A football-shaped or oval masa pocket, commonly filled with puréed beans, favas, or other pulses and topped with cheese, crema, salsa, and/or onions with cilantro; looks like a diminutive, stuffed huarache
My personal opinion on street corn is this: Nine out of ten times, the corn tastes better off the cob. When you have a nice big bowl of perfectly balanced street corn, there is nothing getting in the way of shoveling it into your face.
That’s why these street corn nachos, inspired by Mexican elote—the famous grilled corn topped with a mayo mixture, spices, and cheese—are great. Every bite has tons of corn and the perfect ratio of crema, cheese, corn, chips, and cilantro. If you make this in the summer, you can cut the corn off fresh in-season cobs. The rest of the year, frozen works just as well.
A true Baja California experience requires sunny, breezy patios and a plate of tacos. We aimed to re-create the feel of a Baja-style fish taco in our home kitchen, instead bringing veggies to the forefront.
I grew up eating fried cornbread next to bacon-infused collard greens, often for breakfast. My grandfather would rise with the sun, don his button-up flannel and loose Wranglers, and prepare a hearty meal that would keep his stomach humming for hours while he toiled in his vegetable garden and woodshop. The combination of rich, nutty cornmeal and those sweet, slow-cooked collards is a memory worth keeping. Here I’ve paired those well-suited mates in a more unusual but still delicious way. I think Papa would approve.
It's a classic dish from Mexico's Yucatan but a bit on the unusual side for non-Hispanic palates.
Cabeza--or beef cheek--tacos are some of the best things this planet has to offer as food.
Pescado Rodrigo is one of the most beloved dishes in Mexico City. I make it at least a couple of times a month. Fresh fish, seared until crispy then drizzled with a chunky citrus sauce, is the seafood to stuff into a corn tortilla for tacos. The recipe comes from the Bellinghausen, a classic old-school Mexico City restaurant, established in 1915 and cherished by many families, including ours. Its old hacienda style, complete with tiles and a working fountain, is so dignified and grandiose that my sisters and I used to dress to the nines to eat there on Sundays. The menu never changes, ever. And it doesn't need to.
Essentially a lasagna with tortillas standing in for noodles, this is one of those dishes that can miraculously be on the table in short order, made from things you most likely have in your pantry and fridge. If you don't like, or you don't have, one of the ingredients, skip it. Or, if you have something else that you think might be appealing all layered in (like slivered bell peppers to sauté with the onions, kale, chopped, cooked broccoli — whatever the people in your home will eat), then fling it on in.