
Chef Lupita
Acúmara Tatemada al Comal
Michoacán's Lake Pátzcuaro acúmara, a whole kurucha from the lago tatemada on a comal de leña and served with chile perón atápakua, corn tortillas, and P'urhépecha discipline.
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Hidalgo and Tlaxcala's hacienda braise: chicken cooked low in fermented maguey pulque with pasilla, tomato, and herbs until the sauce turns the color of wet earth and the meat slides off the bone.
Pollo al pulque belongs to the high plains of Hidalgo and Tlaxcala, the maguey country. Drive the road from Apan toward Calpulalpan in October and you will see fields of agave pulquero stretching in straight rows to the horizon, the way other countries plant wheat. The juice scraped from the heart of those plants, fermented for a few days in a tinacal, is pulque. It has been drunk and cooked with on this altiplano for more than a thousand years.
This is a hacienda dish. The big estates of Hidalgo and Tlaxcala that grew rich on pulque in the 19th century employed cooks who made grand pots like this one for Sunday meals: chicken seared in lard, a sauce of toasted pasilla and tomato, the pulque poured in by the liter because it cost the hacienda nothing. The pulque does two things in the pot. It tenderizes the meat the way a brine does, and it leaves behind an earthy, slightly sour weight that no wine or beer can mimic. Do not come at me with beer. No me vengas con atajos.
The chile is pasilla. Not ancho, not guajillo alone. Pasilla is the dried chilaca, dark almost black, with a flavor closer to dried fruit than to fire. Combined with a smaller amount of guajillo for color and a careful hand with canela and clove, it makes a sauce the color of wet earth after rain. My mother had a recipe for pollo al pulque clipped from a magazine in 1979, taped into her notebook. The first time I cooked it in a tinacal kitchen outside Apan, the senora who taught me corrected three things at once: more pasilla, less cumin, and pour the pulque with respect. Cada estado, su propia cocina. This one belongs to the maguey country.
Pulque, fermented from the aguamiel of the agave pulquero, predates the Spanish conquest by at least 1,500 years and was a sacred drink of the Mexica reserved for priests, the elderly, and ritual occasions, with strict laws against public drunkenness. Hidalgo and Tlaxcala became the heart of pulque production during the colonial period, and by the late 19th century the haciendas pulqueras supplied Mexico City with millions of liters per year, making families like the Torres Adalid among the wealthiest in the country. Pollo al pulque emerged from the kitchens of these haciendas as a way of using the same fermented beverage that fed the regional economy, and the dish nearly disappeared in the 20th century when beer producers waged a successful campaign to brand pulque as unhygienic, a stigma that began lifting only in the early 2000s as artisanal tinacales were revived.
Quantity
1 (about 4 pounds)
cut into 8 bone-in pieces
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 teaspoon, plus more to taste
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1 medium
sliced into thick half-moons
Quantity
5
peeled and smashed
Quantity
4
stemmed and seeded
Quantity
2
stemmed and seeded
Quantity
3 medium (about 1 pound)
quartered
Quantity
1 stick, about 2 inches
Quantity
4
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
2
Quantity
3 sprigs
Quantity
2 sprigs
Quantity
1 sprig
Quantity
3 cups
unflavored, fresh if available
Quantity
1 cup, plus more as needed
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
for serving
warmed
Quantity
for serving
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| whole chickencut into 8 bone-in pieces | 1 (about 4 pounds) |
| manteca de cerdo (pork lard) | 2 tablespoons |
| kosher salt | 1 teaspoon, plus more to taste |
| freshly ground black pepper | 1/2 teaspoon |
| white onionsliced into thick half-moons | 1 medium |
| garlic clovespeeled and smashed | 5 |
| dried chile pasillastemmed and seeded | 4 |
| dried chile guajillostemmed and seeded | 2 |
| ripe tomatoesquartered | 3 medium (about 1 pound) |
| Mexican cinnamon (canela) | 1 stick, about 2 inches |
| whole cloves | 4 |
| cumin seeds | 1/2 teaspoon |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| fresh thyme | 3 sprigs |
| fresh marjoram | 2 sprigs |
| fresh epazote | 1 sprig |
| pulque naturalunflavored, fresh if available | 3 cups |
| chicken broth | 1 cup, plus more as needed |
| apple cider vinegar | 1 tablespoon |
| hand-pressed corn tortillas (optional)warmed | for serving |
| white rice (optional) | for serving |
| pickled red onion (optional) | for serving |
Pat the chicken pieces dry. Season them all over with the salt and black pepper. Melt the lard in a wide clay cazuela or heavy Dutch oven over medium-high heat. When the fat shimmers, lay the chicken in skin side down in a single layer. Do not crowd the pan. Sear without moving for 6 to 7 minutes, until the skin is deep golden and releases easily, then turn and sear the other side for 4 minutes more. Transfer to a plate. La manteca es el sabor, and the fond left in the cazuela is where the sauce begins.
While the chicken sears, heat a dry comal or heavy skillet over medium. Toast the pasilla and guajillo separately for about 20 seconds per side. The skin will puff and the kitchen will smell dark and slightly smoky. The pasilla is the soul of this dish and it carries a deeper, almost raisin-like sweetness, do not let it blacken. Place the toasted chiles in a bowl, cover with hot tap water, and soak for 15 minutes.
Lower the heat under the cazuela to medium. Add the sliced onion to the rendered fat and cook for 5 minutes, stirring, until the edges turn translucent and pick up the color of the fond. Add the smashed garlic, the cinnamon stick, cloves, and cumin seeds. Cook for another minute, until the spices smell awake. This is the foundation of the sauce. Do not rush past it.
Drain the soaked chiles, discarding the soaking water. Transfer them to a blender along with the quartered tomatoes and one cup of pulque. Blend on high until completely smooth, about 90 seconds. The mixture should be the color of dried earth, deep brown-red with a slight green cast from the pulque. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve directly into the cazuela, pressing on the solids to extract every drop of body. Discard the skins.
Raise the heat to medium-high. The strained sauce will sputter when it hits the hot fat. Cook for 6 to 8 minutes, stirring almost constantly, until the sauce darkens, thickens, and the fat starts to bead at the edges of the cazuela. This step deepens the chile and tames the raw tomato. Skip it and the sauce tastes thin and sharp. Así se hace y punto.
Pour in the remaining 2 cups of pulque and the cup of chicken broth. The sauce will foam slightly. Pulque is a living ferment and it talks back when it hits heat. Stir in the apple cider vinegar, bay leaves, thyme, marjoram, and epazote. Bring to a gentle simmer. Taste for salt. The pulque carries its own earthy, slightly sour weight, season with that in mind.
Return the seared chicken pieces to the cazuela, nestling them into the sauce with the skin partially exposed. The liquid should come about three-quarters of the way up the meat. If it does not, add a little more broth. Cover partially and reduce the heat to low. Braise for 45 minutes, turning the pieces once at the halfway mark. The chicken is ready when a fork slides into the thigh meat without resistance and the sauce has thickened to coat the back of a spoon.
Pull the cazuela off the heat and let it rest, covered, for 10 minutes. The sauce will settle and the chicken will soak up the last of the pulque. Fish out the bay leaves, cinnamon stick, and herb stems before serving. Bring the cazuela to the table as it is. Serve with warm corn tortillas, white rice to catch the sauce, and a small dish of pickled red onion for cutting through the richness. La cocina no es decoracion, es trabajo, and this pot has done it.
1 serving (about 380g)
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