Chile

Shake the small, dried medium-hot cascabel chile, and its seeds rattle (in Spanish, cascabel means rattle). Woodsy and smoky, it is a wonderful choice for this richly flavored salsa made with roasted tomatoes and garlic, toasted pumpkin seeds, and caramelized onion. Good with hearty meats from grilled beef to dark-fleshed game like buffalo.

This recipe highlights the wonderful flavor of the fresh green chiles widely abundant at roadside stands throughout New Mexico during the late summer and all through the fall. Often the chiles are roasted on the spot in hand-turned, butane-fired drums. You can smell the roasting chiles long before you can see them. Just follow your nose to find a vendor, as the air is thick with fiery oils that can clear your head. I look forward to fall in Santa Fe every year mainly because of that nostalgic, pungent and spicy aroma I have come to love.

Why make this versatile sauce yourself instead of buying it already prepared? You’ll get a smokier, more interesting result that’s free of additives and excess amounts of salt and vinegar of the commercial versions. It’s also a great base for other ingredients—tomatillos would be a flavorful addition. Use it in marinades, soups, as part of other sauces, or as a spicy table condiment at a taco party.

Tacos are served at all the Mexican markets for workers and shoppers who want a quick bite, including breakfast, as the markets usually open at sunrise. In the Southwest, small restaurants offer whole menus of breakfast tacos (my favorite, Taco Taco, in San Antonio, Texas, offers fifteen morning choices). And breakfast tacos and burritos have become an increasing familiar option along with bagels and pastries at most major airports in the United States and at the drive-throughs of many national fast-food chains. Not only are these vegetarian tacos a fiery morning wake-up, they’re good anytime as part of a larger meal, particularly alongside grilled or roasted meats or fish.

The green tomatillo has a bright sharp flavor akin to that of green plums or rhubarbs. In the winter months, when it’s sometimes hard to get fresh red tomatoes, I use tomatillos, which are available all year. This sauce makes the ideal cool counterpart to spicy salsas. The unusual addition of ice keeps the cilantro green when pureed with the other ingredients.

Spicy breakfast foods are the norm in Latin America or Asia, but not in the United States. I have always liked a spicy breakfast, finding that bland, starchy choices like bagels, toast, or pastries with sugar tend to make me sort of sleepy in the morning. This taco filling is another simple version of spicy scrambled eggs and would also make a great omelet when you don’t want tacos. Dry-roasting the jalapeños gives the dish a heady, smoky quality and cuts the richness of the eggs. A natural cream cheese would be another tasty accompaniment, with smoked salmon slices for garnish.

This favorite of American households is the usual “starter” taco served at schools, airports, and drive-ins, and undoubtedly what most of us picture when we think of tacos. It’s the familiar fried folded corn tortilla shell layered with shredded iceberg or romaine lettuce, piquant fresh tomato salsa, and a cumin-flavored ground beef filling topped with grated cheese—but this one is so much tastier. As with any taco served in a crispy shell, fill and eat it right away or it will get soggy. Try to buy a high-quality ground beef, preferably pure ground chuck with a 25 to 30 percent fat content. Less expensive hamburger grinds will work fine, but they won’t be as flavorful or juicy.

Mondongo is usually a thick, spicy stew made with beef tripe and lots of locally grown vegetables, probably Spanish in origin. You can find many versions of it throughout Latin America and the Caribbean. The one I am most familiar with was prepared by our wonderful Mexican chef Daniel Alvarez, who cooked at the Coyote Cantina for over twenty years. His version used pork butt instead of tripe, lots of green chiles, sometimes posole or corn, and other green vegetables. He made this dish often for the staff meal and sometimes as a special at the Cantina. It always sold out quickly.

An achiote rub is the classic Yucatan way of marinating fish. I tasted this rub for the first time in Isla Mujeres in the early 1970s, when you could still live on the beach in a palapa and hammock, eat great seafood, and drink cold beers for a few dollars per day. The fishermen would rub fish with an achiote-citrus paste and grill them on the beach over fires made from coconut husks. When I worked at Chez Panisse in the late 1970s, I duplicated this rub from my taste memory for some of their famous garlic festivals. The light citrus flavors of the achiote paste are a beautiful contrast to the oily texture of the swordfish. If you don’t have swordfish, use another meaty ocean fish such as wahoo or mahi mahi.

After Mexican cuisine, Thai is the one that I consider the most expressive. I find its freshness, sharp chile accents, and cool citrus flavors habit-forming, so much so that I travel to Thailand at least four times a year. One of the most distinctive of Thai flavors is that of kaffir lime. It resembles a large key lime with deep green, warty skin and leaves that have a marvelous, haunting perfume unmatched by those of any other lime or lemon. In this filling, I use the leaf to perfume the coconut sauce that cooks the shrimp. The fruit only grows in tropical climates and the lime itself is very hard to find here, but its fresh or frozen leaves are sold at all Asian markets that stock a lot of Thai ingredients. For this filling, the leaves should be minced very finely (remove the rib) or, preferably, ground to a fine powder in a spice mill, as its flavor is so strong that any large bits of leaf will dominate every mouthful.

This combination of sweet shrimp and smoky chipotle has been the absolute favorite at Coyote Café for more than twenty years. The pairing of chipotle and seafood is common throughout Mexico. My most memorable (and outrageous) version was at a party thrown by Patricia Quintana, the famous Mexican chef and writer, for her birthday in her home state of Veracruz. She invited fifty chefs, food writers, restaurant owners, and winemakers to a feast spread out on a river bank where huge pots filled with enormous amounts of crayfish cooked over open wood fires. I must have eaten 200 crayfish, which were cooked with chipotles, roasted garlic, grilled tomatoes, and served with warm tortillas on wood tables and beer trays—and almost disappeared behind a mountain of shells. The shrimp are best when marinated for 1 to 2 hours—any longer is not necessary. For a deliciously smoky flavor, grill the shrimp rather than sautéing them on the stove.

Achiote paste is a distinctive staple marinade of the Yucatán peninsula that infuses food with a brick-red hue, a part bitter–part acidic flavor, and an earthy intensity that lingers on the palate. It’s usually combined with the bitter orange of the Yucatán and the fierce, tropical habanero chile. This recipe has a distinctly Caribbean flair, evoking personal memories of the early market in Merida, capital of the Yucatan and famous for its beaches. There, you’ll find wonderful whole fish marinated in achiote paste and cooked on fires on the beach over coconut husks. Or chicken tamales with achiote paste wrapped in banana leaves steamed, then finished over an open fire. These tacos are traditionally served with black beans, rice, and a heaping side of fried plantains (see page 140). You can make your own pickled onions for the garnish: Slice red onions into thin half-moons, sprinkle with oregano, and marinate in the juice from a jar of pickled jalapeños for about 20 minutes.

A Southwest twist on the old classic of grilled cheese, this version is spicier and good comfort food. In the Southwest, the Spanish word rajas (slivers) has come to mean slim strips of cooked chile peppers or sweet bell peppers, here lifted with aromatic spices, a buttery cream, and slightly tangy cheese. When spooned into smaller tortillas, this enticingly rich filling makes a great appetizer or hors d’oeuvre taco. For a heartier snack, add chicken or beef. Large or small, with or without meat, they’ll go as fast as you can make them. To reduce the heat level of this dish, leave out the seeds from the jalapeños.

The earthy meatiness of portobello mushrooms pairs wonderfully with the smoky flavors of chipotle chiles. The mushrooms are sautéed in butter, which imparts a delicious nuttiness and helps the mushrooms brown. Toasted pine nuts or pumpkin seeds are a traditional and tasty garnish that increases the nuttiness of the dish. Small, fresh portobellos have tightly closed gills that are easy to slice through. The spongy gills of large portobellos must be scraped off with a spoon before the mushroom caps are sliced—but don’t discard them. The gills can be tossed in the pan and cooked with the rest of the mushroom, adding color and depth of flavor.

These tacos are a great way to enjoy the harvest from your late summer garden. The delicate orange-and-yellow flowers of squash plants are a prized treat through out Mexico and the southwestern United States. Squash blossoms are an ideal partner to the green chiles grown in Hatch, New Mexico, widely available in the Southwest during late summer and early fall (see Sources, page 167). If you can’t find New Mexico green chiles, you can use Anaheims, their slightly less robust California counterpart, found in produce markets throughout the country. I like to serve these tacos with a cold, citrusy beverage—margaritas for the adults and limeade for the kids. The tartness of the limes beautifully complements the warm, buttery cheese that oozes out of the taco with each bite.

As its name implies, this sauce is extremely versatile—you can brush it on chicken (whole or parts), ribs, steak, even vegetables. A small amount of butter is added at the end for a smooth finish; feel free to leave it out, especially if you’re using the sauce with a particularly fatty piece of meat.

Unlike other frying methods, stir-frying requires very high heat and very little fat. A wok is the best implement; it heats up quickly and to just the right temperature, and the shape promotes the brisk tossing about of food that is so characteristic of stir-frying. You can achieve similar results in a skillet as long as it’s large enough to accommodate all the ingredients (with room for tossing): Set the pan over high heat until very hot, add the oil and shrimp (or other items), and then adjust the heat as necessary during cooking.This method results in perfectly coated shrimp with lots of flavor, but there will not be much sauce for serving with rice (which is more authentic than heavily sauced renditions); if desired, double the amount of sauce ingredients.

The most well-known pea soups are made with green split peas and flavored with pork, but this lively vegetarian version features split peas and Indian seasonings. Though the end result tastes remarkably different from the classic, the method for making any split pea soup is virtually the same; you start by building a flavor base with sautéed aromatics, then add peas and water and cook until the peas fall apart. For split pea soup with ham, you would add a ham hock to the pot along with the peas, but for this version, spices are fried at the end and stirred into the soup to finish—a technique borrowed from many classic Indian dishes.