Friday, December 03, 2010

The best part.

The best part of mole poblano is how complex it tastes: it has sweetness to it, like a fruit or, yes, probably the chocolate, but a faint bitterness in back of that, and then there's heat, a little, and it's earthy and round.

The best part of mole poblano is that it is more versatile than its usual applications imply: I made enchiladas with it, and the vegetarian ones, with goat cheeses and chopped squash peppers onion mushroom were so good.

The best part of mole poblano is coming to understand the character of those dried peppers: mulato pasilla ancho: torn into pieces and fried, the unbelievable aroma of them frying, then soaking and pulverizing them, their pulp the deep dark basis of the sauce.

The best part of mole poblano is that I made it, that I made it over the course of three days, that it was an ordeal and a process, and that that ordeal, that process, yielded something so completely satisfying.

And that is the end of the mole poblano. At least, the end of the mole poblano posts--I have a lot of the actual mole left.


  1. I made tamales. Once. It was fun and gratifying, but so labor intensive, that I doubt I will ever do it again. But I can say I did it once.

  2. I'm betting the best of the mole poblano is what you have leftover. But reading about it has been also delightful. I want to read a book of cooking and eating poems by you. Recipes not necessary, but not discouraged either. I still remember (and feel hungry remembering)a post you wrote about a dinner with friends at a restaurant - little dishes of tasty and exotic things. When was that

  3. This mole business sounds very satisfying on many levels. Isn't that what food should really be all about? Well done.

  4. Why aren't you a food writer?



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