Ancho Chile

I love the Southwest of the United States and the foods of that region. This recipe features three ingredients borrowed from its Native American culture: corn, beans, and peppers. Here, the stew is made with vegetable stock, but you can also use chicken stock. Wood-roasted pork shoulder or chicken can be shredded and added to the dish for an even heartier meal. The heirloom beans come from my friend Steve Sando’s company, Rancho Gordo. You can substitute other dried beans, but the flavor will be best if you use Rancho Gordo beans (see Resources). The stew can be made a day ahead and reheated just before serving. Any leftovers are terrific as a filling for tamales or enchiladas.

This fiery North African condiment is a Lucques favorite.

This dish was inspired by a trip to Tunisia a few years ago. I fell in love with the Tunisian cooks’ use of spices and the bowls of harissa served with every meal. What surprised me most was the use of caraway, which I had always thought of as an Eastern European spice. For this Tunisian-flavored stew, I season the lamb shoulder overnight with caraway, coriander, chiles, cayenne, and paprika, and then braise it in an aromatic broth with cinnamon and allspice. For a traditional braise I usually deglaze with wine, but in keeping with Muslim prohibitions common in Tunisia, I refrain and substitute lemon juice, which also adds a bright, acidic note to the stew.

Super-green watercress makes the perfect starter to a St. Patrick’s Day dinner. One St. Patrick’s Day at Lucques, in order not to lose the bright, vivid green color and fresh lively taste of the watercress, I decided to make the soup to order. Rather than cooking the watercress, I planned to wilt it with hot vegetable stock and then purée it with tarragon, parsley, chives, and a touch of cream. As that night approached, the restaurant was booked solid, and I began to worry about my made-to-order soup scheme, but Daniel Mattern, my equally obsessive sous-chef, insisted we go for it in spite of the anticipated 180 reservations. He recruited the waitstaff to bring their blenders from home, and organized his new found equipment into a lean, mean soup station as if it were business as usual. That night, all 180 bowls of soup were made to order and managed to arrive at the tables pipinghot. Dan must have had the luck of the Irish because he pulled it off without a hitch. Served with an anchovy toast, this “à la minute” soup is great any day of the year.

Texans like meat, and in Texas, chili is all about meat and spices. We make ours with chunks of sirloin and season it with a blend of ancho chiles, which lend an earthy, sweet, raisin flavor, and pasilla chiles, which give a spicy, deep taste. Our Texas Red Chili is a “wanderin’ special” on our menu, showin’ up every now and then. During deer season in November, we may even make it with venison.

This dish has some serious garlic happenin’. We developed it as one of a whole bunch of recipes for a Dinosaur garlic festival. It marked the birth of the Custom-Que at the restaurant, a special menu that’s broadened our repertoire and given our customers a taste of some unique dishes influenced by the world of wood-fired cookin’.

The bite of chiles combined with the sweet crunchiness of toasted pecans give this saucy chicken dish lots of flavor and textural dimension. In other words, you’re gonna love it!

This North African condiment is made from puréed sweet peppers and chiles. Use it to spice up a soup, roast meat, or grilled vegetables; as a sandwich spread; or as a sauce with rice or couscous dishes.

This is an excellent way to cook a shoulder roast, whether pork, lamb, or beef; it combines the best of roasting and braising into one method to produce a meltingly tender, mouthwatering golden roast with a rich, deeply flavorful sauce. The meat is cooked in the oven, uncovered, with a small amount of liquid, which allows a large part of the roast to brown and render its fat in the dry heat of the oven while the underside is simmering in flavorful juices. After about an hour the roast is turned, submerging the browned meat in the juices to absorb moisture and flavor, while exposing the underside to the browning heat of the oven. From then on, the roast is turned in and out of the liquid to alternately brown and braise. While the meat is in the liquid it is bathed with sugars from the vegetables and wine; these sugars caramelize when exposed to the dry heat, making a fabulous golden crust that is protected from burning each time it is turned back into the sauce. Any shoulder cut will do—for more flavor, when possible choose a roast that has the bone in (called blade-in for beef chuck). The meat will be tender after it is cooked and will easily separate from the bone. If the butcher has not already done so, trim the majority of the fat from the outside of the roast and season well with salt and pepper. For added flavor use a dry rub: herbs, ground spices, and chiles mixed with the salt and pepper. Or make a paste with pounded garlic, herbs, spices, and a bit of olive oil to rub into the meat after it is seasoned. Do this in advance—overnight if there’s time—to allow the flavors to penetrate the meat. Cut the aromatic vegetables into large pieces. Place them in a heavy baking dish just a bit larger than the roast. Add any herbs and spices and set the seasoned meat on top of the vegetables, fat side up. Pour in liquid (wine, stock, or water) about a quarter of the way up the sides of the roast. Cook, uncovered, in a 375°F oven for an hour or so. Turn the roast over and cook for 30 minutes, then turn it again and cook for another 30 minutes. At this point check the meat to see if it is done. It should offer little or no resistance to the probing of a sharp knife or skewer. If it needs more time, turn and cook until done, turning the roast every half hour. The total cooking time may be as much as 3 1/2 hours depending on the size of the roast. While the meat is cooking, keep an eye on the liquid and add more as needed. This can be deceptive at times, since rendered fat can make it look as though there is more liquid than there really is. Check with a spoon to gauge the level of the actual liquid and add more as needed. If all the liquid were to evaporate, the vegetables and meat would stick and burn, and there would be no sauce to serve with the meat. When done, remove the meat from the pan. Skim the sauce well and either discard the vegetables if they’ve lost all their flavor and you don’t want to serve them, or else push them through a food mill or coarse strainer and add them to the skimmed sauce. Reheat the sauce, slice the meat, and serve it with the sauce poured over or passed around in a pitcher or sauceboat.

This is one of my favorite ways to eat rice: spicy and with nuts! The spice from the chiles is perfectly balanced by earthy pine nuts. To cut down on the heat, you can always use one ancho chile instead of two, but I encourage you to try it with two the first time around. You might be surprised at how well the flavors work together. Because they are picked by hand, pine nuts can be expensive. Feel free to substitute chopped or slivered almonds instead.

“Drunken” salsas have been around forever. They were originally prepared with pulque, an alcoholic beverage made from the fermented juice of the once-sacred maguey (agave) plant. Pulque, which is not easy to find outside of Mexico, is not distilled and has a much stronger flavor than tequila, which I use in its place in this recipe. The alcohol is mostly burned off in the cooking process, leaving only its musky flavor. The sweetness from the freshly squeezed orange juice gives this salsa a wonderful balance.

My dad, Antonio (a.k.a. Tony), inspired this dish. Like a painter’s body of work, his culinary life is marked by distinct periods. When he went through an osso buco period, I decided that if I was going to be making a lot of osso buco, it was going to be a Mexican osso buco, spiked with lime, chiles, cilantro, and garlic.

Chocolate and chiles have been paired up for centuries in Mexico. Ancho-infused hot chocolate was a drink reserved for royalty, believed to produce strength and virility. The combo is especially tasty with beefy short ribs. You can substitute bittersweet chocolate for the Mexican chocolate; just add a pinch each of sugar and cinnamon and a few drops of almond extract—the ingredients that make Mexican chocolate unique.

This is a simple dish with an impressive presentation, and it works with any combination of grilled meat, fish, poultry, or vegetables. A molcajete is a mortar made of lava rock that is usually used with a pestle (also made of lava rock) to make fresh salsas. Because it is made with a natural rock, it has an excellent ability to preserve heat and keep a dish hot, and that’s how I use it in this recipe. If you do not have two molcajetes, ovenproof earthenware bowls (about the size of cereal bowls) are an acceptable substitute.

This recipe plays on my favorite combination: spicy and sweet. Don’t worry about the chicken drying out in the oven—all of the flavor and juice is sealed in by the crunchy pecan glaze. Drumettes are the part of a chicken wing that, when separated from the rest of the wing, looks like a miniature drumstick. You can carve the wings yourself, ask your butcher to do it, or purchase frozen drumettes in the freezer section of the supermarket (thaw them overnight in the refrigerator).

Deviled eggs might not be the first thing you think of when planning an appetizer menu. But when sprinkled with smoky ancho chile and bright cilantro, these retro bites are always the most talked-about dish at any gathering at my house. I use a spice grinder to pulverize the dried chile, but you can find already ground ancho chile in many supermarkets and in Latin markets; you’ll need 1 teaspoon.

This recipe which is vaguely related to the classic chili, combines chickpeas, meat, and spices and takes advantage of all of those assets. The cooked chickpeas are sautéed over high heat until browned and slightly crisp, and the pan is ultimately deglazed with the reserved chickpea-cooking liquid.

One of the classic moles of Oaxaca, now popular throughout Mexico. Though no mole is simple, this is among the easiest and most straightforward, something you can actually consider making on a weeknight (especially if you’re an experienced cook and can brown the chicken and make the sauce at the same time). To be entirely authentic—or, at least, more authentic, since true authenticity is never really possible north of the border—you should roast most of the sauce ingredients before combining them in the skillet. Toast the almonds in a dry skillet, shaking occasionally, until fragrant; heat the peeled garlic in a dry skillet until lightly browned; roast the onions and tomatoes in a hot oven until blistered; and so on, right down to toasting and grinding fresh whole spices. (In fact, old-style cooks brown unblanched almonds and then peel them.) All of this does make a difference, and if you have the time, please try it. Believe me, though, the mole will be sensational without these steps. If you’ve never cooked with lard, have no fear: It has less saturated fat than butter and is still sold in virtually every supermarket. It remains a wonderful cooking fat. Serve with rice or Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517).

If you think nothing beats grilled fresh corn in the summer, think again: street vendors in Mexico, Chile, Peru, and other Central and South American countries figured out how to make a great thing even better, adding a little lime juice and chile powder to what is already a near-perfect food. The tart lime juice is incredibly refreshing, and a little smoky heat from the chiles brings out the crisp sweetness of the corn. For a more indulgent version, see the variation.

Just because I identify a dish with a country doesn’t mean it’s made exclusively there, and chile-fried shrimp is practically universal. So calling this a Mexican dish is a little like calling grilled steak an American dish. But I like to make this with the relatively mild chiles used in Mexico, and I like to serve it with rice and beans, so there it is. This is best made with homemade Chili Powder (page 609), but if you prefer, use a chile powder dominated by ancho or New Mexican chiles, which have warmth but not high levels of heat. Arroz a la Mexicana (page 517) is a great side dish for this, along with a green salad.

A standard and very useful salsa, great with anything grilled. I don’t make it fiery hot—it’s based on mild chiles—but you can add more of the hot ones if you like, and it’s easy enough.

Pumpkin seeds figure heavily in much Mexican cooking. You can buy them toasted, but toasting them is an easy enough task, and they’re arguably better when toasted fresh—especially in lard or oil. (If you’d like to avoid the mess—or the lard—you can also toast the seeds on a baking sheet in a 350°F oven or in a dry skillet as you would sesame seeds, page 596.) Ancho chiles—dried poblanos—are mild and richly flavored. You can use them freely without worrying about overpowering heat. This sauce is best served over something simple, like grilled steak or chicken.

This is a sharp, spiky sauce, but not a superhot one (it’s not a supergreen one, either!). Use it as a dip for chips or vegetables or as a basting sauce when roasting meat, fish, or vegetables.