Rick Bayless

A vegetarian soft taco filling.

In the age of the 32-ounce (or larger) Big Gulps and the like, a small drink may not necessarily seem fashionable. But large quantity is not always related to good quality, as is attested by those mammoth margaritas, laced as they are with artificially flavored sweet-and-sour mix. This margarita is the real thing: purity and refreshing freshness that's strained into martini glasses after a vigorous rumble with ice cubes in a cocktail shaker. Just before your guests arrive, combine the tequila, orange liqueur, and lime juice in a pitcher, and you'll be poised for the shaking to begin.

Sophie Coe, my guru when it comes to early Meso-American cooking, in her masterpiece, America's First Cuisines, tells us that the tomatillo (also known in Mexico as "miltomate," "tomate verde," or simply "tomate") was likely the most-consumed "tomatl" (Nahuatl for a general class of plump fruit) in pre-Columbian times. Yes, more than the "jitomate" or red, ripe tomato to us English speakers. That explains, I think, why a mouthful of tomatillo salsa transports you straight to Mexico. It is the gustatory essence of the country - a gleaming contour of fresh green spiciness, herbal perfume and zest.

Note: Some fish options in this recipe may be unsustainable. Check Seafood Watch for information and alternatives.  

The first time you hear that gravelly, rock-against-rock rotation of the mortar, the first time you smell the irascible aroma of crushed roasted garlic and chiles, the first time you taste the jazz band of seasoning playing through the juicy ripe tomatoes -- you've come face to face with the real Mexico. It's a simple first step, partly because it looks like what we think of as "salsa," partly because we can find the ingredients so easily.