This is for the people who love the toppings of the salad more than the lettuce itself. I am her, she is me. Lettuce is great and all, but this baby focuses on all of the crunchies on top. She’s dressed in my beautiful Green Goddess Dressing with alllll the herbs, for a kiss of freshness in each bite. This is a salad that stores well for a day or two, so make a batch and keep it for an easy lunch.
This dish was on Suerte’s opening “Vitamina T” menu, and it counts as the only recipe from the restaurant to be immortalized in this cookbook because: (1) it’s just that special, and (2) we couldn’t stand waiting for the official Suerte cookbook any longer, Fermín. Here, boiled beets are tossed in a smoky-sweet-savory peanut-based salsa macha and rounded out with pickled red onions for an explosive finish.
Brother Pedro Alvarez, a monk in his mid-twenties from Mexico, introduced his favorite dish to the monks at Saint John’s. Brother Pedro lived in a Russian Orthodox monastery in Mexico City before relocating to central Minnesota. But this isn’t a recipe he learned at the monastery; he learned it from his grandmother.
As is the case with recipes that travel, this tinga reflects not only its Mexican origins but also its current home in Minnesota. Tinga is typically slow-cooked, shredded meat—anything from beef to pork to chicken—layered with the flavors of chiles, onions, garlic, and tomatoes. Brother Pedro replaced the chicken with wild turkey from central Minnesota. None of the monks hunt, but they do welcome the bounty donated to them from hunters in the area. The honey is the monastery’s own and gives the dish a sweetness that provides the perfect counterpoint to the chiles. Tinga is comforting in the winter and fun for a summertime barbecue, too. Brother Pedro’s advice is to “take it slowly, let the house fill with the smoky aroma. It will bring everyone to the table.”
Vegan | Gluten-Free | Dairy-Free
With a bigger-than-usual meat patty topped with mashed avocado and fresh pico de gallo, these burgers are a double handful of drippy good fun. Mexican chorizo does the heavy lifting, flavor-wise, along with a bounty of fresh cilantro in both meat and pico. As for the cheese, American is the platonic ideal for burgers—salty, creamy-melty, and, well, what burgers need in order to taste like burgers.
In Mexico you are as likely to find the comforting pasta dish fideo seco on the table as beans or rice, especially in central Mexico, where it is very popular. We cook fideos not as the Italians do, but like the Spanish, who brought them to Mexico, first frying them in oil until they are toasty and nutty-tasting, then simmering them in a tomato-based sauce or broth until the sauce thickens considerably and coats the noodles. Forget al dente—our pasta is soft, and that’s the way we love it. The dish is called fideo seco—dry noodles—because it is not saucy at all. It’s also very convenient, because you can make it ahead. You can get packages of fideo pasta, thin noodles broken into pieces, in stores that sell Mexican ingredients, but you can also use thin Italian noodles such as vermicelli, angel hair, thin spaghetti, or spaghetti, and break them up yourself.
I include three different kinds of dried chiles—ancho, guajillo, and chipotle—here in addition to tomatoes, onion, and garlic. For one more layer of complexity—a bit of sweetness in addition to smoky heat—I add some adobo sauce from chipotles in adobo. Top with a drizzle of crema and a sprinkling of tangy cheese, with some sliced avocado to counterbalance the heat of the chiles, and I guarantee that you’ll make it again and again.
We make a lot of shakshuka in our house, both red and green, for brunch and for dinner. This green version is milder and lighter than its tomato-based cousin, and is perfect for when you are looking for ways to increase your leafy vegetable consumption, or just want to try something new. The joy of shakshuka of any color is the soft egg yolk running all over the savory, lightly spiced vegetables. Here, crumbled feta adds a salty bite, and avocado slices, a velvety texture. Serve it with some crusty bread to sop up all the saucy goodness.
People are always surprised when I tell them they don’t have to cook corn. I really love the texture and sweetness of raw corn, especially in this colorful salad. It travels well, so you can take it on picnics or pack it for lunches. If you’re making it in advance, save the avocados and dressing and add both just before serving.
While working at Food & Wine magazine in my early twenties, some of the editors were raving about Hatch green chillies as we chatted, and, not wanting to seem like a total idiot, I nodded enthusiastically and then immediately went to search what these things were. They are, in fact, pretty awesome, and come from a town called Hatch in New Mexico, USA. You can add them to soups, stews, salsas or use as toppings for burgers or pizzas for a great depth of flavour. They range in heat level (and also offer a subtle sweetness to them), so buy whichever are better for your palate.
We have been serving our soba salad since we opened CIBI in 2008. When I created this dish, I wanted to add a touch of western flavor so that it became a cafe-like dish as well as a CIBI dish. Many of our regulars come in just for this salad. This is a simpler version that you can cook at home anytime. All you really need in your cupboard is soba noodles, soy sauce and lemon!