0 Cooking in the Car

Although it was published -- by Miramax Books, of all things -- almost 20 years ago, we only recently learned that Laura Esquivel has a cookbook. We have cooked so many great things from her novel that an actual cookbook is very promising indeed!

I learned of the book when showing the film version of Like Water for Chocolate to my Geography of Latin America class this summer. Searching for other books by the author whose work inspired the movie, I found An Appetite for Passion.  (Note: IMDb users have given this film only 7.3/10 stars, proving that there is an exception to the general idea that crowds get things right. But I digress.)

We have loved Como Agua and its food since we saw the film in its original art-house run. Pam even participated in a class about the book and its food at our church back in Tucson, and a few years ago incorporated the food into her university Spanish class. The results of this creative undergraduate-research experience are on the CAPCR blog she created with her students, and which we consult frequently.

For this project, Esquivel collaborated with cookbook author John Willoughby and translator Margaret Sayers Peden to put together a volume dedicated to the enjoyment of food with all the senses.

So much for the appetizer -- on to the main course! For our first foray into this volume, Pam suggested a salmon dish, and since I was headed out for my weekly "whaling" voyage in New Bedford, I knew it would be convenient for me to pick up something fresh at Kyler's. I had also come to the market prepared, because I had read the recipe carefully before setting out. I don't always remember to do this, but this story is a lesson in why it is a good idea.

The recipe entitled Marinated Salmon with Warm Leek-Ginger Vinaigrette calls for imbuing the salmon with ginger in two stages, implied by the title. It is to marinate in a concoction of ginger, garlic, soy sauce, orange juice and brown sugar for 2-4 hours before broiling. For the broiling itself, it is to be coated with a vinaigrette -- more like a relish -- of ginger, shallots, leeks, lime, vinegar and soy. (See page 44 of the book for all the details.) Based on this description, I selected a wild-caught salmon with a gamy flavor that would stand up to the ginger. Knowing that we would not be eating until midnight if I followed the recipe after getting home, I prepared the marinade and vinaigrette beforehand, and brought the former to the fishmonger, along with a glass dish and the cooler I always bring. It was then a simple matter to put the fish in the marinade right there in the parking lot, so it could meld while I rowed and drove. When I got home, I put the vinaigrette on, and we enjoyed this along with some home-brewed pale ale and a delicious salad Pam had prepared.

What our "prep kitchen" looked like 187,000 miles ago.
Our 2004 LW300 may have been the very last wagon
sold by Saturn in southern New England.

The results: extraordinarily delicious! The whole family enjoyed this, and Pam found the one leftover fillet to be even more delicious two days later. The recipe calls for far more vinaigrette than is actually needed, so I am saving that for use with chicken in the next couple of days. I think it will be fabulous.

The introduction to this recipe describes the global infatuation with ginger and its association with passion, fecundity, and Paradise. It also makes for a simply delicious dinner.

Detail: Cooking in the Car

0 Calle to Mesa

Image from the Projects Abroad blog, which has a recipe for gorditas.

For this post, we are skipping over the part where a cookbook sits on our shelf for months or years before we actually use it. This evening's Hayes-Boh family dinner comes from a book that just entered the house Friday, and has not even found a spot on the shelf yet.

While we were in Boston's western suburbs on Friday, we decided to visit Walden Pond and have lunch in the center of Concord. As we parked the car, we noticed these cookbooks in the window of the Concord Bookshop. It being Pi Day, we could not resist having a look. We had already decided to wimp out and have pizza pi for dinner, so buying a pi book would be our feeble nod to the occasion.

Inside we found a wonderful book store, certainly the largest independent book store I've seen in ages, and larger than most chain stores. If the town of Concord were not so stingy with parking (60-minute maximum), we might have lingered longer than we did. But we did stay long enough to find a book each. Pam -- the real ∏ enthusiast -- found Teeny's Tour of Pie, which is certain to make its Nueva Receta debut in the near future.

I was drawn to Latin American Street Food, by Sandra A. Gutierrez, the subtitle of which is practically a geography lesson: The Best Flavors of Markets, Beaches, and Roadside Stands from Mexico to Argentina. Gutierrez is also the author of The New Southern-Latino Table: Recipes That Bring Together the Bold and Beloved Flavors of Latin America and the American South -- an other geography essay in the making.

Image: Trip Advisor, since I don't have any photos from my 1985 visit.

Any reference to street food always brings three memories to mind. The first is during my very first trip to Latin America, my friend Mike and I ventured no further than the beach town of Ensenada, south of Tijuana, with very little money in our pockets. I remember spending the equivalent of 4 cents each for fish tacos from the street -- fried fish with shredded lettuce and mayonnaise, serve in the summer sun. Having survived that -- along with water from a standpipe right on the beach -- foreshadowed my years of travel in Latin America with minimal gastric difficulties. The other memories are of vendors in Puebla Mexico a few years later, boarding city buses with little charcoal grills -- full of red-hot coals -- as they roamed the downtown looking for the best places to set up shop, and of plastic sleeves offered on every corner in Puebla and Cholula, about a foot long, full of chili-covered peanuts and topped with half a lime. Squeezing lime juice on street food, we learned, was like magic for keeping it safe. Or so we chose to believe.

With all that in mind, it seems strange to make street food in a New England kitchen in the winter, but that is what we are doing. We let our daughter browse the book, and she quickly identified Aguachile de Camarones, a Sinaloan dish that Gutierrez names Kick-in-the-Pants-Spicy Shrimp in Chile-Lime Dressing. The title is a whole list of reasons for this to appear on Mesa Hayes-Boh.

The recipe starts with instructions to cook and then cool shrimp, but we always keep cooked, frozen shrimp on hand, so I thawed a pound of shrimp in water and then drained it thoroughly. In a blender I placed 3 finely chopped and seeded serrano chiles (but they were New England grocery-store serranos, so they had very little effect), close to a cup of cilantro, a couple of cloves of garlic (frozen from last autumn's farm box), a shallot we had on hand (the recipe calls for a small red onion), and a cup of lime juice. The recipe calls for fresh lime juice, but this is March in Massachusetts, not September in Sinaloa, so that would have cost a fortune. I compromised by squeezing three limes (with our citrus press) and topping up a cup with bottled juice.

I blended these until very smooth, to make a dressing is the aguachile in the title of the dish -- chile water. Gutierrez discusses the relationship of this dish to ceviche, and the varying degrees to which the seafood can be blanched, boiled, or cured by the citric acid. Because the dish is normally very spicy, Gutierrez suggests serving it with avocados. Because avocados decay quickly, she suggests dowsing them in lime juice (cures everything; see above). I did exactly this, and even though the dish was not very spicy, it was a good pairing. We also had tortilla chips as suggested in the book and quesadillas, just because.

Diego and I
Image: PBS

The combination of foods was very satisfying and delicious. We had a lot more dressing than we needed, so I will be experimenting with its use on some kind of white fish later in the week (we are out of shrimp).

This meal, of course, was begging to be paired with some sort of beer, and we tried a second opening of a special Scottish ale I recently concocted. I described it in some detail in the Heritage Chili post last month, but did not open it until about 10 days ago; it was not fully developed at that time, and I was a bit worried. But when Pam opened it this evening I could tell all was well, and it turned out to be quite a nice ale, and a good accompaniment, not as appropriate at Negra Modelo, but at least as delicious.

The meal was a hit, and to turn this into a complete "Mexican Party with My Parents" -- as our daughter called it -- we watched Frida together and had some Mexican hot chocolate at intermission.

Detail: Calle to Mesa

0 Taco Salad Night

What to do for a mid-week dinner with new friends that will be simple yet healthy and tasty? Taco salad! We are a bit out of season, so all of the produce was from the grocery store, but still, this was a fun meal that satisfied both the vegetarian and carnivorous diners.

(No photo here. As we have mentioned, food photography is a profession, and some delicious foods -- even if attractive in person -- look terrible in photos. A quick image search on Google suggests that even professionals cannot make taco salad photogenic. Glad we did not try.)

Taco salad a la Hayes-Boh offers a variety of textures and colors, and lets each diner choose which ingredients to include, and how much of each! Here is what we had, starting from the bottom (according to my salad-building strategy; how exactly to build a taco salad is a somewhat personal decision).

• Chips, crunched on the plate -- early rounds Xoxitl chips brought by our guests, later rounds Santitas $2 Only. I think the Santitas are better for dipping heavy salsas, and the Xoxitls better for these salads.
• Vegetarian refried beans, heated in an indispensible cast-iron skillet
• Sliced mushrooms, sauteed in a mix of olive oil and truffle oil; when the mushrooms were well-cooked, I poured a healthy dose of mezcal (tequila) into the pan, and let it boil off.
• Chicken breasts: boiled, then shredded with two forks, then browned in olive oil and heavily seasoned with chili powder. Chicken thighs would be better, but we had the breasts on hand, and they worked well.
• Shredded Cabot cheeses -- mostly Monterrey Jack with a little sharp cheddar.
• Green-leaf lettuce, washed and torn
• Hydroponic tomatoes, chilled and diced
• Freshly made pico de gallo, brought by our guests
• Freshly made guacamole, also brought by our guests
• Plain yogurt
• Tabasco sauce

We are also between home-brew batches, so instead of home-brewed IPA this was served with Mayflower Pale Ale (local), Negra Modelo (Mexican), and Barolo (home-vinted). All of these pairings worked very well.

Dessert was a bit of good vanilla ice cream. Some of us topped it with Kahlua, others with blackberry-ginger balsamic from L.O.V.E., our favorite emporium.

Lagniappe

Pam made some nice omelettes with the leftover chicken this morning; along with some Oromia coffee, it sustained us through a chilly morning of signature-gathering for her campaign to be elected as a library trustee.

Detail: Taco Salad Night

0 Local Tostadas

They were not nearly from scratch, but this evening's tostadas were immensely satisfying, and I do think that the extra care taken is partly responsible, along with many local or regional ingredients. Previous tostada efforts have begun with store-bought corn tostadas, which are usually available in little bags of about a dozen, stacked in a rather fragile pile in the "international" section of the larger grocery stores. These are not bad, but they are not a great beginning.

Here is what I did this evening, drawing very loosely on the introduction to the tostada section of The Bible, also known as The Well-Filled Tortilla. Yes, it has an entire tostada section, which is yet another reason that you should go get a copy if you have been putting this off.

I started by boiling a couple of chicken breasts that were in the freezer. While they boiled -- which did take a while -- I chopped a small onion, a couple cloves of garlic, an Italian pepper, and one red-hot serrano pepper, all from this week's farm-box share at Colchester Neighborhood Farm. Once the chicken was very tender, I lifted the pieces into a medium bowl, where I used two forks to shred them. I then heated the last remnants of a bottle of Persian lime-infused olive oil from Lebherz (time to re-order!) in an indispensable cast-iron saucepan. I then browned the chicken in the oil, and added the aromatics, cooking until all of this just looked and smelled wonderful.

Meanwhile, I heated some refried beans (Trader Joe's Salsa Style) in a small, indispensable cast-iron skillet. Then I stirred a bit more EVOO and some chili powder into the chicken mixture. I turned both pans to very low heat and heated a goodly amount of EVOO (about a 1/4-inch deep; we never do this) in our large, indispensable cast-iron skillet. I then placed a store-bought, eight-inch, flour tortilla in the pan and heated it until the edges began to brown. I turned it over with tongs (our friend Rob insists this is the most important tool in the kitchen, and today he was right), cooked for another minute or so, and then placed it on a plate. I repeated with a second tortilla, being careful not to allow the oil to smoke, and to allow the tostadas (the first I've ever made!) to drain just a bit. When they got a bit puffy, the tongs proved useful in bringing them down to size.

With everything done at the same time (one of the toughest parts of cooking, in my book), we assembled by spreading the beans on each tostada and topping with a generous helping of the chicken. We then topped it with sliced, luscious tomato (also from Colchester), plain Stonyfield yogurt (healthier than sour cream), and a chipotle salsa from Green Mountain Gringo.

What could be better than all this, besides delightful company? The perfect pairing with Original Recipe Pale Ale from our friends in Westport.

UPDATE: The panic about Persian lime-infused olive oil was premature. Pam remembers an additional bottle, purchased for our Lime Jubilee in May. I know readers were worried!

Detail: Local Tostadas

0 Patos Supremos

During our time in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas James and I both worked in offices that had "Pato runs" on Fridays. Pato is the Spanish word for duck, and also the name of some fantastically delicious stuffed tortillas from the small restaurant chain of the same name. The tortillas were hand-made and were available in both flour and corn varieties. The flour tortillas were loaded with fat (from lard) which made them especially tasty. I always ordered mine with potato, egg, and cheese. I have never quite succeeded in replicating the special taste of a genuine pato, but over the weekend I came closer than ever.

I diced half an onion I had left over in the refrigerator and sauteed it along with one cubed and par-boiled potato in Chipotle olive oil from Lebherz Oil and Vinegar Emporium. Once the potatoes and onions were well cooked I shredded some cheese on top of the mix and turned down the heat. Then I scrambled two eggs in the same flavored olive oil. I stuffed the mix into 2 flour tortilla shells from Trader Joe's and topped them with some Pico de Gallo salsa. Delicioso!

Detail: Patos Supremos

0 One Pound of Ground Turkey - Four Meals

On Monday night this week James and I made spaghetti with our favorite no-recipe sauce which we developed over years of trial and error. We begin by mincing and sautéing a clove of garlic and a small onion in a sauce pan, then add 1/2 pound of ground turkey until it is browned. Next a can of tomato sauce, a can of tomato paste, and healthy doses of dried basil, oregano, and parsley (we never measure these) and a bay leaf. This heats while we cook the spaghetti, and we end up with a thick, flavorful sauce. Of course we top our spaghetti and sauce with fresh shredded parmesan cheese. We had purchased a pound of ground turkey, and since we only used half of it on Monday, on Tuesday we made thick, juicy turkey burgers. Combining favorite bits of different turkey burger recipes we like we mixed the ground turkey in with a shredded granny smith apple, and a bit of horseradish sauce. Once the burgers were formed we cooked them on our indispensible cast-iron griddle, and added cheddar cheese slices and bar-b-que sauce. We made homemade french fries to go along side. We had some leftover sauce, so on Wednesday we added a can of drained and rinsed kidney beans to it, and some chili powder, and had sloppy joes. And, even after this meal, there was still about half a cup of the sauce and kidney bean mix, so for lunch on Thursday we heated it up, and put it on top of some corn chips, added some shredded cheddar, and voila! Nachos!

Detail: One Pound of Ground Turkey - Four Meals

0 Tamale Tradition

NOTE: This is an all-day recipe! (Also, see vegetarian option below.)

As we mentioned in the Texas entry on our Celebrating the States blog a couple of years ago, tamales were an integral part of the South Texas experience that we somehow missed when we lived there. We did enjoy much of the culinary bounty there, but somehow missed this New Year's tradition until we had moved far, far away.

Once we realized the error of our ways, we made tamales a New Year's Eve tradition with friends, so that it is now a vieja receta (old recipe) for our household. This year we had our feast about a month late, and also realized that we had not yet posted it on this blog, those we have posted several other items related to tamales. These include sensual tamale tortillas (last Valentine's dinner), a radio report on the Tuscon Tamale Company (which we have not visited yet), and Central American nacatamales. This week, however, the focus is on our version of the classic tamale

The recipe we use won a contest in Texas Co-op Power magazine a number of years ago. The recipe itself is not on the magazine web site, though a special tamale-based cornbread dressing is, and these tamales could be an ingredient in that ambitious dish.

INGREDIENTS

Not exactly an ingredient, but essential to this process is some kind of vessel in which the tamales can be suspended above boiling water for steam. We are fortunate to have a very serious pasta pot. The insert is designed to work as a colander, but works beautifully as a steamer. 

The most critical ingredient is a few dozen corn husks, which might be the most difficult item to find. Identify a source before you invite people over. In Brockton, Price Rite is a reliable source; other markets sometimes have them as well. Soak them overnight in warm water, to start the tamales the next morning. Because they float, I put them in a big bowl with a small bowl on top.

For the filling
2-3 pounds chicken thighs (or 2 pounds ground pork or beef)
3 tablespoons cooking oil (I used Lebherz chipotle olive oil this time)
1/4 cup flour
2 beef bullion cubes (I have done this in the past, but since I used chicken and had no beef bullion on hand, I improvised with broth from boiling the thighs)
1/2 cup canned green chilies, chopped (this year I chopped one fresh Anaheim pepper; a poblano would also be good)
4 large cloves garlic, minced
1-1/2 teaspoons salt (I skip this, as I do salt in most recipes)
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
2-3 tablespoons ground chili pepper (never quite sure what to do with this, I just use a bit of red pepper flakes
1 tablespoon chili powder (I use more)
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1/4 cup tomato sauce (I use a bit more)
1/4 teaspoon Cayenne pepper

For the masa dough
1.5 cups Crisco (Recipe calls for lard, which is authentic but not necessary. Do not melt the lard or Crisco, but if it is very cold, it will be difficult to mix.)
4-1/2 cups masa harina (corn meal)
1-1/2 teaspoons salt (I do use this, since it is dough and salt is often a critical ingredient)
2-2/3 cups warm water

To prepare filling, boil the chicken until very tender. I keep the skin on to help form the broth. Then drain and use two forks to shred, discarding the bones and skin. (For ground pork or beef, just proceed to the next step.)

Brown in oil in a large, indispensable cast-iron skillet and add minced garlic. Sprinkle flour over the meat and  then add 2 cups water with bullion or 2 cups of broth. Heat mixture while stirring in remaining ingredients in listed order; cover and simmer for 45 minutes. Uncover and continue simmering if necessary to ensure it is not too soupy. During that time, prepare the masa.

Vegetarian option: Because our daughter is a vegetarian, I always modify the recipe above to make some soy-crumble tamales for her. In a separate, smaller skillet, I brown some Morningstar soy crumble while I'm browning the chicken. I then divide all of the other ingredients (except for the chicken broth -- I use veggie broth) proportionally, adding about 1/4 of each ingredient to the vegetarian pan. I then assemble them and position them in the top of the steamer. Of course, the whole recipe could be made vegetarian in this way.

To prepare masa, beat the Crisco (or lard) with salt until fluffy. Mix in the masa harina and warm water, beating until very thoroughly mixed. It will be a somewhat crumbly dough.

To assemble, (next year I'll take some photos and a video at this stage) move the dishes around to create a logical lineup, like you are Henry Ford. I start by moving the skillet to the counter, putting the steamer (with water in the bottom) on the stove top, and putting the bowl of masa nearby. Closest to the stove, I put a plate I have stacked the softened, drained corn husks.

Then, I spread out each husk and coat it with a thin (maybe 1/8-inch) layer of masa, using a spoon and or my thoroughly-washed hands. I then spoon a thin strip of filling down the center of the husk. I roll one side of the husk over this carefully, so that the masa mostly covers the filling, then I fold up the narrow end of the husk, then I keep rolling to make a little package that is closed at one end. Some of the filling may be visible, but it should mostly be inside the masa and definitely inside the husk.

I then arrange the assembled tamales in the steamer. The recipe says I should be able to make 6 dozen, but I am always closer to 25 or 30, about 5 layers of 5-6 each.

Once assembled, I heat the pot until the water in the bottom boils. I used my water-proof camera to document the steaming process, which should last at least 1-1/2 hours. Perhaps because my tamales are a bit thick, I recommend 2-1/2 hours.

I had not softened enough corn husks for all of the filling and masa I had prepared, so I made tamale pies with the remainder. I simply put all the "extra" filling in the bottom of loaf pans and covered with masa. I baked these at 350 for about an hour. They were splendid leftovers!

This year I started a new tradition, which was to prepare manioc, also known as in the Caribbean as yucca and elsewhere as cassava or mandioca or tapioca -- as one of the side dishes. (Black beans were another, and home-brewed ale was another). Manioc is a root vegetable similar to potatoes, but grown in lowland tropics. It is among the most common foods in the world, but not well known in the United States. In our area, it is increasingly available in some of the larger supermarkets, even in West Bridgewater!

To prepare this, I cut the root into 3-4 inch lengths, and cut a slit in the bark-like skin along one side. This allowed me to peel the root; I then then quartered each piece. We are very fortunate that our large pasta pot includes a small steaming basket in addition to the main basket, so I was able to cook these at the same time. The result is the bland, stringy food that is a staple worldwide; it benefits from hot sauce, and from its pairing with the spicier tamales.

Detail: Tamale Tradition

0 Mole L.O.V.E.

During a recent visit to Frederick, Maryland, we found ourselves slurping vinegar straight from little sample cups -- a lot of them! What inspired such strange behavior? The delicious balsamics and infusions of L.O.V.E. -- The Lebherz Oil & Vinegar Emporium, that is.

We learned of the shop from our UMBC alumni magazine -- the shop was founded by the delightful Maggie Lebherz, a recent graduate of the Spanish program from which Pam graduated a few years back. Our visit was even more enjoyable and interesting than we expected. We learned that -- as with coffees and teas -- oils and vinegars can be special either because of special origins and preparation or because they are infused with other flavors.

Samples in the Emporium are free but fine oils and vinegars are expensive, so we had to choose carefully. Fortunately, Maggie mentioned a tantalizing recipe that employs the most decadent vinegar in the shop: 12-year-old dark chocolate basalmic. The recipe in question is Lebherz' own version of chicken with mole (MOH-lay) sauce.

As I mentioned in my Champandongo Magic post last November, I have been a sucker for mole poblano, after first having it in the summer of 1989 on the flanks of Popocatepetl, near its birthplace. "Poblano" refers to the Valley of Puebla, arguably the hearth of mole and of maize. I use "arguably" because the neighboring state of Oaxaca has competing claims on both, and according to a food-travel article in today's Boston Globe, it is home to at least seven kinds of mole!

A few restaurants in our area serve mole, but always as an enchilada sauce or over boneless chicken breast, rather than the bone-in turkey or chicken that Moctezuma intended. For me, that original mole was served over a turkey I had seen wandering around the kitchen only hours before, prepared by ladies who spoke only Nahuatl!

In gathering ingredients for the Lebherz version of mole, we were fortunate enough to have cooking chocolate from Castillo Cacao in Matagalpa, and we were even more fortunate that Pam remembered this fact.

Moles vary, and mine varied even a bit more, with thees slight modifications to the recipe:

1. Because almonds are mentioned in the directions but not listed in the ingredient list, I guestimated that 1/3 cup of slivered almonds would work. 
2. The biggest gumption trap that led me to delay making my first mole sauce by two decades was the need to roast peppers. This should have made the listing of one ordinary green pepper welcome news, but instead I was determined to employ this new skill. I was therefore pleased to see passilla chiles in a local grocery, even though I had to go to a separate store for corn tortillas. I roasted them according to the method I mentioned in my Busy Kitchen post last month, along with a half of a jalapeño we had on hand.
3. The recipe calls for olive oil, for which I substituted Chipotle Olive Oil, also from L.O.V.E.
4. Finally, the recipe calls for light rum, which we do not usually keep around. I almost substituted aged, dark rum from Nicaragua for a bit more complexity, when I had an even more brilliant (in my mind) idea: Kahlua.

I did not take any photos of the final product -- I expected it to taste much better than it looked, and I was correct -- but I did make a little still life of some of the more colorful ingredients (including the oil and vinegar and a beautiful onion from Colchester) during preparation.

I increased everything in the recipe slightly by about half, both so we could be sure to have enough for guests and so that we could have leftovers. I think I added more broth than necessary; in any case the result was more like a stew than a sauce -- a happier spot along the mole continuum for Pam, but thinner than I would have preferred.


The result was not as photogenic as the tableau above, but it was certainly delicious, served with rice, warmed corn tortillas, and of course beer. It was even better on subsequent days. We finished the chicken but have some sauce left over (yes, leftovers of leftovers), which I hope to fashion into some sort of champandongo.


If I ever find a source to a proper assortment of fresh chiles, I will try the Puebla-style recipe on Epicurious, perhaps modifying it to include the Lebherz secret ingredient. The sad assortment of peppers in our local markets make this highly unlikely, unless I treat the ingredients list as a shopping list for next winter's seed catalogs.


Which I might just do.

Detail: Mole L.O.V.E.

0 Is Cheese a Vegetable?

It may not be difficult to believe that I have already returned to our new super-market-checkout booklet Cooking with Beer, not even week after the terrific scallops-with-stout dish that was part of a recent very busy evening in our kitchen. Although the photo looks like mush, Pam and I were both pleased to notice Cerveza Chicken Enchilada Casserole on our first perusal. The result was a genuine guilty pleasure with Tex-Mex roots.

At the very beginning I altered the recipe slightly. It calls for small amounts of carrot and celery, but we had frozen tri-color bell peppers on hand, suggesting a substitution that would be both thrifty and more fitting. When we repeat this dish -- which clearly we will want to -- I will use bell peppers again, but also some hotter peppers. This dish is scrumptious except for a lack of piquancy.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I brought one cup of Mexican beer and two cups of water to a boil, along with the veggies, a dash of salt, and the juice of one lime. I then added two chicken breasts and cooked through -- about 12 minutes. I forgot to let it cool before shredding the chicken -- in the pan -- with two forks.

Then I began to assemble the dish; the recipe calls for doing this in three rounds in a slow cooker, but it was getting close to dinner, so I used a casserole dish and just two rounds, each like this:

half a 10-ounce can of enchilada sauce -- half a 9-ounce bag of tortilla chips -- half the chicken mix -- a bit of chopped onion -- shredded cheddar cheese

REPEAT, then pour the rest of the bottle of beer over the whole thing.

The recipe mentions 3 cups of cheese, but I think I did a bit more. It calls for 4-5 hours in a crock pot, but I cooked at 350 in a convection oven for about 30 minutes, then cooled to 325 for about 15 minutes more. Crispy on the edges, bubbly on top, and delicious all over!

Perfect pairing for this dish, of course, is beer, Mexican if possible but our home-brewed English ale worked just fine. This dish makes particularly good leftovers, either heated through in the oven or microwaved in small batches.

Detail: Is Cheese a Vegetable?