Tomatillos
and salsa verde, the taste of, um, er, Devon?
South
Hams, Devon September 10, 2004 Having lived in Devon for what,
over 25 years now (frightening how the years have flown by), I have
generally adapted to life and food here in the West Country. For we
are fortunate indeed, especially in recent years, to enjoy a range of
truly wonderful, locally grown produce, as well as excellent meat and
Devon landed fish and shellfish. Some flavours, however, lie dormant
within our souls, linking us possibly even to our earliest days, so
that every now and then an inchoate desire comes over us, a wave of
nostalgia and remembrance, and we long to rediscover the tastes of our
past.
For example,
I was born in Mexico City and spent many childhood summers in nearby
Teotihuacan, so even just the smell of flame-toasted cornmeal tortillas
instantly transports me in time and place to another era of my life.
And is there anything that can beat puffy, batter-fried chiles rellenos
as we used to enjoy in the archaeologists’ lab in San Juan
Teotihuacan on endless boyhood summers (except perhaps for the memory
of them)? Another favourite is salsa verde, made with tomatillos,
or green husk tomatoes, that tart, chilli-hot salsa, redolent
of pungent cilantro, an indispensable taste of Mexico, spooned over
huevos rancheros, dolloped into warm flour tortillas with shredded
chicken and a spoonful of thick sour cream, mixed into guacamole, or
used as a topping on frijoles and rice.
The
tomatillo, in spite of its name, is in fact no relation to the
tomato. A plant (Physalis philadelphica) native to Mexico, archaeological
evidence indicates that its fruit was used by the Aztecs and other pre-Columbian
peoples. With its papery lantern-like husk, it is related to the Cape
gooseberry, and has a flavour that is highly tart and acidic. When cooked
it gives a texture that is thick and almost jelly-like. Combined with
the fire and flavour of chilli, it is an indispensable taste of Mexico
for which there is simply no substitute, hence my perennial longing
for salsa verde.
I never
dreamed or even hoped that tomatillos would ever be available
here in Devon, so I was absolutely astounded and delighted to discover
recently that the South
Devon Chilli Farm at South Milton near Kingsbridge now
grows them, together with typical Mexican chillies such as serranos,
poblanos, habaneros and jalapeños. While the South Devon Chilli
Farm sells through its web site and despatches chillies by post (as
well as attends local Farmers Markets such as Exeter on Thursdays),
I wanted to get my mitts on sufficient quantity of tomatillos
to last more than a mere afternoon or two. Fortunately the company delivers
regularly supplies of its delicious chilli jam and jellies to Topsham’s
Country Cheeses
(one of the best independent cheese shops in the country), and so, after
repeated emails to Jason, we arranged for Topsham delivery of a couple
of kilos of tomatillos together with some jalapeño and
habanero chillies. These arrived yesterday and I’ve been in tomatillo
heaven ever since.
Food writer
friends Rachel in Guanajuato, Mexico, Sue, formerly of Mexico City,
now in Alsace, France, and Kim in Dallas, Texas gave me detailed instructions
on how to make salsa verde and it couldn’t have been
simpler. Remove husks from the gorgeous tomatillos, rinse if
overly sticky, quarter, and add to a pot together with chillies to taste
(for around 30 tomatillos, I used a 6-8 jalapeños).
Cover with water, bring to the simmer and leave for no more than 5-10
minutes. Drain, reserving the cooking liquid, allow to cool, and liquidize
roughly (in Mexico, the volacanic stone molcajete might be
used, or these days more likely a blender — I used the food processor,
but made sure not to over-process). Afterwards, add salt to taste and
a generous amount of roughly chopped cilantro.
The
result was sensational and wholly as I remembered it (that’s sometimes
the problem with food memories: when you recounter the taste years later,
often it's disappointing for it can never be as good as in your mind
— but that was definitely not the case in this instance). We enjoyed
this magnificent Mexican condiment simply on flame-toasted corn tortillas
(from Dodie Miller's Cool
Chile Co and afterwards with Michele’s
famous black beans, together with rice, grilled chorizo piquante
(also from Cool Chile Co), and a stack of warm tortillas. To wash this
simple feast down? It should have been tall-neck bottles of Dos Equis,
but we opted instead for a good bottle of Pinot Grigio.
