Empanadas de Mole Amarillo con Hoja Santa

This is an Oaxacan empanada. Not the fried half-moon you find in other countries. Not a flour-dough pocket from a bakery case. This is fresh corn masa, pressed by hand on a square of plastic, filled with mole amarillo and shredded chicken, a whole hoja santa leaf laid across the filling, then folded and toasted on a comal until the outside turns golden and the edges go crisp. In the markets of Oaxaca City, near the Templo del Carmen Alto, women have been making these empanadas for generations. They press, fill, fold, and cook them to order. The line forms before eight in the morning and does not stop until the masa runs out.

Mole amarillo is one of Oaxaca's seven moles, and it is the one most often found inside an empanada. The color comes from the chilcostle, a dried chile grown in Oaxaca's Canada region, the same narrow valley that produces the chilhuacle negro for mole negro. The chilcostle is fruity, moderately hot, and gives the mole a deep golden-orange that no other chile replicates. If your vendor sells you guajillo and calls it the same thing, find another vendor. The two chiles share a color range and nothing else.

The hoja santa is not a garnish. It is a structural ingredient. That large, heart-shaped leaf with its anise scent lines the inside of the masa and perfumes the entire empanada as it heats on the comal. You taste it in every bite. Leave it out and you have made a different thing entirely.

My mother did not make these. She was jalisciense and her empanadas were a different animal. I learned these in the Central de Abastos in Oaxaca, watching a senora press them on a square of plastic bag, fill them without a second of hesitation, and fold them so fast that by the time I looked up from my notebook, three more were on the comal. I asked her how she knew the right amount of filling. She looked at me like I had asked how she knew how to breathe. Saber cocinar es saber vivir.