Jaymes

Yes, Andie. While discussing this chile powder blend, I should have mentioned the "Pico de Gallo" connection. It's confusing to most norteamericanos, because they immediately think of the ubiquitous fresh salsa of tomatoes, peppers, onions, etc. In much of Mexico, that's more commonly called "salsa fresca." And Pico de Gallo (beak or "peck" of the rooster) refers to a mixture also of fresh (or sometimes pickled) vegetable chunks, such as jicama, onions, mango or other fruit slices, etc. It can be used as a relish, but it's more often set out in a shallow dish for an appetizer. You then sprinkle on some Tajin or another similar chile seasoning such as the ones Andie has pictured (Boy, that gal is quick with a camera, ain't she?), and maybe a squeeze of lime juice. It's served with toothpicks for guests to help themselves, which they do by spearing favorite morsels. Watching everyone gather round and poke through the dish, spearing things they like, it's immediately clear why this is named after roosters in the barnyard pecking at the ground. Diana Kennedy has just such a recipe on page 250 of "Essential Cuisines of Mexico." It calls for chopped peaches, white onions, and peron chiles, seasoned with epazote, fresh lime juice, and salt to taste. And just like Andie says, the seasoning can be labeled "Pico de Gallo."

And as long as we're talking about pre-mixed Mexican seasoning staples, here's another one: Tajín Pronounced "ta-HEEN," this is on the table in many Mexican homes, right beside the salt and pepper. And if not there, undoubtedly in the pantry spice cabinet. And if it isn't Tajín, it's another brand of essentially the same stuff (there are many), or if there isn't a commercial blend, the Mexican cooks in the family are blending their own. But someway, somehow, they have a mixture of dried chile powder and salt, with or without lime (or limón) (personally, I much prefer with). This is sprinkled on all manner of fruits and vegetables. Once you've had a mango or pineapple, for example, with a dusting of Tajín, it's hard to do without it. It's the go-to seasoning for appetizers of jicama, or sliced oranges, or cucumbers. And don't even think of trying to serve corn on the cob without it. Bartenders give a quick shake of it to Bloody Marys, and use it (sometimes with sugar) to rim glasses for a variety of exotic cocktails. Basically anything that can use a little extra zip of chile, lime and salt benefits from this.

Well, if you think about it, it's hard for anyone to keep around unlimited supplies of chicken stock, especially in poorer countries where their access to dependable refrigeration can be severely limited, and even non-existent. While attending Spanish immersion classes in Mexico, I stayed with a family in Morelia, Michoacan, for about six weeks. Their cook, Chula (who also gave cooking classes to visiting students), had a big can of the stuff in a low cabinet in the kitchen. It was enormous - easily comparable in size to a gallon jug of milk, and maybe even larger. I remember being quite startled at its girth the first time I saw it. A spoonful of it went into practically everything. She was a little woman - a Purepecha Indian woman - and I'd think she would have had a hard time lifting it when it was brand new and full to the brim. But it was so handy down there on a lower shelf. She'd just open the cabinet door, pop off the lid, and scoop out some granules. She had a pretty convenient system going. I first heard of it quite a number of years back when I got a recipe from a Mexican friend for the "quicky chilaquiles" that she made for her large and busy family for breakfast most mornings. When simmering the tomatillos in water, she said to add a "cuchara de caldo de pollo." I didn't know about this powdered stuff, and that basically translates to "one spoonful of chicken broth." That didn't sound right. It took some further investigation and inquiry before I figured out that she had just used shorthand to describe an ingredient with which I was unfamiliar, but that every other Mexican cook knew about. Now, I use it all the time, too, in many things. Like Heidih, I use it as a substitute for salt. My good ol' American turkey giblet gravy gets a nice boost every Thanksgiving, for example. As does the cornbread dressing. And the green beans. And the roasted potatoes. Just last night, made up a big batch of green chile stew. Instead of salt, in went the "caldo." I'm never without it.

Darienne - I have yet to meet one single Mexican cook that doesn't have a jar/can of this stuff in his/her pantry: Knorr Caldo de Pollo Sure, it's always best to have flavorful, homemade chicken broth in your fridge or freezer, but, for most of us, it's not always practical. This Knorr chicken bouillon powder seems to be especially flavored for Mexican/Latino palates. In my opinion, it makes a huge difference. And for every Mexican recipe I've got that says, "add chicken broth," I reach for my trusty green and yellow jar.

Not to mention that after the dressing is added to a salad, it begins immediately to wilt. For the most part, I like my cold salads to be crunchy. When I get the dressing on the side, I can dress it a small portion at a time. And dressings are almost always loaded with salt and calories. I see absolutely no problem whatsoever in requesting that it be served on the side.

I like the one produced by our own Steve Sando of Rancho Gordo: Gay Caballero And, not surprisingly, it's pretty tasty, too. Plenty of tasty zip.

Are you being ironic, Jaymes? Because it doesn't make a lot of sense to use animal behavior to calibrate one's moral compass: "When a male lion takes over a pride, he kills all the cubs of his predecessor to maximize his genetic success. So of course when I remarried, the first thing I did was to kill my stepchildren. Sure, if I eschewed murdering children for moral purposes, that would make me very noble. But I just don't want to make myself more noble than the lions and tigers and other cub-killers. I think that's not fair. So I'm not going to. We'll all remain equally noble." Mind you, I'm not opposed to eating meat. I just think it's very difficult to find an argument that successfully makes meat-eating a moral good. So while the article we're discussing is mostly silly, I do agree that all the blather about "respecting the nobility of the protein" is basically nonsense. It's a mechanism for foodies to justify a decision that is at best morally neutral as a noble stance in favor of the animal. Oh, I'm being a little silly, of course. But I do think that there's a fairly large grain of truth in the notion that we have a spot in the food chain to which we were assigned by some sort of destiny beyond our understanding. But the evidence is clear. There it is. And for other than health reasons, I don't really feel a strong sense of urgency to abandon my spot. I guess I'd use your comment above, only to the opposite conclusion. Given our obvious purpose in this cosmos as being created to be meat-eaters (for some reason at which none of us can likely guess), "I just think it's very difficult to find an argument that successfully makes meat-eating a moral" bad.

I call myself a foodie. And don't know about "Bourdain types," but as for Bourdain himself, in The Nasty Bits on page 198, he's talking about dining in Vietnam: ". . . I quickly duck under the tarp, walk bent over at the waist to the table, and scrunch down and try to find someplace for my knees among a large, extended family of Vietnamese. Linh, a fellow foodie, just smiles and shakes his head." Page 199: "What do you eat here?" I inquire. "Eel," he replies. "This is the eel shop. Only eel." "How did you find this place?' I ask. "A friend took me here. He knows I like eel - and he heard about it from a friend." I explain to Linh what the word 'foodie' means and he seems very pleased. "Yes," he agrees. "Often you must go off the road. You must investigate." So for those of you that have never heard anyone refer to themselves as a foodie, now you've got two: Me. And Tony Bourdain. ______________

Sorta surprised that no one has yet mentioned the classic Mexican pickled jalapenos. They are ubiquitous on the Mexican table. There are as many recipes as there are Mexican cooks, but here's a good place to start: Pickled Jalapenos (Jalapenos en Escabeche) And pickled jicama is also a popular staple.

What I say (and, by the way, happen to believe) is that I owe it to the lions and tigers to take my natural place in the food chain. I am clearly a carnivore. My eyes are in the front of my head for hunting, like the other carnivores. I have dog teeth for eating meat. My digestive track handles meat just fine. There's no question that I am by nature a carnivore. And so are the lions and tigers. So, if I eschew eating meat for moral purposes, that would make me very noble. Much more noble than the lions and tigers that continue to eat meat because that's what they were put on this earth to do, and because they're too dumb and ignoble to do otherwise. I just don't want to make myself more noble than the lions and tigers and other meat-eaters. I think that's not fair. So I'm not going to. We'll all remain equally noble. I'll take my rightful spot in the food chain. I owe it to them.

I've read that Trekkies hate being called Trekkies. They feel it's far too demeaning for a group so serious as they. They prefer to be called Trekkers, which is clearly much more mature, sophisticated and appropriate. So perhaps "Fooders" would be more dignified.

Boy, do I ever agree with this. These terms just go in and out of fashion, and when they're out, some folks feel they're far too superior to have that term refer to them. "I'm not a foodie; I'm much better than that." For so long, if you were saying that you were getting together with friends that were also interested in food, you'd say "my gourmet group." But then that fell out of favor, as these things eventually do. That's when "foodie" appeared. It's quick, easy, cozy and best of all, to me anyway, indicates that they don't take themselves, or their interest in all things culinary, too seriously. I've had people tell me they prefer "food hobbyist." I can't imagine telling folks, "I'm going out with some of my 'food-hobbyist' friends tonight to try a new restaurant." I just think in the overall scheme of things, being called a foodie is a pretty small deal. In a world where so many are so intentionally unkind to others, there are plenty of bigger things to get your hackles up about.

Thanks for that link. Very interesting reading. Sounds like it begins as a stew and then, as the liquid reduces, you wind up frying it. That's really similar to Mexico's carnitas. I've ordered it in restaurants, but wasn't familiar with the cooking ingredients/methods. It looks like something that would be fun to try to make.

Honestly never heard of these. Tell me more! It's really one of the world's great dishes. When I was a child, we lived in Europe, so I can't actually remember the fist time I had it. It's something I remember always having. But the first time I made it, several decades back, I followed the recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking. St. Julia's recipe is still a wonderful one to follow. Also a good recipe in Craig Clairborne's NYT International Cookbook, but a quick google should bring up about a thousand more. We discussed it at more length in this current thread about beef stews: Beef Stew Beginner

Having lived much of my life around Mexico and Mexicans (and in every US state that borders Mexico), I've been lucky enough to have Mexican moms as friends. Often, these busy, modern moms are juggling home, family, jobs, etc., and they make much easier and less-elaborate versions of these classic dishes to feed their hungry families quickly. Here's a recipe I got years ago from one such neighbor. Although you do obviously need to use fresh squash (and onions), for the tomatoes, corn, and chiles, you can use either fresh ingredients or, if you're pressed for time on a busy weeknight, you can use canned. With canned ingredients, it's ready in a snap, and the final dish is still very, very good. I made this at least once a month when my children were small. It was one of the few vegetable dishes they'd eat, and even ask for more. Often, when my pilot husband wasn't home for dinner, the kids and I would have just this, ladled over baked potatoes. Calabacitas (for the non-Spanish speakers, "calabasas" are squash; so in the Spanish manner of adding "itas" to something to indicate the diminutive, "calabacitas" are little squash - in this case, cubes). 2 lbs summer squash, cut into bite-sized pieces (you can use yellow, or zucchini, or patty-pan, or a mixture, or whatever) 1 T butter or vegetable oil 1/2 small white onion, diced 3 tomatoes, diced (canned, stewed are fine) a couple of large, mild green chiles, blistered, peeled, seeds and veins removed (you can use a 4oz can of green chiles; I prefer the whole chiles, and I chop them myself) 8 oz-can yellow corn, drained (or fresh, cooked corn) 1 C cheese - grated (if you're somewhere were you can get Mexican cheese and you have a favorite that melts well, use that; if not, good-quality mild Cheddar works fine) salt & pepper to taste Note: You don't have to chop the vegetables too finely; in fact, I prefer a larger dice for this. Boil diced squash until just barely tender. Do not overcook, as you're going to be cooking it a little more. Drain squash and set aside. Put the butter or oil into the pot and saute onions, tomatoes and chiles until onions are clear. Return squash to pot. Add corn and stir to combine. Try not to stir it too much. You don't want the squash to break down. Salt and pepper to taste (you're going to be adding cheese, which is salty, so don't oversalt at this point). Heat through. Add cheese. When cheese is melted, serve immediately. ETA: This makes a hearty vegetarian main dish; also, you can make it with oil rather than butter, and leave out the cheese if you wish. (Although of course, it won't be as good.)

Wow. Beautiful. A difficult dish to get right. In my old age, I've given up and now just make a quicky Chiles Rellenos casserole when I want those flavors. You put me to shame!

Wow, interesting history. Seems like most of the stories of its invention lead back to the Japanese navy and an effort to create a beef stew similar to the ones prepared by British navy cooks.

I just use whatever I have on hand - usually the cheap apple or white vinegar available at supermarkets. I've used wine vinegar, too, but haven't noticed an appreciable difference in flavor, so think it doesn't really matter. The only caveat I'd give is that I wouldn't use something like a rice vinegar, or any other vinegar that's less strong.

I had never heard of this one. There are a couple of Ethiopian restaurants in Houston, where I live, but hadn't noticed it on the menu. Or if I did, wasn't smart enough to order it. I did a little googling, and saw lots of recipes. Would you mind sharing yours?

So a recent thread about beef stew got me to thinking. Seems like every country that eats beef has a locally-influenced version of beef stew, from good ol' everyday American to France's Bourguignon. Even Steak & Kidney Pie is basically a beef stew in a crust. In our house, we're partial to chili, either red or green, the Flemish beer and onion carbonnades, and the spiced Greek stew, Stifado. But I think I've really never met a beef stew that I didn't love. What are your favorites?

I'd add on the wine vs. beer question, that I've found almost impossible to screw up a stew using wine. Using a strongly flavored beer a la Guinness, I've found a bit trickier to do as the reduced beer can overwhelm the flavor of the rest of the stew. I've never tried Chimay, but if you were going to go with a stout, I suggest finding a recipe to get the flavor balance right. One of our favorite winter dishes is Flemish beef stew - carbonade. This classic is made with beer. I kind of make my own version, but it's similar to this one: Beef & Beer Stew And there's a terrific recipe in Julia Child's Mastering the Art - Carbonnades a la Flamande. About the beer she says: "Beer is typical for the Belgian braise, and gives a quite different character to beef than the red wine of the bourguignon. A bit of brown sugar masks the beer's slightly bitter quality, and a little vinegar at the end gives character." Not sure this would suit your purposes this time, Dan, but it's a great, great dish. One of the world's classics. Okay, you have me sold. It sounds good to me and my wife. It will also go well with a bottle of Oud Bruin I brewed for my daughter before she was born. Her birthday is a week from Monday, so it will be a good occasion to crack one open. Wow. Well, it's not a traditional American-style 'beef stew' but I don't think you can go wrong. It's a truly wonderful dish, and a great one to have in your repertoire. I first made the one in MTAOFC many, many years ago. It's still a good one to follow. But I add a pinch of nutmeg to Julia's recipe. (Although I knew it was presumptuous of me and, not wishing to offend, I always figured I'd leave that out if she came to dinner.)

Don't think there is, as of yet, any more to give any info about. It's just something Steve has spoken of doing in connection with his Rancho Gordo site. And something I wish he would do! Perhaps if we all ask? Politely? Por favor, Esteban?

Made this last week. Was heading in the direction of that fabulous chicken with cream and apples but decided perhaps it might be time to take my New Year's resolution a little more seriously, and seek out a less calorie-laden choice. Settled on this. I must say that perhaps I'm just something of a ninny, but I didn't really realize how long it would take to get it together and to the table, and I began around 4pm on a Wednesday, hoping it would be our dinner that night. After all the chopping and slicing and simmering, it was clear by 6pm that we'd better order takeout Chinese. And finish it up on Thursday. Which we did. For the chile powder, we used 100% New Mexico red chile powder, something we always have on hand. The dish was wonderful. And because there's very little fat, felt perfectly comfortable having second helpings. And perhaps just the tiniest third.

I'd add on the wine vs. beer question, that I've found almost impossible to screw up a stew using wine. Using a strongly flavored beer a la Guinness, I've found a bit trickier to do as the reduced beer can overwhelm the flavor of the rest of the stew. I've never tried Chimay, but if you were going to go with a stout, I suggest finding a recipe to get the flavor balance right. One of our favorite winter dishes is Flemish beef stew - carbonade. This classic is made with beer. I kind of make my own version, but it's similar to this one: Beef & Beer Stew And there's a terrific recipe in Julia Child's Mastering the Art - Carbonnades a la Flamande. About the beer she says: "Beer is typical for the Belgian braise, and gives a quite different character to beef than the red wine of the bourguignon. A bit of brown sugar masks the beer's slightly bitter quality, and a little vinegar at the end gives character." Not sure this would suit your purposes this time, Dan, but it's a great, great dish. One of the world's classics.

And some of us are adamantly against using frozen onions. Me. Well, now that I reread this, that sounds a little strong. I guess I'm not "adamantly against" frozen onions. That's kind of silly, isn't it. I mean, I don't have a moral issue with it or something. Won't launch a protest or start a petition. And if I were ever so lucky as to be invited to Pierogi's home for beef stew, I'm sure I'd lap it up gratefully and enjoy every toothsome mouthful. And ask for seconds. I just personally very much prefer the taste of fresh onions. Is all. As I should have said.