Jalapeño

You may not think of beans as a party dish, but there’s something deeply comforting and welcoming about a big pot of beans simmering on the stove top. First, it fills the house with a wonderful earthy aroma. Second, it gives friends the feeling that they’re worth fussing over—almost everyone knows homemade beans take a little extra time and some advance planning. Finally, I enjoy serving beans for a party because I have several gorgeous terra-cotta bean pots and I can’t resist showing them off.

We Texans love our queso, and although I’ve seen many a fierce debate over the use of one of its signature ingredients—Velveeta—most of us grew up eating it. For us, queso spells comfort. I don’t use Velveeta for anything else, but there’s something about its ability to melt into a creamy smoothness that makes queso, queso. The dip shows up at so many Texas tables because, for many of us, queso means warmth, ease, and familiarity—just the recipe for an easy, congenial get-together with friends. (Pictured opposite, left side)

A fresh-off-the-griddle appetizer offered just after guests arrive makes for an especially warm welcome. Pork quesadillas were standard fare during my catering days, when we passed them on trays as appetizers. Most of the components for this dish are made in advance, but assembling and grilling them is a last-minute thing. Frances, my college-age daughter, is a quesadilla pro, and at a recent party she stepped right in, saying, “I know how to do this, Mom.” She kept on turning out quesadillas until the tortillas were gone and guests had moved on to filling their plates from the buffet. It reminded me how handy it is to have a young adult around to help out, freeing me to greet and mingle. My daughter is away at college for most of the year, but teenagers—yours, a friend’s, or even a neighbor’s—can be valuable elpers at parties. Money is a strong motivator, so I always pay my teen helpers, and I always train them beforehand, letting them know exactly what I expect. Oh, and I always feed them, too.

Pickled onions are the magic fix-it condiment in my refrigerator. You could serve me the worst dish ever, and if it had a few pickled onions on top, I’d probably say, “Hmm. Not bad.” Of course, that means that they can also take something that’s already delicious and make it spectacular. They’re a traditional partner with pibils, the banana leaf–wrapped, pit-cooked meats of the Yucatan. I particularly like them on tacos (see Cochinita Pibil Tacos with Habanero Salsa, page 95, and Tacos de Huevos, page 87), where they give an extra crunch and hit of acidity. I’ve made them all sorts of ways over the years—combining the onions with lime juice, salt, and cumin; blanching the onions first, then tossing in vinegar and Tabasco—but it wasn’t until my delightful friend Patricia Jinich turned me on to her method that I made it mine, too. Pati, who blogs at patismexicantable. com, experimented endlessly (well, sixteen batches) to find the right combination that would substitute for Yucatecan bitter orange juice before she settled on this one. It was worth it, but if you can find bitter orange (labeled naranja agria in Latin stores), use it instead of the juice/vinegar combination here.

My friend Karin and I moved to Boston at about the same time, and of all the things this fellow Tex-pat and I missed the most, at the top of the list was the spicy, smoky, black-flecked salsa at La Fogata restaurant in San Antonio, where Karin grew up and where we both loved to visit when we were in college in nearby Austin. In those days, La Fogata would sell you the stuff to go, but only if you brought your own container. Karin would fly back to Boston with a gallon jug in her carry-on, something that wouldn’t go over too well with the TSA anymore. Nowadays, you can order the salsa online, but it’s not quite the same, no doubt due to the preservatives required to make it shelf stable. After I saw a take on the recipe at SpiceLines.com, I started experimenting and developed my own. In addition to gracing the top of Tacos de Huevos (page 87) and going into Spicy Glazed Mini Meatloaf (page 65), the pungent, garlicky condiment is good on grilled pork chops or steak. Of course, it can be served as an appetizer with tortilla chips. The recipe doubles and triples easily.

Some people say that Tex-Mex cooking bears no relation to Mexican. Well, tell that to me and my friend Patricia Jinich, a Mexico City native who now teaches cooking classes through the Mexican Cultural Institute in Washington, D.C. Pati and I bonded over our mutual love of Mexican food, and even though I have traveled frequently in Mexico, many of the recipes she has shared with me take me right back to my West Texas childhood or Central Texas college days. This salsa—gorgeous to behold and tart and spicy to taste-is the perfect example; its flavors are identical to those served up in little bowls on every table at the best Tex-Mex restaurants I know. It’s perfect on the Catfish Tacos with Chipotle Slaw (page 101) and Shrimp Tacos with Grapefruit–Black Bean Salsa (page 102), and it is a natural pairing with seafood. But, honestly, you can drizzle it on just about anything to decent effect. And, of course, you can just scoop it up with tortilla chips.

Those who like a little extra kick in their eggs will enjoy this dish. Customize it by adding a little extra jalapeño, which will increase the heat. The clean, bright flavor of cilantro is excellent here, and it adds color as well.

The sweetness of the honey and the spiciness of the jalapeños make for an intriguing flavor combination in this rich corn bread. Wear rubber or plastic gloves when handling and chopping hot chile peppers—the chiles can make your fingers sting—and wash your hands thoroughly afterward. Serve with butter, honey butter, Maple Butter (page 274), or jam.

We have Mexico to thank for the tangy flavor combination of cilantro, jalapeño, and lime, although this sauce complements all types of cuisines. Pair it with crispy appetizers like the Chickpea Cakes (page 39) or Indonesian Corn Fritters (page 155), or serve it alongside the Indian Spiced Scrambled Eggs (page 75). Try pouring it over grilled chicken or fish for a zesty finish. Serve this sauce in the first hour after blending, when its color is brightest.

Habaneros are wonderful citrus-infused chiles that come to us from Mexico. If you can’t find habaneros, substitute a couple of jalapeño peppers and a splash of orange juice. Habaneros are powerful and will sting badly if accidentally rubbed near the eyes, so always wear gloves when handling them. Serve with the Stuffed Poblano Chile Peppers (page 165).

Almost every diner and “meat and three” establishment across the South has a jar of hot pepper vinegar on each and every table. A dash or so of this potent liquid on greens is a revelation. The longer the mixture sits, the more potent it becomes. It also makes a great gift. I prepare several batches with peppers from my garden and present them as hostess and Christmas gifts. Nothing says love like a little heat.

The sweet potatoes in this comforting soup need nothing more than traditional Southwestern spices and a topping of jalapeños and toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds).

This recipe is an updated version of the classic cooked Mexican tomato sauce, which is made with vegetable purees and simmered on the stove. My version roasts the vegetables in the oven, allowing them to caramelize, before they are pureed. The result is a sauce with deep rich flavor and a hint of sweetness. If you don’t like heat, make sure to remove the seeds from the jalapeño!

This uncooked tomato sauce is a staple in the Mexican kitchen and is often served in small bowls and placed on tables as a condiment. It is a simple sauce to prepare, just be careful not to overprocess because it’s meant to be a rustic sauce with a coarse texture.

This recipe is commonly referred to as Pico de Gallo (rooster’s beak). I suppose it is because the ingredients are all chopped up as if they were broken up by a bird’s beak. It is one of my favorites since it is not only delicious but also low fuss. Don’t worry about chopping the vegetables into uniform sizes or shapes and certainly don’t feel compelled to measure any of the ingredients. This chunky sauce goes well with almost every Mexican dish and is the classic accompaniment to serve with tortilla chips.

This has become my favorite sauce—for now. Its fresh flavor, vibrant color, and slight heat (which you can control with the amount of jalapeños you add) are the reasons why. And once you discover how easy it is to prepare and how long it keeps in the refrigerator, I don’t doubt it will become a favorite of yours, too.

If you make these for your friends, make sure you eat some right away, because they will evaporate if you walk away. Megan and I like our salsa saucy, more like a picante sauce, so we add some tomato sauce. But, if you like chunky salsa, you can skip the sauce and just use the diced tomatoes.

Channeling my inner George Washington, I cannot tell a lie: These peppers are hot. even the cheese and oil from deep-frying can’t help you here. Every bite is delicious, and somehow enjoyably torturous. These may actually be some sort of entryway into masochism. If you want even more heat, use pepper Jack cheese in place of the Monterey Jack.