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SHOW UP IN MY KITCHEN ANY DAY OF THE YEAR, AND YOU’LL FIND SOFT CORN TORTILLAS, refried beans, at least two different salsas, the fresh Mexican cheese called queso fresco, ripe avocados, and fresh fruit—essential ingredients for countless spur-of-the-moment meals. You are always welcome to join me, because I always cook more than we can manage to eat at one sitting—not out of carelessness, but because that is the practical way of Mexican kitchens.
   Salsas are the maracas of my kitchen: They shake things up whenever I need an extra kick of flavor. They can be the base of a dish or the final stroke of genius, a condiment with mucho potencial: not always hot, but fruity often, salty, tangy, vinegary, or crunchy. Avocados are almost equally versatile: They can be pounded into chunky guacamole, of course, but also whizzed into a silky soup; tucked into thick, crusty rolls with potatoes and chorizo for a hearty torta, a Mexican sandwich; or buzzed together with milk, cream, and lime juice for an incomparably creamy salad dressing. Soft, mild, and teasingly salty, queso fresco can be sliced into sticks, or diced, or crumbled on top of soups, salads, tostadas, tacos, and enchiladas. The beans are waiting to be slathered on a roll when my voracious boys—I call them monsters—come home from school or play. And as for tortillas, they are the building blocks for so many dishes from breakfast to dinner every day of the week: wrapped around eggs, enfolding steak for tacos, holding together a casserole. Crisp them, and they become the sturdy base for ceviche tostadas or perfect scoops for salsas. Cut them smaller, and they are a crisp garnish for soups. And with fruits of all kinds—watermelon, mango, pineapple, and more—I make some of the most refreshing drinks ever, with and without alcohol.
   I’m not sure that many Americans really understand Mexican home cooking. For me, it’s the everyday food I feed my family: the dishes I hanker for, the ones that make me feel at home and that, ironically, I mostly learned how to make while being away from the country where I grew up eating them. That food isn’t taco salads, nachos slathered with cheese, or overstuffed burritos. Nor, for the most part, is it the complex mole sauces that take days to prepare. There are, however, other traditional dishes that I serve over and over again, because they are fabulous, as well as new dishes with creative spins that keep Mexican cooking evolving.
   Mexican home cooking is beautiful in its simplicity, tremendously convenient, and wholesome. Out of our kitchens come some of the tastiest salads, soups, and cookies that you will ever find. Our food also includes a boatload of vegetarian options: casseroles of black beans and tortillas in chile sauce, plantain quesadillas stuffed with refried beans, eggs poached in delicious salsas. Not every dish has chile in it, nor is a dish necessarily spicy when it does. For me, the best part is that this cooking fits our American lifestyle like a glove.
   I didn’t set out to be an obsessed food professional, but I’m a Jewish-Mexican mother, so the obsessive part comes naturally. Originally I trained as an academic and got a job in Washington, D.C., at a policy think tank, where I focused on Mexican politics and history. Eventually, though, I listened to my husband, who kept asking why I persisted in working there when all I talked about were the foods of Mexico and all I did in my spare time was cook.
   It wasn’t an easy decision to switch careers. I can still hear my dad’s jokes about how I wasted so many years: quemándome las pestañas como rata de biblioteca, which, loosely translated, means “burning the midnight oil as a bookworm,” or, more literally, “burning my eyelashes as a library mouse.” Yet I have no regrets. Those were not wasted years—they gave me great research skills and a deeper understanding
of Mexico.
   Today I’m a chef, food writer, and cooking teacher with a TV show, Pati’s Mexican Table, on National Public Television. But most of the time, I’m an overloaded soccer mom with three kids and a powerful blender. I continually travel between the Mexican, American, and Spanglish worlds. When I say, “We are Mexican,” my boys always correct me, “Mami, you are Mexican, we are American.” So we compromise: We are Mexican-American, we speak English, and we try to hold onto the Spanish, but truthfully most of what we do is embrace a Spanglish life. Food is the natural meeting point of our cultures.
   On the weekends, we start our days late so we have time for a full breakfast with one or another version of eggs, like Scrambled Egg Packets with Black Bean Sauce. Sobre mesa, “after table,” we linger, sipping coffee and nibbling on crumbs of pound cake or cookies or slices of fruit.
   We want our kids to have opinions about what they eat, and we urge them to choose their favorites. My boys always insist that their classic breaded fried chicken cutlets, Milanesas, be dressed with salty crumbled cheese and ground dried chile. They love green beans sprinkled with toasted pistachios and seasoned with orange. On cold days, they devour bowls of Mexican Alphabet Soup. On holidays, our table truly shows our dual cultures. Our Thanksgiving turkey gets rubbed with a pungent spicy paste from the Yucatán and is roasted in fragrant banana leaves, then served with a stuffing of chorizo, pecans, apples, and corn bread.
   In this book, you will find recipes and ideas that have come to my table from many paths. I have been welcomed into homes and kitchens all across Mexico over the years, and a number of the recipes you will find here have been deeply influenced by those home cooks. My go-to Passover brisket recipe, for example, is my take on
Berenice Flores’s carne enchilada from the Purépecha region in Michoacán. I grew
up in Mexico City, a place that hums with food opportunities. Many of the dishes we now eat weekly, like Ancho Chile Burgers and Mexican Pasta, are foods I enjoyed there at home, in restaurants, or on the street. I searched out other recipes to satisfy requests from viewers of my television show and students. I worked for months to nail down the best version of Pickled Jalapeños and Carrots, and I perfected Piggy Cookies after getting dozens of requests for this traditional recipe. Now my family can’t live without them.
   Thankfully, today the ingredients I use the most are widely available at the grocery store or with just a click online. Many, like tomatillos, chipotle chiles in adobo sauce, and queso fresco are used in a number of recipes, making it worthwhile to stock up. That said, I always offer substitutes for specialty ingredients when possible.
   In this book, I also share Mexican cooks’ tricks—simple lessons that were passed down from my grandmother to my mother and then to me. Many of the dishes in this book are even tastier when made ahead, adding to their convenience. All are magnets for bringing people to the table.
   There is a saying that holds true for every meal in a Mexican home: “Tiramos la casa por la ventana” (“We throw the house through the window”), sparing no amount of money, time, or effort to supply a table full of soulful food. People may literally sell their furniture so they can feed an entire town for a wedding or a quinceañera, a daughter’s fifteenth birthday party. Our food is abundant, accommodating, and much simpler than you might think. Sharing it with my new country has become my mission.

A few recipes from the book: 

   1     pound ripe tomatoes, halved, cored, and chopped (about 3 cups)
   ½    cup finely chopped white onion
   1     jalapeño or serrano chile, halved, seeded if desired, and finely chopped, or to taste
   ½    cup coarsely chopped cilantro leaves and top part of stems
   2–3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice
   2     tablespoons olive oil
(optional)
   1     teaspoon kosher or coarse sea salt, or to taste

There are endless variations on pico de gallo, the trademark chunky raw salsa of Mexico. As you travel throughout the country, you will find picos made from vegetables like cucumber and jicama, all kinds of fruits, and even nuts and seeds. All are delicious. This traditional version is a combination of tomato, onion, cilantro, and chile with a squeeze of fresh lime juice and some salt. Sometimes I add the oil, sometimes I don’t. Try it both ways and see which you like best. Then consider this recipe a starting point and branch out from here.

Pico de gallo translates as “rooster’s beak.” Why? It’s a mystery to me, and to every Mexican cook and culinary expert I’ve asked.

         Place the tomatoes, onion, chile, cilantro, lime juice, olive oil (if using), and salt in a bowl and toss well. Let sit for at least 5 minutes before serving.

    ✹   MEXICAN COOK’S TRICK:  Acidic fruits and vegetables taste much richer and fuller when served at room temperature, so take the chill off any refrigerated salsa before serving.

✹  MAKES ABOUT 8 CUPS BROTH AND 6 CUPS SHREDDED CHICKEN  ✹  PREPARATION TIME: 15 MINUTES  ✹  COOKING TIME: 50 MINUTES  ✹  BROTH CAN BE REFRIGERATED FOR UP TO 4 DAYS OR FROZEN FOR UP TO 6 MONTHS; CHICKEN CAN BE COVERED AND REFRIGERATED FOR UP TO 3 DAYS  ✹ 

   1       3-pound chicken, cut into serving pieces, or about 3 pounds mixed chicken parts
   3       carrots, peeled and cut into large chunks
   1       white onion, halved
   3       celery stalks, cut into large chunks
   1       garlic clove
   5–6   black peppercorns
   5–6   fresh Italian parsley sprigs
   ½      teaspoon dried marjoram
   ½      teaspoon dried thyme
   2       bay leaves
   1       tablespoon kosher or coarse sea salt, or to taste
   3½    quarts water

I like to make caldo de pollo every Sunday, because it sets the right affectionate tone in the house as it wraps the entire place in its aroma, and it’s also the backbone of a streamlined week of eating. You get a batch of rich-tasting chicken broth that can be used in soups, stews, rice, and pasta dishes, plus generous amounts of moist cooked chicken that can be shredded or cut up for salads, sandwiches, tacos, tortas, casseroles, or Chicken Tinga (page 000). Drop everything into the pot, cover with water, and go.

   1.   Place all the ingredients in a large pot and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low, skim off any foam, and simmer, partially covered, for 50 minutes. Turn off the heat and let cool.
   2.   With a slotted spoon, transfer the chicken pieces to a bowl. Strain the broth into a container, cool, and refrigerate. Remove the skin and bones from the chicken. Shred or cut the meat into chunks for future use and refrigerate if not using right away.

   ✹   MEXICAN COOK’S TRICK: Caldo de pollo cooks for less than an hour, much less time than a typical French stock. The Mexican way brings you a gentle, tasty broth, but most important, it allows the chicken meat to have a life of its own, since the briefer cooking doesn’t suck out all the flavor, texture, and nutrients.

✹  SERVES 6  ✹  PREPARATION TIME: 10 MINUTES  ✹  COOKING TIME: 10 MINUTES  ✹  SAUCE CAN BE MADE UP TO 24 HOURS AHEAD, COVERED, AND REFRIGERATED (MIX WELL BEFORE USING)  ✹ 

SAUCE
   ½   cup thinly sliced scallions (white and light green parts only)
   ½   cup chopped cilantro leaves
   ¼   cup freshly squeezed lime juice
   ¼   cup olive oil
   2   tablespoons seeded (if desired) and chopped jalapeño or serrano chile, or to taste
   1   tablespoon Maggi sauce (see page 000) or soy sauce
        Kosher or coarse sea salt

   6   tilapia fillets (about 6 ounces each), or other mild white fish fillets, such as sea bass, grouper, red snapper, or rockfish, rinsed and patted dry
   ¼  teaspoon kosher or coarse sea salt, or to taste
        Pinch of freshly ground black pepper, or to taste
        All-purpose flour for dusting
        Vegetable oil
   12 corn tortillas, store-bought or homemade (page 000), warmed

Pescado rodrigo is a beloved dish in Mexico City, and I make it at least a couple of times a month. Fresh tilapia or other mild white fish, seared until crispy, then drizzled with a chunky citrus sauce, is the seafood to stuff into corn tortillas for tacos. This recipe comes from the Bellinghausen, a Mexico City restaurant established in 1915 and cherished by many families, including ours. Its classic hacienda style, complete with tiles and a working fountain, is so dignified that my sisters and I used to dress to the nines to eat there on Sundays. The menu never changes; it doesn’t need to.
The fish can also be served whole, with tortillas alongside.

   1.   TO MAKE THE SAUCE: In a small bowl, combine the scallions, cilantro, lime juice, olive oil, jalapeño, and Maggi sauce, and stir to mix well. Set aside for at least 15 minutes. Season with salt if necessary to taste before serving.
   2.   Sprinkle the fish fillets with the salt and pepper. Spread the flour on a large plate and coat each fillet thoroughly on both sides.
   3.   Heat ¼ inch of vegetable oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat until hot but not smoking. Add the fish, in batches to avoid crowding, and sear for about 3 minutes, until thoroughly browned on the bottom. Don’t fiddle with the fillets; let them brown completely so they release easily from the pan. Turn and sear for about 3 minutes on the second side. The fish is ready when the thickest part is cooked through and it flakes easily with a fork. Put the fish on a paper-towel-lined baking sheet and keep warm in a low (250°F) oven.
   4.   Transfer the fish to a platter and pour the sauce on top. Or you can do as I do and flake the fish and serve it drizzled with the sauce, ready to make tacos. Serve with corn tortillas.