Scrambled Eggs, Meet Chilaquiles

When it comes to eggs, scrambling has been my technique of choice since I was a kid. On Saturday mornings my two brothers and I would watch cartoons as our parents slept upstairs, laying on the floor with our noses practically touching the screen in a position my mother said "will ruin your eyes." At a certain point we'd break for breakfast, my brothers hauling out plastic bowls, milk and boxes of cereals with names like Cocoa Puffs, Frosted Flakes and Sugar Crisp.

I don't know what was wrong with me, but I wasn't enamored with the cereals I considered "too sweet," preferring instead those with less (but by no means without) sugar like Wheaties and Grape Nuts. I even had a flirtation with various shredded wheat varieties, but that soured when it became too much like eating a bowl of twigs.

My mother's cast iron skillet.

At some point in elementary school I was old enough to be allowed to use our electric stove without supervision, and I started making scrambled eggs in my mother's small, well-seasoned 8" cast iron skillet which sits in my kitchen to this day. It took practice, but I learned to manage the heat and not burn the butter and to crack the eggs without getting bits of shell in the mix—biting down on a shell in a creamy mound of scrambled eggs still sets my teeth on edge—as well as figuring out how much to stir them to give them that not-too-curdy, not-too-dry creaminess.

I continue to make them to this day, though I've varied the original butter-egg-milk-salt mixture of my childhood to a butter-egg-salt-sprinkling of cheddar combination that suits my current tastes. Dave has mastered the omelette after watching Julia Child's technique on our collection of French Chef DVDs, and I've grown fascinated with one Mexican version, chilaquiles (pron. chee-lah-KEY-lays) that includes chopped tortillas, tomatoes and onions.

Beautiful tortillas from Three Sisters Nixtamal.

Sainted researcher and chronicler of Mexican cuisine, Diana Kennedy, has a superb version of chilaquiles in her The Tortilla Book that we like to make with corn tortillas; flour tortillas make them too doughy. And, fortunately, the best tortillas I've had lately, from Portland-based Three Sisters Nixtamal, are now available in local stores.

Made with organic corn, the dried kernels are combined with lime and water in a process called "nixtamalization" that causes the kernels to swell and enriches the nutrients in the corn. The kernels are then washed, drained, ground and combined with water and salt to make masa dough, which is then pressed into tortillas. I can't recommend them highly enough, and they add a deep, authentic flavor to the chilaquiles.

For a devoted scrambled egg fan like me, these not only make a stunning addition to the weekend breakfast repertoire, but would even make a great dinner paired with simmered black beans and a green salad.

Mexican Scrambled Eggs with Totopos
Adapted from The Tortilla Book by Diana Kennedy

Peanut or safflower oil
6 tortillas, each cut into six wedges
1/2 medium onion, chopped fine
1 large tomato, chopped into dice
4-6 chiles serranos, seeded and minced (we use 2 chiles, or one large ancho chile)
6 large eggs, beaten
1/2 tsp. salt or to taste

In a frying pan over medium-high heat, pour in the oil to depth of 1/4" and heat until it shimmers. Add half the tortilla pieces and fry until they are hard but not browned. Drain on a paper towel and fry the remaining tortilla pieces. Keep warm in a low oven while preparing the other ingredients.

Drain the tortilla frying oil from the skillet and add 3 Tbsp. fresh oil. Heat oil over medium-high flame until it shimmers, then add onion, tomato and chiles. Cook until tender, about 5 minutes. Add the beaten eggs, salt and tortilla pieces to the skillet and cook, stirring gently, until the eggs are set but not too dry. Adjust salt to taste and serve.

Taking the Slow Route to Mexico

I'm one of those people that retailers hate. First, I despise shopping unless it's for food. Clothes, jewelry, even books. And forget makeup counters. All those women just standing there with their faces made up like sad clowns give me the willies, not to mention the cologne samples they're armed with, spraying innocent bystanders with live fire in a battle for scented domination.

Give me a farmers' market with smiling vendors, their tables loaded with produce, ready to talk about the weather, the latest gossip or the best way to prepare their purple carrots, Savoy cabbages and parsnips. And that includes the produce aisle in a local supermarket, brimming with local produce, along with a well-stocked butcher's case. Pork shoulder for $3.29 a pound? I'm in!

That's just how I ended up with a four-and-a-half pound hunk of some pig flesh the other day, and since I was in the mood for a taste of Mexico I pulled one of Diana Kennedy's books off the shelf. With some ancho chiles in the pantry, it made perfect sense that the book would fall open to her extremely simple recipe for pork braised in a red chile sauce.

This would be perfect for a slow cooker*, and walking in the door after a long day's work would be like stepping into a beach cafe in Mazatlan or PV. Make a little rice, heat some tortillas and pull up a seat under the nearest palapa. A squeeze of lime juice over the top (or splashed in a margarita) would make the scene complete. (Can you tell I need a vacation?)

Carne de Puerco en Chile Colorado

Adapted from Diana Kennedy's Recipes from the Regional Cooks of Mexico

Sra. Rosa Margarita J. de Mejía, a talented cook from Chihuahua who has introduced me to many of her regional dishes, gave me this particular recipe. It is made with the chile de la tierra, which has a wide distribution and a variety of names.

2 1/4 lbs. boneless pork, with some fat, cut into 1/2" cubes
2 tsp. salt, or to taste
3 1/2-3 3/4 c. water, approximately
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1/8 tsp. cumin seed
1/4 tsp. oregano
8 chiles de la tierra [a mild chile - I used ancho chiles - New Mexican chiles would work as well. - KAB]
2 Tbsp. peanut or safflower oil, approximately
2 tsp. all-purpose flour

Put the meat, salt and 1/4 c. water into a heavy pan in which the meat will just fit in two layers. Cover the pan and cook over a low flame, shaking the pan from time to time to prevent sticking, until the meat is just tender, all the liquid absorbed and the fat rendered out—about 45 minutes, depending on the cut of meat and how tender it is. If it becomes too dry during the cooking time, then add a little more water. Remove from pan and set aside.

Remove the stems from the chiles (leave in the seeds and veins), cover with water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about 10 minutes or until the skin is soft. Drain and transfer to a blender jar, along with 1 c. of the water, the garlic, cumin seed and oregano and blend till smooth. Set aside.

Heat the oil and fry the meat lightly, turning it over from time to time. Sprinkle the flour over the meat and keep turning and frying until it browns slightly. Add the chile sauce and fry for a few minutes longer, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pan. Add the remaining 2-2 1/2 c. of water—the sauce should be rather thin—and cook for 1-2 hrs. Smash the cubes of meat (they should basically fall apart on their own) and stir.

* If you're doing this in a slow cooker, cube the meat and make the chile sauce the day before and refrigerate, briefly fry the meat and add the flour in the morning, then put the meat and the sauce in the slow cooker and cook on low.

Great Gifting: Book by Book

It's not too early to start thinking about the holidays, about the food you're going to serve and the gifts you're going to give. I've sworn off gifts that require displaying or dusting, preferring instead to give items that are 1) consumable or 2) useful in some way. And books rank high on my list of useful items, especially cookbooks. There are two that I'm not only planning to give but would also love to get, one brand new from a favorite author and the other a classic that is a must-have for anyone interesting in cooking.

I've been an admirer of Diana Kennedy's work for a long time, and I have several of her what are not so much cookbooks as anthropological explorations of the complex cuisines of Mexico. She writes to document and preserve this under-appreciated and ancient corner of the food world, so I was very excited to hear that her newest book, "Oaxaca al Gusto: An Infinite Gastronomy,"had just been released. At 450-plus pages and weighing nearly seven pounds, it's a thorough and engaging examination of the region through its food. Kennedy, now 87, is said to be as vital and active as ever. She moved to Mexico with her husband, Paul Kennedy, a writer for the New York Times, in 1957, and published her first book, "The Cuisines of Mexico,"in 1972.

* * *

I had the good fortune to see Paul Bertolli this last weekend. Twice. The first was at Foster & Dobbs, my source for cheesy goodness, laughter and great lunches. Oh, and the Spanish anchovy-stuffed olives that are a requirement for martinis here at the homestead. But I digress. The second was at Provvista's annual Open House the next day, an extravaganza of good food that gathers their best suppliers and some of the best food vendors in the city, along with a who's who of Portland's food culture for a five-hour marathon of snacking and schmoozing. Bertolli was there with his crew from Fra' Mani, passing out samples of their extraordinary cured meats to the slavering mobs, but he spent several minutes casually shooting the bull with me in the middle of the whole thing. World-famous author, charcutier and Chez Panisse alum he may be, but he's a total sweetheart of a guy, approachable and casual. And it's his book, "Cooking by Hand,"that's going on my gotta-give-it list. "With stimulating essays on everything from gathering wild mushrooms and types of pasta flour to a 14-page section on the wonders of balsamic vinegar, Bertolli is nothing less than a pied piper for the Italian kitchen," according to Publsihers Weekly. Having had his food and talked with the man himself, I don't doubt a word.

Check out other suggestions in the series: Classic Design, Giving From the Heart, Not Dead Yet! (food magazines you'll love) and Class Acts.

Back to Mexico for Dinner

It's no surprise that we're still reliving, if only virtually, our vacation to Mazatlan, considering the cold weather that's been visited upon us since our return. So when I saw giant pork shoulder roasts on sale at New Seasons, I had to grab one.

Browning the meat.

Then I pulled out my collection of cookbooks by Diana Kennedy, the woman who single-handedly brought Mexican cuisine to the attention of Americans who thought of Mexican food as refried beans and yellow cheese. She revealed the complex flavors and preparations, as well as the regional differences, in this ancient cuisine that was local, fresh and sustainable before we were even a glint in our founding fathers' eyes.

Simmering the ingredients.

We are crazy for carnitas, and when I saw her recipe for Carnitas Caseras, or home-cooked carnitas, it was a done deal. The preparation is relatively fast and easy and takes minimal effort, being basically a braised dish, and I had most of the ingredients on hand. So it was brown the meat, throw in the rest of the ingredients, let it simmer and then reduce the liquid. Easy!

After reducing the liquid.

Served with rice, guacamole, salsa, a salad and corn tortillas, it was like being back on the Malecon, feeling the warm breeze off the ocean. Maybe next time we take this trip we'll bring some friends along!

Carnitas Caseras (Home-Cooked Carnitas)
Adapted from The Art of Mexican Cooking by Diana Kennedy

4 Tbsp. lard or canola oil
4 lbs. pork shoulder roast, cut in 1-inch cubes
1 medium onion, chopped
4 fresh marjoram sprigs or 1/2 tsp. dried
4 fresh thyme sprigs or 1/2 tsp. dried
3 bay leaves, broken up
1/2 tsp. fresh-ground pepper
1 orange, cut into eighths
1 c. milk
Salt to taste

Heat the lard or oil in a heavy braising pot, add the meat to the pan without crowding it and brown in batches. Remove the meat and saute the onion until softened, scraping up the brown bits from the meat. Put the meat back in with the onion and stir in the remaining ingredients. Cover the pan and simmer over low heat for 40 minutes. Remove the lid, increase the heat and fry, stirring and scraping until the pan juices have been absorbed, about 15 minutes. Drain off any extra fat and serve.

The carnitas may be prepared ahead up to the point of the final frying, but they should be kept covered so that the meat does not dry out.