Real Mexican Food

For real Mexican food you have to go to the countryside throughout Mexico. You have to visit the fishing villages and farming communities - away from the vast urban centers. On this week's program I made chilaquiles, a dish that one could classify as "peasant food," as it is one of those conglomerations that farmers might make with whatever was in their larder.

When I titled this blog post "Real Mexican Food," I was actually referring to these countryside dishes that Chef Rick Bayless and Chef Lorena Garcia have popularized.

It also brings to mind a trip I made to Mexico more than 20 years ago. My brother and I went to Mazatlan for a few days and we met up with a few other American guys and several Canadians. But five or six of us stuck together -- ordering buckets of beers on the beach and otherwise having a rousing good time. We soon learned that Mazatlan was also a popular vacation spot for Mexicans of means and we met up with a group of young women who seemed to get a kick out of the rousing good time the five of us were having.

They spoke almost no English and I was the only one who could speak Spanish with any competency, so I became the official translator. Since this is a food blog, we'll talk about the food aspect of this story, rather than the -- er, um -- social component.

The girls told me they were going into the "real" Mazatlan for dinner -- and would we like to join them? My first question was, "What do you mean "the real Mazatlan?" As it turns out, there are actually two Mazatlans. One for us tourists and one for the true residents of Mazatlan. It was a fairly short taxi ride away, but what an incredible difference in the atmosphere, the commerce, and especially the food.

In the resort Mazatlan, the food offerings were what Americans and Canadians expected of Mexican food: tacos, burritos, chalupas, salsa and chips, nachos -- and beer. Lots and lots of beer. And shots of tequila with mariachi bands at places like Senor Frog's and other such tourist havens.

But in the real Mazatlan, we found elegant restaurants with expertly prepared food -- great seafood and perfectly grilled meats and vegetables. There was hardly a tortilla in sight. The guacamole was relish-like rather than a smooth green paste. The ingredients in the salsas showed that the kitchen staff had knife skills and cared about the proportion of vegetables to spices, etc.

That's when I first learned that there is Mexican cuisine in addition to Mexican food. Most of what passes for Mexican food in this country is actually "Tex-Mex," created in Texas and because of the state's proximity to Mexico, the ingredients are largely those found in true Mexican food.

That's what this week's recipe is about: Real Mexican Food. Chilaquiles -- also known as Salsa-Simmered Tortilla Chips -- it's a true country dish from the farms of Mexico. It often will have shredded meats, either chicken, pork or beef, whatever may be left over from last night's dinner. And sometimes it is even made lasagna style -- layering the fried tortilla chips in between layers of the meat and the roasted vegetables that make up the salsa.

Here's this week's video and the recipe:

6 Roma (plum) tomatoes

2 garlic cloves

1 jalapeño, stemmed, halved and seeded

1 small white onion, quartered

2 Tbsp vegetable oil, plus more for deep-frying

4 canned chipotle chiles in adobo

4 Tbsp cilantro, roughly chopped

1 1/2 Tbsp sesame seeds, toasted

1/4 tsp dried oregano (Mexican if you have it)

10 6-inch corn tortillas, stacked and cut into 1/2-inch squares

salt to taste

6 oz chorizo sausage, removed from casing and chopped

1/4 cup sour cream (or crema)

2 oz Cotija cheese (or Feta)

4 radishes, thinly sliced, for garnish

Heat the oven using the broiler. In a bowl, toss the tomatoes, garlic, jalapeño and onions with 2 Tbsp of vegetable oil. Transfer the vegetables to a foil-lined baking sheet and broil, turning occasionally until the tomato skins blister and begin to blacken.

Transfer roasted vegetables to the bowl of a food processor, add the chipotles with adobo, along with 2 Tbsp cilantro, sesame seeds, oregano and 1/4 cup of water and puree until smooth. Set the sauce aside.

Pour vegetable oil into a skillet to a depth of 1 inch. Heat until your thermometer (candy or deep-fry) reaches 350. Fry the tortillas squares until golden brown and crisp and drain on paper towels. Season with salt.

Heat another large skillet over medium high heat and add the chorizo. Cook, breaking up the pieces with a wooden spoon until cooked through and browned. Add the pureed sauce to the skillet and stir to combine. Season with salt. Bring to a simmer and add the fried tortilla chips, stirring to combine.

Cook just long enough until the chips begin to soften slightly, then transfer to a serving plate and garnish with sour cream, Cotija and sliced radishes.

Minor Battle - Major Party

So while the North and South were slaughtering each other in 1862, the Mexicans were fighting their own war with colonialist France. On May 5, 1862, the Mexican army defeated the formidable French army at the Battle of Puebla.

And so the Mexicans created a holiday -- minor, I'm told -- and just called it Cinqo de Mayo, the 5th of May.

The importers, distributors and purveyors of Mexican beers and foods convinced the taverns of our country that Cinqo de Mayo would be a marketing bonanza - maybe as big as St. Patrick's Day. An exaggeration, I'm sure, but untold numbers of Americans will be out in force on May 5th to guzzle Corona, Dos Equis, Tecate and others, along with burritos, tacos and enchiladas.

So I know a trend when I see one. And that was a good enough reason to present my version of Black Bean Soup -- not entirely a Mexican culinary invention, but more Tex-Mex and Southwestern in character. But it's hard to find a sit-down Mexican restaurant in this country that doesn't offer this soup in one form or another.

The black beans are similar to the beans (but not necessarily the same) as those used in refried beans -- that ubiquitous side that comes with almost anything you order in Mexican restaurants.

You'll notice that I've pureed most of the product. But if you're looking for some additional texture, you can certainly hold out some of the cooked product before you load the rest into the blender.

And just a note of caution before you make this. When you put hot liquids in a blender or food processor, it's best to err on the side of caution and hold down the lid with a towel, as hot liquids tend to expand. You probably don't want to wear your Black Bean Soup. You want to eat it. So here's the video and the recipe:

2 Cans Black Beans, drained and rinsed twice

1 small onion, diced

1 medium green bell pepper, seeded and diced

1 large carrot, diced

1 celery stalk, diced

1/4 cup cilantro, chopped

2 small jalapeño peppers, seeded and cut into small dice

2 Tbsp unsalted butter

1 medium tomato, diced

2 garlic cloves, minced

2 tsp ground cumin

1/2 cup salsa, medium hot

Sauté onion, bell pepper, carrot, celery, cilantro and jalapeño in butter over medium high heat. Add tomatoes and garlic and continue to cook over medium heat for 5 minutes.

Place sautéed vegetables in a large soup pot, add the beans and cover with 2 inches of water. Bring to a boil, then lower to a simmer and cook uncovered until the beans are tender. Stir occasionally and add water if needed. When the beans are softened to your taste, take the pot off the heat and let cool slightly.

Drain the beans and vegetables, reserving the liquid. Carefully puree the beans and vegetables in batches, along with a small amount of the reserved liquid along with the cumin in a blender or food processor. (You should reserve some of the beans and vegetables to add to the soup for texture). Mix in enough reserved liquid to create a soup-like consistency.

Add any remaining cumin and the salsa. Top with sour cream or Mexican crema and additional chopped cilantro.