Caldo de Pescuezo de Guajolote Hidalguense

This caldo is from Hidalgo. From the Altiplano specifically, the high cold plains that stretch from Pachuca up toward Real del Monte and east toward Actopan, where the guajolote, the native Mexican turkey, has been raised in courtyards since long before the Spanish arrived. When a family in this region marries off a daughter, the morning after the wedding is announced with the smell of this pot.

The defining ingredient is not the turkey. It is the poleo. Poleo is a highland pennyroyal that grows wild on the slopes around the old silver-mining towns of the Sierra de Pachuca, and the women of the Tianguis de Actopan carry it down in damp bundles to sell on market days. It has the cool sharpness of mint and the persistence of oregano, and it perfumes the broth in a way that no other herb does. Hierbabuena will not work. Spearmint will not work. If your mercado does not have poleo, find a Hidalguense vendor and ask. No me vengas con atajos.

The turkey neck is the cut for this caldo because it carries flavor that breast meat cannot match, with enough collagen to give the broth real body and enough bone to make it worth gnawing at the table. The chile guajillo base, fried in manteca until the fat separates, gives the caldo its color and its weight. The rice goes in toward the end to thicken the broth without turning it into stew. Cada estado, su propia cocina, and this one belongs to Hidalgo.

My mother did not know this dish. It was not Jalisciense and it never crossed her notebook. I learned it in Actopan in my fifth year of the 32-state project, sitting in the patio of a woman named Dona Eustolia who was preparing for her granddaughter's wedding. She let me stir the pot. She corrected my chile-toasting. She told me the poleo had to be tied in a bundle so it could be lifted out cleanly before serving. Recetas probadas y garantizadas. Now I am writing it for you the way she taught it to me.