Ancho Chile

This is one of my favorite ways to eat rice: spicy and with nuts! The spice from the chiles is perfectly balanced by earthy pine nuts. To cut down on the heat, you can always use one ancho chile instead of two, but I encourage you to try it with two the first time around. You might be surprised at how well the flavors work together. Because they are picked by hand, pine nuts can be expensive. Feel free to substitute chopped or slivered almonds instead.

My dad, Antonio (a.k.a. Tony), inspired this dish. Like a painter’s body of work, his culinary life is marked by distinct periods. When he went through an osso buco period, I decided that if I was going to be making a lot of osso buco, it was going to be a Mexican osso buco, spiked with lime, chiles, cilantro, and garlic.

An ancho chile is a dried poblano, perfect for adding a little heat to this bread crumb crust. If you don’t have a spice grinder, a clean coffee grinder will work just as well. (Grind the chile first and then make the bread crumbs in the grinder to clean it out.) Traditional mint jelly works fine as an accompaniment, but I like to surprise my guests with jalapeño jelly, which you can find in Latin markets and well-stocked supermarkets.

Chocolate and chiles have been paired up for centuries in Mexico. Ancho-infused hot chocolate was a drink reserved for royalty, believed to produce strength and virility. The combo is especially tasty with beefy short ribs. You can substitute bittersweet chocolate for the Mexican chocolate; just add a pinch each of sugar and cinnamon and a few drops of almond extract—the ingredients that make Mexican chocolate unique.

This is a simple dish with an impressive presentation, and it works with any combination of grilled meat, fish, poultry, or vegetables. A molcajete is a mortar made of lava rock that is usually used with a pestle (also made of lava rock) to make fresh salsas. Because it is made with a natural rock, it has an excellent ability to preserve heat and keep a dish hot, and that’s how I use it in this recipe. If you do not have two molcajetes, ovenproof earthenware bowls (about the size of cereal bowls) are an acceptable substitute.

This recipe plays on my favorite combination: spicy and sweet. Don’t worry about the chicken drying out in the oven—all of the flavor and juice is sealed in by the crunchy pecan glaze. Drumettes are the part of a chicken wing that, when separated from the rest of the wing, looks like a miniature drumstick. You can carve the wings yourself, ask your butcher to do it, or purchase frozen drumettes in the freezer section of the supermarket (thaw them overnight in the refrigerator).

Deviled eggs might not be the first thing you think of when planning an appetizer menu. But when sprinkled with smoky ancho chile and bright cilantro, these retro bites are always the most talked-about dish at any gathering at my house. I use a spice grinder to pulverize the dried chile, but you can find already ground ancho chile in many supermarkets and in Latin markets; you’ll need 1 teaspoon.

This recipe which is vaguely related to the classic chili, combines chickpeas, meat, and spices and takes advantage of all of those assets. The cooked chickpeas are sautéed over high heat until browned and slightly crisp, and the pan is ultimately deglazed with the reserved chickpea-cooking liquid.

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).

If you think nothing beats grilled fresh corn in the summer, think again: street vendors in Mexico, Chile, Peru, and other Central and South American countries figured out how to make a great thing even better, adding a little lime juice and chile powder to what is already a near-perfect food. The tart lime juice is incredibly refreshing, and a little smoky heat from the chiles brings out the crisp sweetness of the corn. For a more indulgent version, see the variation.

Just because I identify a dish with a country doesn’t mean it’s made exclusively there, and chile-fried shrimp is practically universal. So calling this a Mexican dish is a little like calling grilled steak an American dish. But I like to make this with the relatively mild chiles used in Mexico, and I like to serve it with rice and beans, so there it is. This is best made with homemade Chili Powder (page 609), but if you prefer, use a chile powder dominated by ancho or New Mexican chiles, which have warmth but not high levels of heat. Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517) is a great side dish for this, along with a green salad.

Among the simplest and most useful all-purpose chile pastes—terrific as a condiment for grilled food, and useful by the spoonful in braised dishes—this one can be made with nothing more than dried chiles (the standard red ones, inexpensive and readily available at any Asian market, are fine), garlic, and olive oil. A bit of cumin or Tabil is a nice addition. However—and this is a big however—harissa need not be fiery; it can be made with relatively mild chiles, like New Mexico or ancho chiles. Furthermore, whether you need the chiles or not is up to you; even if you use “mild” chiles, the sauce will be fairly hot if you do not. Obviously, some experimenting may be necessary to find your tolerance level. I have eaten harissa in many different forms, and this recipe is my choice. Harissa keeps for at least a week or two, refrigerated. It will lose a bit of intensity over time, but this is not necessarily a bad thing; some would call it mellowing.

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.

Pumpkin seeds figure heavily in much Mexican cooking. You can buy them toasted, but toasting them is an easy enough task, and they’re arguably better when toasted fresh—especially in lard or oil. (If you’d like to avoid the mess—or the lard—you can also toast the seeds on a baking sheet in a 350°F oven or in a dry skillet as you would sesame seeds, page 596.) Ancho chiles—dried poblanos—are mild and richly flavored. You can use them freely without worrying about overpowering heat. This sauce is best served over something simple, like grilled steak or chicken.

This is a sharp, spiky sauce, but not a superhot one (it’s not a supergreen one, either!). Use it as a dip for chips or vegetables or as a basting sauce when roasting meat, fish, or vegetables.

One of the things I love most about Southern food is how it is constantly evolving, and these days that change has a lot to do with the culinary traditions of recent immigrants from Mexico, Cuba, and Central and South America. I first learned how to make mole from my friend Saul, after I tried his rendition at one of my favorite Durham restaurants, Nana’s, and persuaded him to teach me how to make it myself. The South’s favorite game bird is smothered in this rich, spicy Mexican sauce infused with dark chocolate and spices, thickened with ground seeds and nuts, and spiked with numerous chiles, exemplifying the old-yet-new trend. The result is incredibly complex and distinctive. You will have extra mole, so give it a try on other dishes, like eggs, grilled chicken, or steak.

While these are definitely a contemporary take on a Mexican classic, vegetable enchiladas are as satisfying and flavorful as any meat version. The preparation takes some time, but they’re a cinch to assemble. My advice is to make the sauce a day in advance or to start this early in the day before you get too hungry. The only difficult part about this recipe is deciding what vegetables to leave out. There are countless choices, but I’ve narrowed it down to a tasty combination that works well with the mildly spicy sauce. Substitute or add your seasonal favorites, including—but not limited to—chayote squash (known as mirliton in New Orleans), corn, yellow squash, pumpkin, eggplant, and so forth. If you want to fire up the grill, that’s another great way to prepare the vegetables. Just keep the veggies in large pieces, brush them with a little olive oil and seasoning, and grill a few minutes on both sides; then cool them and cut into smaller pieces. You also have a number of cheeses to choose from, such as white cheddar, Monterey Jack, and pepper Jack.

Loaded with onions and peppers and cheese, these substantial quesadillas have a lot of personality—and make great use of leftover Jalapeño-roast Pork (p. 269). Serve them with margaritas for an instant party, or simply add a green salad with orange segments and red onions for an easy week-night meal. The Ancho-Mango sauce keeps well for several days, and it will perk up any number of sandwiches.

This is barbecue belt cooking all the way. I don’t care if you’re in Austin, Texas, or Manhattan, New York—if ribs are on the menu, you’ve got to roll up your shirt sleeves and have a big stack of napkins ready. This dish has New Yorkers doing just that when it makes its weekly appearance at Bar Americain. Racks of meaty ribs are dressed up with a smoky spice rub for extra flavor. The rich barbecue sauce, spiked with the molasseslike flavor of bourbon, will leave even the most refined diners licking their fingers. It wouldn’t be proper barbecue without some corn bread to mop up every last delicious bit of flavor from the plate, and I like to serve this dish with a savory tomato one.