Pico de Gallo
Parallel to what we learned last February about Chinese-American cooking, it is a misrepresentation to characterize what Americans typically refer to as Mexican cooking as that. Mexico has a rich cultural history, evidenced at table as elsewhere. Not uncommon among cuisines when they are served at the American table, the dishes we are used to eating as "Mexican food" mostly bear only slight resemblance to authentic Mexican cooking, and sometimes they are outright fabrications.
Many of the cuisines in American cooking illustrate stories of migration, adaptability and identity. As people migrated to the new world, their cultural practices came along, including the ways they were used to feeding themselves. Often these practices didn't work in the new land, and so cooks adapted to their new circumstances. Typically this had to do with ingredients, but it often also had to do with technique. Ingredients available in the old home were not necessarily available in the new one, and so cooks substituted what was available. Often it followed that technique required adaptation. We encounter an example of this in stir-fry, which is a well-established and distinctively American dish with roots in an ageless Chinese technique. Often it followed that the new dishes that emerged became so popular that to the American palate, those dishes represented that cuisine. It’s easy to see this in almost any community-based cuisine at the American table – from chop suey to marinara, from dumplings to teriyaki, there is both the contemporary American interpretation and the original dish from which it emerged.
Of no cooking is that truer than Mexican, which in this context we should refer to as Tex-Mex. As the name implies, Tex-Mex is a hybrid of traditional Mexican techniques and the ingredients and practices of Texas hill country. As Mexican peoples moved into and around border country, the food culture they encountered revolved around cattle ranching. They brought not insignificant offerings to the table – notably tortillas, chiles and corn, though these items are treated differently in traditional Mexican cooking than they are in Tex-Mex. Once mass produced yellow cheese became readily available, this cooking hollered olé and took its place at the American table.
Tortillas are the firmament of Tex-Mex, but salsa is the ground cover. Salsa is so fundamental to Mexican kitchens that, with allowance for arguments otherwise, it is not an exaggeration to proclaim salsa the most culturally significant dish in Mexican cooking. Salsa simply means “sauce,” and every cook made it for the household as matter-of-factly as French home cooks made aioli and Indian home cooks made dhal. From those kitchens it has migrated to every Tex-Mex plate being served, and that’s before we get to that bag of tortilla chips we can’t wait to tear into. Salsa is plentiful, bright and humble, and that exemplifies Mexican cooking at its very heart and its very best.
There are as many salsas as there are homesteads to make it, so it’s not really possible to codify salsa by species. It is simply a homestead sauce. However, enough common types have emerged that, though no list of these rambunctious fillies will ever be tamed, they can be more or less corralled. These varieties include roja, verde, negra, ranchera, brava, taquera, mole, guacamole, fruit (including pineapple and mango), vegetable (including corn), pico de gallo and whatever someone is throwing together at the moment. Variety, abandon and locality are both the joy and the danger of salsa. As a Mexican American friend once told me after admitting that his favorite food in the world was, as it should be, his mother’s salsa, every home has its own version, and there is just as much danger that you won’t be able to eat it as that you won’t be able to stop.
Without presumption of Mexican heritage or pretense to authenticity but with the admission of some Southwestern pride, here is Urban Home’s recipe for pico de gallo. “Rooster’s beak” is also known as salsa fresca (“fresh”) or picada (“chopped”). No one can prove it, but the story goes that “rooster’s beak” refers to the action of pecking at your food as a rooster does in the yard, and that a douse of pico de gallo makes you eat more lustily. Though this is a savory pico de gallo of tomatoes, onions, chiles, cilantro and lime juice, it should be noted that in many regions of Mexico, the term refers to a variety of mixed condiments or salads, even referring to a Mexican fruit salad. Finally, though salsa is traditionally prepared in a molcajete, the mortar and pestle traditional to Mexican kitchens, as I confessed last month, I have grown attached to a mini food processor. It does a swift job of chopping vegetables to the correct pulpy consistency of good salsa. As this is an American salsa, the recipe is below is written with that technique in mind, but if you prefer to chop the vegetables by hand, no one in our urban home would try to stop you.
PICO DE GALLO
1 pound ripe red tomatoes
1 large red bell pepper
1 large green bell pepper
1 medium yellow onion
1 medium jalapeno pepper
2 limes, preferably organic
1 bunch fresh cilantro
2 cloves garlic
Salt
1. Fill a mixing bowl large enough to hold the tomatoes and peppers 1/3 with cool water. Add a few drops commercial vegetable cleaner to the water.
2. Place the tomatoes and peppers into the bowl containing the cleansing water. Swirl the vegetables around to ensure that they are well cleaned.
3. Drain the vegetables into a colander. Run the colander under a stream of cool water to rinse them well.
4. Rinse the cilantro (you will only be using the leaf end) and set aside to drain on a double layer of paper toweling.
5. Position a mini food processor and a large mixing bowl near your work surface.
6. Peel the onion and remove the root and stem ends. Halve the onion from root to stem; halve each half. Place the onion into the bowl of the processor.
7. Cut each bell pepper in half from cap to bottom. Cut away and discard the stem; cut away and discard any white pith from inside each half. Rinse each half under cool water to remove the seeds. Cut the peppers into chunks and place the peppers into the bowl of the processor with the onion.
8. Set the processor to coarse and process the onion-bell pepper mixture until finely chopped. Use a silicon spatula to scrape the onion-pepper mixture into the clean mixing bowl. Sprinkle the mixture with salt.
9. Wearing a clean pair of food-safe gloves, chop the stem end off the jalapeno and then slice in half lengthwise. Remove the pith and seeds. Place the jalapeno into the bowl of the processor.
10. Peel the garlic and remove the root end. Half each clove; remove and discard any sprouting from the center. Place the garlic cloves into the bowl of the processor.
11. Wrap the sooty root ends of the cilantro with the paper towels. Hold the cilantro head side down over the sink and gently shake it dry. Cut off just the heads of the cilantro about one-third to one-half down the bunch. Transfer the chopped, cleaned cilantro to the bowl of the processor.
12. Set the processor to fine and process the jalapeno-garlic-cilantro mixture until fragrant. Use a silicon spatula to scrape the mixture into the pepper-onion mixture in the mixing bowl.
13. Remove the cap from each tomato. Roughly cut two tomatoes and transfer the tomatoes to the bowl of the processor. Set the processor to coarse and process the tomatoes until nicely chopped and a bit pulpy but not liquefied. Use a silicon spatula to scrape the chopped tomatoes into mixture in the bowl. Sprinkle the mixture with salt. Proceed with processing and scraping the tomatoes two at a time until the mixture in the bowl has the amount of tomatoes that you like.
14. Run a lime along the counter under you palm to express the juice. Cut the lime in half and use a citrus press to express the lime juice into the mixture in the bowl.
15. Use the silicon spatula to combine the ingredients in the bowl. Taste the salsa and adjust for flavor with more tomato, cilantro or lime juice as warranted.
16. Serve immediately or refrigerate to serve within four hours.
Many of the cuisines in American cooking illustrate stories of migration, adaptability and identity. As people migrated to the new world, their cultural practices came along, including the ways they were used to feeding themselves. Often these practices didn't work in the new land, and so cooks adapted to their new circumstances. Typically this had to do with ingredients, but it often also had to do with technique. Ingredients available in the old home were not necessarily available in the new one, and so cooks substituted what was available. Often it followed that technique required adaptation. We encounter an example of this in stir-fry, which is a well-established and distinctively American dish with roots in an ageless Chinese technique. Often it followed that the new dishes that emerged became so popular that to the American palate, those dishes represented that cuisine. It’s easy to see this in almost any community-based cuisine at the American table – from chop suey to marinara, from dumplings to teriyaki, there is both the contemporary American interpretation and the original dish from which it emerged.
Of no cooking is that truer than Mexican, which in this context we should refer to as Tex-Mex. As the name implies, Tex-Mex is a hybrid of traditional Mexican techniques and the ingredients and practices of Texas hill country. As Mexican peoples moved into and around border country, the food culture they encountered revolved around cattle ranching. They brought not insignificant offerings to the table – notably tortillas, chiles and corn, though these items are treated differently in traditional Mexican cooking than they are in Tex-Mex. Once mass produced yellow cheese became readily available, this cooking hollered olé and took its place at the American table.
Tortillas are the firmament of Tex-Mex, but salsa is the ground cover. Salsa is so fundamental to Mexican kitchens that, with allowance for arguments otherwise, it is not an exaggeration to proclaim salsa the most culturally significant dish in Mexican cooking. Salsa simply means “sauce,” and every cook made it for the household as matter-of-factly as French home cooks made aioli and Indian home cooks made dhal. From those kitchens it has migrated to every Tex-Mex plate being served, and that’s before we get to that bag of tortilla chips we can’t wait to tear into. Salsa is plentiful, bright and humble, and that exemplifies Mexican cooking at its very heart and its very best.
There are as many salsas as there are homesteads to make it, so it’s not really possible to codify salsa by species. It is simply a homestead sauce. However, enough common types have emerged that, though no list of these rambunctious fillies will ever be tamed, they can be more or less corralled. These varieties include roja, verde, negra, ranchera, brava, taquera, mole, guacamole, fruit (including pineapple and mango), vegetable (including corn), pico de gallo and whatever someone is throwing together at the moment. Variety, abandon and locality are both the joy and the danger of salsa. As a Mexican American friend once told me after admitting that his favorite food in the world was, as it should be, his mother’s salsa, every home has its own version, and there is just as much danger that you won’t be able to eat it as that you won’t be able to stop.
Without presumption of Mexican heritage or pretense to authenticity but with the admission of some Southwestern pride, here is Urban Home’s recipe for pico de gallo. “Rooster’s beak” is also known as salsa fresca (“fresh”) or picada (“chopped”). No one can prove it, but the story goes that “rooster’s beak” refers to the action of pecking at your food as a rooster does in the yard, and that a douse of pico de gallo makes you eat more lustily. Though this is a savory pico de gallo of tomatoes, onions, chiles, cilantro and lime juice, it should be noted that in many regions of Mexico, the term refers to a variety of mixed condiments or salads, even referring to a Mexican fruit salad. Finally, though salsa is traditionally prepared in a molcajete, the mortar and pestle traditional to Mexican kitchens, as I confessed last month, I have grown attached to a mini food processor. It does a swift job of chopping vegetables to the correct pulpy consistency of good salsa. As this is an American salsa, the recipe is below is written with that technique in mind, but if you prefer to chop the vegetables by hand, no one in our urban home would try to stop you.
PICO DE GALLO
1 pound ripe red tomatoes
1 large red bell pepper
1 large green bell pepper
1 medium yellow onion
1 medium jalapeno pepper
2 limes, preferably organic
1 bunch fresh cilantro
2 cloves garlic
Salt
1. Fill a mixing bowl large enough to hold the tomatoes and peppers 1/3 with cool water. Add a few drops commercial vegetable cleaner to the water.
2. Place the tomatoes and peppers into the bowl containing the cleansing water. Swirl the vegetables around to ensure that they are well cleaned.
3. Drain the vegetables into a colander. Run the colander under a stream of cool water to rinse them well.
4. Rinse the cilantro (you will only be using the leaf end) and set aside to drain on a double layer of paper toweling.
5. Position a mini food processor and a large mixing bowl near your work surface.
6. Peel the onion and remove the root and stem ends. Halve the onion from root to stem; halve each half. Place the onion into the bowl of the processor.
7. Cut each bell pepper in half from cap to bottom. Cut away and discard the stem; cut away and discard any white pith from inside each half. Rinse each half under cool water to remove the seeds. Cut the peppers into chunks and place the peppers into the bowl of the processor with the onion.
8. Set the processor to coarse and process the onion-bell pepper mixture until finely chopped. Use a silicon spatula to scrape the onion-pepper mixture into the clean mixing bowl. Sprinkle the mixture with salt.
9. Wearing a clean pair of food-safe gloves, chop the stem end off the jalapeno and then slice in half lengthwise. Remove the pith and seeds. Place the jalapeno into the bowl of the processor.
10. Peel the garlic and remove the root end. Half each clove; remove and discard any sprouting from the center. Place the garlic cloves into the bowl of the processor.
11. Wrap the sooty root ends of the cilantro with the paper towels. Hold the cilantro head side down over the sink and gently shake it dry. Cut off just the heads of the cilantro about one-third to one-half down the bunch. Transfer the chopped, cleaned cilantro to the bowl of the processor.
12. Set the processor to fine and process the jalapeno-garlic-cilantro mixture until fragrant. Use a silicon spatula to scrape the mixture into the pepper-onion mixture in the mixing bowl.
13. Remove the cap from each tomato. Roughly cut two tomatoes and transfer the tomatoes to the bowl of the processor. Set the processor to coarse and process the tomatoes until nicely chopped and a bit pulpy but not liquefied. Use a silicon spatula to scrape the chopped tomatoes into mixture in the bowl. Sprinkle the mixture with salt. Proceed with processing and scraping the tomatoes two at a time until the mixture in the bowl has the amount of tomatoes that you like.
14. Run a lime along the counter under you palm to express the juice. Cut the lime in half and use a citrus press to express the lime juice into the mixture in the bowl.
15. Use the silicon spatula to combine the ingredients in the bowl. Taste the salsa and adjust for flavor with more tomato, cilantro or lime juice as warranted.
16. Serve immediately or refrigerate to serve within four hours.
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