Fantastic Fungus

Picture this: a sauce that's as black as black bean soup, with an earthy aroma wafting up from it that's part truffle, part corn. It can be chunky or smooth. And, like mushrooms, it has that quality of umami that brings out the flavors of anything its served with, whether cheese, meat or vegetables.

In Mexican cuisine it's called huitlacoche and is a prized delicacy, especially when fresh.

Here in America, however, it's called corn smut or corn blight and has been targeted by the USDA as a disease of the corn plant that must be eradicated. Thus it is very hard to find in it's fresh state. And you know it's trouble when even an organization as revered as the James Beard Foundation, which hosted an all-huitlacoche dinner in 1989, couldn't raise the fungus's status. Sigh.

I'd had chunks of it in empanadas and as a smooth black sauce on steak when we were in Mazatlan a few years ago, but hadn't run across any since. So when I heard that my friend Kathryn LaSusa Yeomans of The Farmer's Feast had managed to cadge some from a local farmer who was wise enough not to plow under his field when he discovered it, I had to have some.

At the Portland Farmers' Market in Pioneer Courthouse Square on Monday she was spooning it into a steaming bowl of mushroom corn chowder. She had me taste the chowder alone, a lovely, rich broth with fresh corn and sliced mushrooms, perfectly fine by itself. But with just a small spoonful of the huitlacoche it was transformed into a blast of flavors, each one bigger and richer than it was by itself. Wow!

We can only hope that some enterprising farmer will take the smut challenge and realize that a field of huitlacoche will bring chefs and their customers flocking and throwing cash in his or her direction. Anyone willing to take this one on?

Mazatlan, Pt. 4: Evening on the Plazuela Machado

OK, now that it's cold and snowing in Portland (!) I'm going to make you completely sick by sharing an evening we spent strolling through the Centro Historico on a moonlit evening, a light breeze causing the temperature to dip down to, oh, 78 degrees. The doorways were lit by wrought iron streetlamps, people were just beginning to leave their day at the beach to have dinner. What can I say? It was paradise.

It was still a bit early for our table at the restaurant we'd chosen for dinner, so we wandered down the street to Topolo, a dinner house situated what was once a classic-style Mexican home.

As I mentioned before, many homes in the Centro have been converted into commercial spaces without destroying the features that make them such amazing examples of vernacular architecture. The flat stucco fronts with shuttered windows that face the street, often painted in eye-popping (and fabulous) tropical colors, that, when you walk through the door, reveal private open-air courtyards with colonnaded patios used as dining or living areas (or both).

Radiating off the patios are the interior rooms for sleeping and cooking or receiving guests. The whole structure is ingeniously situated to take advantage of both shade and any cooling breezes that might waft by, and the plants and fountains in the courtyard provide a sense of coolness and separation from the noises of the street outside.

We had margaritas and a platter of house appetizers, including crunchy pork flautas, small chimichangas filled with tender beef and cheese, and quesadillas topped by sliced sausages, which gave us the strength to roll down to La Tramoya on the Plazuela for dinner. The lamps were lit, the vendors selling trinkets to the tourists were set up in the square and tables were starting to fill with a happy and tired beach-goers celebrating the long Easter weekend with their families.

Once again I ordered the inky black huitlacoche, this time as a sauce over perfectly grilled medium-rare steak. Its earthy, tart flavor, much like a mushroom sauce with wine, made a luscious mouthful and a great pairing, especially with the spicy red wine from a Baja producer. The fish in verde sauce that Dave ordered came in a foil pouch that sent up a cloud of scented steam that was so tempting he had to share a bite with everyone at the table.

After finishing our meals and working on the remains of the wine, we sat back and listened to the people chatting with their families and scolding their kids, the waiters joking with their tables and taking orders. It was a warm night and the voices, all in Spanish, blended with the music floating on the light evening breeze. A perfect vacation moment.

Read the other posts about my trip to Mazatlan: The Historic Scene, The Mercado Central, The Fungus Among Us, Groovy Graffiti, Bewitching Breakfast and Adios. 

Mazatlan, Pt. 3: The Fungus Among Us

For years I've been reading about huitlacoche, the Mexican delicacy made from a black fungus that grows on corn. So I was thrilled to see it on the menu at a restaurant called Copa de Leche on the Malecon, the beachfront drive in the old section of the city. The huitlacoche was used as a stuffing in handmade empanadas, and came with sides of salad and refried beans. The filling had a tart, earthy flavor that was unlike anything I'd ever had before, and the crust of the empanadas was crisp and crunchy, a perfect pairing.

We also ordered a bowl of tortilla soup, a favorite from previous trips and one that I've made at home a few times. Simple to make if you start with a rich chicken or vegetable broth, simmer it with tomatoes, onions and garlic, then add strips of fried corn tortillas, chunks of avocado and lime juice just before serving. The crispness of the tortilla adds a lovely crunch to this flavorful soup, and it was almost as good as the definitive version I first tasted at the Red Cabbage Cafe in Puerto Vallarta.

The menu also listed nopales in garlic sauce, cactus leaves that had been skinned, chopped and cooked in oil with whole cloves of garlic and sliced mushrooms. Terrific by itself, this would also be fantastic as a side dish with meat or in tacos with grilled meat and corn tortillas.

The chicken in mole sauce capped off the meal perfectly, the deep red chile sauce with a hint of heat and tender chicken just begged to be eaten stuffed into bits of warm tortillas torn from the pile on the table.

Sitting on the covered beachfront patio, sipping margaritas or a Pacifico with a squeeze of lime in it and watching the world go by made this a perfect spot to while away an afternoon, then head back for a nap before dinner. Vacations are such hard work!

Read the other posts about my trip to Mazatlan: The Historic Scene, The Mercado Central, Evening on the Plazuela Machado, Groovy Graffiti, Bewitching Breakfast and Adios.