Gluten Free

Along Mexico’s Pacific coast, calamari is commonly prepared in homes and restaurants. That area of Mexico was particularly influenced by the so-called Philippine trade routes, where the Spanish ships crossed the Pacific to Acapulco to trade the goods of Asia with the colony. The cuisine has a definite fusion edge—you’ll see Asian ingredients like ginger used there, as well as dishes with rice. This recipe comes from the Jalisco region in southern Mexico. It is simpler and more traditional than versions originating from other port cities like Veracruz, the original Spanish port and the area with the most exposure to Spanish influences, including cuisine. The mint is a refreshing and unusual complement to the robust flavor of the blackened tomatoes. The pairing of basil and mint is not traditional, but is one that I like as I think the two herbs work well together.

This combination of sweet shrimp and smoky chipotle has been the absolute favorite at Coyote Café for more than twenty years. The pairing of chipotle and seafood is common throughout Mexico. My most memorable (and outrageous) version was at a party thrown by Patricia Quintana, the famous Mexican chef and writer, for her birthday in her home state of Veracruz. She invited fifty chefs, food writers, restaurant owners, and winemakers to a feast spread out on a river bank where huge pots filled with enormous amounts of crayfish cooked over open wood fires. I must have eaten 200 crayfish, which were cooked with chipotles, roasted garlic, grilled tomatoes, and served with warm tortillas on wood tables and beer trays—and almost disappeared behind a mountain of shells. The shrimp are best when marinated for 1 to 2 hours—any longer is not necessary. For a deliciously smoky flavor, grill the shrimp rather than sautéing them on the stove.

After Mexican cuisine, Thai is the one that I consider the most expressive. I find its freshness, sharp chile accents, and cool citrus flavors habit-forming, so much so that I travel to Thailand at least four times a year. One of the most distinctive of Thai flavors is that of kaffir lime. It resembles a large key lime with deep green, warty skin and leaves that have a marvelous, haunting perfume unmatched by those of any other lime or lemon. In this filling, I use the leaf to perfume the coconut sauce that cooks the shrimp. The fruit only grows in tropical climates and the lime itself is very hard to find here, but its fresh or frozen leaves are sold at all Asian markets that stock a lot of Thai ingredients. For this filling, the leaves should be minced very finely (remove the rib) or, preferably, ground to a fine powder in a spice mill, as its flavor is so strong that any large bits of leaf will dominate every mouthful.

Ground nuts or seeds are the singular ingredient in the sauces known as pipiáns, which are sort of like Southwestern pestos. Peanuts, native to South America, were first used, as were pumpkin seeds, but regionally, cooks would incorporate what was available—in the American Southwest, for instance, it could be pine nuts or pecans, or wild hickory nuts in other parts of the country. The richness of the duck is perfectly complemented by this rich, complex sauce that I created to use New Mexico pecans, a wonderful local crop. It’s very versatile, a great condiment for grilled satay skewers or as a sandwich spread or a party dip. It’s much easier to prepare than it sounds—a whirl in a blender, then a quick turn in a skillet to marry the flavors.

Chorizo is usually made from pork, but you can find wonderful beef or chicken chorizo as well as an excellent vegetarian chorizo made from tofu. I’ve had a delicious green chorizo in Puebla that was a regional specialty composed of fresh green herbs and chiles blended with pork. The green marinade for the chicken plays wonderfully against the red chile of the chorizo. These hearty tacos are also great served with queso fresco or grated Cheddar or gouda cheese. Quail eggs fried sunny-side up makes a tasty garnish, if you like.

This quick, convenient recipe is a Southwestern take on a popular Southern classic—sweet summer corn and barbecued chicken. Sautéing the chicken to brown the surface deepens both color and flavor and approximates the Mexican technique of cooking on a comal or griddle. To cut down on the preparation time for this recipe, use a good, all-natural rotisserie chicken from the grocery store.

The town of Puebla, a serene and peaceful oasis about one hour south from the congestion and commotion of Mexico City, is known for its charming inns that serve a rich array of traditional dishes. The most famous mole (the word is from a pre-Columbian language of Mexico and means a sauce that is blended with more than one chile or ingredient) originated in the kitchen of a large, wealthy Puebla convent with chocolate as its most acclaimed ingredient. But there are six other moles from the region. This filling, the green mole that uses all fresh herbs and fresh green chiles, is one of the simpler ones and the one that I usually eat for breakfast at the market—one huge bowl of chicken mole verde with fresh warm corn tortillas. Admittedly, it is a little time-consuming, but your effort will be rewarded with enough mole sauce to use for these tacos and many others. Leftover mole will keep in the refrigerator for at least a week, or you can freeze it for up to 3 months. This sauce makes a tasty complement to chicken, turkey, fish, and pork.

This recipe makes use of nopales cooked sous vide—under vacuum, a technique from the professional kitchen that I’ve modified here for home cooks (see also Nopales en Bolso with Vegetables Escabeche, page 28). Nopales—cactus leaves—have a wonderful texture and fresh flavor almost like fresh green beans or green squash. In Mexico, they grow wild everywhere, available for the picking. The most amazing place to see nopales is at the central market of Mexico City, one of the truly great markets of the world. Arranged in circles are huge, round burlap bags, five feet tall by four feet wide. Each bag holds hundreds of nopales, and workers handle sixty to seventy-five bags simultaneously. Women whittle away at mountains of nopales with long, sharp knives, trimming off their sharp spines in seconds while gossiping with their neighbors, stopping only to sell to shoppers. The enormous amount of nopales sold underscores how important they are to the daily diet.

The Spanish word tinga means “unruly” or “messy.” But there is nothing messy about the wonderful flavors of this dish with its layers of smoky and sweet. The browned chicken has accents of balsamic vinegar, roasted sweet peppers, and chiles—a sort of Mexican chicken cacciatore. I consider it one of Mexican cuisine’s top ten classic dishes. Tinga tacos are a perennial favorite in northern New Mexico and can have other fillings beside chicken. In addition to tacos or burritos, this filling—really a homey soul-satisfying stew—can be served in a bowl over rice. It also makes a great bocadillo, a Mexican sandwich served on a square crispy roll. To reduce the heat level of this dish, decrease or leave out the chipotle puree.

The word charro refers to the original cowboys of the New World, the Mexican and Spanish men who handled the cattle on the large ranches of Mexico and California, and then Texas and the Southwest. The entire cow culture—the hats, saddles, ropes, boots—was brought here by Spanish explorers and settlers. These men lived a nomadic life that revolved around the search for the best seasonal pastures for their herds. Meals were always prepared over open campfires, giving food a smokiness that is forever associated with cowboy cooking. Beans were a common side dish, and the smoked salt in this recipe helps to replicate those robust and smoky flavors. The beans will hold for one week in the refrigerator, and their versatility makes them handy to have around.

The combination of sweet, lightly smoked corn and rich, earthy mushrooms is one of the great flavor marriages of Mexican food. In this filling, inspired by one of my favorite salsa recipes in The Great Salsa Book, the fresh corn kernels are dry-roasted to capture the sweet corn flavor and infuse them with an appetizing, smoky perfume. Dry roasting is one of the great culinary techniques that give Mexican cuisine its distinctiveness and meaning, and one easily mastered at home. Very simply and effectively, it intensifies and concentrates flavors and imparts the smoky, primordial quality that is characteristic of so many Mexican dishes. Beyond corn, the technique is also used for garlic, tomatoes, and onions, for fresh and dried chiles, and for seeds and nuts.

This recipe is really all about the tomatoes. For the best results, make these tacos in summer when tomatoes are at their sweetest and seasonal best. Thicker-fleshed varieties, like Romas, work better for this filling as they give off less juice and cook down to a firmer consistency. After roasting, the tomato slices turn soft and crinkly. Thin shavings of buttery, piquant Spanish Manchego cheese makes a wonderful addition, as do leaves of peppery arugula or sprigs of cilantro. Pumpkin seeds are available toasted, which deepens their flavor, or you can easily toast them yourself in a hot, dry skillet. These tacos can easily be served in place of a salad course for a dinner party. The pesto will hold for one week in the refrigerator and shines with pastas, seafood, or meat dishes. For a quick version, substitute about four ounces purchased roasted tomatoes, stocked at specialty markets. Look for them in bulk where olives are sold, packed with herbs and a bit of oil.

A Southwest twist on the old classic of grilled cheese, this version is spicier and good comfort food. In the Southwest, the Spanish word rajas (slivers) has come to mean slim strips of cooked chile peppers or sweet bell peppers, here lifted with aromatic spices, a buttery cream, and slightly tangy cheese. When spooned into smaller tortillas, this enticingly rich filling makes a great appetizer or hors d’oeuvre taco. For a heartier snack, add chicken or beef. Large or small, with or without meat, they’ll go as fast as you can make them. To reduce the heat level of this dish, leave out the seeds from the jalapeños.

During the summer monsoons in Santa Fe, we forage for wild mushrooms—mostly porcini-like varieties—in the high-altitude forests of the nearby Sangre de Cristo Mountains. We’re always looking for new ways to use our earthy, robust bounty, and this woodsy taco is one of our favorites. Buy wild mushrooms in at least three colors or textures. They’ll add interest to the filling and give you the option of mixing less costly types with the more pricey ones. Avoid shiitakes and enokis, which don’t pair well with wild mushrooms (the enoki are too acrid, and the shiitake too powerful) or lobster mushrooms as they don’t cook at the same rate and remain hard. Aim for a mix that is woodsy, rich, delicate, and very flavorful. Good substitutions for fresh wild mushrooms are a mix of dried wild mushrooms and fresh criminis, or dried porcini and thinly sliced portobellos.

The earthy meatiness of portobello mushrooms pairs wonderfully with the smoky flavors of chipotle chiles. The mushrooms are sautéed in butter, which imparts a delicious nuttiness and helps the mushrooms brown. Toasted pine nuts or pumpkin seeds are a traditional and tasty garnish that increases the nuttiness of the dish. Small, fresh portobellos have tightly closed gills that are easy to slice through. The spongy gills of large portobellos must be scraped off with a spoon before the mushroom caps are sliced—but don’t discard them. The gills can be tossed in the pan and cooked with the rest of the mushroom, adding color and depth of flavor.

By cooking the nopales—the flat paddles of the prickly pear cactus—at a controlled temperature in a sturdy self-sealing plastic bag (en bolso), we are able to infuse flavors slowly into the nopales and preserve a firmer texture and bright green color. The process is something like the restaurant technique sous vide (French for “under vacuum”), where food is vacuum packed, then cooked in a water bath to ensure even heat. You can’t squeeze out all the air from a self-sealing plastic bag as with true sous vide, but this home adaptation still works well. You can find fresh nopales with spines removed at Hispanic markets, chain supermarkets located in Hispanic communities, or some specialty produce stores. The briny tartness of the vegetable escabeche (pickled vegetables) is balanced by the creaminess of the queso fresco, a slightly salty Mexican cheese that is similar in taste and texture to feta.

These tacos are a great way to enjoy the harvest from your late summer garden. The delicate orange-and-yellow flowers of squash plants are a prized treat through out Mexico and the southwestern United States. Squash blossoms are an ideal partner to the green chiles grown in Hatch, New Mexico, widely available in the Southwest during late summer and early fall (see Sources, page 167). If you can’t find New Mexico green chiles, you can use Anaheims, their slightly less robust California counterpart, found in produce markets throughout the country. I like to serve these tacos with a cold, citrusy beverage—margaritas for the adults and limeade for the kids. The tartness of the limes beautifully complements the warm, buttery cheese that oozes out of the taco with each bite.

These fried filled taco tubes are actually more Tex-Mex than Mex, but have become a popular Mexican street snack and restaurant favorite. Flautas (flutes) are larger, about the diameter of a cigar—about 4 to 5 inches long, and about 1 inch in diameter. Taquitos are smaller, more like a cigarillo—about 3 to 3 1/2 inches long and 1/2 to 3/4 inch in diameter. Both flautas and taquitos are great choices for entertaining. Serve either as finger food, figuring 2 to 3 per person as an appetizer, or include them as part of a main course combination plate. In Mexico, both flautas and taquitos are usually made with corn tortillas, rarely with flour. For taquitos especially, it’s very difficult to find flour tortillas thin enough to roll up into the proper tight little tubes and seal them securely. At the end of many of the recipes in the book is a feature called Tortillas that notes fillings that work well as flautas or taquitos. Among the many delicious choices are all-vegetable Squash Blossoms with Green Chiles and Cheese (page 23) or Wild Forest Mushrooms with Garlic (page 25) to meat-based Yucatán Chicken with Achiote (page 48), Turkey with Mole (page 52), Pork Carnitas (page 78), or Braised Beef Short Ribs (page 96). In general, the best fillings are cheese based as they hold together and cook evenly. Meat or chicken should be shredded, rather than in big chunks, which can take too long to heat up, causing the tortilla to overfry and burn.

To make tortillas with masa harina, use packaged masa harina. Two of the most widely available brands are Maseca (be sure to buy the type for tortillas) and Quaker Oats. One of my favorites is an all-natural, stone-ground masa harina made by Bob’s Red Mill, a small Oregon company that specializes in whole grain products. You can find it at Whole Foods markets, natural food stores, well-stocked specialty markets, supermarkets, and online. Purchase masa harina from a supermarket with a high turnover, as it will go rancid over time. Always taste masa harina before you use it to be sure it is still fresh. It does not store well and goes off much faster than flour. It’s best to store masa harina in the refrigerator or freezer, where it holds for 2 to 3 months. It will also keep in your pantry if sealed airtight for about 2 months. Making the dough is easiest in a heavy-duty mixer, but you can also mix it by hand in a bowl with a wooden spatula.

This garlicky paste, made with dark-brown sugar and spicy chile powder, imparts much flavor as well as color to grilled meat, including the ribs on page 176.