Vegetable

In Mexico, slow-cooked meats like this are sometimes first wrapped in maguey leaves (from the maguey cactus), which are not available here. In this recipe, the rabbit is braised in aluminum foil with the fresh green aromatics of cilantro and mint, the earthiness of garlic, the tartness of tomatillos, and the heat of jalapeños. The recipe also works well with chicken thighs. Buy the same amount as rabbit and cook as directed here, but remove the skin from the thighs and check sooner for doneness, as they might finish in less time.

The “aha!” moment when I thought to combine porcini and grilled beef with chiles came to me in Argentina, home of the world’s best grilled beef. Specifically, I was in Mendoza, the capital of Argentina’s wine country and settled by Italian immigrants in the nineteenth century—probably why beef with porcinis is such a common pairing there. This dish is delicious prepared outdoors over a wood-fired grill, but you can also cook it stovetop on a cast-iron griddle or ridged grill pan. Look for porcini powder at specialty food stores or buy dried porcinis and grind them yourself in a spice grinder.

This favorite of American households is the usual “starter” taco served at schools, airports, and drive-ins, and undoubtedly what most of us picture when we think of tacos. It’s the familiar fried folded corn tortilla shell layered with shredded iceberg or romaine lettuce, piquant fresh tomato salsa, and a cumin-flavored ground beef filling topped with grated cheese—but this one is so much tastier. As with any taco served in a crispy shell, fill and eat it right away or it will get soggy. Try to buy a high-quality ground beef, preferably pure ground chuck with a 25 to 30 percent fat content. Less expensive hamburger grinds will work fine, but they won’t be as flavorful or juicy.

Mondongo is usually a thick, spicy stew made with beef tripe and lots of locally grown vegetables, probably Spanish in origin. You can find many versions of it throughout Latin America and the Caribbean. The one I am most familiar with was prepared by our wonderful Mexican chef Daniel Alvarez, who cooked at the Coyote Cantina for over twenty years. His version used pork butt instead of tripe, lots of green chiles, sometimes posole or corn, and other green vegetables. He made this dish often for the staff meal and sometimes as a special at the Cantina. It always sold out quickly.

An achiote rub is the classic Yucatan way of marinating fish. I tasted this rub for the first time in Isla Mujeres in the early 1970s, when you could still live on the beach in a palapa and hammock, eat great seafood, and drink cold beers for a few dollars per day. The fishermen would rub fish with an achiote-citrus paste and grill them on the beach over fires made from coconut husks. When I worked at Chez Panisse in the late 1970s, I duplicated this rub from my taste memory for some of their famous garlic festivals. The light citrus flavors of the achiote paste are a beautiful contrast to the oily texture of the swordfish. If you don’t have swordfish, use another meaty ocean fish such as wahoo or mahi mahi.

One of the best lunches I’ve ever had was at the centuries-old Waterside Inn, a Michelin three-star restaurant situated on the banks of the River Thames in Bray, England, and owned by the renowned Roux brothers. Dressed in formal attire, as I was attending the Royal Ascot horse races nearby, I sat down to an unforgettable salad of briny Brittany lobster, rich avocado, tender mâche, sweet mango, and earthy fresh black truffles, all washed down with vintage Krug rosé champagne. I’ve recreated that memorable combination on many festive occasions and took it as inspiration for these most elegant tacos.

Mexico is blessed with one of the largest coastlines in the world, touching two oceans and two seas. Consequently, it has a very rich and diverse seafood culture. One of the centers for great seafood eating, including crab, is the Atlantic port Veracruz. Seafood vendors populate the market, their counters painted in the hottest tropical colors and the marinated catch of the day displayed in huge sundae glasses. Order mariscos of just one type or mix and match—the vendors compete with one another to make bigger cocktails in their own special way. When shopping for fennel, look for ones with tops intact; they add extra freshness to a recipe and a more complete fennel taste. If you cannot find fennel with tops, garnish with one teaspoon chopped fresh tarragon. For extra splash at a more formal party, slices of black truffles (if you want to splurge) or a few drops of truffle oil add elegance.

Native to North America, turkey has always been a celebratory bird (or at least it was celebrated by those who dined on it). Turkey (guajolote, in Spanish) was used for special feasts in pre-Columbian times and was a favorite food of the American Indians. In Mexico today, turkey in mole is still the preferred holiday dish. For Thanksgiving dinner one year at Coyote Café, we raised almost thirty wild turkeys (so much better than the modern domesticated turkey) on open ranchland so they were free to go anywhere and eat anything. The flavor of those turkeys was magnificent! This recipe is a tempting taste of what awaits any traveler to Oaxaca or Puebla, two of the great Mexican mole capitals. Commercially produced mole sauces are widely available throughout most major grocery store chains in the United States. We have used turkey breast for this recipe, but any part of the turkey will work. Note that the turkey must marinate overnight before cooking.

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.

Achiote paste is a distinctive staple marinade of the Yucatán peninsula that infuses food with a brick-red hue, a part bitter–part acidic flavor, and an earthy intensity that lingers on the palate. It’s usually combined with the bitter orange of the Yucatán and the fierce, tropical habanero chile. This recipe has a distinctly Caribbean flair, evoking personal memories of the early market in Merida, capital of the Yucatan and famous for its beaches. There, you’ll find wonderful whole fish marinated in achiote paste and cooked on fires on the beach over coconut husks. Or chicken tamales with achiote paste wrapped in banana leaves steamed, then finished over an open fire. These tacos are traditionally served with black beans, rice, and a heaping side of fried plantains (see page 140). You can make your own pickled onions for the garnish: Slice red onions into thin half-moons, sprinkle with oregano, and marinate in the juice from a jar of pickled jalapeños for about 20 minutes.

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.

Calabacitas (Spanish for “little squashes”) is a traditional side dish that I’ve converted into a delicious taco filling that celebrates summer bounty. All squash are native to the New World and, with corn, beans, and chiles, one of the “four magic plants” (as I call them) of the Southwest. Squash and corn not only like to grow together in the garden, they have a natural ecology that helps fix the nitrogen content of the soil, and they taste wonderful when cooked together. You can add fresh or frozen baby lima beans or fresh or dried green beans here for added color and nutrition. Be sure to cook the vegetables very slowly to capture all their natural sweetness and complexity.

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.

Huitlacoche is often referred to as “Mexican truffle” even though it is not related to truffles or mushrooms, but rather a fungus that grows naturally on corn in its wild state (spraying corn prevents the fungus). However, the flavor is pungent, earthy, and robust, all characteristics of true truffles. Highly prized in Mexico, fresh huitlacoche commands top prices when sold in the open markets there. Huitlacoche is almost impossible to find fresh in the United States. The federal government requires a special permit to grow it as a way to control infestation of the corn crop, as the spores are disseminated by air. It is usually available frozen and canned (see Sources, page 167). These tacos are hearty enough to be served by themselves, but also make a great side dish for a main course of beef.

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.

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.