In search of tortillas and Northwest Pozole

While visiting family in the Northeast I discovered a cultural and culinary warp when I found myself sandwiched between the white bread and flour tortillas.  Yes, my friends, the Land of Essex Fried Clams has a major flaw.  The main supermarket  was not only out of corn tortillas, but did not even stock them.

Granted they have fresh fish and delicious Italian pizza at their fingertips, but their 'International' section was comprised of five shelves no more than six feet wide.  It focused on Italian hot peppers and pre-packaged, Asian-themed soups rounded out with a few dust-covered cans of water chestnuts.

Thankfully my sister and brother-in-law had left the keys to her car when he thoughtfully drove her to work.  He also directed me to a little hole-in-the-way place where he claimed a woman sold authentic Mexican food at a premium to the public.  When I entered her kitchen a huge crock pot of bubbling stew was sitting on a table accompanied by tiny paper cups and plastic spoons.  A handwritten sign said, "Pozole".

For those of you who have never tasted it, Pozole is a Mexican soup that traditionally combines pork and hominy but has innumerable variations on the other ingredients.   For example, if you are from the Mexican state of Jalisco, you will passionately insist that pozole is made with the long, dried, red chile de arbol.  In neighboring Michoacan, you might horrify your Jaliscan neighbors if you placed dried oregano on the table as a condiment.

And if you live in Gloucester, Massachusetts, but lived in Arizona for a few years, the soup base will be green and it will not resemble any pozole I ever tasted when I lived in Mexico City for three years.  Still, Mexican cooks are amazingly creative and there are so many types of moles and salsas it could make a novice cook's head spin.

"Help yourself," a rather sturdy woman said as she automatically wiped her hands on a long white apron and gestured toward the pot.

She was a head and a half taller than the proprietor, who had obviously installed the customer window before she hired her friendly employee.   The woman needed to bend herself in half as she stuck her grinning, round face into the open window and again insisted, "Try it.  You'll love it."

The aroma was tantalizing, of course, but the dish looked more like Chiles Verdes to me.  Chiles verdes is a dish in which a cheap cut of pork can be used as it is stewed for hours in a Mexican green sauce made with tomatillos, garlic, salt and onion.  The coup de grace is the addition of purslane twenty minutes before serving.  Sadly even the commercial chefs in the United States know the real recipe but substitute spinach for purslane (verdolagas in Spanish) because of availability, but can I be candid with you?

There was a reason that purslane was one of the salad king's (France's Louis XIV) preferred vegetables, and purportedly Gandi's absolute favorite.  It is deliciously tasty.  May I humbly add here that purslane used to be so common our American farmers considered it a weed.  Now that they have stomped it out of existence, it is rarely possible to even buy the seeds.  (Johnny's Seed Company in Maine had them one year, but I haven't found them since.)

Anyway, if you can grow or find it, purslane is nutritious, succulent and flavorful.  (The cultivated golden purslane grows taller (the other is a flat plant), is easier to clean and is sweeter still.)  Purslane does not have the spinach after taste that seems to cling to one's teeth.  A cup of purslane also has 568 IU Vitamin A (11% DV), 9.0 mg Vitamin C (15% DV), 29.2 mg Magnesium (7%), 292 mg Potassium (6%) .1 mg Magnanese (7%), 28 mg Calcium (3%) and .9 mg Iron (5%) with a mere 6.9 calories and 5.2 carbohydrates.   Add in the benefit of its fiber and it has to be a perfect food.  I love it plain, cooked with a drizzle of melted butter, added to a salad or cooked as part of a stew or soup.

The Chiles Verdes' base of tomatillos, garlic, purslane, serrano chiles and onion is delicious, of course, so I tasted the Gloucester chef's to see if it held muster.  The fire in my mouth told me it would burn all the way down, but in a diplomatic gesture, I bought two bowls to go anyway.  I hoped the proprietress would then sell me at least 16 fresh corn tortillas for the chicken enchiladas I would serve that evening and she did.

I toyed with the idea of serving a cup of the stew as an appetizer, but it is very filling. When I got back to my sister's house, I realized the chef had neglected to include the traditional condiments.  Ah ha, I thought.  It really was chiles verdes!

As my brother-in-law enjoyed this faux pozole for lunch two days in a row, I decided to write up a less searingly hot recipe.  (OKay, it was yummy, but the condiments could have turned down the heat a tiny bit at least.)

The authentic Mexican version uses half a pig's head, pork neck bones and a pound and a half of tenderloin or pork butt, so I think there could be a case made for lean pork as a healthier variation on the theme.

Pork has a high cholesterol rating, so removing most of the fat is wise.   If you don't like pork, you can make this dish with chicken, but then I would use the red chile base.  Vegetarians can also omit the pork and add extra vegetables as condiments, but adding a little more oil might be in order.  Carrots sliced very thinly, blanched green beans or even tofu (it will pick up the soup base flavor) should work well.

Mexican food is so rich in flavor it flourishes on the tongue with or without meat, so why gum up one's arteries unnecessarily?  Still if you like a heavier meal, use a cheap piece of pork and ignore any instructions below on removing the fat.  In that case, I would suggest you at least brown it on all sides before you stew the meat.  It won't make much of a difference in the less appealing appearance, but at least I'll feel better.

Ingredients:

1 lb. lean pork

1 - 29 oz can Gold Hominy (White Hominy has less Vitamin A)

3 - 7 oz cans of Herdez Green Salsa 'picante' or 'hot' style*

1 bouillon cube

1 tsp. sea or Kosher salt

8 to 10 cups of water

2 TB. olive oil

Condiments:

8 limes (preferred) or 4 lemons, quartered (or 1/2 and 1/2)

1 small onion, finely sliced and chopped

1/4 head of iceberg lettuce, finely shredded

6 radishes, finely sliced and quartered

1 avocado, peeled and cut into small cubes

Salsa verde picante (hot) Herdez brand preferable

Warmed, corn tortillas

Directions:

Wash and dry the meat, remove excess fat and cut into 3/4" cubes.   Place in a stock pot with water and bring  to a slow boil.  Reduce heat to low-medium, cover and simmer for two hours.  Remove any scum that forms with a slatted spoon and discard it.   When the meat is falling apart, add the bouillon, salt, Herdez green salsa, hominy and olive oil.  Bring the soup back to a low boil, reduce heat to low-medium and cover.  Simmer for another half hour.

While the completed soup is on the last simmer, I prepare the fresh condiments, cutting the avocado just before serving so it won't turn brown.  The avocado is not traditional in this soup - like it is in tortilla soup - but I had a ripe one handy and we all loved the result.  Lately I have been cooking the onions until they are yellow and translucent in a drip of olive oil too.  This takes some of the bite out of the taste, but if you  prefer the traditional raw onion, all you need to do is mince it finely.  It will wilt when you drop it into the hot soup anyway.  The lettuce is sometimes replaced with cabbage, but surprisingly I prefer the lettuce.  For those who despise cabbage and the heavy flavor it can produce, although the cabbage is merely wilted when added raw to the soup, lettuce is safer with most people.

When you are ready to serve the meal, place all the condiments in little bowls on a lazy Susan or on the table within easy reach of everyone.  If it is a large crowd, have a set of bowls for each four people at your table.  Each person adds the condiments they like, but a tablespoon or two of lettuce, radishes, avocado and onion is about right for me.  I had never willingly eaten a radish in my life until I had this soup, by the way. The radishes pick up the soups flavor and provide a fresh and crispy sort of crunch you'll miss without them.

The lime juice is squeezed onto the soup and makes the flavor just that much more intriguing, so don't skimp on limes.  The little key limes are our family favorite, although they only seem to be available seasonally here.   Those with a sweet tooth will probably favor the limes - and those with a salty preference, the lemon.  If anyone wants a hotter taste, encourage them to simply add a tablespoon or more of the undiluted salsa as an additional condiment.  I would, however, remind them that a little salsa goes a long way.

Both delicious and filling, I have never met anyone who hasn't loved this dish.  I generally serve it with warmed corn tortillas.  These are not necessary, but most people will want to sop up every last bite.  This recipe serves six generously.  The soup keeps for a few days in the refrigerator but it doesn't freeze well.   Candidly, I've never had enough left over to worry about.  Also, I don't recommend anything but Herdez green salsa as a base.  Many of the manufacturers of green salsas pick the tomatillos too late.  (La Victoria falls into this category for me.)  The tomatillos then have no taste, ergo little culinary value.  Unfortunately, once a tomatillo turns yellowish, it has lost most of its unique flavor.  If you cannot find the Herdez* brand or a Spanish brand I discovered on the east coast name Goma, make your own salsa base as follows:

*Green Salsa

1/2 (mild) to 2 (hot) serrano chiles

1 pound green husk tomatoes (tomatillos), husks removed (or a 28 ounce can, drained of all water)

1/2 small sweet onion, chopped

1/2 tsp. sugar

6 cloves garlic, chopped

1/2 tsp. sea or Kosher salt

2 TB peanut, safflower or olive oil

Cilantro (optional)

Wearing gloves while handling the chiles, slice down the center and scrape off the veins.  Then de-seed the chiles and discard these insides.  Dry toast the chiles in a small frying pan on a high heat until their skins turn brown or start to blister.  Blend all the ingredients in a food processor (or blender) until smooth.  If you love cilantro, blend it in but if you don't, omit it.  (Please do not add parsley as a substitute!)  Cook the sauce over medium heat for 5 to 10 minutes until it has thickened slightly, particularly if you used canned tomatillos which are quite watery.

I use this sauce in  Pozole and Chiles Verdes, throw it over eggs or fish, add it to vegetable soup and salad dressings, top cheese quesadillas with a dollop or two but I also serve it raw with tortilla chips.

For those curious about the tomatillo's nutritional content, it is a good source of potassium, fiber and vitamin C and second only to the mushroom in niacin content.  (Large doses of Niacin are give to some cardiac patients to lower their blood pressure.)  Its vitamin A  and C content is much lower than a red tomato, but it is still a very nutritious fruit.

Let me know if you have any other suggestions for this sauce, as I could eat it with a spoon all by itself (and often do.)