Ancho Chile

We serve these chips, an all-American classic, with our Lobster Club (page 50) for lunch at Bar Americain, but you could serve them with any sandwich—or just sit in front of the TV and eat a big bowl of them on their own. Making your own potato chips and seasoning does require a little work, but the end result is definitely worth it. That said, if you don’t want to make homemade potato chips, you can substitute your favorite brand of plain potato chips, spread them in an even layer on a baking sheet, and heat in a 325°F oven for 5 minutes before tossing them in the barbecue seasoning.

Here’s an old favorite turned just a little edgy, thanks to the addition of ancho chile powder. Ancho chiles (dried poblanos) have a sweet undertone that combines well with chocolate. For the freshest flavor, grind your own chile powder as directed in the Tip following this recipe. Be advised, though, that some anchos are spicier than others. Taste your ground chiles to check their heat levels and add or subtract the amount added accordingly. (Pictured page 204, bottom left.)

For those who don’t speak Tex-Mex, chile gravy is a smooth sauce made with reconstituted dried chiles, broth, flour or some other thickener, and fat. The canned version—enchilada sauce—is stacked in grocery aisles all over the country. It’s worth the effort to make homemade, though, because fresh chile gravy is about as far from the canned stuff as Texas is from Toronto. I serve my cheese enchiladas topped with gravy, diced yellow or sweet onions, and sides of refried beans (page 161) and Rosa’s Mexican Rice (page 161).

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.

Posole is a pork-based soup that’s really a cross between a soup and a stew. Apart from the pork, the main ingredient is hominy—white corn kernels that have been soaked in lye. Many Texans profess to love posole, but I’ve always found it impossibly bland. That is, until I tried Rosa’s version, which she transformed from blah to bueno with the addition of a flavor-packed red chile sauce. Rosa, a native of Mexico City, has worked at Rather Sweet since it opened almost ten years ago. A traditional Mexican concoction, posole comes in many styles, and is often prepared on feast days or to celebrate the new year, says Rosa. Sounds like a natural party food to me. I like to serve Red Posole as a main course for an informal dinner party on a cool night. Make a big batch of guacamole (page 255) and set out bowls with all of the traditional posole accompaniments—lime wedges, thinly sliced radishes, lettuce, and green onions. Serve the posole in the Dutch oven you made it in, or seize the chance to use that old-fashioned soup tureen you inherited from Great-Aunt Belle. Decorate your serving table with a Mexican-style tablecloth or a colorful runner. Bundle cloth napkins with the necessary silverware and set out a stack of deep soup bowls and small plates. Let guests serve themselves buffet style. Complete your stress-free, do-ahead dinner with a large pitcher of White Sangria (page 175) and a combination plate of Chile Crinkle Cookies (page 206) and Chubby’s White Pralines (page 68).

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.

This is a pie that you can put together in a flash, because it depends on the idea that you’ve got some great condiments and accompaniments already made and just waiting for such a use as this. Like all my favorite pizzas, it depends on relatively spare but high-quality toppings.

My brother Michael once told me the two questions I should ask anyone who claims to make real (i.e., Texasstyle) chili. Question one: What kind of beans do you put in it? Question two: What kind of tomatoes do you use? Both are trick questions, of course, because the answer to both is none. There are no beans and no tomatoes in real Texas chili. The full name is “chili con carne,” and that’s what it means: chile peppers with meat, and very little else. When done right, it’s a beautiful thing. With only one kind of chile and at least 6 hours of simmering, it’s got the round flavors and slow-burning heat that define a “bowl o’ red.” If you want something hotter, add up to 1 teaspoon of cayenne pepper, or to taste. I usually make at least two servings, because after eating the first one (with saltines, grated Cheddar cheese, chopped onions, and, okay, even pinto beans as long as they’re on the side), I love the second serving on a hot dog or burger, or as part of enchiladas (page 64).

It doesn’t make a lot of sense to make just enough soup for one serving, especially when the soup is based on long-cooking beans. But that doesn’t mean solo cooks have to go without their soup fix. This base uses two of my favorite ingredients, black beans and ancho chiles, to provide the backdrop for Black Bean Tortilla Soup with Shrimp (on page 53) and Black Bean Soup with Seared Scallops and Green Salsa (page 54). But that’s not your only option. Once the base is made, you could also add shrimp, chicken, corn, potatoes, crushed tortilla chips, leftover rice, and/or other salsas, in whatever combination calls out to you.

Why didn’t I think of these? I’ve long been in love with pickled (fresh) jalapeños, and I’ve certainly spent enough time hydrating dried chile peppers. This recipe, from chef David Suarez of Rosa Mexicano restaurant in Washington, D.C., combines both ideas in one. They’re simple to make and last for up to 2 weeks in the refrigerator. You’ll want to pull them out for anything that needs a sharp and spicy touch: tacos and nachos, of course, but also on Three-Pepper Pizza with Goat Cheese (page 118). Ancho chiles are easy to find, but if you have access to a wider selection of chile peppers, try this recipe with moritas, which have a unique fruity complexity.

This is an incredibly flavorful paste that is simply made and keeps almost indefinitely in the refrigerator. It is also easily doubled, so you might as well make extra to rub on meats, chicken, and fish.

Mexicans refer to this dish as manchamanteles or “tablecloth stainer” due to the delicious deep red sauce that is made from dried chiles and spices. The sauce has an underlying sweetness that is very addicting. And because this dish improves with age, you can make it days in advance or enjoy left-overs days later.

Loosely translated as “Devilish Shrimp,” this dish packs a good punch. My friend Rene’s mom cooked this for me several years ago. I soon became hooked and started re-creating my own version at home, incorporating Sriracha. The dried chiles don’t have a substitute perse, and should be sought out, as they contribute the unique smoky/fruity/spicy combo that makes this plate divine. They are available online or at any Latino market.

The eggs in this recipe emerge intact, similar to poached eggs. Hearty whole-grain bread or bread with sunflower or other seeds will add texture to this dish.

Adobo, or roasted, pork is a staple in Latin America and some parts of Southeast Asia. This is just one version of the Latin American-style dish, made easier as a Glorious One-Pot Meal. Replace the rice and broth with 3/4 cup of quinoa and 1 cup of broth for a more authentic South American meal. Ancho chiles are actually dried poblano chiles, which are rich in flavor and popular for cooking. They’ve been described as looking and tasting like prunes, though certainly with more of a bite. Anaheim chiles are a milder substitute. You can use boneless frozen pork chops without increasing the cooking time. However, if they are frozen with the bone in, you may need to allow ten extra minutes in the oven. You can also substitute flank steaks or chicken pieces with good results. I like to add a sliced fresh tomato to this recipe. Layer the sliced tomato on top if there is still space in the pot after adding the green pepper.

My friends request this recipe more often than any other. I am often asked if it’s a family recipe. I take it as a compliment that people always seem so surprised to hear that I found it in a magazine when I was about twelve years old. I’ve made it so many times since then and it has evolved into what it is today. I think it’s so delicious—and popular!—because of its clear but very flavorful broth. So often tortilla soup is heavy, but this one is hearty without being unpleasantly thick. In fact, I make such a large batch because everyone always wants seconds and thirds. On the rare occasions that I’ve had leftovers, I’ve discovered that the soup keeps very well, and even gets better, stored in a tightly covered container in the refrigerator. The garnishes keep well stored in zip-top bags; keep the fried tortilla strips at room temperature and everything else in the refrigerator. When serving the second day, just place all the garnishes at the bottom of the bowl and ladle the soup over. I use two kinds of dried chiles—ancho and pasilla—because they add more depth and smoky notes to the broth. Use more or fewer chiles depending on how strong you want their flavor to be. For more on dried chiles, see page 96.

Leftover spice powder can be stored in an airtight container for a few weeks and makes a surprising addition to noodles, soups, and sashimi.