Salsa Wars Finalists

Over the years, I’ve become a bit of a salsa virtuoso. I point to my Mexican roots for precipitating the fondness for chile-based condiments.

Salsa, which means “sauce” in Spanish, originates back to the Aztecs, Mayans and Incas in Mexico and Central America, where sauces were made using tomatoes, chiles and a variety of other ingredients including seeds and berries, depending on availability and location. They encompassed sauces that were cooked and smoothed and those that were chunky and raw.

Growing up, salsa was on the table at every meal, right next to the salt and pepper. Whether it was my dad’s hot roasted green chiles mashed to perfection in the molcajete with garlic or my momma’s impromptu fresh pico de gallo with garden-fresh tomatoes, cilantro and jalapenos – salsa was the choice condiment for everything from tacos to eggs to pizza.

Today, salsa still reigns. Although my definition of it has expanded beyond Mexican and Latin American cuisine.

So, when I got the chance to be a judge at Salsa Wars, Denver Public Library’s salsa recipe contest, I jumped on it. The event was part of DPL’s Street Food series in July, which highlighted food from Peru, Brazil and Mexico.

As a judge, I had the pleasure of tasting the six finalist salsas, and the task of picking my favorites. I was torn . . .

Do I vote for the more traditional Salsa Jefe with roasted chiles and tomatoes or the roasted tomatillo-based Garlic and Lime Green Salsa – both of which I could eat leisurely with chips while I have a cold beer or margarita? Or, do I vote for the Salsa Puttanesca with capers and anchovies that would be great on fish, but I wouldn’t touch with chips? Then, there was that darn Caramelized Onion Salsa that tasted divine but called for an hour plus to caramelize onions?

There was also the lure of ingenuity with the roasted beet Red Square Salsa – tasty but more of a side dish than a salsa? And, a green tomato salsa that appealed to the gardener in me.

Ultimately, I channeled some Iron Chef judiciousness. Along with two other judges – Chef Shellie Kark of Kitchen cue and Jesse Ogas of Encantada Catering, we selected the winners:

1^st Place:  Salsa Puttanesca-Salsa Italian Style – by Beth Hewlett

2^nd Place:  Salsa Jefe – by Rocio Rowland

3^rd Place:  Caramelized Onion Salsa – by Laura Kark

Other Finalists:

Red Square Salsa-Salsa Russian Style – by Beth Hewlett

Garlic and Lime Green Salsa – by Katherine Linder

Coleen’s Amazin Green Tomato Salsa – by Coleen Walsh

Below are recipes and pictures for half of the finalists. I cooked up the three (in bold) and made a few notes in italics. The remaining three recipes can be found on Chef Kark’s blog and her Facebook page.

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I’m excited you’re excited for purslane. I feel like I’m on a marketing campaign for the succulent this summer.

I confess, however, the inspiration for featuring this ingredient came from my hubby. He’s been making green smoothies this summer (adding raw kale, spinach, collards and other greens into his berry smoothies for extra nutrients). One day he asked about “purslane” and I reminded him that he’s eaten it in tacos de verdolagas.

In most Mexican cookbooks, verdolagas/purslane are mentioned in recipes with pork. But, they are also frequently eaten scrambled with eggs. That’s how I remember eating them growing up. When I told my brothers and sisters that I was writing about verdolagas – they waxed nostalgically for those tacos with verdolagas, sautéed onions, chile and scrambled eggs.

For those new to purslane, the cooked version tastes like spinach and loses its tanginess. It’s a nice earthy compliment to eggs.

When you prepare the raw purslane, make sure to use the florets and use only the tender part of the stem. The whole stem is edible, but I find the really thick stems chewy. Substitute purslane in those recipes where you’d usually have sautéed greens like spinach.

This morning we had tacos de verdolagas with a little queso fresco and salsa. They are great for breakfast, lunch, dinner or even a snack.

If any of you are already purslane fans, what’s your favorite way to eat it?

Tidbits on Purslane:

1. Purslane is loaded with vitamins and minerals but for anyone watching their nitrate intake – as in spinach, don’t over do it.
2. Its name in Malawi (a southeast African country) translates as “buttocks of the chief’s wife,” referring to the plants rounded leaves and juicy stems.

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Call it a weed if you want. Purslane is still good eating.

Every summer growing up, my family planted a backyard garden with tomatoes, calabacitas (zucchini), chiles, cilantro, onions and a few other standards found in most Mexican family gardens. Yet, part of the bounty we enjoyed was something we didn’t plant . . .  weeds.

We would chow down on verdolagas. You might know the weed as “purslane.”

Purslane is a long, red-stemmed succulent with fleshy oval flowers.  It grows all over the world and is eaten in many cultures – in Egypt and Sudan it is used as a medicine and as a vegetable, in France it is served with fish, in Holland it is used in winter salads, and in Mexico, it is frequently eaten with pork.

Despite this, it has a bad rap with most gardeners, who consider it an invasive weed.

Purslane is also known by some unattractive names like pigweed, Little Hogweed and pussley. Not too enticing, eh? After reading this post and its nutritional value (see Tidbits below), I hope you’ll be persuaded to try the little succulent. Know that some folks consider it a superfood.

Purslane has a mild flavor and is slightly lemony. It reminds me of nopales (cactus), without as much mucilage.

This summer as purslane grows in my garden and in the cracks of my sidewalk, I’ve allowed some areas to grow. I prefer to pick it when the stems are about 5 inches in length – the longer the stems, the tangier. On the occasions when it is longer, I discard the thick stems or at least make sure they are cut into small bite size pieces.

The recipe below is for a quick, raw salad I’ve been making this summer. It’s been a hit at several potlucks including my community garden workday. Fellow gardeners were thrilled to find a use for the “edible weed” pervading their gardens.

Hip me up to your favorite uses for purslane.

Tidbits on Purslane:

1. Purslane has been a go to food during hot weather since before Christ. It is believed to sooth the head and cool the body.
2. Pigs, apparently, go mad for purslane. I suspect the reason for calling it “pigweed.”
3. Nutrition:  it’s one of the best vegetable sources of omega-3 fatty acids and some suggest it should be considered a super food. “It is a good source of Thiamin, Niacin, Vitamin B6 and Folate, and a very good source of Vitamin A, Vitamin C, Riboflavin, Calcium, Iron, Magnesium, Phosphorus, Potassium, Copper and Manganese.”

Source:  Hints & Pinches by Eugene Walter, a mini-reference book about herbs and spices; GourmetFood.Suite101.com.

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Do you call ground, dried corn “grits” or “polenta?”  You’d be right if you said either one. Yes, polenta, the haute cuisine of the last two decades, is equivalent to good ol’ grits.

Grits v. Polenta

If you’re scratching your head, it’s completely understandable. The labeling is inconsistent and I suspect regional – in the South, I’d reckon you’d find “grits” on store shelves but in northern Italy, you’d see “polenta.”  Here in Denver, I just bought a bag of coarsely-ground, dried yellow cornmeal labeled “polenta (corn grits)” at the natural food store. What gives?

For intellectual purposes, know that one of the primary differences between the two is that grits are usually made with white corn, while polenta is made of yellow.

Some polenta authorities also distinguish the two by the size of the grind, polenta being larger with a nuttier taste. However, both grits and polenta are available in fine, medium and coarse grinds.

To add even more confusion, there’s also the lighter colored “hominy grits.” Early on, the word “hominy” reflected the lye soak process used to loosen the husk and germ, which made for a softer and creamier final dish. Today, “hominy grits” has become a generic term for “corn grits.”

Ugghh. To me it’s all “mush,” like my brain when I try to figure out all this nomenclature.

Green Chile Cheese Grits

Grits are an institution in the South – served with butter and salt, sweetened with milk and sugar, or topped with red-eye gravy, ham, bacon or shrimp.

This recipe for green chile grits is a bit Southern/Soul Food and Mexican – a reflection of my household and history. Corn (maize) was originally domesticated in central Mexico and eventually became a favored crop among Southerners.

These green chile cheese grits are easy to make and much tastier than regular mush. They are delicious for breakfast with eggs or for lunch or dinner as a substitute for potatoes or rice. Enjoy! Leave a comment about your favorite way to eat cornmeal mush, and if you have a preference for “grits” or “polenta.”

Tidbits on Cornmeal:

1. Southerners hailing from the Charleston area use the word “hominy” to refer to cooked grits and the term “grist” for its uncooked state.
2. Early Southern pioneers cultivated more corn than cotton.
3. The smaller the grind of corn, the faster it will cook. Larger grinds (and most polenta recipes) can take up to an hour to cook. The grits/polenta is ready when it’s no longer crunchy.
4. Stone ground and whole grain cornmeal has more nutrients because it still contains the germ.

Sources:  The Oxford Encyclopedia for Food and Drink in America, Good Old Grits Cookbook by Bill Neal & David Perry.

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In Mexico and some parts of the U.S., horchata is ubiquitous. The cinnamon-infused rice drink is served cold in huge jars alongside agua de jamaica (hibiscus tea) and other fruit based aguas frescas. This week, we’re also drinking it hot . . .

Despite the unpredictability of spring weather here in Colorado, it’s my favorite of all seasons.

New growth budding on leafless branches. Greener grasses and spring bulbs readying to bloom. Wet snowfalls. Cool weather herbs and greens peeking through in the garden. My first few outings on my bicycle and overestimating how far I could ride. Sore muscles. More snow.

A few days ago we took advantage of 60 degree weather here in Colorado, and cleaned several beds and remnants of seasons since passed. My momma was the willing assistant – helping me carry several tarps full of leaves and turn the compost bin.

That sort of work made us thirsty. Luck (and some pre-planning) was ours, I had three kinds of cold horchata ready to drink. Snap!

As refreshing as it was, we had to fight the urge to drink it all. I still had pictures to take the next day of the “hot” shot – a steamed horchata with a shot of espresso.

A cold blast came through Denver the very next day. Rain quickly turned to snow. And, of course we were out and about in the worst of it. A bit chilled when we got home, we pulled out the horchata again – this time served hot with espresso for momma; steamed and plain for me ( I’m a caffeine wuss).

The hot version, is inspired by Taza de Café, a northwest Denver coffee shop, which serves up horcha-tté, a luscious horchata drink with espresso.

So, horchata is a drink for any season!

Below are 5 ways to make this quintessential Mexican rice drink. Check them out and this song called Horchata by Vampire Weekend, which was released last fall.

Salud!

Tidbits on Horchata:

1. In Mexico, horchata is typically made from rice and water, although some make creamier versions using milk and/or almonds. There is also an horchata made from ground melon seeds.
2. Horchata, also called orxata, and this method of making refreshing drinks comes originally from Spain, where they use ground seeds, nuts and grains. There, instead of rice, they use tigernuts, also called chufas.

Source:  The Mexican Gourmet by Maria Dolores Torres Yzabal & Shelton Wiseman

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Since my recent post of Mexican rice, arroz a la Mexicana, using long grain white rice (read about the traditional version and its history), several of you have sent me requests for a brown rice version.

I like many of you enjoy brown rice – both for its taste and nutritional benefits. So, I’ve just upped my game by making a Mexican brown rice version.

First though, I have to admit, I’ve attempted this in the past. But, I was less than satisfied with the results – generally involving tripling the simmer time, and the final product lacking texture and flavor. I looked for outside guidance but it fell short – generally, because brown rice is not too common to Mexican cookery.

Yesterday, however, because of your insistence, I finally created a recipe I am very pleased with and glad to share.

I’ve pulled out a few tricks:  the rice is pre-soaked to soften the grain; saute the rice for about 10 minutes versus 5 for the white version; and, the rice is boiled for 5 minutes before simmering for 40 minutes (longer boil time and simmer time).

One more thing. I am very familiar with the process of Mexican rice in this pilaf style, so I generally know how to make adjustments such as removing/adding a little liquid; changing the pot to make a larger quantity and using less water for the same. However, if you’re new to it and depending on where you are – sea level or the top of the Rocky Mountains, you may have to adjust slightly.

Let the first attempt be just that. Print this recipe, follow it as is and gauge how it comes out for you. Make notes on how you should adjust next go around.

Happy cooking!

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Mexican rice, also called arroz a la Mexicana or arroz rojo, is a requisite when it comes to Mexican food.

In the States, it is a standard side served along with beans. In Mexico, it is one of the most popular sopas secas (dry soups), in a multi-course meal, typically served before the main course.

In case you’re confused, Mexican rice is different than Spanish rice, although some people use the names interchangeably. The Mexican version gets its reddish hue from tomatoes, while Spanish rice generally uses saffron.

Mexican rice was one of the first dishes I learned to cook that required a little skill in the kitchen – sautéing, boiling and steaming. Sounds tricky, but it really just requires keeping a watchful eye on the pot during the sauté.

I’ve been making rice for eons and only recently realized that the technique I learned from my momma, and she from her abuela, was considered a pilaf. In pilafs, the rice/grain is browned in fat before it is simmered in a flavored broth. This cooking process creates fluffy, flavorful rice that’s moist. It also gives it a faint smoky taste from browning.

As you’ll see from the ingredient list and the photos, I add vegetables to my rice. It’s the way my family does it and it’s also the way many in Mexico make it – cocineros add carrots, peas, zucchini and/or fresh whole chiles for flavor. However, if you add peas, promise not to use the canned stuff! Ewww.

Most of the time, I eat this rice with black beans, lots of fresh pico de gallo, and slices of avocado atop. (The pre-cursor to Chipotle’s® bowl.) Others usually eat it as a side dish. Try it with rajas and grilled chicken, caldo de res, mole poblano, and Mexican zucchini – calabacitas con elote.

Tidbits on Rice:

1. Rice was introduced to Mexico via the Spanish during colonization via the Spanish trade route from Manila in the Philippines to Acapulco in Mexico. In Mexico, the route is referred to as the Nao de China.
2. The length of rice grains should be considered for your desired end result. Long grain rice is fluffy and has separate individual grains after cooking, while medium grain rice clings together a bit more but remains a bit more tender and moist. Short grain rice tends to stick together and is best for things like rice puddings.

Sources:  Encyclopedia of Food & Culture; The Art of Mexican Cooking by Diana Kennedy

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Apparently, lentils and bananas are combined more commonly than we think.

I came upon a Banana-Lentil Salad recipe while browsing Nuevo Latino: Recipes that Celebrate the New Latin-American Cuisine by Douglas Rodriguez, a James Beard award-winning chef. His salad trails back to the Spanish Canary Islands.

In Mexico, as well as in other Latin American and Caribbean countries, lentejas y platanos (lentils and plantains) are frequently eaten as a soup usually stewed with pork. And, in places like Puebla, Mexico, pineapple is also added to the mix, according to The Art of Mexican Cooking by renowned cookbook author Diana Kennedy, who links the savory/sweet combo to Moorish Spain. The combination can also be traced to some African recipes.

This salad recipe, however, is my version of lentejas and platanos. It’s loosely inspired by Rodriguez and traditional lentejas recipes.

If you’re leary about the lentil/plantain combo – have the salad without the plantains, it’s still plenty flavorful and healthy. However, you’re on notice that it’s those platanos fritos (fried plantains) that makes this salad special.

The caramelized plantains have sweet, tender insides that are also a tad bit tangy and a perfect contrast to the crunchiness of peppers, onion and celery, and the nuttiness of wild rice and lentils.

It’s an unusual twist that’s not so unusual.

Tidbits on Lentils:

1. Before cooking lentils, be sure to sort the legumes to remove any debris such as dirt and stones. Then rinse well in a colander and drain. It is not necessary to pre-soak lentils before cooking.
2. Store unused lentils in an airtight container in a cool, dry location for up to one year.
3. Lentils are high in soluble fiber and recommended for people with diabetes and cholestoral problems.

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Hooray for mole (pronounced MOH- lay)!

If you’ve never feasted on mole poblano, you must. It is so beloved it is considered the national dish of Mexico. Mole poblano is a dark, rich, thick, sauce served over chicken or turkey – it’s both bitter and spicy from toasted, ground chiles and also smoothly sumptuous from ground nuts, sesame seeds, spices and bitter chocolate. Yes, chocolate!

Traditionally, when made from scratch, making mole poblano is a labor intensive affair that includes a long, long list of ingredients and a lot of toasting, grinding and frying. For this reason, from-scratch mole is typically reserved for special occasions such as weddings and religious holidays. We, however, have the modern convenience of Dona Maria’s mole paste. So, you can make this dish on a whim.

But, first, feed your mind . . . The word “mole,” in its most general sense refers to a sauce and it’s not always thick or dark; it can be also be green, red, yellow and black. In Mexico, the states best known for moles are typically Puebla and Oaxaca. Fortunately, I’ve eaten mole in both states. Oaxaca, the Land of the Seven Moles, was my favorite.

Mole poblano hails from the mountainous region of Puebla, Mexico and its exact origin is uncertain. The ingredients and cooking techniques used to make this dish are linked to both the Old and New World. While chiles, tomatoes, peanuts and chocolate are native to Mexico’s pre-Spanish cookery (read about the origin of chocolate); the Spanish introduced several Asian spices they obtained from spice-route commerce including sesame seeds, cumin, cinnamon, anise and black pepper.

Regardless, the somewhat unusual blend of chiles, spices and chocolate, makes for a luxurious savory sauce for a special occasion or not. Note:  this dish freezes well and leftover sauce can be used to make enchiladas, as a filling for tamales, over rice and beans, or whatever tickles your tastebuds. Let me know if you have another way you modify mole paste or how you use leftover mole sauce.

Tidbits on Chocolate:

1. Chocolate has long been considered an aphrodisiac, a quality that made for some controversy among Catholics who consumed it during Lent.
2. Scientific research is uncertain as to chocolate’s aphrodisiatic properties. However, chocolate has become an essential ingredient in the act of seduction.

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