Listen in as I talk with Lynne Rossetto Kasper about my Mexican Thanksgiving turkey, as part of The Splendid Table‘s special “Swanksgiving” episode…
For the recipe, click here.
Listen in as I talk with Lynne Rossetto Kasper about my Mexican Thanksgiving turkey, as part of The Splendid Table‘s special “Swanksgiving” episode…
For the recipe, click here.
I walk host Evan Kleiman through making my Mexican Thanksgiving turkey and chorizo, pecan, apple, corn bread stuffing on KCRW‘s “Good Food.” Listen right here…
For the recipe, click here.
Salsa Macha is a very thick and unusual salsa that comes from the state of Veracruz. Located along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, it has been for centuries, a gateway for waves of immigrants from all over the world into Mexico (like my paternal grandparents).
Veracruz, being such an important channel for exchange and always immersed in flux, has seen some of the most interesting combinations of ingredients, cooking techniques and traditions. Salsa Macha is an example.
It is made by frying dried chipotle chiles (mainly the morita kind) in a generous amount of olive oil, along with garlic cloves. The last two ingredients courtesy of the Spanish conquest, for sure. Then it is seasoned with salt. Some versions add fresh chiles such as serranos or jalapeños into the mix. Many times peanuts are added and sesame seeds too.
This one here, is my preferred version, and I take the liberty of adding a joyous amount of vinegar and some brown sugar or piloncillo to balance it off. This combination pleases me so much, that I spoon it on crusty bread with much joy.
Since it has a lot of olive oil, the chile paste will sink to the bottom after it rests for a few minutes. You can choose to stir it up and eat it well combined, or you can let it settle, and use the flavored oil.
p.s. The name is a funny one, because macha, is the femenine of the word macho. So it can translate as being a masculine female salsa. Macha can also translate as brave, so you can take your pick!
A Mexican immigrant cooking Thanksgiving and Hanukkah on the same night in the cold Eastern region of the United States may sound a bit odd to some. For me, it turns out to be an unexpected opportunity to bring all my pieces together. Which has my mind reeling about the just as unexpected possibilities for the menu.
See… ever since I can remember, I have felt like I am treading between worlds. The Mexican. The Jewish. The immigrant in the U.S. Not from here, not from there. Yet, as time goes by, the different parts of my identity feel increasingly solid, in all those worlds and their intersections. It turns out that where those intersections make the most sense is in the kitchen.
I admit, though, that I am a hopeless romantic. That’s why every year when my husband asks what I want for my birthday, I say: the most passionate love letter, ever. Haven’t seen it, since he has seen me everyday in one way or another for the past 17 years. So, when my birthday comes close, I offer to pack my bags and leave, just to pretend… so he can write that super duper passionate love letter.
That romantic nature of mine may be why little things mean a lot to me. Remember when 12/12/12 happened? I was wild about the beauty of the 1,2,1,2,1,2 pattern and the chances of that happening again being zero. Of course, realists immediately pointed out the fact that every single day in the calendar will never, ever, be repeated again. Yet, it is the highlighted uniqueness of the 1,2,1,2,1,2 pattern that brings us the opportunity to realize just how precious that day, and any other day, is.
No surprise, then, that I am beyond ecstatic about Hanukkah and Thanksgiving happening at the same time. The chances of that happening again are so few and far in between (the next time, in 2070, it will be pretty likely that neither I nor Daniel will be here, so that is another reason for getting to that love letter) that it allows us to see these holidays under a different perspective: an enhanced sense of light, an expanded feeling of gratitude, a new vision of what sharing at the table can mean, a new chance to continue to build bridges, and what’s best, we can eat it all along the way.
One dish that I came up with, for this once in a lifetime meal, are these Potato, Sweet Potato and Granny Smith Latkes.
It is a recipe that has no fuss. It lets these three ingredients shine through and, at the same time, complement each other with the help of a bit of ancho chile powder and true cinnamon. You can choose to eat them just like that, on their own, or you can serve them with a thick, chunky, fresh and citrusy Fennel and Lime Crema or with this rustic and nutty Salsa Macha.
Here’s a thought: you can do what I do. Eat them on their own as I am cooking them, and then eat them with both the Crema and the Salsa Macha once they are at the table.
This is one of the quickest recipes that I have come up with.
It was just as quick to come up with it, as it was quick to make it.
It was sheer craving: I imagined it to accompany the Potato, Sweet Potato and Granny Smith Latkes, but you can use it to complement so many other things.
It just mixes the already salty and tangy Mexican Cream with the crunchy chopped fennel bulb, fragrant fennel fronds, fresh-squeezed lime juice and salt.
Hey: You may also use it as a vegetable dip, why not?