Habanero Chile

Aguachile is a chile and citrus dressing that's often paired with raw fish. You'll want to drink Bukantz's veggie version right from the platter.

We know, this combo sounds nuts. It's meant to be mixed together so you get some garlicky pork, floral lychees, sweet coconut, sharp onions, and crisp salty accents in each bite.

Wear gloves when making this searingly hot sauce.

Spring rhubarb adds tartness and crunch to a fresh salsa to accompany chicken.

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.

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.

Because our weather in Central New York is less than tropical, we have to figure out ways of keepin’ those warm weather flavors coming even when poundin’ rain or three-foot drifts make it hard to get to your backyard grill. So here’s a way to make ribs in your oven and bring on all the flavors of places with better weather. Our method for makin’ ribs in the oven can also be applied to the recipe for Dinosaur-Style Ribs (page 93). All you’ll be missin’ is the taste of the smoke and the smell of the outdoors, but the ribs will still be fallin’-off-the-bone tender.

Among the most mistreated and overused terms in cooking is jerked, which, at least when I had it in the central Jamaican highlands—Cockpit Country, as it’s called—is essentially a beautifully seasoned pork (or, originally, boar) shoulder slow-cooked over coals. (You cannot make a “jerked” pork tenderloin; it will simply dry out.) The distinctive flavors are nutmeg, allspice (which is called pimento in the islands), and habanero peppers. If possible, crack a nutmeg into pieces and toast about half of it in a skillet until fragrant, with about a tablespoon of allspice berries, then grind them together. If not, use dried spices as directed here. If you have a gas grill, this will be easy; but if at all possible, set up an aluminum tray of soaked wood chips over the side with the heat and replenish as necessary. If you use charcoal, use real charcoal instead of briquettes if you can. Serve this with Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516) and, if you dare, Habanero-Garlic Salsa (page 611). Other cuts of meat you can use here: bone-in chicken legs (cooking time will be considerably shorter, about 1 hour); spareribs, though not traditional, are also good.

You’ll need a nonstick skillet for this or at least a very well-seasoned cast-iron or steel pan (or cheat and start with a tablespoon or two of corn oil). Although this recipe will work with frozen corn kernels, it is far, far superior when you strip the kernels from fresh cobs. Corn cooked this way is terrific in salads—either green or bean—where you are looking for extra crunch and flavor.

Probably the quickest salsa you can make and a fresh, delicious one for chips or simply cooked fish or chicken. Best with good fresh tomatoes, but still decent with canned (and definitely better with canned than with hard, unripe “fresh”).

A standard and very useful salsa, great with anything grilled. I don’t make it fiery hot—it’s based on mild chiles—but you can add more of the hot ones if you like, and it’s easy enough.

The variously colored habanero (also called Scotch bonnet, for its shape) is blisteringly hot. It also has wonderful flavor, which, I suppose, is why people tolerate it. This salsa will turn up on any grilled meat, but it’s often served with Cochinita Pibil (page 351). Care is needed when handling all chiles, but especially habaneros; do not touch your eyes or other sensitive parts of your body after touching the chiles until you wash your hands very well (some people wear gloves to handle them, and that’s not a bad idea).

Somewhere between a vegetable dish and a salsa, this is great as a topping for simple grilled fish or chicken. If you have a gas grill, you can make this almost effortlessly; it’s easy, too, when you’ve started a charcoal fire for another purpose.

A tiny little side condiment served with grilled chicken or fish that can make any meal sing. It’s fine without any chile at all, but I like a touch. This is a very fragile dish; make it at the last minute and serve it all at once. It will go fast, believe me.

Neither mayonnaise nor guacamole, but something in between and, in some instances, better than either as a sandwich spread. Great, too, as a dip for cold shellfish. You can also thin it with heavy cream, sour cream, or yogurt and use it as a salad dressing (think of it as real Green Goddess). Make it spicy or not, as you like; I’ve had it both ways.

Killer on grilled meats, this simple herb puree is like pesto with more kick.

If you’re accustomed to sweet corn fritters—even served with maple syrup—these are going to come as either a joyous revelation or a rude awakening. They’re just as crunchy, but spicy and mildly hot.

I sometimes use this full-flavored hot sauce to spice up my Crab-Coconut Cocktail (page 79). It is also wonderful drizzled over raw oysters and clams and is one of the sauces served with the raw bar selections at Bar Americain. You must use really ripe mangoes for the best possible flavor. Also, it is extremely important to be very careful when handling the habanero. We use plastic gloves when working with these super-hot chiles, but whatever you do, make sure to keep your hands away from your face (especially your eyes!) until they are absolutely clean.

You’ve done the work to make the Yucatan-Style Slow-Roasted Pork (page 66) already, so now you get to take advantage of its depth of flavor and combine it with a fiery (and I mean that) salsa and Citrus-Pickled Onions (page 19) in these vibrant tacos. This recipe makes about 1/4 cup of the salsa, and a little goes a long way, so you may have some left over. It will last for 2 weeks refrigerated in an airtight container, and you can use it on all manner of eggs and meats, and as a salad dressing base, but my favorite use might be to mash a tablespoon or two into the yolks of a half dozen hard-cooked eggs, along with mayo, for a party snack that puts the devil back into deviled eggs, for sure. (And yes, pickled onions are good on those babies, too.)