From Kiwilimón for you

A tribute to my grandmother and her green mole recipe

By Shadia Asencio - 2020-08-28T11:56:11Z
My grandmother's gift was cooking. Every Sunday, almost a hundred diners would line up around her restaurant in Tlalnepantla to try her barbacoa. I don't know if it's a matter of love, but I have never tasted one better than the one she prepared just at dawn on Saturday and kept wrapped in leaves in the stone pit until the next day. But today, we won't talk about the secrets of her barbacoa but about her most famous dish: green mole. My grandfather put my grandmother on a skinny horse when she was no older than fourteen. Celia had no choice but to put down her dolls and instead take up pans and pots. From her great-grandmother Maria, she inherited talents such as the ability to perceive the flavor of dishes using her nose and to use cooking as seasoning. The green mole came years later, in her golden age. Doña Celia, an empowered woman with six children, built a thriving business around the kitchen. When her birthday came around, the patio of her ranch became the most festive place in San Andrés Timilpan. I still remember the tambora, the tables with tablecloths she had embroidered in cross-stitch, the salsas in the center, and the ladies patting tortillas in front of the immense comal. Amidst the revelry and grandchildren playing “traís,” the large pot of green mole would come out. As if by some miracle, from that clay pot, Doña Celia fed her six children and their families, all her friends, all her compadres, and the whole town. The parade of plates covered with her olive-green stew would start from one corner of the patio and sometimes run beyond the gate. Her green mole was special. No one doubted it. She didn't add pepitas as is usually done in the State of Mexico or Hidalgo. Hers contained almonds. You know: there are as many moles as there are flavors, and my grandmother didn't like rules; her recipe is as unique as she was. However, I must warn you that it lacks something that cannot be accounted for in an ingredient or a step in the procedure. I have prepared it to the letter with my mom and my aunts, and although the result is very good, it doesn't taste like “Doña Celia's Green Mole.” Perhaps I must wait for another time and another dimension to taste it alongside her as I remember it. Today, as I write this, I feel like playing a José Alfredo song and making my own combinations in front of the clay pot. So that my grandmother knows from afar that I remember her and that through quantum smell, she can detect if my mole turned out delicious. What she loved was to treat others even if they weren't her family. I’m sure it would make her happy for you to prepare her recipe or any other to celebrate your grandparents. Toast together for the gift of their presence. Play the tambora, even if it’s on a recorder, or boleros or Luismi’s songs to celebrate them because, whatever their gift may be, the grandparents' gift is to love their grandchildren unconditionally. Yes, just like Doña Celia. Doña Celia's Party-Style Green Mole250 g of sesame100 g of almonds6 large peppers +-10 cloves2 pinches of cumin1 fried bolillo in oil1 fried tortilla in oil2 kg of peeled tomatillosGreen jalapeño chili (to taste, depending on the heat tolerance)1 whole chicken, vegetables, herbs, and waterSaltOilEarly in the morning, put the chicken to cook along with some aromatic leaves, a piece of onion, and some vegetables. Once ready, set it aside away from the window. In a pot with a little water and some salt, add the tomatillos. Just let them become slightly soft before removing them from the heat. In another pot, heat plenty of oil and brown the sesame seeds with the peeled almonds. Once ready, remove them and fry the chilies. All the ingredients should be ground together with the spices and a little of the chicken broth. The tomatillos should be reserved patiently. Next, heat a large clay pot, preferably one that has been used for several years. Pour in the mole and do not stop stirring for a second so that it doesn't stick or burn –preferably, the same person should stir, and the movements should go in the direction of the clock hands so that it “doesn’t break”–. Now add the ground tomatillos and finally, a little broth, depending on the consistency that the family prefers. Lastly, using your nose and good taste, you must adjust the most important part of the recipe: the seasoning.