutes. As my abuelo always said, “Don’t worry, the lime kills everything.” For a more traditional ceviche, omit the clam-tomato juice and the hot sauce, which add a sour and spicy kick.

Fresh rosemary grows rampant in my backyard, which is only part of the reason these skewers top my list of favorite appetizers. Rosemary adds smoky flavor and a decorative flourish to a simple shrimp starter. Check the USDA plant hardiness zones to see which herbs thrive in your area. Fresh herbs make a huge difference in any dish, and you’ll save money by growing them at home instead of buying them. The Mediterranean rosemary pairs nicely with the smoky chipotle and fresh cilantro.

This recipe is basic make it a few times and you’ll find ways to vary it to perfectly suit your tastes.

This is what most Americans are talking about when they say salsa. You can make it hot or not, as you like; it’s a good use for less-than-perfect tomatoes and an excellent sauce–side dish accompaniment for anything grilled, particularly seafood.

The unusual thing about many Mexican fruit drinks is that the seeds are included; they’re blended, so you don’t realize this until you watch them being made, but this is the reason for their wonderfully intense flavors. This procedure works well for cantaloupe, honeydew, watermelon, or other melon.

Horchata (which can be used to describe any sweet drink, but has come to mean, by default, this one) is sold all over Mexico (and throughout southern California). It’s an addictive, deliciously creamy drink that contains no dairy but is based on ground rice. Traditionally it’s made in a mortar and pestle; you’ll be glad you live in the age of blenders.

Make sure you don’t skip the last part of this classic—the wonderful frothiness is one of the two things that make Mexican hot chocolate special (the cinnamon is the other). For a great dessert, serve this with Churros (page 655). The chocolate sold in Mexican stores for hot chocolate already contains cinnamon and sugar, so you can just melt it with some milk and beat until frothy. You can actually make it with water if you like, and it isn’t half bad.

Make this mysterious and delicious herbal iced tea in advance, because it’s best cold. You can buy dried hibiscus (known as jamaica) flowers at almost any Mexican market.

The influx of great-quality tequilas into this country over the last decade has gently nudged my concept of what a margarita should be ever further away from the sweet blender drinks that bars and American Mexican restaurants pass off as “margaritas.” These days a long pour of good tequila, a dash of orange liqueur, and a quarter of a lime over ice is how I make them. The following recipe has a little more padding, but is still a vehicle for the flavor of tequila, so I advise buying the best you can (it should be 100 percent agave). If the salt-rimmed glass doesn’t appeal to you (or a guest), omit the first step.

One of the classic moles of Oaxaca, now popular throughout Mexico. Though no mole is simple, this is among the easiest and most straightforward, something you can actually consider making on a weeknight (especially if you’re an experienced cook and can brown the chicken and make the sauce at the same time). To be entirely authentic—or, at least, more authentic, since true authenticity is never really possible north of the border—you should roast most of the sauce ingredients before combining them in the skillet. Toast the almonds in a dry skillet, shaking occasionally, until fragrant; heat the peeled garlic in a dry skillet until lightly browned; roast the onions and tomatoes in a hot oven until blistered; and so on, right down to toasting and grinding fresh whole spices. (In fact, old-style cooks brown unblanched almonds and then peel them.) All of this does make a difference, and if you have the time, please try it. Believe me, though, the mole will be sensational without these steps. If you’ve never cooked with lard, have no fear: It has less saturated fat than butter and is still sold in virtually every supermarket. It remains a wonderful cooking fat. Serve with rice or Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517).