Tex-Mex

There’s a certain romance associated with skillet cooking in American cuisine. It conjures campfires or rustic wood-fired ovens, where the cooking vessel must be sturdy enough to withstand the heat. Cast-iron pans fit that bill and more. I routinely use three cast-iron skillets of different sizes to accommodate different types of dishes: a small one for cooking up sausage samples for tasting or for frying up a couple of burgers; a medium size for cooking plate-size pancakes or a fat, juicy steak for two; and a large one for searing meats or fish fillets before finishing them in the oven or for making this skillet tamale pie. Cast-iron skillets offer two more advantages: they are widely available anywhere that carries kitchen equipment, from hardware stores to gourmet cookware shops, and they are modestly priced. The drawback to cast iron is that it is not serviceable for dishes that include tomatoes, wine, spinach, eggplant, or the like, because it turns the ingredient unpleasantly bitter. Romance aside, cooking the tamale pie in a cast-iron skillet offers one more advantage. It saves on pots and dishes: brown the sausage in the skillet on the stove top, spread the corn bread topping over the sausage, pop the skillet in the oven to bake, and then serve directly from the skillet. The quick, few-ingredient sausage is also good for tacos, topping pizza, Mexican-style spaghetti and meatballs, or in place of chorizo for egg preparations. The corn bread batter can be cooked into a tender, light bread without the sausage; use an 8-inch skillet in this case.

A glory of black beans, in addition to such qualities as their beauty and healthfulness, is that they don’t need to be presoaked: they easily yield to softening when boiled straightaway. Then, they are ready to accept all manner of embellishments, such as sausage, Mexican spices, and sweet-sour-hot chipotle cream.

Quick: Fire up your slow cooker for a filling and healthy winter feast. "The low heat preserves more nutrients than grilling, frying or boiling, and helps prevent the formation of carcinogens," says Jonny Bowden, Ph.D., nutritionist and coauthor of the 150 Healthiest Slow Cooker Recipes on Earth. We're loco for this Crock-Pot treat.

Chili powder, chocolate, and cumin are often combined in Tex-Mex cooking, and this turkey chili stays true to those roots. The recipe makes a large yield, so you can serve some chili right away, then freeze the rest to enjoy later.

WHY IT’S LIGHT This low-calorie Tex-Mex meal uses top round steak, a very lean cut of beef; you can also use other lean cuts such as eye of round or top sirloin. Corn tortillas have fewer calories and more nutrients than flour tortillas.

WHY IT’S LIGHT This rendition of a Tex-Mex favorite uses lean chicken breasts, corn tortillas, and just enough Monterey Jack cheese to create a luscious topping. The gentle, moist heat of pan steaming keeps the chicken breasts juicy and tender without any oil.

Despite its name, this is not a tamale (it’s closer to polenta). It has neither the taste nor the texture of a real tamale, and, strictly speaking, it isn’t even Mexican, unless you remember that Texas is as Mexican as it is American. That being said, tamales are complicated, and this, at the very least, combines the earthy flavors of corn and pork. It’s a true Tex-Mex dish, dating back at least a century. Serve with rice and beans.

Serve this brightly colored, layered tortilla pie with salsa and sour cream on the side. You can assemble the dish ahead of time, then bake it just before serving.

Taco seasoning can cover all manner of sins, but when I first saw textured vegetable protein, I was a bit apprehensive: could it possibly taste any better than driveway gravel? As it turns out, it’s pretty amazing stuff. In water, it expands to more than twice its original volume, and it picks up the flavors of whatever you combine it with. It has the texture of ground beef, but it’s way cheaper. This all makes it perfect for these classic tacos in a crispy shell, which are usually filled with seasoned ground beef. You can buy it at your local produce market or natural foods store in the bulk food section.

Lou Lambert, another one of my chef friends who grew up on a ranch, now owns two Texas restaurants—Lamberts Downtown Barbecue in Austin, and Lambert’s steak house in Fort Worth. Lou got the idea for his seared chickpeas when he was a kid growing up on the family ranch near Odessa. “We had a camp cook who would make hominy loaded with chili powder and garlic. I adapted his dish with chickpeas. I originally put this on the menu at the first Lambert’s on South Congress, and it has been a mainstay at all the restaurants since.” I’ve been coveting this recipe ever since I first tasted it at Lou’s first restaurant. Now that I have it, I know it will become a mainstay for me, too, especially when I have some entertaining to do.

Beans and rice create an unassuming but essential backdrop for the quintessential Tex-Mex meal—leave them out and you’ll probably hear about it. Rosa Albiter Espinoza, who has worked for more than seven years in the Rather Sweet kitchen, makes her Mexican rice regularly for our lunch specials. She prefers Adolphus rice, a long-grain variety native to Texas. When I’m preparing a Tex-Mex spread for a party, I make sure to serve a pot of rice and plenty of refried black beans.

I make batches of these in mini muffin pans, wrap them well, freeze them, and keep them on hand for last-minute parties. What a relief it is to have a dessert ready and waiting for an impromptu dinner. The only problem: I know where they are, and sometimes, especially late at night, I can’t resist unwrapping a few and eating them. (Yup, they’re pretty good frozen.) Before long, my party stash has dissipated, and I have to make some more. (Pictured on page 164, center tray.)

Beans and rice create an unassuming but essential backdrop for the quintessential Tex-Mex meal—leave them out and you’ll probably hear about it. Rosa Albiter Espinoza, who has worked for more than seven years in the Rather Sweet kitchen, makes her Mexican rice regularly for our lunch specials. She prefers Adolphus rice, a long-grain variety native to Texas. When I’m preparing a Tex-Mex spread for a party, I make sure to serve a pot of rice and plenty of refried black beans.

Puffy tacos have become modern-day icons of the San Antonio food scene. You can find the meat-filled, deep-fried corn tortillas throughout the Alamo City and—believe it or not—on the baseball field, too, where Henry, the Puffy Taco, serves as a mascot for the San Antonio Mission, a minor league team. I propose a build-your-own puffy taco party, where guests crowd into the kitchen to feast on hotfrom-the-skillet tacos stuffed with bison chili, a dab of guacamole, and whatever other fixings you set out. Ask friends to act as revolving fry cooks, so nobody gets stuck by the stove for too long, and in the meantime, assign others to shake up batches of Silver Bullet Margaritas (page 175). Diana Barrios Trevino, friend and the restaurateur behind San Antonio’s La Hacienda de los Barrios, gave me permission to use her famous puffy taco recipe. It was the recipe that beat TV chef Bobby Flay in a puffy taco “throwdown” staged for Flay’s popular Food Network show. If you can find fresh masa dough, use it to make the tortillas. Otherwise, dried masa mix will work just fine.

My mom was a veteran entertainer, and the Mexican décor of her home often influenced the menu. She insisted on doing things ahead and served a favorite casserole she called “sopa” at informal dinner parties. I never understood why she used the Spanish word for soup as the name of her casserole, but after browsing through several Texas community cookbooks, I discovered that a commonly used ingredient in a similar chicken tortilla casserole was condensed soup—cream of chicken, celery, or mushroom. Frankly, my inner chef’s code of conduct means I’d sooner come face to face with an ornery Texas longhorn than serve a casserole with a condensed soup base to my guests. But I remember loving my mom’s party sopa, and since she didn’t leave me her recipe, I created this meal-in-a-dish in her honor. I’ve nixed the soup shortcut, but I’m all for picking up a rotisserie chicken from the local market to ease the workload. Best of all, the casserole can be made ahead and refrigerated or frozen—on party day, just slide it in the oven.

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).

I’m always trying to get Rosa to make chiles rellenos for the bakery’s lunch special. Customers love them and they always sell out. But they are messy and a lot of work. Even after you’ve roasted and peeled the chiles and finished making the meat filling, you’re only halfway there: they still need dipping in egg-white batter, individual deep-frying, and an immediate mouth to feed, because nobody likes cold chiles rellenos. I complained about this to Yvonne Bowden, a favorite party-throwing partner. She told me about a relleno casserole that bypassed the deep fryer. It’s still a lot of work, but the casserole configuration is more party friendly. We worked on the dish together and Fiesta Chiles Rellenos were born. Serve with small bowls of Beans a la Charra (page 150).

We Texans love our queso, and although I’ve seen many a fierce debate over the use of one of its signature ingredients—Velveeta—most of us grew up eating it. For us, queso spells comfort. I don’t use Velveeta for anything else, but there’s something about its ability to melt into a creamy smoothness that makes queso, queso. The dip shows up at so many Texas tables because, for many of us, queso means warmth, ease, and familiarity—just the recipe for an easy, congenial get-together with friends. (Pictured opposite, left side)

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 cold soup is yet another use for the exploding basil in my garden. I created it for a backyard party that Country Living photographed for a summertime issue. There’s something special and a little bit elegant about starting an alfresco party meal with soup. Texas summers are so hot that I always like to offer something refreshing right off the bat. The gorgeous green color of this soup is set off beautifully by stark white serving bowls.

Shrimp and citrus make such a natural match, I often combine them in tacos, but they call out for something with a little heft, such as black beans. Depending on the size grapefruit you use, you’ll probably have more than you need for this recipe, but that’s not a problem. Just eat the remaining sections for breakfast with a little yogurt, for dessert instead of the oranges in the Yogurt Parfait with Mulled Red Wine Syrup (page 161), or in a smoothie with banana and milk. I like to sometimes double up the salsa on this taco, drizzling on a little Salsa Verde (page 14) in addition to the on-the-fly grapefruit–black bean salsa, but these tacos are plenty flavorful without it.

After moving from Austin to Boston, I would periodically get such a jones for Tex-Mex food that nothing would satisfy it but a casserole dish full of enchiladas stuffed with chunks of smoked turkey and slathered in a spicy-sweet green mole sauce. They had been a favorite of mine at Z’Tejas, at the time a funky place on 6th Street, but now a small chain with outposts in Texas, Utah, California, Arizona, and Washington State. I was thrilled when the Austin American-Statesman ran a recipe for the enchiladas a few years after I left town. It enabled me to invite over a mix of fellow Tex-pats and native New Englanders and have everyone marveling at the revelation that is a chocolate-free mole sauce. All these years later, the revelation for me was how easily they morphed into soft tacos, still with that unusual combination of smoked turkey breast and mole verde. For this, the smoked turkey should be cut from a very thick slice, so either buy a whole or half smoked breast yourself and cut it from there, or ask your deli to custom-cut a 1/2-inch slice or two.

I have to admit, it was a little strange writing a recipe for breakfast tacos, as much as I love them, because I think of them as so free-form. In my college days in Austin, when I powered my way to class by eating a couple of these every morning, I would change up the order pretty much each time. Cheese and salsa are must-haves, but otherwise my favorite combination is potato, egg, and chorizo. But you can also add (or substitute) black beans, avocado, bacon, and the like, in whatever lineup gets you going. Leftover breakfast foods, such as hash browns, are welcome additions, too. This makes two hefty tacos: a hearty breakfast or brunch.

One of Austin’s oldest restaurants is the venerable Texas Chili Parlor; its motto is “E Pluribus Chili,” and its signature dish comes in three levels of heat: X, XX, and XXX. The X is fantastic: plenty spicy, but you can still taste the other flavors. To my taste, XX is just slightly over the line between hot and too hot. And the XXX—well, let’s just say they make you sign a waiver before you can order it, and I never have. Besides the basic chili, my favorite item on the menu is the cheese enchiladas topped with the chili. They call them Frieda’s Enchiladas, and in all the years I went there, I never asked who Frieda was. I guess my mouth was always full, on fire, or both. This is my interpretation based on countless samplings. Now, this recipe may make enough for two servings, depending on your appetite and whether you eat beans and rice on the side, but I confess: I’m usually a four-enchilada man, meaning I have to commit to some extra time at the gym, but it’s worth it.