Namesake: Dad’s Chile Verde
February 22, 2012
Dad’s chile verde — even better the next day for breakfast.
Despite being descendents of mostly Eastern European stock, my parents introduced my sister and me to Mexican food at a fairly early age, which likely had to do with my dad’s early adult years. After leaving Wyoming, Dad lived in San Diego where he went to school. Later, when he got a job with Levi Strauss, and he and my mother bought a little bungalow in San Jose, next to a Mexican-American couple, John and Sarah Duarte. Or, as I knew them: Nina and Nino. I was born around that time, and Nina and Nino were designated my honorary godparents. Though I don’t remember living in that little bungalow, I do remember the many trips that Nina and Nino made to Salt Lake City over the years to visit us. I remember those times for the warmth and joy they brought with them, but also for the food. At an early age, I was introduced to traditional dishes like posole, nopales and menudo, none of which really appealed to my young palate. Of course with all of that also came the delicious thick homemade flour tortillas, hot off the griddle. I ate mountains of them as a kid.
When my parents moved to Utah, I can only imagine they each sought something familiar to make it feel like home. For my dad, that search seemed to be rooted in food, and he always was looking to discover the little dives for the most authentic Mexican flavors he could find.
I asked Dad about his chile verde recipe, and he told a story about working downtown and going to a cafe called La Paloma around the corner from his office on Exchange Place. He’d go in every morning around 7am to sip coffee, and talk to “Grandpa Joe” who was busy making the menu’s standards. While Grandpa Joe closely guarded his recipe for chile verde, Dad studied and made mental notes of the ingredients and proportions. In fact, this is the way my dad has always cooked, and always will. I don’t think he’s ever followed a recipe in his life: For him it’s all about interpretation, experimentation and knowing what flavors work well together.
During our annual President’s Day trip to Borrego Springs, I asked Dad to make his version of chile verde, the one I remember from my childhood, the one served for so many years at La Paloma. It tastes the way I’ve always remembered it: simple enough that the flavors of the basic ingredients stand out. It’s also got a lovely glossy texture thanks to a generous helping of roux. Of course, it’s good over a bean burrito, but even better the next morning just in a bowl. And with a homemade tortilla, hot off the griddle, it’s a taste of heaven.
Dad’s (Grandpa Joe’s) Chile Verde
1 1/2 pounds pork butt, cut into one-inch pieces
Cooking oil (Grandpa Joe used lard)
3 cups water
4 7-ounce cans diced green chiles
Granulated garlic (If you must measure, it’s, perhaps two tablespoons or so)
1/2 teaspoon-ish chile flakes
6 tablespoons flour for roux
1/2 large onion, diced
Pour a couple tablespoons of cooking oil into a Dutch oven or braising pan, add the pork pieces and season with salt. Place the pot over a medium flame and lightly brown the pork. (Don’t go overboard with the browning. Dad says it should remain “slightly rubbery looking.” Code for not-too-well browned.) Add the water, the canned chiles and the granulated garlic. Stir to mix and cover. Let simmer for about an hour.
Put about 4 tablespoons of cooking oil, lard or butter into a heavy-bottomed skillet and heat over medium-high heat. Add the flour to the pan all at once and stir until it’s well mixed. Continue to cook over medium-high heat until the roux becomes a rich golden brown, maybe 7 minutes or so. Stir the the roux into the simmering chile verde and let it all melt together. Simmer for another 15 minutes. Add the chile flakes and the diced onion. Cook only for another 5 minutes or so. Remove from heat and serve over burritos or in a bowl with flour tortillas. (Preferably homemade.)
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- Cubed pork goes into pot.
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- The other main ingredient.
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- Browning the pork, just so.
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- Lightly browning.
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- In go the chiles and water.
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- The master making roux.
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- See that nice golden color? That’s what you want.
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- Mixing the roux with the simmered stew.
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- A bit of onion right at the end for texture and flavor.
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- Dad’s chile verde — even better the next day for breakfast.
Namesake: Chicken Chile Verde
January 25, 2012
J's signature chicken chile verde.
People constantly buttonhole me: “Robyn, the name of your blog is Chile Verde Chronicles, but you don’t have a single chile verde recipe: What’s up with that?”
OK. I exaggerate. It is a fair question, but no one has asked. Well, hold onto your hats, friends …
First, a little bookkeeping: I contemplated filing this under “Tradition” as this dish pops up frequently enough in our rotation. It could also fit naturally under the header “Sunday Dinner” as that’s the standard CV feast day. At the same time, it could just as easily fit under “Refrigerator Staple” because we always seem to have a batch of leftovers. But to me this dish deserves its own header, and perhaps some day a series of posts.
Safe to say that J’s chicken chile verde has evolved dramatically over the years. In one of the first versions, back in our early dating days, he used canned jalapeños instead of milder green chiles. The result was fuego — liquid fire — which he declared “practically inedible.” Coming from him, that’s saying something.
Today the basic ingredients remain the same (chicken thighs, lots of veggies and chicken broth), but there’s always a tweak here and there. One batch he’ll use roux as a thickener, the next it’s barley. (Can you imagine?) At times, he’s rubbed and grilled the chicken first, finishing it in the stew, and other times he’s poached the chicken to make the broth base. Every time he makes it, it’s slightly different, and a little better.
So, without further ado, I give you his latest version which involved rub-seasoning and grilling the chicken:
J’s Chicken Chile Verde
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 teaspoon granulated garlic
1 teaspoon chipotle chile powder
2 strips bacon cut into 1 inch pieces
1/2 cup chopped carrots
1/2 cup chopped celery
1 large jalapeño (or more to taste), chopped
3 7-ounce cans whole green chiles, 1 can chopped, 2 cans diced (will be divided)
1 green bell pepper, diced (will be divided)
3 small onions, diced (will be divided)
6 cloves garlic, chopped
8 cups low-sodium chicken broth
1/2 chicken bullion cube
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 teaspoon cumin seeds (less or more to taste)
8 to 10 black peppercorns
1/3 cup barley, rinsed
Pinch of chile flakes
Salt and fresh-ground pepper
Fresh lemon or lime.
For the rub: In a plastic storage bag, combine the paprika, granulated garlic, chipotle powder, salt and pepper, and shake to mix. Add the chicken, give it a little rubdown, and refrigerate for at least one hour while you start the stew.
In a large Dutch oven over medium heat, crisp the bacon, rendering the fat. Add the carrots, celery, 2/3 of the diced onion, 1/2 of the diced bell pepper and cook in until soft, about 15 minutes. Add the garlic and cook another 2 minutes. Add the tomato paste, barley, cumin seeds and peppercorns and stir to mix with the vegetables. Add 1 can of chopped green chiles and half the jalapeño. Stir. Add the broth and the bullion and simmer, covered, for 1 hour to 90 minutes, stirring occasionally.
After simmering, blend the mixture until smooth, not grainy, using an immersion blender (this could take a few minutes — you don’t want whole peppercorns). Add the remaining onion, bell pepper, jalapeño and diced canned chiles and continue to simmer while you grill the chicken, making sure to mark it well. When done grilling, let the chicken rest for a few minutes, then dice.
Add the chicken to the chile verde and stir. Simmer for another 10 minutes. Season to taste with chile flakes, salt and pepper. If you feel so inclined, add a squeeze of lemon or lime, to taste, for a bit of acid.
That’s it. The barley adds a rich nuttiness, the grilled chicken a smoky undertone and the peppercorns, well, a nice pepper flavor. Serve with warm tortillas, beans, shredded or melted cheddar, crumbled Mexican cheese, shredded lettuce, minced onion, habañero salsa, cilantro — whatever combination floats your boat. Hell, it’s good in a bowl eaten with a spoon. It’s better the next day, and the next.
Phone us on a Sunday night and chances are we’re drinking wine and cooking up a big batch of chile verde. Pretty nice tradition, I say.
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- J’s signature chicken chile verde.
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- All the veggies in the broth, simmering away.
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- Our beloved immersion blender.
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- Grilled chicken thighs.
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- J’s black bean, pinto bean and barley filling.
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- The master at work, stirring the finished verde.
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- A few suggested toppings, for your consideration.
Why “Chile Verde Chronicles”?
January 30, 2011
After months of hemming, hawing and exasperated sighing over blog names, J and I landed on “Chile Verde Chronicles.” We wanted our little sliver of the Internet to reflect who we are as a couple, food lovers, cooks, writers, editors and former Salt Lakers. We think our quest for the best chile verde best represents our food adventures.
Somehow, the pork-and-green-chile stew has become an icon in our families, and most of us can trace our love for the dish back to one Salt Lake City restaurant chain: La Frontera. Just about everyone in our family — siblings and parents alike — have their own versions of the stew, and many of us began by trying to achieve the flavor, texture and appearance of the LaFro original. The results, however, could not be more disparate. Nor could they be more delicious in their differences.
In looking for a blog name, we wanted something emblematic of our love of food and tradition, and our hunger for discovering new dishes, restaurants, cultures, techniques and recipes. We want this blog to be a place to chronicle our dinners out, home-cooked meals, happy gatherings, discoveries and travels. Of course, our posts will extend beyond the namesake dish, but like coming home after a long trip, it represents all that is welcoming, comforting and familiar.
Chile Verde Chronicles 